Well, honestly. I’m so far behind, it would be much easier to forget any goals I ever made to keep my family posted on what’s up here in Washington. The sad thing is that we are leaving tonight for Utah and Idaho on yet another exciting adventure, and I will be even further behind when I get back, with more history and pictures just waiting to be dealt with.
I feel the urge to cheat.
I am going to haphazardly slap down as many pictures and as much information as I can without trying to hard to organize it. I have two pages of lists of “Things To Do Before We Walk Out the Door at 3 in the Morning,” and this wasn’t even on either of those, but it will probably make me feel better so I’m going to do it anyway.
I’ll start with the last picture on my camera, but not the least.
Let me introduce you to “Miss Aubrey,” which is her official Nanny name, as required by the kids’ mother.
I probably wouldn’t be too far off if I said that by now she gets a cold chill every time she hears “Miss Aubrey” whined, screeched or tattled. She is in her third month as a Nanny to five children, ages 4, 6, 8, 10 and 12 – with the four youngest being boys. They are coming from a long stint in a badly-run daycare, and their divorced, working full-time and going to school full-time non-member mother is extremely grateful for the stability and sanity that Aubrey provides.There are several sugar-coated positives that come with this bitter pill she has to swallow six days a week. First, it has enhanced her interest in child psychology and development classes, wondering what could possibly motivate the behavior that she deals with daily, prompting her to register for several of these classes this coming semester. Second, it is paying her way to take these child psychology and development classes.
Third, she is developing a level of patience she had previously never dreamed of achieving. Fourth, she is becoming adept at dodging hits, scratches, bites, kicks, Legos, etc. Fifth, she will be amazingly competent at dealing with a wide range of the nastiest and smelliest of motherly duties which shall not be named as this point due to my over-active gag reflexes.
Sixth, she has quite a repertoire of unusual experiences for someone her age to throw into conversations with the young men in her life.
And, despite the daily challenges that you couldn’t pay ME to face at this point in me life, she remains cheerful and upbeat, even when she doesn’t get home from work until 11:30 on some nights. She even continues to maintain a very active social life, which reminds me of why we have children when we are young instead of at my age.
Next, going backwards on my camera, are these two young ladies. At this moment behind the scenes, it is Saturday afternoon, we have just beat SDSU in Basketball, Nathan is in the van yelling that they are going to be late for the Best of EFY, and I am jumping around on the porch in below freezing temperatures, trying to out-influence Nathan and get them to hold still, never quite getting them both in the picture.
It is mainly because of these two young ladies that we are headed out the door tomorrow morning. Several months ago before BYU Basketball and “Jimmermania” reached its fever pitch and there were still tickets available, these young ladies professed an intense desire to be able to see Jimmer and Jackson play. Well, knowing it would be a hard sell to get Jim to buy into this, (delicate cough) it took a surprising two seconds for him to agree and bring up the BYU Basketball Ticket web site.
We have a pattern worked out for the games. I watch the game for the first hour on the TV upstairs while I walk on the treadmill and Jim takes it with the girls downstairs. Believe me, it is as if I were there with them. You have NEVER heard screaming like you hear from these young ladies. Then at half time we switch. I just leave one hard over my ear and try to move my other one fast enough to cover my other ear ANY time ANY BYU player on the court does ANYTHING that could possibly be construed as a good move.
We have strategically placed the three girls in seats right in front of Jim and I and Nathan at the Marriott Center. If you happen to be watching the BYU – University of New Mexico game this Wednesday night, I would be very surprised if you didn’t hear them. How I wish any of this were an exaggeration. I taped it one night because no one would ever believe me.
I mean, honestly, how many teenage girls do you know with this poster on their bedroom wall?
Late Breaking Newsflash – BYU is now ranked 3rd in the nation in the polls!!
Saturday night at the dance, a young man in the stake overheard Marci repeating a text to Jamie that Aubrey had just sent about two college basketball teams in the nation and which team had just upset the other. He totally freaked that they knew anything about basketball, and the three of them got into quite a lively discussion. You could ask them any statistic about any team and most players, and they could catch you up on all you never wanted to know. Amazing.
Going backwards on the camera.
We finally got some snow and we love it. Well, except for when the temperature then hangs out below freezing. I learned a very important truth -- never kick a dead snowball without asking how many times it has thawed and been refrozen.
Moving on backwards to last week.
It was the story of “Where the Red Fern Grows” all over again. Our stove died, went to appliance heaven and had to be replaced. Sadly, it was just too much for the oven. It had been a long and beautiful relationship between these two and, well, life no longer held any meaning for the oven. We did not mourn long. We ordered a Double Convection Oven. Each oven with three racks that all cook and brown at the same rate. Six sheets of cookies at once? 12 Loaves of bread? Six pizzas? Six trays of hamburger buns, garlic toast being broiled in one oven while your lasagna is cooking in the other, six loaves of French bread in one oven while three trays of granola are happily baking in another. Oh my, the possibilities are endless.
But dearly departed ovens still have ways of getting even with owners who do not mourn their loss. We were sent the wrong oven. We had to wait another week and a half for the right oven. We were constantly mocked by this hole in the wall and plagued by having to squish through this miniscule opening to get to the other rooms.
FINALLY. We have the correct oven to install. Jim has to cut the hole a little bigger, which is no problem considering the nifty Saber saw Dad gave him for Christmas.
He’s learned a thing or two about wires and nasty shockable stuff over the years.
One little glitch in our otherwise flawless installation. He goes out to the garage after it’s finally hefted by all six of us and installed in its new home. We all wait for the big moment when he throws the switch and the new fancy oven lights came on. And we wait. And wait some more. And nothing. Panic. Read the instructions again. Did we get a lemon? He goes out to the garage again, throws a different switch, and BINGO -- we have an oven. Multitudes of rejoicing.
And let me just say. I LOVE THESE NEW OVENS!!!
OK. Retrogressing once again. We move backward on the calendar. We are to February 13th, 2011 now.
Walking through Seattle Pacific University Campus on our way to the Winner’s Recital.
One controlled bundle of nerves at this point.
Here’s half the group that performed. There were two guys as well.
Jamie and her piano teacher and accompanist, Lyrica LaBelle.
A sigh of relief. It’s all over – at least until later this week or so until she has to start working on next year’s competition.
AND – That’s absolutely all I have time for now. This is the current state of the weather outside. Wish us luck as we take on dangerous snowy mountain passes and crazy BYU fans.
p.s. Happy Birthday, Richelle! We’ll see you two on Thursday!
P.S. Preview of what’s already happened but is still in the future to come – to this blog, anyway . . .
Nathan and Jim standing in front of results of Nathan’s completed Eagle Scout Project.
