We're Back... but now we are in Oregon
7 years ago
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
missing seattle...
on clean, cool, rainy mornings like this one, I really miss Seattle.
those days were full of wonder.
it was where i fell in love.
those days were full of wonder.
it was where i fell in love.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Komen's Race for the Cure, 2008
Last year, my mom and sisters did the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure (http://www.komenslc.org/) - a 5K run (or walk) in SLC that donates its proceeds to research for the cure for Breast Cancer. They had such a great experience, and I thought it was such a great idea! I wanted to participate! But I was two states away, and all the Washington races for the cure were during the day on weekdays - impossible with the work schedule.
But ever since hearing about the race, I'd wanted to take part in it - or at least something like it. Breast Cancer has really affected my little family (My beautiful mother in law, Martha, lost her long battle with it 13 years ago and my beautiful mother, Tammy, is 3 years a survivor), and I wanted to do something to affect IT in return! Kick it's trash by kicking my own on a 5K run!
So this year when Ali told us that the race was coming around again, Bill and I (and Wyatt by default) jumped on board.
We met Mom and Ali in Salt Lake, and the turnout was overwhelming. We began our shuffle with the crowd accross the starting line, and I was moved to tears. I was surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of people who have been affected by Breast Cancer. Everyone (including us) wore a sign on their backs showing who they were walking for - in memory of or in celebration of. It was devastating and wonderful all at the same time.
It was so satisfying to be able to do something; to take action - even a small one - in the battle against the beast.
I plan to do it again next year.
View my Mom and Dad's posting about this event here: http://russandtammycard.blogspot.com/2008/05/race-for-cure-2008.html
But ever since hearing about the race, I'd wanted to take part in it - or at least something like it. Breast Cancer has really affected my little family (My beautiful mother in law, Martha, lost her long battle with it 13 years ago and my beautiful mother, Tammy, is 3 years a survivor), and I wanted to do something to affect IT in return! Kick it's trash by kicking my own on a 5K run!
So this year when Ali told us that the race was coming around again, Bill and I (and Wyatt by default) jumped on board.
We met Mom and Ali in Salt Lake, and the turnout was overwhelming. We began our shuffle with the crowd accross the starting line, and I was moved to tears. I was surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of people who have been affected by Breast Cancer. Everyone (including us) wore a sign on their backs showing who they were walking for - in memory of or in celebration of. It was devastating and wonderful all at the same time.
It was so satisfying to be able to do something; to take action - even a small one - in the battle against the beast.
I plan to do it again next year.
View my Mom and Dad's posting about this event here: http://russandtammycard.blogspot.com/2008/05/race-for-cure-2008.html
Friday, May 16, 2008
Ali and Bill have a HULA SHOWDOWN!
You have to watch it twice...watch Ali's sweet moves the first time. Then watch Bill's...er...yeah. :D
This was at Jeff's mom's house. I think the adults had more fun with the hula contest than the kids!
This was at Jeff's mom's house. I think the adults had more fun with the hula contest than the kids!
Friday, May 9, 2008
What They Don't Tell You About Mothers...
When you're about to become a mother, you're bombarded with stories and advice from those who have "been there, done that". You read all the textbooks your doctor gives you, all the books your mommy friends recommend to you, all the magazines...and yet, you know, deep down. You're not prepared. You know nothing.
And then that little one comes into your life and you're thrown into the maelstrom of motherhood; and only then do you begin to understand exactly how much you don't know.
Other mothers try...but they simply can't tell you.
They might tell you that you will get no sleep. You expect to be up with the baby through the night, and tell yourself you can get used to the sleep deprivation. And what do you know, you do! And after a few months of desperation, deliriousness, and finding yourself crying more than your newborn does, you even begin to enjoy those midnight feedings and the chance to be alone with that amazing little person - to cuddle him and watch his little face...and you probably cry and whisper prayers of thanks to a Heavenly Father who loved you enough to give you this experience. To force you to come to a new reckoning of what 'selflessness' really means.
