When he was in high school, my brother spent a summer living with our cousins, who then lived in Minnesota. When he returned, he brought me back one of the most hilarious books I've ever read. It was called How to Talk Minnesotan: A Visitor's Guide by Howard Mohr, who is a writer for Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion. This quirky little guidebook outlines some of the finer points of communication in Minnesota, including such items as eating in Minnesota (refusing food three times before accepting, the little lunch, hot dish, and bars), the art of the fingerwave, and useful phrases (like "you bet," "that's different," and "whatever"). Though the entire thing tickles me, my favorite section is on getting sick in Minnesota.

If you get sick in Minnesota, you typically have one of two things: Hot Dish Revenge, or What's Going Around. I wasn't in Minnesota yesterday, but I'm pretty sure that even so, I've got What's Going Around. And so does poor Blake.

All day yesterday my throat was sore and dry and scratchy. Later, when we compared notes, it turned out that Blake was dealing with the same symptoms. As the evening wore on, we both felt more and more head-swimmingly yucky. I totally crashed a little after 8:00; he joined me about an hour later. And both of us spent the night routinely waking up.

Neither of us has a very severe case of What's Going Around, but still -- no fun. This morning, though we both still felt a little crummy, we didn't feel justified enough to skip out on work. (Apparently we're dedicated people.) So we're here, plugging away, looking forward to 4:00 when we can go home, put our feet up, and drink more orange juice.

Maybe later I'll have to refer back to my handy little Minnesota guidebook and see if there's anything in it about Recovering From What's Going Around. Because I'm all about the fast track to a quick and speedy recovery.

If I've learned one thing from our outings and adventures this weekend, it's that I think the nesting instinct I've been warned about is starting to kick in. And also that I hate hate hate spiders in the shower. Let's recap, shall we?

The Quest for a Dresser...
Quite a bit of the weekend was spent in search for a dresser for the baby. Nothing fancy, just a chest of drawers -- because, you know, it'd be nice to, one of these days, pull our collection of baby gear out of the attic and put it somewhere a little more handy. Of course, experience has taught both of us that if we want this piece of furniture to last (and by "last" we of course mean "get our money's worth out of it"), quality is important (and by "quality" we definitely mean "made of real wood and not thrown together scraps of particle board pretending to be furniture"). Unfortunately, the issue of price makes this quest all the more challenging -- but we're up for it. We went to several rummage and estate sales on Saturday and Monday, but were not successful. And if it didn't nearly bring me to tears, I might tell you about how, after driving around for about 40 minutes trying to find a rummage sale in the po-dunk town of Eaton, we were thisclose to getting our hands on an all-wood, perfectly-sized chest of drawers for just five measly dollars(!!!), only to find once we got there that it had already sold. (So sad. So, so sad.) We also ventured into the land of "new furniture," visiting a few discount and outlet stores in the area to see if their Memorial Day sales happened to bring anything down to our price range. (They didn't.) So, no dresser for us...but maybe next weekend.

...And Other Baby Items
On Saturday we braved the Indy 500 crowds and drove down to Indianapolis to partake of the glory that is Babies 'R Us. I swear, that store can really make you dizzy. But once our heads stopped swimming, we found a swing that we liked a wee bit better than the one we were given last week as a gift. It's also made by Fisher Price and it also plugs into the wall, but it's much less obnoxious (this new one doesn't play calypso jungle music, and the pattern is a lot more...calm). We bought it, vowing to return the first one as soon as we got back to Muncie (which we did, and now we have enough store credit at Toys 'R Us to keep this nesting mama happy for a while). We also bought a car seat carrier to go with our new stroller (thus making it a travel system). It's lovely -- and lightweight! Now, if I could just somehow take care of those other urgent and oh-so pressing nesting needs I have to get my hands on bottle brushes, baby medicines, and an ear thermometer (among other things), I'll be set.

I'm not a fan of sharing my indoor living space with spiders...
...But when they decide to join me in the shower, I reserve my right to totally freak out. Because it's one thing to be standing there naked and completely vulnerable, but how am I supposed to defend myself when I'm half blind, too? And let me just tell you right here -- this spider was not your typical itty-bitty 8-legged critter. No, it was one of the largest daddy-long-leg spiders I have EVER seen. And it was getting all comfortable and cozy on my bottle of conditioner. No good, my friends, no no good.

