Two years ago, I read the popular novel Eat, Pray, Love. While I enjoyed the plotline and it gave me massive wanderlust, one thing from the novel has stuck with me over the past two years and I still find myself referring back to it.
During the "Eat" portion of the novel, the author is in Italy. What better place to eat, right? But as she gets to know the Italian people and their culture, she finds that there is a lot more to Italy than first appears. The people there are relaxed, calm, and happy with their lives. They find excuses to slow down and enjoy their food, make better food, and spend time with their families. To Italians, family and relaxing are the most important things. You take care of yourself and your family first and everything else is secondary.
Unsurprisingly, I really like that idea, but only partly because it involves lots of food and down time. Since Elizabeth Gilbert planted the thought in my head, I've come to realize more and more how obsessed Americans are with their jobs.
When you first meet someone, what questions do you ask them? Most getting-to-know-you conversations go something like this:
Person 1: What's your name?
Person 2: Jennifer. What's yours?
Person 1: Bob. Nice to meet you.
Person 2: Nice to meet you, too. So, Bob, what do you do?
Person 1: I work in the construction industry. Paving roads, building hotels, that sort of thing.
Person 2: That sounds like really rewarding work.
Person 1: Oh, it is. What do you do?
Person 2: I'm an administrative assistant at a legal firm.
Person 1: Wow, a legal firm! I could never do that.
And the conversation focuses on work for a large portion. I'm not saying this is a bad thing, just trying to illustrate that much of our initial introduction to someone new revolves around their vocation.
I don't know how that conversation would go in Italian, but I can tell you how I wish it went. I wish we would ask about names (that's a good thing to know) and then actually get to know the person. We have this strange idea in America that whatever a person does for work must be their All Consuming Passion and we construct personalities around that occupation. He's in construction? Definitely a well-meaning, slightly unintelligent person who probably spent a great amount of his childhood with Legos and Tinker Toys. How many of you, when you read "construction industry" didn't automatically have that feeling that he was probably less intelligent than Jennifer? How many of you thought, "Oh, she won't be sexually attracted to him because he's in the construction industry. He's probably got a mullet" or some other stereotypical-construction-worker thought? I'll admit, I had one. All because of his job?
Off of that, when you tell someone that you work in a job that doesn't make much money (for example, author/painter/musician/singer/dancer), your self-worth in their eyes actually shrinks. Not that they think you're less of a person, but that you are a fool for pursuing something that provides neither financial stability nor is a "real career". Even if they like you, there is still that niggling fear that you will become the person who needs to be supported by friends because your latest painting didn't sell and your rent is due and please, Jennifer the Legal Assistant, could you loan me $2,000?
I suppose that only goes to prove that it isn't so much your career, but the money you have, that is the defining factor in some relationships. We don't judge our friends based on money -- but if you had a friend who was constantly in need of money, wouldn't you rather they took the back burner? We're incredibly selfish with our hard-earned money because WE are the ones who earned it. If that's not the American dream in action, I don't know what is.
I know I sound incredibly pessimistic here, but I'm not suggesting a departure from intelligent money-saving and -sharing. I'm just as selfish with my money as anyone else (maybe even more). Be careful with your money. The end.
It's fascinating that money from work is the Most Important thing to American culture. Your worth revolves almost solely around how much money you make, whether or not you've received promotions, and if you have a job at all. If you don't have a job? You're automatically (and perhaps semi-unconsciously) labeled no-good, lazy, and a mooch. Maybe not as much in this current economical state, but everyone still sort of shakes their head at you if you don't have gainful employment.
Now we've all seen Click, that Adam Sandler movie, and we all know that work SHOULDN'T be the most important thing. But, and this is the point of my post, what if your work forces you to have it be the most important thing?
Let me tell you what's happened this past month.
One month ago: Peter gets an assignment from a higher up who we will call M. Don't get any Bond aspirations; I'm currently full of angst toward her. M wants an application in a month that does These Specific Things. Peter says, "Will do!" and starts working.