What they don't tell you is how the baby isn't even the real issue in sleep deprivation. It's all the times you wake up in a panic, and hold your breath and listen so hard to see if you can hear the baby breathing. How suddenly you've become a light sleeper, and you are on your feet every time the baby moves or sighs or yawns. How sometimes you wake up not even in a panic, just because the new mother in you has to check on your sweet baby, because he might be cold or too warm or, heaven forbid, so cute you would be missing this if you were sleeping. And they don't tell you about the dreams. About how now that you are a mother, every danger imaginable that could harm your baby or your husband in any way haunt your mind in your sleep...and soon, during the waking hours as well. They don't tell you that far more often than you would like to admit, you recognize a potential danger in everyday life, the scene unfolds in your mind against your will, clutches you at your chest, fills your mind with panic, and then leaves...but leaves a permanent mark on your psyche. You are now a mother - a newly born worrier. But you keep these worries to yourself, because now, as a mother, your insanities are your own.
They may tell you that everything is different, but they don't tell you - they don't even come close to warning you - that everything is different. You expect that everything will be different, obviously. You have this new person in your life now that wasn't there before. But they don't tell you that YOU are different. Your perspective is different. Your attitude is different. Your tastes are different. You used to love action movies, but now you can't stand them because in that great car chase scene, three cars blow up. There were people in there! Somebody's father/son/brother! And the tragedy of it makes you cry, and the fact that nobody seems to care about those people in the car makes you angry. And the TV commercials! TV Commercials make you cry. Commercials about adoption, third world hunger, diapers, kids excited to go to Disneyland, McDonald's...they all make you cry!
They tell you that your body won't be the same, but they don't tell you how different your body will feel to you. On the one hand, you'll feel battered, stretched, bruised, twisted, and knotted in ways you have never felt before. Your curves will change, you'll find curves in new places, things that used to be more curvy will be a bit flattened...you'll have marks and scars that will label you a veteran mother. On the other hand, you'll look at your body and feel powerful, unconquered, majestic. You will recognize that there is nothing that you can't do, and so you might as well do it all! Your body is incredible and undefeated. You are stunning.
They tell you that you will love that little baby more than you think is possible. But they don't tell you what that love does to you. They don't tell you that your capacity for love, for giving, for understanding, for sacrifice increases to such a degree that you find it unbelievable that your mortal body - stunning as it is - can contain it. They don't tell you that when your little one looks into your eyes with absolute innocence and trust and acceptance and love, you can actually feel your heart bursting in your chest, and you can feel all your troubles, all your concerns and uncertainties and fears about life, the world and your place in it sluff off of you, and all you're left with is possibility. Possibility and that tiny, perfect little hand wrapped so meekly, yet so strongly around your finger.
They don't tell you how you fall in love with your husband all over again every time you see him playing with your baby. The way he changes the baby's diaper, the way he feeds him, the way he dresses him in the morning, so gently. They don't tell you that you become so overwhelmed with amazement that you are lucky enough to be married to this amazing man that you can't speak. All you can do is smile at him and feel the bursting in your chest, again.
And they don't tell you that in every new stage, with every new challenge, every new joy and every new experience that you get with the package deal of motherhood, you begin to understand your own mother a little bit more. You begin to recognize in new ways her unfathomable strength, her strong character, her unfaltering will, and her unchallenged love for you. You begin to understand that for every tear you cry in anguish and in joy, she has cried for you. You begin to understand that every pain, every worry, every moment of absolute wonder, every bout of uncontrollable laughter that you experience, she experienced over you. You begin to understand that everything that you have given up...every task put off, every errand foregone, every personal pleasantry postponed...every dream exchanged for your baby's dreams...your mother has given up for you.
And so you begin to understand, as a mother, exactly all of the things that you never understood, and all of the things that you still don't understand about what a mother is.
And you are filled with a vast yet quiet gratitude for the depth of what it is to be Mother. You give a nod of kinship with all mothers around you, and you wear your badge of Motherhood with empathy and pride.
And you remember - always remember - the mothers who came before you who made you who you are. Especially your own.
Thanks, Mom.
Happy Mothers Day.
And then that little one comes into your life and you're thrown into the maelstrom of motherhood; and only then do you begin to understand exactly how much you don't know.
Other mothers try...but they simply can't tell you.
They might tell you that you will get no sleep. You expect to be up with the baby through the night, and tell yourself you can get used to the sleep deprivation. And what do you know, you do! And after a few months of desperation, deliriousness, and finding yourself crying more than your newborn does, you even begin to enjoy those midnight feedings and the chance to be alone with that amazing little person - to cuddle him and watch his little face...and you probably cry and whisper prayers of thanks to a Heavenly Father who loved you enough to give you this experience. To force you to come to a new reckoning of what 'selflessness' really means.