Mmmm....Fish Tacos....
When I was in high school, they built a Rubio's restaurant right across the street. And as often as I could, from the time I got to eat free for writing up a review for the high school paper until the day they sadly had to close their doors, I went there to scarf down their delicious fish tacos. Fish tacos?! you are probably thinking. Yes, fish tacos. They are divine. Blake and I made our own on Sunday for dinner and, though they weren't quite as excellent as Rubio's, they turned out pretty darn tasty. In case you want to try them, here's the run-down:

Saute some fish in a butter and lime mixture until cooked. Serve on corn tortillas and garnish with tomatoes, green onions, cabbage, cilantro, and tarter sauce or sour cream. If desired, squeeze with more lime.

We used tilapia, and though it tasted fine, we might try a different fish next time. Anyway, go try it.

And that's a wrap
So that's the gist of how we spent our long holiday weekend. We busied ourselves with a few other activities (i.e. a ward picnic) and chores (i.e. cleaning out the filing cabinet), and surprisingly, there was still time to put our feet up and bask in the fact that we didn't have to go to work. Now, how was your holiday?

A [so far] foolproof recipe which has worked for this author (who likes to cook, but for whom it has taken an embarrassingly long time to figure out a decent system for meal planning) for two whole weeks and counting.

Ingredients:

• blank sheet of paper, divided into two columns
• pen or pencil or marker or crayon or whathaveyou
• your own collection of recipe favorites, perhaps combined with a few new things to try
• access to, or knowledge of, items already in your pantry/refrigerator

Directions:

1. On the blank sheet of paper, label one column “Meals” and the other column “Grocery List.”

2. In the “Grocery List” column, write down those items which you know need to be purchased in order to replenish your stock of basic food items (i.e. milk, bread, eggs, fresh vegetables/fruits, etc)

3. Next, thumb through your recipe collection. Pick a handful which you’d like to cook in the coming week and write them in the “Meals” column. If you are able, assign a day in which to cook/eat each meal. Sprinkle this with days for leftovers.

4. Look through the necessary ingredients of your chosen meals. In the “Grocery List” column, write down any ingredients you do not currently have in your pantry.

5. Take your list with you to the grocery store and have at it! Be sure to stick to it like glue – your budget will thank you for it.

6. Put your feet up because for the next week you can eat well without having to make your worn out, tired self crazy trying to come up with something to eat for dinner.

Maybe, though, it's just that extra person strapped to my waist that's turning my world into a sauna. I don't know. But people keep telling me that they're hot too, so it can't be just me. This week has been rather warm (and by "warm," I actually mean "just this side of sweltering"), with temperatures in the low 90s and ever-rising humidity. They're predicting a weekend of rain, though, so hopefully that will cool things down some. See, that's the nice thing about hot weather out here, as opposed to hot weather in the inter-mountain west. It will get hot and humid here, and it will stay pretty miserable, but then a fabulous rainstorm will blow in and cool the place down enough to make us want the hot and humid back. It's not a bad cycle, really.

Even so, though, it's really hot for being only May, and the 17-year cicadas are expected to make their appearance any day now, and this baby won't stop growing bigger. Something tells me that this is going to be one long, hot summer.

Speaking of Baby and that whole "growing bigger" business...he's starting to get heavy. And awkward. It's starting to take just about all I've got to do once-ho-hum activities like getting in and out of bed and bending over to pick up something I've dropped. And sleeping well is quickly becoming a pleasure of the past. Oh well, though. It's not like that aspect of pregnancy will get much better once he arrives and sleeps in his own bed. I might as well get used to it. The other night at my book club, my also-pregnant friend, Mandy (she's just two weeks ahead of me), asked me how I was feeling. I replied with an apparently unconvincing "Oh, pretty good," to which she shot back with, "You are totally lying. I don't feel good -- you can't possibly feel good either." Okay, so she caught me.

But it's not all horrible either. The fact that he's getting bigger makes spending my free time belly watching all the more entertaining. Seriously, this kid's kicks and rolls are not too unlike those of an active California fault line. It's fun to watch, and usually fun to feel, too. I say usually only because every once in a while he pokes a foot deep into my torso, which is a big no-no and typically requires any effort on my part to see if I can shift him. I mean, I know he's cramped in there, but I've got to draw the line somewhere.

Last night I attended my last Young Women's activity. We went out with a bang, though. I taught the girls how to do some simple bookbinding, and they could not get enough of it. What can I say -- I aim to please. I'll miss those girls, even though I only served with them for 5ish months. They're a lot of fun, and I expect to see great things from them down the road.