One week ago: M contacts Peter and asks how it's coming. Pretty well, thanks. But, M says, could we not write it in Silverlight? (quick departure from the narrative: that would be like asking me, who is fluent in French and English, to write a legal document in Farsi.) Remember how it's due on Friday?
Peter, ever the diligent worker, says that they will do their best. (This despite the fact that he is already really close to being done with the non-Silverlight version. Does she ask? No. Silverlight will look prettier.)
He goes to B&N, buys two humungous Silverlight books and studies his brains out. He has not come to bed before 2 AM for the past week. His cough returns; I start to worry about his health.
Tuesday: He starts to fall asleep tying his shoes, getting dressed in the morning, and once, ever distressing to me, in the car on our way to the store. As a wife, I'm frightened and concerned and want him to come to bed early on Wednesday. I ask; he says he has to finish this one thing and he'll come. "Before 3?" I say. "Maybe 4," he says. It's 11 when I ask. When he finally comes to bed, it's 5:10. "I couldn't figure it out," he says, incredibly frustrated. I go to work at 7 and he sleeps until 10. He's at work until 7 pm. He comes home Thursday and works on the program until 3 AM but he is finally finished. Hallelujah!
Friday comes and goes. He helps a member of his team to work on the back end of the same program. Comes to bed at a decent time.
Then last night happened. He was up ALL NIGHT LONG helping this guy on the back end. Their "due on Friday" really meant "We need it on Sunday" so they were up until 7 AM. He worked on that dang project for 17 straight hours last night and today? He's sick. He could hardly stay awake long enough to eat breakfast this morning and he fell asleep in the shower.
And I am livid.
What gives a company the right to take my husband's health and flush it down the drain? What gives them the right to FORCE him to be a workaholic when he isn't one? Why is it okay for them to give him an incredibly hard assignment and then punish him when he physically cannot complete it? Why is work so important? Why does that application have to be out NOW? Is the world going to end? Is it going to crash the financial stability of the company? NO! Just because some high-up executive with an inferiority complex says it has to be done, the workers have to go night and day to accomplish the task. M, we are not bees and you are most certainly not the queen. It's your fault that I have a sick husband. It's your fault I've had to fall asleep alone for the past week. It's your fault he has headaches and stomachaches and generally feels like crap. It's your fault that now we have to work on getting him better instead of keeping him healthy in the first place by giving him a reasonable time table to accomplish things.
You know what, company? We're moving to Italy. At least they understand that you have to take care of yourself first.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
A case for male birth control
Sometimes I feel like I need a little LeFou to stand next to me and when I say, "I'm afraid I've been thinking," he could chime in and say, "A dangerous past-time!"
Molly woke me up, needing to go to the bathroom. Liking my carpet un-peed-upon, we went for an early morning ramble through the avenues of time... er. The grass outside our apartment. We come back in and I decide heck, I'm awake, I'm staying awake. So I brush my teeth and see my birth control sitting on the counter.
And I wonder: why do girls take birth control? Why not boys?
The logic seems fairly sound to me. Males are capable of producing babies at any time -- no off days for periods and they only really have one hormone (to my knowledge) that deals with that. Scientific simplicity.
On the other hand, females are capable of producing offspring only during ovulation and then completely incapable of doing so during their periods. So it seems like you would want to get the lady to not be able to have the baby, since her window is so much shorter. But pregnancy happens outside of those times as well and then whose fault is it? Always the woman's.
(This is not to say that pregnancy is always an unwanted thing. But when it is, especially with unmarried couples, the "blame" seems to rest wholly on the female in the relationship. This might be only in my experience -- I dearly hope it is, for it disturbs me. The reasoning seems to go, "Yes, they had sex, but you can't blame the boy for that. Why wasn't she on the pill?")