What they don't tell you is how the baby isn't even the real issue in sleep deprivation. It's all the times you wake up in a panic, and hold your breath and listen so hard to see if you can hear the baby breathing. How suddenly you've become a light sleeper, and you are on your feet every time the baby moves or sighs or yawns. How sometimes you wake up not even in a panic, just because the new mother in you has to check on your sweet baby, because he might be cold or too warm or, heaven forbid, so cute you would be missing this if you were sleeping. And they don't tell you about the dreams. About how now that you are a mother, every danger imaginable that could harm your baby or your husband in any way haunt your mind in your sleep...and soon, during the waking hours as well. They don't tell you that far more often than you would like to admit, you recognize a potential danger in everyday life, the scene unfolds in your mind against your will, clutches you at your chest, fills your mind with panic, and then leaves...but leaves a permanent mark on your psyche. You are now a mother - a newly born worrier. But you keep these worries to yourself, because now, as a mother, your insanities are your own.
They may tell you that everything is different, but they don't tell you - they don't even come close to warning you - that everything is different. You expect that everything will be different, obviously. You have this new person in your life now that wasn't there before. But they don't tell you that YOU are different. Your perspective is different. Your attitude is different. Your tastes are different. You used to love action movies, but now you can't stand them because in that great car chase scene, three cars blow up. There were people in there! Somebody's father/son/brother! And the tragedy of it makes you cry, and the fact that nobody seems to care about those people in the car makes you angry. And the TV commercials! TV Commercials make you cry. Commercials about adoption, third world hunger, diapers, kids excited to go to Disneyland, McDonald's...they all make you cry!
They tell you that your body won't be the same, but they don't tell you how different your body will feel to you. On the one hand, you'll feel battered, stretched, bruised, twisted, and knotted in ways you have never felt before. Your curves will change, you'll find curves in new places, things that used to be more curvy will be a bit flattened...you'll have marks and scars that will label you a veteran mother. On the other hand, you'll look at your body and feel powerful, unconquered, majestic. You will recognize that there is nothing that you can't do, and so you might as well do it all! Your body is incredible and undefeated. You are stunning.
They tell you that you will love that little baby more than you think is possible. But they don't tell you what that love does to you. They don't tell you that your capacity for love, for giving, for understanding, for sacrifice increases to such a degree that you find it unbelievable that your mortal body - stunning as it is - can contain it. They don't tell you that when your little one looks into your eyes with absolute innocence and trust and acceptance and love, you can actually feel your heart bursting in your chest, and you can feel all your troubles, all your concerns and uncertainties and fears about life, the world and your place in it sluff off of you, and all you're left with is possibility. Possibility and that tiny, perfect little hand wrapped so meekly, yet so strongly around your finger.
They don't tell you how you fall in love with your husband all over again every time you see him playing with your baby. The way he changes the baby's diaper, the way he feeds him, the way he dresses him in the morning, so gently. They don't tell you that you become so overwhelmed with amazement that you are lucky enough to be married to this amazing man that you can't speak. All you can do is smile at him and feel the bursting in your chest, again.
And they don't tell you that in every new stage, with every new challenge, every new joy and every new experience that you get with the package deal of motherhood, you begin to understand your own mother a little bit more. You begin to recognize in new ways her unfathomable strength, her strong character, her unfaltering will, and her unchallenged love for you. You begin to understand that for every tear you cry in anguish and in joy, she has cried for you. You begin to understand that every pain, every worry, every moment of absolute wonder, every bout of uncontrollable laughter that you experience, she experienced over you. You begin to understand that everything that you have given up...every task put off, every errand foregone, every personal pleasantry postponed...every dream exchanged for your baby's dreams...your mother has given up for you.
And so you begin to understand, as a mother, exactly all of the things that you never understood, and all of the things that you still don't understand about what a mother is.
And you are filled with a vast yet quiet gratitude for the depth of what it is to be Mother. You give a nod of kinship with all mothers around you, and you wear your badge of Motherhood with empathy and pride.
And you remember - always remember - the mothers who came before you who made you who you are. Especially your own.
Thanks, Mom.
Happy Mothers Day.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Remembering Ashley
Ashley Hansen was an incredible young lady. She lived her life to the fullest - had no regrets - and treated everyone as though they were her best friend.
We remember her fondly and miss her greatly today, her birthday.
Ashley was the BEST cavewoman in our childhood play - she really perfected the art of her craft. The bone through the ponytail at the top of her head, her animal print "cave-dress", and her cries of "OOGA BOOGA SHMOOGA!" were very convincing.