Well, that about sums things up here for the time being. Have yourselves a lovely day and enjoy your cool weather, if you're lucky enough to have some. If, though, you're as hot and sticky as I am, you have my sympathies.

My co-workers surprised me this afternoon with a mini baby shower. They are all incredibly sweet! Apparently everyone in the department -- including Blake, who they somehow tracked down and recruited to come up -- was in on it. Well, everyone except me. I was completely in the dark and totally surprised.

At about 1:00 everyone in my office started sneaking out, and then my co-worker, Rose, came to ask if I'd help her do something. I followed her to the conference room next door and lo and behold -- there was everyone sitting around the tables waiting for me. I wasn't quite sure what to say when I walked in the room, so I think I just turned beet red instead. You know -- whatever works.

They gave me some very generous gifts -- a truckload of size 1 and size 2 diapers and baby wipes to go with them, a little set of onesies, and a cradle swing. It's the kind that even plugs in -- the kind I've had my eye on (because who wants to be replacing D-sized batteries constantly?). I'm so excited! And then we all ate some cake and everyone shared with us their bits of parently advice. They even took pictures:




It was a lot of fun. I really can't think of a better way to spend a Tuesday afternoon at work.

Kristen tagged me, so we'll give this a shot. I've never been very good at coming up with "I Am" statements about myself, so we'll start simple, work our way from there, and see what happens.

• I am a girl.
• I am the oldest of six children.
  
• I am tall (5'8").
• I am naturally blonde, as well as blue-eyed, pale-skinned, and easily sunburned.
• I am married -- to Blake, and have been for 2 years now.
• I am pregnant. Our first baby, a boy, is due in the middle of July.
• I am consquently getting more and more clumsy. Honestly, how many times during one meal can I drop the tupperware of diced tomatoes onto the floor? (Three, apparently.)
  
• I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
• As of yesterday, I am calling-less. No more Young Women for me.
• I am not a cell phone owner. Would I like to be? Someday, yes. But right now it's neither necessary nor allowable in our budget.
• I am a fan of The Office and, like many, many others, found great happiness in the end of last Thursday's season finale.
  
• I am a writer. Or at least I try to be. Members of my family keep telling me I should get published. To which I try to tell them that that's all well and good, and I'd like to at some point, really, but time and ideas often escape me, so can things like blogging, journal-writing, and letters and emails count for now?
• I am a reader and am just about always looking for another good book suggestion.
• I am educated. I earned my bachelor's degree in history and English teaching from BYU 2.5 years ago.
  
• But I am currently not a teacher because the teacher turn-over rate in the midwest isn't exactly like what it is in Utah. Seriously, teachers here don't ever retire!
• As of Saturday, I am co-owner (along with Blake) of a brand new stroller. Growing up I never once pictured myself as the owner of a stroller, but there you have it. It's sitting in our storage pantry awaiting use.
• I am observant and often find myself noticing the strangest things.
• I am tickled by the fact that last night one of our more interesting neighbors knocked on our door and said, "I see you guys use a computer. Would you be interested in buying an electric typewriter?" Sadly, no.
  
• I am also still tickled by this, which Blake read to me from The New Yorker the other day.
  
• I am a project-oriented list-maker. It's good to have something to work on.
• I am a maker of really easy donuts. Or, at least, I am as of my first try last night. Seriously though -- try these out!
  
• I am getting tired of coming up with "I Am" statements. So I think I'm done now. If a tag like this appeals to you, feel free to consider yourself tagged.
  

For those wishing to partake of our massive amounts of Trip-to-Utah Kodak moments (as well as a sampling of other fairly recent photos), click here. Enjoy!

I'm pretty sure that pregnancy has stopped being fun for me.

At my appointment yesterday, my doctor told me to be extra aware of the contractions I've been getting lately, especially since he has his hunches that I have a high tolerance for pain. Maybe I do, maybe I don't...I'm not sure. I'm still trying to learn what exactly pregnancy is supposed to feel like. The contractions I get don't hurt, but they are uncomfortable -- like my whole abdomen is just being tightened and stretched.

Anyway, though my contractions aren't regular or really all that rhythmic, they are predictable: I basically get them whenever I'm up moving. And so far as I can tell, they're mostly pretty constant. But so long as I'm sitting or lying down, they stop. He wants me to call him if/when they ever get to be five minutes apart. But see, it's hard for me to tell exactly. Is it a contraction? Or is it just the baby stretching and moving? Or is it just the fact that my abdominal muscles are worn out and sore from the contractions I've had thus far, as well as the coughing spells I fall into occasionally (still trying to get over that cough I picked up on vacation)? Or is it just the feeling of general heaviness of carrying this extra weight around my middle? I have a hard time telling -- especially since yesterday, when the doctor was taking my measurements, he told me I was currently having a contraction. I had no idea that I was.