It seems to me that men are (almost) entirely excluded from the baby-process. They are necessary to become pregnant, yes, but if you break up with your boyfriend after the fatal act, who is still pregnant for 9 months? and goes through labor? and wakes up in the middle of the night to nurse the baby? etc.
It requires a truly magnificent man who wants to be a father to participate in the care of his wife, the pregnancy induced nightmares, the panic of labor, the nightly waking-up routines, the diapering, the pampering, etc. I admire these men, not only because they are wonderful to their wives but because they are so rare.
I've seen enough men who feel frustrated at a pregnancy and would rather break up with their girlfriend or suggest an abortion than go through the miraculous bonding experience that is childbirth and rearing. If he doesn't want the baby, he can break up with her, take her to the abortion clinic himself, and then walk away. He can hide. If she decides to go through with the pregnancy and he breaks up with her, who bears the marks of the pregnancy? Who deals with the societal shaming?
Now, to be fair on this subject, the married couples who accidentally become pregnant are an entirely different story. My ire focuses mainly on teenage/unmarried pregnancies and the ridiculous men that shirk from an adult responsibility that is at least 50% their doing.
So why this antiquated idea that a woman has to be in charge of everything according to the pregnancy? Yes, it is in her body, but she was never the only person responsible for getting it there. Yes, women are naturally nurturers and have instincts to take care of and protect their young. But why is she the one blamed for unwanted children? Isn't it his fault just as much?
I have never personally experienced these things, but I have friends who have gone through abortions and WHO does it affect markedly? Not the boyfriend. Never him. He's simply glad to have his slate "wiped clean". But the woman mourns that child instinctively, whether or not she agreed to the abortion in the first place. This subject probably deserves a rant of its own.
I doubt we can change these men. (Though while we're working on cloning, science, can we clone some of those paternal emotions and poison the water supply?) So why not make the man responsible for whether or not the pregnancy occurs?
Is it a basic societal sexism that makes us think that the only person in charge of rearing a child is the woman? We ought to know better by now. Truly strong families have involved parents. (No hating to single parents out there -- you guys are amazing.) But a family with an uninvolved father or uninvolved mother? They almost always fall apart. Why let that start with pregnancy?
Give the men the medication that controls whether or not their body produces its natural hormones. That way, when the pregnancy does happen, the man is the one primarily responsible for it. The woman will do the rest, but let's get some of this responsibility over to him, especially if he's one of those anti-baby people.
Nota bene: I am married, unpregnant, and not planning on becoming pregnant any time soon. I have no personal experience as to the involvement of a man in a pregnancy. I'm not a scientist, nor do I have any idea how a male-birth-control would work. It's an interesting concept, though, and one that I think harks back to some sedentary sexism and woman-blaming that is not only archaic but also harmful.
Also, I have no idea what Peter thinks of this, so don't think I'm representing his feelings here. He's still asleep, lucky man.
Molly woke me up, needing to go to the bathroom. Liking my carpet un-peed-upon, we went for an early morning ramble through the avenues of time... er. The grass outside our apartment. We come back in and I decide heck, I'm awake, I'm staying awake. So I brush my teeth and see my birth control sitting on the counter.
And I wonder: why do girls take birth control? Why not boys?
The logic seems fairly sound to me. Males are capable of producing babies at any time -- no off days for periods and they only really have one hormone (to my knowledge) that deals with that. Scientific simplicity.
On the other hand, females are capable of producing offspring only during ovulation and then completely incapable of doing so during their periods. So it seems like you would want to get the lady to not be able to have the baby, since her window is so much shorter. But pregnancy happens outside of those times as well and then whose fault is it? Always the woman's.
(This is not to say that pregnancy is always an unwanted thing. But when it is, especially with unmarried couples, the "blame" seems to rest wholly on the female in the relationship. This might be only in my experience -- I dearly hope it is, for it disturbs me. The reasoning seems to go, "Yes, they had sex, but you can't blame the boy for that. Why wasn't she on the pill?")
