Going Swimmingly

With the first of the fall coolness in the air tonight, it is with great urgency that I toss up the last evidence of this of summer's adventures. 

For the first time in almost 15 years, I taught several swim classes. It was fun to be back "blowing bubbles" again with so many cute kids. I also worked with Jane quite a bit in the water. Turns out, she's very comfortable there can can float several feet without any help. 

The girls had loads of fun swimming, and even had a "spa" day complete with banana smoothie masks, painted nails, and cucumber eyes.

Our one vacation was a weekend jaunt to Bear Lake, where we, along with half the population of Northern Utah, swam, jet skied, and with it being a family reunion, ate our guts out. 

My sister-in-law reserved this great cabin, called "The Gathering Place". 

Here's Jane loving the canoe ride.

She even enjoyed her time out on the jet ski with dad.

Of course, no family gathering would be complete without a massive fort-building endeavor by all of the grandchildren. They're inside there somewhere, watching a movie.

Now, well into September, I'm not sure why I was so anxious for the kids to return to school. Sure, those last few weeks in August can be trying for even the best parent. And yet, here I am, up to my neck in schedules, dance lessons, therapy appointments, field trips, work, canning, church responsibilities, home improvements, and the PT-freakin-A, and a small part of me is yearning for just one more week of  a lazy, dazy summer. 

Good Cabins Make Good Neighbors

Everyone should have a cabin. Well, everyone should have friends that have a cabin. Okay, scratch that. Everyone should have a really great friends that have a cabin, a very nice camera, and an invitation to visit the beautiful town of Oakley over the Fourth of July weekend.

At the cabin, there must be beautiful trails,

a rope swing,

(Can I just tell you how happy I am that my girls still love a good rope swing. A few more years and they'll be sitting in the car texting their friends. Don't grow up. Not yet.)

and a river to throw rocks in.

Too small for the rope swing, Jane opts for the thrill of being toss precariously in the air.

Not to be outdone, Ed throws her just high enough to make mom nervous.

At the cabin, there should be plenty of reading material...

and pleasant walks nearby...

where your children can be free to be themselves...

Of course there must be a porch swing...

And if you can manage it, find a small town parade. Nothing fancy, just people in their folding chairs, watching the pretty girls on the horses and catching handfuls of salt water taffy.

Otter Pops would also be good.

After the parade, there must be a chicken chase at the rodeo grounds.

Separated by age, of course...

Or least a 50-cent-piece chase. They move a lot slower than the chickens.

It doesn't hurt if the boys there are insanely cute with their cowboy hats and huge belt buckles.
This summer we haven't had the resources to go on an extravagant vacation, but I've thought about what we have done. It reminds me of Dallin H. Oak's talk, Good, Better, Best. In it he reminds parents that the best activities are often the simplest.

Elder Oaks says:

"In choosing how we spend time as a family, we should be careful not to exhaust our available time on things that are merely good and leave little time for that which is better or best. A friend took his young family on a series of summer vacation trips, including visits to memorable historic sites. At the end of the summer he asked his teenage son which of these good summer activities he enjoyed most. The father learned from the reply, and so did those he told of it. “The thing I liked best this summer,” the boy replied, “was the night you and I laid on the lawn and looked at the stars and talked.” Super family activities may be good for children, but they are not always better than one-on-one time with a loving parent."

Thanks, Scott and Wendy, for inviting us up, being great friends, and for taking such beautiful pictures. It was the best.

On the street where I live

On the street where I live you can wake up see flags at every home, lifted by the morning breeze. Look to the east and you can see the the tops of the mountains, still streaked with snow. Below the snow, pines and aspens soften the edges with folds of green. Around the corner, there is a little park with a hill to run down. Across the street there is bigger park with giant cottonwood trees and a river that tumbles over the rocks, carrying the melted snow.

Walk further and you will see a church where my family can worship, and even farther down there is a store with everything you could want. If you drive a little further you will get to my parent's home where my dad still picks the tomatoes and peppers and pears for us to take home and my mom waits to put her arms around me and ask me if I'm okay. A little further and you will pass my schools and the university where I received and education. Turn west and you will see the temple where I was married to an amazing man.

Return home and you will find three daughters, all unique, all beautiful, standing in the driveway waving sparklers in their hands. You will find enough food in their cupboard and enough places to sleep. You will see their mother, perplexed at the many blessings that surround her, overwhelmed with gratitude for the sacrifices that others have made for this life to be possible.