Having to be extra observant is kind of annoying and is making me paranoid. It's also taking away the fun of feeling him move inside me. His rolls, kicks, and hiccups (yes, he get hiccups like 5-6 times a day! He is definitely my son!) sometimes actually trigger the contractions, which, though I'm told is normal, still freaks me out a bit. It's too early for this baby to come -- I'm still 8ish weeks away from my due date. Which makes me also wonder -- will he come early? Or is this all just "false alarm" business? Hmmm. I'm drinking lots and lots of water, and resting as much as possible, but they just don't seem to ever completely go away.

Anyway, this all -- the contractions plus the general heaviness and weariness of a typical third trimester -- makes me pretty glad for the job I have. All I have to do, really, is sit at my desk and work on a computer. I think I'd have to quit if this was an all-day-on-my-feet sort of job. But it's really making it quite difficult to check things off my List Of Things To Do Before Baby Comes -- every project takes me three or four times the amount of time it would normally take me simply because I have to go so much slower and take more breaks.

So, aside from a few rummage sales tomorrow morning and a few tasks around the house, I'm planning to take it pretty easy this weekend so I can keep an eye on the contractions and hopefully keep them under control. I'll probably then call my doctor on Monday and get his take on my concerns, once I've been able to sort them out myself a little bit better.

Wow, I'm really starting to look forward to July.

Brace yourselves -- this post isn't short.

The first half of our week in Provo was spent getting ready for the second half. I did a lot of couch sitting during those first three days -- not because I wanted to, but because just about every time I stood up and walked around, I'd start getting contractions. The couch was comfortable, if a little boring. But then, I suppose by definition, a vacation should be relaxing and should therefore involve a lot of couch sitting.

By Thursday, though, the contractions had, for the most part, subsided and I was feeling pretty good (well, aside from the obnoxious hacking cough I'd developed...but by Thursday I'd called my doctor, been given a list of "okay-for-pregnant-women" ingredients in cough medicines, and had visited the Macey's pharmacy). And so I let the parties and festivities we were there to participate in hit me full force. It was great. Here's the basic run-down of our goings-ons:

The Wedding Dinner
On Thursday evening my family hosted a family wedding dinner in the church cultural hall. As it was being catered by two amazing cooks in our old stake, all we had to prepare was the set-up and the centerpieces. Fresh flowers were purchased in large quantities at Costco, which me, Mom, Aunt Colleen, and cousin (by marriage, anyway), Leisa, later worked to assemble. Last year, for Tyler's wedding dinner, we'd all been instructed in the art of flower arranging, so this year we were pretty much pros. They turned out quite well, I thought.

Everyone gathered at 6:00 at the church, and we sat down to feast on a variety of pastas, Caesar salad, and famous Provo High Cluff rolls. As has become tradition at our family wedding dinners, a microphone was passed around the table, and all who wanted to shared stories of the bride and groom. Because Riley was the groom, and because he's hilarious, there were some pretty good stories going around -- among them, his fear of pine cones, the time his pants were filmed falling down at the beach, and his critically acclaimed Jr. Jazz documentary on his basketball team, "The Real Dawgs."

The Eagle Court of Honor
Immediately following the wedding dinner, we were ushered into the Relief Society room, where we got to watch my youngest brother, Scott, be awarded the rank of Eagle Scout. It was a very nice ceremony, especially considering the fact that there were a few last minute cancellations on the program. And, what with the fact that whole car-loads of family were in from out of town for Riley's wedding, and who had just been down the hall eating wedding dinner food, it was very well attended. Great job, Scott, for earning your Eagle! Not an easy task, I'm sure.

The Wedding Day
Early Friday morning, we all headed down to Manti to witness the sealing of Riley and Chelsea. It was a beautiful day -- you really couldn't ask for better weather for a wedding! And it was so lovely and comfortable being able to sit in the temple surrounded by so much family. They were sealed in the same room that Blake and I were two years ago, and I have to say that it was really quite nice to not be the focus of attention this time. Instead, we got to watch from a couple rows back. It was a beautiful ceremony and, what with that fact, as well as the fact that I have too many hormones currently raging through my body, I cried during the whole thing. Their sealer, who had an entertaining personality, gave them great counsel and advice which was incredibly well-suited for this particular bride and groom. When they came out of the temple, they both looked starry-eyed and very, very happy. I never expected Riley to marry his high school sweetheart, but he and Chelsea seem to be a perfect fit for each other.