She also kicked my trash at bowling.
Ash is one of my greatest examples in living a life the way I aspire to. The way Christ did.
And she was a dear friend.
I love and miss her.
We remember her fondly and miss her greatly today, her birthday.
Ashley was the BEST cavewoman in our childhood play - she really perfected the art of her craft. The bone through the ponytail at the top of her head, her animal print "cave-dress", and her cries of "OOGA BOOGA SHMOOGA!" were very convincing.
She also kicked my trash at bowling.
Ash is one of my greatest examples in living a life the way I aspire to. The way Christ did.
And she was a dear friend.
I love and miss her.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
A Strange Occurrence at Chez 686
Saturday Evening...
8:42pm.
The McCrerys return home after an evening of hooplah in Highland. At first glance, everything seemed in order; calm, tranquil, the only sound the gentle push of air through the vent above their heads.
18 minutes before Wyatt's bed time. Plenty of time to PJ the kid, read from the good book, and toss him and his passifyer into his crib to saw some quality toothpicks.
The McCrery's had everything under control...
Then Mr. McCrery saw it. The grotesque scene unfolded before him in what seemed like slow motion. He had entered the kitchen with innocent thoughts about a glass of cold water to slake his thirst; but he never made it to the glass cupboard. For there - in saturated and horrific detail - was the bowl. In two pieces. Split right down the middle. Murdered.
The bowl had been performing an act of service for Mrs. McCrery. The McCrery's had enjoyed some corn on the cob for dinner the night before, and the little miniature corn-shaped cob holder thingies are too small to run through the dishwasher. So Mrs. McCrery solicited the aid of the bowl - ever reliable - to contain the miniature corn thingies and some hot, soapy water so they could soak until she felt like scrubbing them.
"If I had known" - Mrs. McCrery admitted later - "that my laziness would cost the bowl it's life - (choke, sob) I would have washed the corn thingies RIGHT AWAY! I never would have left them to soak! They don't need to soak! They weren't even really all that DIRTY!" (sob)
Once the shock of his discovery abated, Mr. McCrery noticed something odd. Not only was there no explanation for how the bowl ended up splitting down the middle into two perfect pieces, there was also no WATER.
Where did all the soapy water go?
The bowl had had no crack.
The hot water was not the culprit as they had begun soaking the night before the occurrence.
The McCrerys find it difficult to sleep with this unsolved mystery looming over their heads. What happened to their loyal bowl? Why was there no water? What could have broken the bowl in such a way while they were out; doors and windows locked?
Some suspect really thirsty and violent ants...
some suspect the corn thingies did it...
some wonder about beings from beyond this world, trying an experiment that went awry...
What *did* happen in the McCrery kitchen that fateful Saturday? If you have or think you have any information about this or other mysteries from this show, please contact us using the "comment" link below.
8:42pm.
The McCrerys return home after an evening of hooplah in Highland. At first glance, everything seemed in order; calm, tranquil, the only sound the gentle push of air through the vent above their heads.
18 minutes before Wyatt's bed time. Plenty of time to PJ the kid, read from the good book, and toss him and his passifyer into his crib to saw some quality toothpicks.
The McCrery's had everything under control...
Then Mr. McCrery saw it. The grotesque scene unfolded before him in what seemed like slow motion. He had entered the kitchen with innocent thoughts about a glass of cold water to slake his thirst; but he never made it to the glass cupboard. For there - in saturated and horrific detail - was the bowl. In two pieces. Split right down the middle. Murdered.
The bowl had been performing an act of service for Mrs. McCrery. The McCrery's had enjoyed some corn on the cob for dinner the night before, and the little miniature corn-shaped cob holder thingies are too small to run through the dishwasher. So Mrs. McCrery solicited the aid of the bowl - ever reliable - to contain the miniature corn thingies and some hot, soapy water so they could soak until she felt like scrubbing them.
"If I had known" - Mrs. McCrery admitted later - "that my laziness would cost the bowl it's life - (choke, sob) I would have washed the corn thingies RIGHT AWAY! I never would have left them to soak! They don't need to soak! They weren't even really all that DIRTY!" (sob)
Once the shock of his discovery abated, Mr. McCrery noticed something odd. Not only was there no explanation for how the bowl ended up splitting down the middle into two perfect pieces, there was also no WATER.
Where did all the soapy water go?
The bowl had had no crack.
The hot water was not the culprit as they had begun soaking the night before the occurrence.