It seems to me that men are (almost) entirely excluded from the baby-process. They are necessary to become pregnant, yes, but if you break up with your boyfriend after the fatal act, who is still pregnant for 9 months? and goes through labor? and wakes up in the middle of the night to nurse the baby? etc.
It requires a truly magnificent man who wants to be a father to participate in the care of his wife, the pregnancy induced nightmares, the panic of labor, the nightly waking-up routines, the diapering, the pampering, etc. I admire these men, not only because they are wonderful to their wives but because they are so rare.
I've seen enough men who feel frustrated at a pregnancy and would rather break up with their girlfriend or suggest an abortion than go through the miraculous bonding experience that is childbirth and rearing. If he doesn't want the baby, he can break up with her, take her to the abortion clinic himself, and then walk away. He can hide. If she decides to go through with the pregnancy and he breaks up with her, who bears the marks of the pregnancy? Who deals with the societal shaming?
Now, to be fair on this subject, the married couples who accidentally become pregnant are an entirely different story. My ire focuses mainly on teenage/unmarried pregnancies and the ridiculous men that shirk from an adult responsibility that is at least 50% their doing.
So why this antiquated idea that a woman has to be in charge of everything according to the pregnancy? Yes, it is in her body, but she was never the only person responsible for getting it there. Yes, women are naturally nurturers and have instincts to take care of and protect their young. But why is she the one blamed for unwanted children? Isn't it his fault just as much?
I have never personally experienced these things, but I have friends who have gone through abortions and WHO does it affect markedly? Not the boyfriend. Never him. He's simply glad to have his slate "wiped clean". But the woman mourns that child instinctively, whether or not she agreed to the abortion in the first place. This subject probably deserves a rant of its own.
I doubt we can change these men. (Though while we're working on cloning, science, can we clone some of those paternal emotions and poison the water supply?) So why not make the man responsible for whether or not the pregnancy occurs?
Is it a basic societal sexism that makes us think that the only person in charge of rearing a child is the woman? We ought to know better by now. Truly strong families have involved parents. (No hating to single parents out there -- you guys are amazing.) But a family with an uninvolved father or uninvolved mother? They almost always fall apart. Why let that start with pregnancy?
Give the men the medication that controls whether or not their body produces its natural hormones. That way, when the pregnancy does happen, the man is the one primarily responsible for it. The woman will do the rest, but let's get some of this responsibility over to him, especially if he's one of those anti-baby people.
Nota bene: I am married, unpregnant, and not planning on becoming pregnant any time soon. I have no personal experience as to the involvement of a man in a pregnancy. I'm not a scientist, nor do I have any idea how a male-birth-control would work. It's an interesting concept, though, and one that I think harks back to some sedentary sexism and woman-blaming that is not only archaic but also harmful.
Also, I have no idea what Peter thinks of this, so don't think I'm representing his feelings here. He's still asleep, lucky man.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Husband FTW
I think I might deserve the Best Evening award, all thanks to Pedro.
Work was mediocre. I slept in too late and didn't realize -- and when I did realize how late I was, I already had one leg shaved and you just don't leave something like that unfinished. Especially not if you wanted to wear skinny jeans. Then my car was out of gas. Then my department chair wanted me to present something I felt underqualified for. All in all, pretty normal.
Zupas with my favourite Emily lightened (and shocked) things up a bit. She told me a horrible (true) story about how I use too many parentheses to make side comments (ok, she didn't tell me, but I do).
Then I went home. Walked the dog. Went to the library. Got Well of Ascension and I am very excited to read it. As you can doubtless tell. Without my parenthetical commentary, this is a very boring blog, neh?
BUT THEN my darling husband came home.
And suggested a date.
And took me to Barnes & Noble.
And made me buy things.
(To be fair, I resisted very little. This is partly because I've learned I can't resist a determined Peter and partly because hello, it's buying books! With someone telling me it's ok!)
He bought 2 boring programming books. He might like them. But I doubt it.