Because we were starving, we (Blake, myself, and Tyler and Amanda, who drove to Manti with us) stopped on the way home at a little malt shoppe in Ephriam. Turned out that the rest of the family had decided they were also starving, so we all gave that little diner some pretty good business.

We had about a half an hour to relax at the house in Provo before it was time to head to the reception. Our family had to get there early because we'd hired Riley and Chelsea's photographer to also take some family photos of us. This really was the first time, what with missions and distance, that we'd all been together in several years, so we had to take advantage of the opportunity. I'm excited to see how these photos turned out.

The reception was lovely and also well-attended. Riley and Chelsea both looked beautiful, and I think everyone had a great time. One of my favorite parts of the evening was when Chelsea threw her bouquet...right into a pond behind her. That was funny enough by itself, but it was even more hilarious to watch all these girls trying to reach in and grab it! Anyway, it was a lovely evening, and while it was sad to see it end, I was definitely ready to sit down and elevate my swollen, tired ankles.

The Baby Shower
But the fun wasn't over yet! On Saturday my sister-in-law, Amanda, and my mom gave me a baby shower. It was lots of fun! First it was great to see so many old friends, not to mention all the family that was still in town for the wedding festivities. But it was even more fun to discover that two of my friends were also pregnant (yay for you, Rebecca!!! And Kay, I hope he's come by now!). Amanda made some pretty darn delicious food, and our baby got stocked up on adorable clothes, blankets, and toys...which ultimately took a bit of effort and creative thinking to fit into our car for the trip home (but which also gave me a great activity to work on during that long drive -- time passes incredibly quickly when you're caught up writing thank you cards).

Whew! So those were the big events. But there were other things we did, as well. Here's a [relatively] brief list:

• On Monday evening, we gathered a whole crowd to join us at Leatherbys -- because I was NOT going to be denied my Swiss Milk Chocolate shake a second time!
• On Tuesday morning, Blake interviewed for the New Jersey job. We had a bit of a phone crisis (my parent's service has the annoying habit of disconnecting at the most inconvenient times), but that aside, it went decently well. He didn't get an offer for a follow-up interview, though. Oh well...there will be others.
• It wasn't just my family that we got to see. Blake's brother, Eric, and sister, Kimberly, are also in Provo, and we spent quite a bit of time with them. We also visited with his aunt and cousins in Alpine, celebrated a birthday on Sunday with another set of cousins, and visited with his cousin, Lee, his wife, Sherrie, and their adorable new little baby girl.
• We also had a lovely visit with my old roommate. It was great to see you, Heath!
  
• On Saturday evening we all got to watch my sister, Katie, perform at the high school in her final dance recital. She looked great! My two favorite dances were their last two -- one because it was creatively choreographed using black lights (half of the dancers wore white shirts, and the other half wore white pants...you can have a lot of fun with that combination under black lights), and the other because it was their last dance and those girls all looked so happy and radiant.
• One other recital we watched was my 9-year-old cousin, Emily's, living room rendition of a Celine Dion number. She even recruited my sister, Chelsea, and my cousin's girlfriend to be back-up dancers. It was a riot!
• Blake spent a hefty portion of the week checking our messages at home and doing his best to stay in contact with the insurance companies as he tried to get that stupid fender bender resolved. I think it's all going to work out, and smoothly, too. Still, what a pain!
  

All right, I think that's it. Whew! Are you totally exhausted after reading all that? I am! Gold stars for you if arrived at the end of this post in one piece -- or if you arrived at all! But seriously, we had a great time -- it was totally worth the long drive to be there with everyone for all these fun events. Oh, and yeah, pictures will be coming soon, hopefully sometime this weekend, so stay tuned.

And....we're back! Thirty hours of car time, two very swollen ankles, and weather of all extremes are behind us (as is, unfortunately, a fabulous week spent with my family -- I miss you guys already!), and now it's back to the grindstone. Oh heavens. The post-vacation feelings of overwhelming reality are beginning to make themselves known. (Don't worry, though -- I've made a list and everything is under control.)