The McCrerys find it difficult to sleep with this unsolved mystery looming over their heads. What happened to their loyal bowl? Why was there no water? What could have broken the bowl in such a way while they were out; doors and windows locked?
Some suspect really thirsty and violent ants...
some suspect the corn thingies did it...
some wonder about beings from beyond this world, trying an experiment that went awry...
What *did* happen in the McCrery kitchen that fateful Saturday? If you have or think you have any information about this or other mysteries from this show, please contact us using the "comment" link below.
For you, Aunt Christie!
Sheriff Wyatt...
Alls you need ta be a cowboy is a sturdy pair a boots! (pants are optional)
the sheriff...in his fancy duds and shiny spurs, ready to go to town. (spurs not included)
...lookin' fer mah harse!
Sheriff Wyatt stands for truth, justice, the American way, equal treatment for horses, and rootbeer.
Thanks, Aunt Christy!!!
Alls you need ta be a cowboy is a sturdy pair a boots! (pants are optional)
the sheriff...in his fancy duds and shiny spurs, ready to go to town. (spurs not included)
...lookin' fer mah harse!
Sheriff Wyatt stands for truth, justice, the American way, equal treatment for horses, and rootbeer.
Thanks, Aunt Christy!!!
Sunday, May 4, 2008
SOUP turns 19!
It's official - Megan has one year left of being a teenager.
SWEET 19!
Bill and I were in the car, and I recalled a song that Megan - aka Soup - made up when she was around three years old. It goes a little something like this...
Dust-a-dust!
Dust-a-dust!
Dust-a-dust buster,
in your face!
It was obvious then that she would rise to heights of creativity that her siblings had only dreamed of.
Other fun (embarrassing?) memories of Meg over the years:
- "scrinch and go" hair
- "My name is Suzie Q, and I like spiders!"
- wishing the cupboard "merry christmas"
- "it's about time!"
- Meg is sitting on the couch with mom and sunni, giving sunni one of meg's world famous back scratches.
Mom: Megan, knock knock!
Megan: ... BWAAAAAH (runs from room crying)
Mom: (following her) Megan, what's wrong??
Megan: you said to 'knock it off'!
- ringlets and gillies
- sledding
- gus gus the hamster
- rainbow the rabbit
- all the weekend movie and treat nights
- the case of the missing jelly-shoe at bear lake
- games in the foothills behind our house
- swim team ribbons
- ballroom costumes
- killer smile! (and the trail of drooling boys to prove it)
- her way with kids - she's a natural! When she takes Wyatt, I can totally relax.
- her extremely kind and giving heart
- staying up all night talking about scary stories or spiritual stories - often we'd
rotate between them!
Meg puts up with me embarrassing her all the time. She was a delightful kid who has grown into an incredible young woman. I admire her and consider her to be one of my best friends. I'm so glad she's my sister!
And that she's driving Bella, 'cause dag. Bella is a sweet ride.
SWEET 19!
Bill and I were in the car, and I recalled a song that Megan - aka Soup - made up when she was around three years old. It goes a little something like this...
Dust-a-dust!
Dust-a-dust!
Dust-a-dust buster,
in your face!
It was obvious then that she would rise to heights of creativity that her siblings had only dreamed of.
Other fun (embarrassing?) memories of Meg over the years:
- "scrinch and go" hair
- "My name is Suzie Q, and I like spiders!"
- wishing the cupboard "merry christmas"
- "it's about time!"
- Meg is sitting on the couch with mom and sunni, giving sunni one of meg's world famous back scratches.
Mom: Megan, knock knock!
Megan: ... BWAAAAAH (runs from room crying)
Mom: (following her) Megan, what's wrong??
Megan: you said to 'knock it off'!
- ringlets and gillies
- sledding
- gus gus the hamster
- rainbow the rabbit
- all the weekend movie and treat nights
- the case of the missing jelly-shoe at bear lake
- games in the foothills behind our house
- swim team ribbons
- ballroom costumes
- killer smile! (and the trail of drooling boys to prove it)
- her way with kids - she's a natural! When she takes Wyatt, I can totally relax.
- her extremely kind and giving heart
- staying up all night talking about scary stories or spiritual stories - often we'd
rotate between them!
Meg puts up with me embarrassing her all the time. She was a delightful kid who has grown into an incredible young woman. I admire her and consider her to be one of my best friends. I'm so glad she's my sister!
And that she's driving Bella, 'cause dag. Bella is a sweet ride.
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