halloween

Halloween is definitely one of my favorites.  Always has been.  I love everything about it.  I have many friends who hate Halloween, they hate the gore and the evil and whatever else.  I don't hate anything about it.  To me Halloween isn't at all about gore or evil.  It is about fun and candy and costumes and tradition. 

 It is about being a kid.

This year we transformed into Zorro, a swingin 50's girl, Luigi and a stunning bride.

I can still remember the Halloween parades of my youth at good ole White Oak Elementary.  I remember weaving around all the desks, in and out of every classroom, proudly displaying my costume for all to see.  I think Ashlyn felt pretty proud of her gorgeous gown in her kindergarten parade, you can just see it on her face.  Oh, the memories.

After the parade I stopped in to help in Bryson's class for his 6th grade party before I dashed off to...

...help in Ashlyn's kindergarten party, before I raced off to help in.....

...Alyssa's 4th grade party.  Poor Eto, I didn't make it to his 2nd grade party because it was at the same time as one of these other parties, but I certainly heard all about it and it was a good one.

After our traditional dinner we headed out into the night for a little trick or treating.  I love this picture of Alyssa.  That spider was triggered by movement and would come down and scare kids.  She about had a heart attack.  And look at those leaves on the pavement.  Oh my gosh, I love the fall.

My kids were happy with their loot. 

And my dentist will be too.



Late in the evening the doorbell rang.  We were very surprised to find this gem of a trick or treater. 

I don't know what her name is, Pearl or Ruby or maybe Doris.

(She actually wore this outfit all day on campus, oh, if only I had her self confidence)

It was a happy Halloween indeed!





october random

October is over.  I am sad, because I love October, for so many reasons.  Here are a few moments I wanted to capture, record and always remember from this great month.

Bryson's first Priesthood meeting. 

 Oh, how I love these boys.  I am so thankful for them and for the priesthood they all hold and how they honor that power.  I am very blessed.



Ancient Egypt unit in 6th grade.  The assignment:  make a pyramid out of anything you want.  Bryson chose Duct tape.  Because, come on, you can make anything with duct tape.

Brandon's project for History class.  Valley Forge.  He did a great job.  Notice the bloody footprints in the snow and the tombstones listing what the soldiers died from.  Very creative I must say.

A view of the whole thing.  I like the soldiers in the corner wrapped in blankets huddled around a small fire.  I think he got an A.

While out to dinner down at the Riverwoods we crossed paths with a headless horseman. 

No big deal.

And Kara blew in to rummage through the Halloween box to find a costume.  I had tears running down my face, I was laughing so hard as she hopped around as a one legged old lady. 

That girl!

And that's all!

Yuki was Pukey

This was our second year of hosting a Japanese exchange student.  Our first time had been a great experience, and we were excited to try it again.  We decided that what we did last time worked really well, so we concluded that we would follow that same format and all would be well. 

 We were wrong.  

Really wrong.

Our first mistake was the traditional stop at Smash Burger.  We had been told that most of these students want to try a real "American Burger."  We were happy to oblige.  And so, without a thought in the world, we all sat down and scarfed down our big greasy burgers and fries, topped off with a big soda.  And this student, who was so overwhelmed and shy, politely ate the whole thing.

Our second mistake was driving directly from Smash Burger to Krispy Kremes.  Now, don't you think it would be neat to see a donut factory and then eat a few greasy sugary donuts?  We did.  

We kept asking him (actually more like motioning to him) if he wanted one.  He kept saying no.  By the time we got to the cashier, I kind of new something was wrong.  His color wasn't so good, he kept licking his lips and his eyes were frantically looking around, for a bathroom, I think.  I quickly told Trevor and we some how managed to get him to the bathroom.  I think he made it just in time.  Now, remember, this poor kid is thousands of miles from home, has been traveling for about 20 hours,  doesn't speak the language, has just been introduced to his "seven" host siblings (he was an only child), had been forced to eat a ginormous greasy burger and fries, and is now throwing up in the cold bathroom of a donut shop.

Welcome to America, Yuki!

I was dying.  I think he was too.

It was a quiet ride home from the donut shop.  I didn't know what he was thinking.  I didn't know if he was going to throw up again in the Krispy Kreme bag we made him hold.  I kept thinking of his poor mom, who was probably worried sick about him. And, after knowing what we had just put him through, she had every right to be.  I wanted to take care of him and make him feel better, just like I would hope someone would do for my child if he were that far from home.  But, that can be a little hard to do with a huge language barrier.  Somehow we got him settled, let him shower, and then he went straight to bed.  He seemed OK the next morning, well kind of OK, we couldn't really tell and he couldn't really tell us.

I had planned a whole bunch of "classic" American meals, but after the first night quickly changed my menu.  I stuck with rice, chicken noodle soup and some other mild dishes.  He didn't really eat much that first couple of days, and although his stomach may have still been upset, he was coming around.  By day 3 I think he was finally better and actually starting to warm up to our family and our crazy American way.



We introduced him to Nerf guns and bionicles and shooting bionicles with Nerf guns.  Nice.



We introduced him to the great tradition of Halloween (they do not celebrate that in Japan).  Gory masks, creepy cemeteries, scary sounds and gobs and gobs of candy.  Again, very nice.

We also introduced him to some sports.  A little basketball.



And a long and cold 3 hour 8th grade football game.  He may have been a little bit bored, but he didn't complain.  He was so sweet and polite.