We had a great time in Provo, and it was hard to have to leave. But at the same time, it's really good to be back. Or, more rightly, it's really good to not be sitting in a car anymore. Man, that was some drive! Remember when I said that Muncie was a 24-hour drive away from Provo? Well, I wasn't counting the (all-too-brief) three hours spent sleeping in the car at a rest stop, or the crossing of two time zones. Let's just say that, while it was fun, I'm not itching for another long road trip any time soon. Oh, and you should have seen the weather we ran into! We drove out in the wake of tornadoes and flooding throughout the plains, and icy, snowy winter storms in Wyoming. As for the ride home, we were fooled by the sunny, warm weather gracing Provo and ended up in the middle of frighteningly horrible hail storm in Wyoming, incredible thunderstorms in Nebraska, pounding rain in Iowa, and fierce winds in Illinois and Indiana. Blake's a great driver though, and he got us both home safe and sound.

Right now I've got a pile of paperwork needing my attention, so I'll have to share my highlights of the actual vacation festivities later (and let me tell you -- were there ever festivities!). In the meantime, you may all rest assured that we had a great time. Also, I'm hoping for a few moments alone with the computer this weekend to get our truckload of photos uploaded, so stay tuned for that.

I can't believe Riley is old enough to be getting married! Wasn't he, like, three years old yesterday? But there it is. Tomorrow he will marry his high school sweetheart, Chelsea, in the Manti Temple. And to send him off, I've compiled some memories for your enjoyment.

One day, when Riley was, oh, six or seven, he came home with some exciting news after an afternoon of playing at his friend, Elizabeth's, house. "Mom, guess what?!" he said. "Elizabeth said her mom is the Toothfairy!" By saying this he of course meant to say that Elizabeth's mom was her Toothfairy and that therefore, our mom was our Toothfairy. But, because she could, my mom took what he said at total face value. "Oh? Well that's interesting," she said. "Now I know to call Sister Dewitt every time you lose a tooth!" This frustrated Riley, and he tried to explain, but Mom wouldn't hear it. And from that day on, Sister Dewitt became our family Toothfairy. (Sister Dewitt was informed of this one Sunday at church, and I'm pleased to report that she did an excellent job of playing up the part.)

Riley loved the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles as a kid. He watched their cartoon, he played their nintendo game, and he even cooked for them. Well, not so much cooked, I guess, as fed. He and the neighbor girl down the street would beg bread from their respective mothers (because it was easier than begging pizza), break it into tiny pieces, and throw it down the sewer drain in the road front of the house. So you can't tell him he didn't do his part in the fight against Shredder.

When Riley was little, he loved Loved LOVED the movie The Brave Little Toaster. He'd watch it over and over. And while he liked the whole film, his favorite part was the Dumpster Scene, where all the old broken-down cars sang that song about being worthless. I'm not sure why he loved this part so much, but his need to rewind-and-watch-again several times in one viewing of the movie caused that scene on our old recorded-off-tv version of it to turn green and get all scewed on the screen. When Disney re-released the film on VHS when Riley was in high school, Santa made sure he got a copy.

Riley's biggest childhood fear was of pine cones. I'm not sure why. I do know, however, that my grandparents had some rather large ones on display in their basement, and when we went to visit them, they had to be taken out of the room before Riley would even think about sleeping. I also know that one time, when he was in high school, his friends somehow found out about this fear and decided they must do something with this knowledge. So one night, when Riley was still at work, they came over to the house and asked permission from my dad to spread a truckload of pine cones on his bed. Of course, my dad gave them the go-ahead (how could he refuse?), so they did their business, while my dad and I chuckled in the living room and waited for Riley to come home...which he did about 20 minutes after his friends left. I'm still not sure if he thought what he discovered beneath his sheets was funny or maddeningly annoying -- probably a bit of both. But the "What the heck?!" he yelled from down the hall was a moment to remember.

Riley likes to play basketball. A lot. And so it was unfortunate that, though he tried out every year, he never made the high school basketball team (unless you count the time he got to be the Equipment Boy). So he and his buddies (who also loved basketball, but didn't make the cut) formed their own championship Jr. Jazz team. They called themselves "The Real Dawgs" (our high school mascot was the Bulldogs), and they took state every year they played. Seriously, these guys were pretty good.

During his senior year of high school, our youngest sister, Chelsea, signed up to be on a Jr. Jazz team of her own -- a little team of 9- and 10-year-old girls. Riley, since he was already 18, volunteered to be their coach. And he took his role incredibly seriously. The girls (who were mostly pretty adorably clueless on the floor) adored him. They also totally looked up to him -- literally. Riley is, oh, 6'4", and these girls had to do some serious neck-straining in order follow his instructions.