But my books! Oh, my books! A list, you say? Why, alright. If you insist.
Dracula.
Frankenstein. (Say it all German. One more time. Mmmmmhmm!)
My Antonia. Willa! *dramatic sigh*
Uncle Tom's Cabin.
Heart of Darkness & Other Stories by my favorite Joseph Conrad
And and and and
The Awakening & Other Stories by KATE CHOPIN!
Need I tell you that my Grinch heart grew three times?
No, I thought not.
THEN, as if the books weren't enough, Peter took me to the Asian Star. They're a valet-parking Chinese restaurant, yo, with twinkle lights and bamboo partitions and cushy seats and fish tanks and too many conjunctions!
We got egg rolls.
Sushi. (With eel!) (Even Peter's salmon was good!)
Honey Nectar Pork.
Walnut Shrimp (omggggggggg)
Steamed rice in that adorable little bowl with the spoon slot.
And their fortune cookie quoted the Bible to me.
Delight!
So now we're home, Peter is programming (I think... He might be playing a game. Who could blame him? Those books are like 7 lbs each!) and as soon as I'm done with this post, I'm going to do nothing but lie on the couch with my dog, read, and occasionally remind Peter what a good husband he is. By poking him. With my toe.
That's true love for ya, folks.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Kania
I did a photoshoot with Kania G. on Tuesday and it was a ton of fun! We went to the West Jordan City Park and played around with shadows, light, and umbrellas. I saw an adorable photo done by Susan Monson Photography with an umbrella and I wanted to try and replicate the effect. This is my favorite photo of the shoot (and possibly of my life):
Thanks for such a good shoot, Kania!
Thanks for such a good shoot, Kania!
Friday, July 8, 2011
Ester & Thoughts
Let's just be clear about something. I love my niece.
(and sparklers)
We went to Bear Lake for the week of the 4th of July and she and Amy came. She loved the water (once the sun came out) so much that she wanted to drink it. Amy said she does this in the bathtub a lot, so maybe she thought that Bear Lake was just a really big, messy, grassy bathtub. Or she was just curious.
Either way, we ALL cracked up. And because Ester loves making people laugh, she did it again! She thought that was very funny.
Seriously, cutest face ever? Thought so. She thought the grass was pretty nifty, too, even though she didn't try and eat any of it. (Question: do I overuse commas?)
My parents rented a jetski (which is apparently a brand name?) and Sara & Dad took Ester on a quick ride. I love jetskis.
She thought that was pretty much the coolest thing ever. The life jacket didn't really fit... but I think that kind of adds to the adorableness of it.
Now on to the self-indulgent part of this post. I've been thinking about two main things recently: 1) the worlds we inhabit and 2) deserved vacations.
1) The worlds we inhabit. I have a theory that every person inhabits at two worlds: home and other. The size of one determines how big you need the other one to be. Let's say, for argument's sake, that the normal person needs 100% of "world" in order to maintain a relative amount of sanity. If your inside world is large on variety (i.e. lots of people, big house, things to do, lots of distractions, etc.) then that counts as, say 75% of your world. Your outside world, therefore, needs only be 25% large. That is not large! You could go out once or twice a week, even just shopping and to church and you would probably be content.
Same thing goes in reverse: if your outside world is large (i.e. going to college classes, working full time, etc -- where you see lots of people and have lots of interaction with the "outside world") then your inside world doesn't need to be big. If your outside world takes up 80% of your world, you would probably feel cozy inside of a one-bedroom apartment.
The problem arises when your worlds are out of balance -- living in a one-bedroom apartment (20% of a world if you're being generous) and you have a very small outside world. You start to feel crazy. Cabin fever, to quote the Muppets.
2) Deserved vacations. Let's rewind to elementary school. Remember how summer vacation felt amazing and amazingly short? Same thing for middle school, high school. You craved summer vacation. But then... about halfway through July, you started to feel kinda.. well. Bored. At least I did. Maybe you were one of those school-haters who never missed it in the summer. I always felt antsy. Thankfully, that was when girls' camp and family vacation usually happened, so it was enough to tide me over into August.
