Saturday, August 18, 2012

David and Natalie

My brother's wedding day was one of the happiest days of my life. Ha! Yes, the day belonged to the newly-crowned Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, but it was so joyful for me to be part of the beautiful and meaningful ceremony, and then to celebrate with our family. I am thrilled that my little brother chose the lovely, happy, generous, smart, silly, kind woman that is my new sister in-law. They are so happy together. Hooray!

Here are some of my favorite shots of the wedding reception, held at the home of Natalie's friend. They had a crepe bar, a trail mix station, a jazz band, and croquet. They had three wedding cakes: a chocolate torte made by my parents, a lemon bundt cake made by Natalie's parents, and a white frosted cake made by David and Natalie themselves.

Monday, August 13, 2012

Shameful Shed Shenanigans

I am a royal idiot.

Yesterday afternoon, I was playing in the backyard with the little guys while our man was at a church meeting. We were having a lovely time examining the growing pumpkin in the garden and running around on the grass. Then the punk asked me about the little glow stick that his primary teacher had given him. I cracked it for him, but in the bright sunlight, we couldn't see the mild orange light emanating from the stick, so I had a brilliant idea. "Let's go into the dark shed, Buddy, and I'll show you how it glows!" So, with my camera strapped over my shoulder (it is attached to me all day on the 12th), I led my 3 year-old into the hot, dark tool shed. The basher was busy playing in the dirt, so I didn't bother disturbing him; we would only be a minute. I pulled the wooden door closed behind me so we could enclose ourselves in darkness to marvel at the magical glow that was looped around the punk's wrist.

"See, Buddy? Pretty cool, huh?"
He nodded.

Then I pushed the door and immediately realized that I was the dumbest person on the planet at that moment. The door had locked behind us and there is no latch inside the shed. The basher had just realized that we had gone into the normally forbidden tool shed without him, and came over to yell at the door in hopes that we would include him in our game. As I foolishly tried to figure out a way out, his yells turned to cries and then sobs. I knew we were okay; my man was due home any minute, and we had ample air. We even had plastic chairs to sit on. The basher was physically safe. He would not leave the other side of the shed door, and therefore, was unable to get into any mischief. But the poor guy was completely distraught. With the latch securing the very top of the door, I was able to push the bottom out a few inches in order to hold his hand, which gave him minimal comfort. With my words of comfort and my soft touch, he was able to stop screaming and just breathe in hiccups like one does after a very hard cry.

I tried to feed a rope with a hook over the top of the door in order to catch the latch, but it was on the other side of the door jam, and unreachable. I even tried wedging a shovel in the door like a crowbar, and using my supermom strength to muscle the door open by breaking the lock, but 1) we weren't desperate enough to do that kind of damage to the shed and 2) the basher would not leave the door, and would have been knocked over if I had beaten the door down. He kept sticking his fingers and even his arm in the space that I created when I pushed from my side.

We were stuck in that stupid shed for a good 45 minutes while our cheeks reddened with heat and the basher's cheeks reddened with despair. 

Finally, my man pulled into the driveway. Through my 1-inch view, I saw him come straight from his car to the backyard. He had seen the basher and thought we all must be hanging out. Then, as he told his mom while laughing so hard he was crying, he saw that the basher was standing at the door of the shed by himself. Then he noticed that the door was being pushed from the inside and a hand was sticking out. He heard, "TIM!" and the hand from the shed waved frantically. I saw his face, bewildered at first, and then understanding dawned and he burst out laughing. I laughed sheepishly from inside the shed, knowing what I must look like to my man who likes to tease. 

He freed us, gave the boys a hug and a kiss, and laugh/cried while he called his mom and attempted to explain the idiocy he had just witnessed.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

12of12: August (Sunday)

Every month on the 12th, I take 12 photos to document my day. This month, we started the day at Grandpa's ranch near Vernal with my family and ended the day at home.

[Click on the block of photos to enlarge]

1. Miriam couldn't resist a morning cuddle from her brother Martin, who slept on the deck under the stars. 2. The view of the cabin from the bridge over the stream. 3. My punk and my cousin (and best friend)'s daughter were inseparable this weekend. I saw him twice put his arm gently on Miri's back and sweetly say, "I love you." He probably just appreciated that, as the younger cousin, she deferred to him in all matters. 4. We enjoyed lots of aunt and uncle time this weekend. Here, my brother Michael and his girlfriend Paula help my man wrangle the three little ones on the bridge. 5. Getting ready for the journey home. 6. Goodbye, ranch! 7. The basher was lulled into an early nap in the car. 8. Then he enjoyed a delicious milkshake at Granny's Drive In in Heber. 9. I win the Idiot Award for locking myself and my punk inside the backyard shed while the basher was stranded and sobbing outside and our man was at a church meeting. Shameful story to follow. 10. "Cheese toasty" with mozzarella, pepperoni, fresh tomato, and garden-warmed basil for dinner. The boys had canned soup. I win! 11. We returned Grandma Lynn & Papa Bob's camping gear (to the punk's chagrin - he wanted to keep "his" sleeping bag), and enjoyed the view from the deck. 12. My attempt to remove campfire from every pore.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Natural History

I loved growing up close to my cousins. They were some of my best friends, and still are! We played together often and knew each other well. During the summer, my cousin Brooke and I would take the number 40 bus to and from each other's houses. (Can you even imagine sticking your child on a bus by herself these days?) Every time our families got together, we would play Barbies for hours, and then, when it was time to go home, we would beg our moms to have a sleepover.

My boys have exactly one cousin. And he lives 5 hours away in Boise, ID. So when James came to spend a week with Grandma and Papa, we squeezed in as much cousin time as we could. We spent two afternoons at the pool, and one morning at the new Natural History Museum.

As an only child, he's not used to having to accommodate weird little kids, but he is a sweetie, and he let the punk talk his ear off and poke him with puppets in the car.

Bell boys

I love the architecture of this building.

Run, Grandma! He's getting away!

You look surprised to see me.

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