Riley is an awesome little brother. He is kind and selfless. Oh, and he's absolutely hilarious! If there's one thing Riley excels at, it's making those around him laugh. (Take, for example, the photos he uploaded for us while he was on his mission. Don't tell me those captions don't make you chuckle!) Chelsea, you are really lucky to get him. I wish you both the best!

So, funny story: Friday evening, as we were running about town trying to get some last minute things done before graduation the next morning and our road trip the next afternoon, we were rear-ended. We were at a complete stop at a red light when the driver behind us didn't so much stop. Maybe you are asking yourself why this is funny. Well, let me tell you: this is the SECOND time in eighteen months that we've been rear-ended while at a stop light. See? Funny. Ha. Ha.

Talk about bad timing. We weren't hit as hard this time as we were last time, but it really is horribly inconvenient to have to deal with the aftermath of a minor traffic accident right before you leave town. It pretty much tied up the entire rest of our day.

And why would a little fender bender cause such utter disruption to your day, you might be asking yourself? Well, it would if you were pregnant and had to be taken to the hospital in an ambulance, where you then had to wait for four hours in the ER before being told you needed to be monitored for three more hours up in labor and delivery because the whiplash or something caused you to start having contractions.

It was a long day.

But happily, my doctor let me continue with my plans to attend Blake's graduation AND drive all the way to Utah (at first he wanted to monitor me for 12 hours, which would have really been, well, a big, miserable, kick in the pants). So we're here. We arrived in Provo late Sunday night after driving for 25 straight hours (well, okay -- not 25 completely straight hours. We stopped to sleep for three hours at a rest stop near Des Moines. But goodness, it was long enough!). Also, we have, I think, the best insurance agent in the world. She's been helping us long distance with the whole claims process and has been giving us excellent advice on how to deal with the issue from across the country.

Oh, and by the way, Blake's graduation went swimmingly. He looked really quite dashing clothed in a master's robe and hood. And -- he's done with school! Hooray!

Provo's been nice. Visiting with family's been nice. I can report more later, but I just wanted to state for the record that we made it. The odds were totally against us, but we're here. Yay!

Or, "Reason Number Two I Am Excited for Saturday."

Tomorrow, after Commencement is over, I will be one 24 hour drive away from this:


Um....yeah. I'm WAY excited.

How am I feeling? Today I'm feeling incredibly pregnant. My gut feels stretched to the limits, which ironically keeps me very aware of the fact that those limits will be stretched even further in the coming weeks. My joints hurt and I walk funny. The bruises on my hands and arms from the whole glucose test trauma are growing bigger and more tender. It's getting harder to sleep, what with the largeness and the soreness and the leg cramps. I'm seriously considering just taking up residence in the bathroom down the hall because, heck, I'm there all the time anyway. And while I may not look like one, I certainly feel like an awkward, clumsy clown -- you know, the kind who keeps dropping things and drips toothpaste onto her in-the-way belly. THAT'S how I'm feeling.

So yes, it's one of those days, and all I want to do is lie down. But I can't right now. And I've decided that it's probably best to just to suck it up and move on.

And so instead I'm going to introduce you to some awesome, awesome books. You may have heard of them before. They're picture books, put together by Saxton Freymann and Joost Elffers, that feature creatively shaped fruits and vegetables. I was first introduced to the books by my cousins, who owned one of them called How Are You Peeling? Foods with Moods:


Get it? How are you PEELING? Not Feeling, but Peeling? Foods with Moods? Ha! I love it! Seriously, though, when I first read this book, it was love at first sight. It's great! Because what could be better than photographs of a group of happy lemons, an angry orange, or a worried red bell pepper? I mean, come on! Though one year I proudly hung a "Food" calendar on my kitchen wall, I don't own this, or any of of the Elffers and Freymann "Food" books, but I fully intend to one day. Here are a few others on my wish list:

Last night some friends in my ward gave me a baby shower. I always feel a little awkward attending a shower, whether it be bridal or baby, given in my honor. I have a hard time being the focus of attention. And then there's the gifts. I know that showers are an expected tradition, but I can't help but feeling like I've suddenly become gift-greedy or something. Deep down I know I'm not, but on the surface, that's what I can't help but think it looks like.

Anyway, personal issues aside, it turned out to be a great little party, with lots of friends and some really good food -- really good food. We're talking rich chocolate fondue made from Ghirardelli's chocolate and heavy cream and big, red, ripe strawberries to dip in it. So good. Oh, and they served that Sprite with frozen berries punch...my favorite.