For my parents, for deciding to have another baby and raising me safely and teaching me well. For my pioneer ancestors who sacrificed their comfort and their lives so that I can worship without fear. For those present and past that have given their lives to protect our country. For their wives and children. For my Heavenly Father, who, for some unknown reason, has placed me here at this time and place, on this beautiful street.

Running our Guts Out

Well, we did it! We, a bunch of misfits ran the Ragnar Wasatch Back in spectacular fashion. (Meaning, we finished without major injury, illness, or incident.) This is going to be a long post, so get comfy.

We definitely had some highs and lows along the way. My lows 1) almost throwing up after my first run; 2) making friends with Gold Bond

My highs: 1) Running under a billion stars at 2 in the morning with nothing but the sound of my own breath and feet hitting the road; 2) finally passing that chick in the red shirt (you know who you are); and 3) hearing "go, mom!" through the rain as I ran my final leg.

Before the race, we had alot of fun decorating our vans with the "Hot Runs" theme.

Support the Movement.
We'll wipe out the competition.

Note the toilet seat on the roof.

Don't forget the plunger!


Between the 12 of us we ran 188 miles through the beautiful Utah mountains. Here at the race start there were a few in costumes.



I wonder how long that costume lasted.
Our Van 2 group shot, a few minutes before our first set of runs. (Yes, literally and figuratively.)

Our friend Tom set up a trailer in a church parking lot and kept us fed and rested throughout the race. We were the envy of everyone. We had a few random people stop in and use the bathroom, which was just fine by us, considering the alternative venue:
Ahhh, honey buckets! Yes, the porta-pottys were called "Honey Buckets". Nice.

Our team shirts looked great!
We encountered some spectacular scenery.
We also encountered a few fun costumes.

Here is a shot of a few random things around the van.

You thought we were just kidding about the Hot Runs, didn't you? We're deadly serious.
Paul burned it up on his last get. Go Paul!
Matt had the "Ragnar" leg, and he kicked butt. It's four miles uphill with about 1600 feet elevation gain.
Here's Matt passing someone, which happened quite a bit. He ran that leg without walking once!

Here's Linda and David. They both did awesome. Plus, I just love hearing the words, "Go, Mom!" along the route. It warms my heart.
Here's Laura finishing a steep dirt hill run to hand off to Paul. Laura could crush rocks with those thighs.
Here's Josh handing off to Cynthia, our last minute replacement and purple heart recipient.
Josh did a great job and had us wishing we were all 15-years-old.
Father and son, running along together.
Here's Joe on a very steep climb. It doesn't look steep, but it was. He's running. Really.
Jessica shows some enthusiasm during her run.
Here's Jan handing off to Joe. Note the race official checking her out.
Random van scense. Jan was a good sleeper. Sorry, Jan :)
Ed and the girls came up to Heber to cheer me on for my final leg. This was one of my favorite parts of the run. Hearing "go, mom!" and running through the rain, knowing I'd be strong enought to finish. It felt great!
Random van shot #2: ice pack and race#.
Here's the sunrise over Rockport.

More beautiful scenery.
One of the exchanges was on this guys farm.
Cathy hands off to Jan. This was my worst run. It was so hot, I felt nauseous the whole time. Ug.
I learned a few things along the way. #1) People don't like to get passed. #2) People don't like to get passed by girls, and #3) People don't like to get passed by big girls in skirts. Ha!
Breakfast of champions.
Cynthia, our cheerful last-minute replacement. Next year, Emily!
Alex wins the good-spirit award. He ran with such a happy demeanor. I run like I'm going to kill someone.

Here we are at the finish line, soaked and stinky.

Here are a few of our favorite vans we saw along the route.

Van No More Mom Jeans. I love it!

Sweatin' to the Oldies

Running Off our Excess Baggage

Ain't that the truth!


Hooligans on the Run (I really think there were some ex-cons in there...)

I Think I Can I Think I Can...

Sin City Saints - a team from Vegas

Beauty and the Beasts

Runaholics Unanimous - Drunk with exhaustion

Kickin' Assphalt

As you can see, we weren't the only ones to utilize a little potty humor.

Van Running Guts

5 Jocks 1 Bra

There were a few vans that took advantage of current events:

The leveraged sellouts

Don't pass on threat of swine flu

More swine flu humor

Team No Pants was a huge hit among the men

Some just wanted to have fun:

The Zena Road Warriors - a perennial favorite




Race Official Stay Behind Me

Van Water Gun

Some were a little more mean-spirited:

Thanks alot!

Another One Eats Our Dust

A lot of vans kept track of "kills" (the number of times you passed someone)

There's an "I" in "Teim"