But it wasn't summer vacation that I loved the most -- it was Winter and Spring break. I craved those breaks and I think it was because I felt like I deserved them. I felt the same way this year while teaching. I needed winter and spring breaks to recharge and I when I relaxed every single day and did nothing but watch Vlogbrothers on youtube I had no guilt. Because I had been working my butt off before that break and I knew I'd go right back to working my butt off after that break. Maybe it's an American phenomenon (I've wondered since I read Eat Pray Love) but I think we appreciate vacations when we feel like we've earned them. Compare getting a day off to having no job. I tell you which one I'd prefer. Retreating into our 20% inside world feels relaxing when your outside world is so big it's almost crushing.
I can't help but feel kind of nostalgic for work and that makes me feel stupid. Everyone tells me how I should be grateful to have a break, "I wish I had a summer off!" but it's.... lonely. I wish we lived closer to Ester. Or that Ester lived close to us. Cause you KNOW that would help.
Conclusion? I need to make a bigger outside world.
(and sparklers)We went to Bear Lake for the week of the 4th of July and she and Amy came. She loved the water (once the sun came out) so much that she wanted to drink it. Amy said she does this in the bathtub a lot, so maybe she thought that Bear Lake was just a really big, messy, grassy bathtub. Or she was just curious.
Either way, we ALL cracked up. And because Ester loves making people laugh, she did it again! She thought that was very funny.
Seriously, cutest face ever? Thought so. She thought the grass was pretty nifty, too, even though she didn't try and eat any of it. (Question: do I overuse commas?)
My parents rented a jetski (which is apparently a brand name?) and Sara & Dad took Ester on a quick ride. I love jetskis.
She thought that was pretty much the coolest thing ever. The life jacket didn't really fit... but I think that kind of adds to the adorableness of it.Now on to the self-indulgent part of this post. I've been thinking about two main things recently: 1) the worlds we inhabit and 2) deserved vacations.
1) The worlds we inhabit. I have a theory that every person inhabits at two worlds: home and other. The size of one determines how big you need the other one to be. Let's say, for argument's sake, that the normal person needs 100% of "world" in order to maintain a relative amount of sanity. If your inside world is large on variety (i.e. lots of people, big house, things to do, lots of distractions, etc.) then that counts as, say 75% of your world. Your outside world, therefore, needs only be 25% large. That is not large! You could go out once or twice a week, even just shopping and to church and you would probably be content.
Same thing goes in reverse: if your outside world is large (i.e. going to college classes, working full time, etc -- where you see lots of people and have lots of interaction with the "outside world") then your inside world doesn't need to be big. If your outside world takes up 80% of your world, you would probably feel cozy inside of a one-bedroom apartment.
The problem arises when your worlds are out of balance -- living in a one-bedroom apartment (20% of a world if you're being generous) and you have a very small outside world. You start to feel crazy. Cabin fever, to quote the Muppets.
2) Deserved vacations. Let's rewind to elementary school. Remember how summer vacation felt amazing and amazingly short? Same thing for middle school, high school. You craved summer vacation. But then... about halfway through July, you started to feel kinda.. well. Bored. At least I did. Maybe you were one of those school-haters who never missed it in the summer. I always felt antsy. Thankfully, that was when girls' camp and family vacation usually happened, so it was enough to tide me over into August.
But it wasn't summer vacation that I loved the most -- it was Winter and Spring break. I craved those breaks and I think it was because I felt like I deserved them. I felt the same way this year while teaching. I needed winter and spring breaks to recharge and I when I relaxed every single day and did nothing but watch Vlogbrothers on youtube I had no guilt. Because I had been working my butt off before that break and I knew I'd go right back to working my butt off after that break. Maybe it's an American phenomenon (I've wondered since I read Eat Pray Love) but I think we appreciate vacations when we feel like we've earned them. Compare getting a day off to having no job. I tell you which one I'd prefer. Retreating into our 20% inside world feels relaxing when your outside world is so big it's almost crushing.