This baby of ours cleaned up quite nicely. He got some adorable outfits, and our collection of cute little onesies was added to considerably last night...which is great, because I'm told that what with spit-up and poopy diapers and such, you can't have too many of those. His board book library is starting to look pretty decent, as is his tiny stash of tiny diapers. And, should we end up continuing to live in a climate with harsh, bitter winters, his pile of little blankets will keep him nice and warm. A few people were thoughtful enough to think beyond newborn-hood and gave some plate and bowl sets, tiny spoons, and sippy cups. Those will definitely come in handy down the road.

Of course, because a baby shower wouldn't be a true baby shower without them, there was the healthy sharing of childbirth/nursing/child-rearing horror stories (just like a bridal shower wouldn't be a true bridal shower without lingerie and giggling). I'm sure that someday I'll have my own stories to add to the mix, but until I have at least one of my own, I usually end up feeling like the pale, anxious-looking third wheel in those conversations. There were some pretty hilarious stories shared last night, though, which, for the sake of their privacy, I won't share on the internet. Just trust me -- they were good.

Anyway, it was certainly an enjoyable evening. It made me realize just how much I will miss these people when either they or we move away (this is turning into the Summer of the Muncie 1st Ward Exodus...while we may or may not be leaving the area right away, nearly all of our friends are, which is sad). I really have gained some sweet, thoughtful friends here.

I like to plan things and have a tendency to get a little obsessive compulsive about it, which, as my pal Monk says, is a blessing...and a curse. For example, I’ve been mentally – and meticulously – packing for our trip to Provo for, oh, the last three months or so. You might think this means I’m really on top of things, but if you knew what went on inside my brain, you might think instead that I need a therapist.

Because fact: I’ve seriously spent the last few days debating whether or not I should bring my brown pants with me. Because who knows? I might want to wear them while I’m there. After all, having options, especially with a very small maternity wardrobe, is nice. But if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to wear them on Friday, like I had originally planned, because I would need to include them, along with my khaki pants, in my Friday Laundry Plans (to, of course, maximize my vacation wardrobe possibilities and because I have a Pack Clean Clothes Only policy). I can’t wear jeans to work, so I’d be left with wearing my black pants that day, but I was planning to wear the black pants to Blake’s graduation ceremony on Saturday, and I wouldn’t have enough clean (or dry) shirts for both days. Which makes me think that I should just stick to the original wear-the-brown-pants-on-Friday plan and tell the part of me that might want to wear them on vacation to shove it.

Any votes yet for therapy? Seriously. I’m totally raising my hand on this one.

Thinking like this does not help when trying to plan my life – which, of course, I like to try to do. Every time Blake gets an offer for a job interview, I start mapping out what our lives will be like should he be offered, and accept, said job. I research the area, figuring in key elements like the average monthly rent for a 2-bedroom apartment, the cost of living, the crime rate, etc, because if there is even only a remote possibility that we could live there, I would need to know these things so that I could plan accordingly. Unfortunately, I usually end up discovering things that don’t exactly mesh with my plans (because, of course, my brain works in that it often starts planning before any research is done), and then I start to hyperventilate and get worried about how we’re ever going to make it. And I do this all BEFORE he even goes in for the actual interview! I’m nuts, I tell you!

Case in point: Yesterday afternoon Blake was offered a phone interview for a potentially fabulous job that he applied for online late last week. The job, should he end up getting it, would take us to New Jersey. I, being the wacky planner that I am, of course got online last night and started researching the area. And I, who has that wacky tendency to view as set in stone what is still only a remote possibility, got a little concerned about our future well-being. The job is based in an apparently nice and well-to-do area of Northern New Jersey – it’s practically a suburb in NYC. So, of course, the cost of living is through the roof. Having spent the majority of my married, adult life in the Midwest, I can’t quite fathom how people can afford to live like this. By all accounts, it could certainly be a lovely place to live. I’m just not sure how feasible it would be.

I voiced my premature concerns to Blake, and while he, too, was blown away at how expensive it is to live there, he also had to remind me that he hasn’t even had the interview yet. Of course I had to acknowledge that he was right, even though my wacky, complicated brain won’t completely drop it yet. Good grief. I think that maybe I really do need a therapist. Either that or a new brain.

Does anybody else out there think like this? And if so, are you interested in teaming up to form a support group? :)