By the end of the week, Yuki was just like one of the family.  He even offered to make us a big traditional Japanese lunch that was delicious.  We had a great time and, despite the rough start, I think he did, too.  We were all sad when it was time for him to go.  I don't even want to know the report he gave to his parents, but it couldn't have been too bad because we got a huge package from them at Christmas filled with gifts and food and thankyous for the great week he had had.  So, all was well that ended well. 

 And as for next year - well, we have learned our lesson.  Next time, I think we will save the grease and the calories and the sugar and the gorging until the end of the week - because, you know, it just ain't America without them!



he's 14

Fourteen.

My cute boy turned fourteen. 

Fourteen.

If he could, I think he would request and successfully eat salmon and shrimp and rolls fourteen times in a week. (That would be every lunch and every dinner!)

Fourteen.

This teenager is very loved.  So loved in fact, that a special visitor stopped by, took a break from college,  just to celebrate with us and her favorite "Fourteen" year old brother.

  He was thrilled.

Fourteen.

Close to the number of times he has a practice or a game or a reffing assignment or is just outside playing some sort of sport with his friends during any given week.

Fourteen.

How in the world can I find fourteen things to get for this boy for his birthday.  He is hard to shop for, but grateful for anything he gets, even strawberry and chocolate milk.  (which, by the way, was recalled the very next week!  Really!?!  Recalled powdered milk mix?)

Fourteen.

The number of hours he spends reading each week.  He loves books, can't get enough, always looking for the next adventure.  I love that about him.

Fourteen.

The number of times he comes into our room between the hour of 10 and 11 pm to tell us something or to ask us something or because something is bothering him or because he just wants to talk. 

Fourteen.

The number of times we tell him we love him and he needs to go to bed.

Fourteen.

Fourteen very full years of joy, of boy stuff, of wonder, of laughter, of true love for the very best fourteen year old around, and I really mean that!

Happy Birthday Brandon.

I love you fourteen times infinity.

a little pigskin

This was Ethan's first year playing flag football.  He had been watching his brothers play for years and he could hardly wait to get out there and show them what he was made of.  

He had so much fun and you should have seen his twisty jump move.  It was awesome.  And so is Ethan.  I absolutely loved watching him run and jump and pull and score.  He is already counting down the days until next season.

And then there is this kid.  He had another great season playing tackle football.  He is so talented in any sport he tries.  A real athlete.  I loved watching him this year, cheering him on, ringing my cow bell and covering my eyes every time he got tackled.  

Luckily he survived another season, and so did I.  It is a huge time commitment.  Huge.  

But, for this boy it was all worth it.

And I guess it is for me too, to see my boys so happy, doing what they love, running in the wind, listening and learning from coaches, supporting their teammates, and experiencing the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. 

 You gotta love football. 

 And around here, we really do!

goblin valley

They started out happy, this great group of campers/ scouters/ deacons and their fearless leaders.  They arrived at their destination, the great Goblin Valley, set up camp, cooked some food, played around a little and then it started to rain. 

And once it started, it did not stop.  It rained and rained and rained.  This was a hard rain.  A steady rain.  A very strong rain.  And all of a sudden, these happy boys weren't so happy anymore.

Maybe because of things like this.

And this.

Oh, and this.

This was my boys tent.

They did think it was cool when they saw the flash flood and all of the debris it was carrying with it, but that was really the only cool thing about this rain and this camp out. (They actually closed the whole canyon down because of all the flash floods.)  They were freezing, they were wet, they were tired.  Some of them huddled in their ponchos.  Some of them cried.  Some of them gave up.  But one of them decided to do something about it.  One of them decided to say a prayer and asked everyone to join them.  He hates to admit it, but my husband, the fearless scoutmaster was doubtful.  There was no fix to this problem.  No, not even a prayer could fix this one.  But not even the doubt of the scoutmaster deterred these then determined, faithful, hopeful youth.  A heartfelt prayer was given by a trusting little deacon that it would stop raining, that they could somehow enjoy this beautiful land that they had come so far to see.

And  you will never guess what happened.

For a few, just a few short hours, the clouds parted, the rain stopped and the glorious sunshine came out.

And these scouters, these campers, these deacons used those few short hours to explore the beautiful red rocks of Goblin Valley.  They dodged in and out of the little goblins, explored caves and climbed to the top of rock monuments.  They took advantage of every last minute of those two dry hours before the rain started again.

They did have to cut the trip short.  It wasn't possible to stay one more night because every tent and every sleeping bag and every article of clothing was sopping wet, but although it was short, it was a trip they will never forget. 

The lesson learned:  never underestimate the faith of a child, the power of prayer, the goodness of God.

Because, you know, whenever there is rain, there is always a rainbow.

leaves

Trevor is not complete every year until he has driven the Alpine Loop to look at the leaves.  There is a small window of time when it is absolutely gorgeous, when all the colors are out, when the air is crisp, when you just have to go.  The fall is a pretty busy time for us and sometimes that window does not stay open long enough for us to all enjoy it together.  This year was one of those years.  We were just too busy, and schedules didn't work out, but that did not detour Trevor.  

Nope, not at all.  

We grabbed anybody who we could find, whipped through a take out window for some lunch and headed for the hills.

It just so happened that Ash was the only one "free" enough to come along. And so the three of us enjoyed a little Carl's Junior, a little "I'm the youngest, and I am special" time and a few breathtaking views of this wonderful state we call home.

And, now, my nature loving husband is complete, at least for this year.

Happy Fall!