I can't help but feel kind of nostalgic for work and that makes me feel stupid. Everyone tells me how I should be grateful to have a break, "I wish I had a summer off!" but it's.... lonely. I wish we lived closer to Ester. Or that Ester lived close to us. Cause you KNOW that would help.
Conclusion? I need to make a bigger outside world.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Busy Sundays and my first "photo shoot"
Man, yesterday was crazy! We had a lot on our plate and managed to get it all finished, too.
Morning: Breakfast with the Olds extended family. Grandma Olds even flew in from New Hampshire. They were all together for a funeral, which is slightly more depressing, but they were TOGETHER. That family is more scattered than freckles on a sunburned redhead.
So we had breakfast. Then we went to my parents' ward. Then we went to my parents' house. Then Anthony was ordained an Elder (yay!).
That's three generations of Melchizedek Priesthood right there. Cool.
Then I had a mini photo shoot with Sara!
I think she's beautiful. We set up a photo shoot with a bunch of her friends so I can get more pictures for a "portfolio". Let's just leave that in quotes. :)
Then Nathan came in and let me take pictures of his handsome face.
Seriously, that boy's a stunner. But we're all kind of incomplete without our darling Max dog.
He's a good dog and we sure like him! Even Ester. She follows him around saying, "Dah! Dah! Dah! Dah!" and occasionally making, "Oof, oof!" noises. Peter caught her copying Max in this picture.
She's such a cutie and getting so big! Grandma and Grandpa Woodbury came over for Anthony's ordination, so we were able to get a picture of Ester, Grandma Fillmore, and Great-grandparents Woodbury. Sometimes it's really weird to me that Ester would see them as great-grandparents. Imagining my mom as a grandma isn't weird, though. Which I suppose... is weird. haha.
Then Amy and I made homemade chicken noodle soup. Mom made the noodles, but she had to leave, so we finished. Then we made oatmeal cake for Anthony's birthday (he's 18!). Then parents and Nathan got home and we ate said dinner and cake. Then I drove Amy up to Logan and Peter came and picked me up.
Needless to say, we were out of the house for a long, long time and came back pretty tired.
But while I was driving Amy up and Peter was giving us a head start (let's be real here, he gets places at least a half hour before I do), Peter was cleaning the house.
This is my "I love my husband" face. :) He made the bed (complete with folded-down comforter and sheets!), cleaned the sink, washed the mirror and did some other things he won't tell me. What an adorable man!!
The moral of this post is that I love being married and I particularly love being married to Peter. <3
Morning: Breakfast with the Olds extended family. Grandma Olds even flew in from New Hampshire. They were all together for a funeral, which is slightly more depressing, but they were TOGETHER. That family is more scattered than freckles on a sunburned redhead.
So we had breakfast. Then we went to my parents' ward. Then we went to my parents' house. Then Anthony was ordained an Elder (yay!).
That's three generations of Melchizedek Priesthood right there. Cool.
Then I had a mini photo shoot with Sara!
I think she's beautiful. We set up a photo shoot with a bunch of her friends so I can get more pictures for a "portfolio". Let's just leave that in quotes. :)Then Nathan came in and let me take pictures of his handsome face.
Seriously, that boy's a stunner. But we're all kind of incomplete without our darling Max dog.
He's a good dog and we sure like him! Even Ester. She follows him around saying, "Dah! Dah! Dah! Dah!" and occasionally making, "Oof, oof!" noises. Peter caught her copying Max in this picture.
She's such a cutie and getting so big! Grandma and Grandpa Woodbury came over for Anthony's ordination, so we were able to get a picture of Ester, Grandma Fillmore, and Great-grandparents Woodbury. Sometimes it's really weird to me that Ester would see them as great-grandparents. Imagining my mom as a grandma isn't weird, though. Which I suppose... is weird. haha.
Then Amy and I made homemade chicken noodle soup. Mom made the noodles, but she had to leave, so we finished. Then we made oatmeal cake for Anthony's birthday (he's 18!). Then parents and Nathan got home and we ate said dinner and cake. Then I drove Amy up to Logan and Peter came and picked me up.
Needless to say, we were out of the house for a long, long time and came back pretty tired.
But while I was driving Amy up and Peter was giving us a head start (let's be real here, he gets places at least a half hour before I do), Peter was cleaning the house.
This is my "I love my husband" face. :) He made the bed (complete with folded-down comforter and sheets!), cleaned the sink, washed the mirror and did some other things he won't tell me. What an adorable man!!
The moral of this post is that I love being married and I particularly love being married to Peter. <3
Monday, June 20, 2011
Date to Timpanogos
This weekend, we drove up Timpanogos canyon and took some pictures. I like going on dates where the main objective is to take pictures. :)
Bella, no?
We saw some cute little critters! We drove up a crazy dirt road and saw some amazing mountain scenery:
Beautiful! I love the mountains. My brother-in-law is very careful in his pronunciation of that word.. it makes me smile. He says it mountain. None of this Utah soft-T thing, nosirree.
It kind of makes me sad when people carve their names into trees. It reminds me of Fern Gully every time I see one. Only not that specific clip. The "Can't you feel its pain?" part.
The name is Batty, the logic is erratic... :)
Here it is! Go to 8:20 or so and laugh with me.
Peter took this one and then started singing Lady Gaga.
He's on the edge of glory! The edge of glory also happens to be the edge of a river that is very, very cold. He slipped after a few minutes and his legs went super numb. And he was already wet, so why not get into the lake?
This is Silver Lake! I think it's probably 40 degrees in there. Brr. Obviously, I was not enticed to enter.
It was sure pretty, though! And then...... the raccoon!
As we're driving along, we see something on the edge of the road. We stopped the car when we saw it was a raccoon! And not a big raccoon, either -- it was a baby! I took a bazillion pictures and then it crawled out into the road. And under our car. I got out to try and scoot it away and it just crawled further under. It took a little bit, but we finally got him out. I was kind of worried about him not having a mom to teach him that cars are bad. But, what do you do?
Anyway. I'm going to go and finish the laundry and eat lunch. Also, watch more Avatar.
xo -- eo
Bella, no?
We saw some cute little critters! We drove up a crazy dirt road and saw some amazing mountain scenery:
Beautiful! I love the mountains. My brother-in-law is very careful in his pronunciation of that word.. it makes me smile. He says it mountain. None of this Utah soft-T thing, nosirree.
It kind of makes me sad when people carve their names into trees. It reminds me of Fern Gully every time I see one. Only not that specific clip. The "Can't you feel its pain?" part.The name is Batty, the logic is erratic... :)
Here it is! Go to 8:20 or so and laugh with me.
Peter took this one and then started singing Lady Gaga.
He's on the edge of glory! The edge of glory also happens to be the edge of a river that is very, very cold. He slipped after a few minutes and his legs went super numb. And he was already wet, so why not get into the lake?
This is Silver Lake! I think it's probably 40 degrees in there. Brr. Obviously, I was not enticed to enter.
It was sure pretty, though! And then...... the raccoon!
As we're driving along, we see something on the edge of the road. We stopped the car when we saw it was a raccoon! And not a big raccoon, either -- it was a baby! I took a bazillion pictures and then it crawled out into the road. And under our car. I got out to try and scoot it away and it just crawled further under. It took a little bit, but we finally got him out. I was kind of worried about him not having a mom to teach him that cars are bad. But, what do you do?Anyway. I'm going to go and finish the laundry and eat lunch. Also, watch more Avatar.
xo -- eo
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