Some people take a trip...

This is how we celebrated our 10 year anniversary:



Emily Alice Wright, June 30, 2011.



All about John

Today John turns 8. The age of accountability.  Jared and I were discussing this fact the other night and we were both feeling less than excited about it.  Don't get me wrong, we love our son, but are we ready for him to be responsible for his own actions? Not really.

John is complex, he is an interesting blend of both of his parent's personalities which makes it hard for said parents to navigate his ways.  And if it's hard for us, imagine the difficulty of someone who doesn't understand him... When I explained how John comes across as being ultra rude to adults who try to talk to him if he's not in the mood for conversation Jared summed it up by saying, "tell them to speak to him like an adult, with no sweetness or pretense." 

We watched Where the Wild Things Are this afternoon and the entire time I kept thinking about how much Max resembles John.  And so, in celebration of his birthday here are a few things I love about my favorite boy:

His vivid imagination

His mechanical mind

His vocabulary

His ability to retain details

His sensitive nature

His intensity

His ability to think outside the box (I don't know if he even knows there is a box...)

His sense of humor

Not to mention his green eyes and big smile.  You may not see that smile too often if you don't know him very well, but when you do, you won't forget it.


Opening his new set of scriptures... needless to say, there were silent tears of disappointment.
My birthday gift failure.



My latest allergy



And today is a good day.



I'm one of those sensitive people.  My physiology is fragile. My physical well-being hinges on a delicate equilibrium.  In addition to a whole slew of medications, I have decided that I am also allergic to pregnancy.  I know, it's a major medical break-through.

There have been several occasions during the past 9 months where I have muttered to myself, "this baby is trying to kill me."  I know it's not intentional, but it sometimes feels like that.  Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I will love this baby... in about two weeks.

With that said, I am ready to reclaim what once was mine, namely: My ankles, my digestion, and I would say my sleep habits, but I know that won't happen for a while, so instead I'll say my hormones. 

Other post-partum items I look forward to:

General mobility

Wearing my wedding ring instead of the one I got from Target that is two sizes bigger

Selecting from more than two pairs of pants and three shirts

Sleeping on my back

My previously svelte figure (just kidding)

Exercise

Taking a deep breath

Eating a full meal without the threat of heartburn

Not having to visit every public restroom

Dr. Pepper? Maybe.  I haven't been able to tolerate it this time around and part of me hopes I won't crave it later, but another part of me hopes that I do.

And I know my family is looking forward to the day I take Zoloft again. 

My attempt at the popular "artsy" foot shot.  I had to lean forward to find them.

Two weeks...

Etiquette lesson # 48

If you see someone shopping at the rack you want to look at-- be patient and look elsewhere until said person vacates the rack.  DO NOT invade their personal space and start looking at the same rack, slowly gaining on their progress until you are looking at the item next to them.  That is rude.

Along those same lines, DO NOT reach across or push through someone's personal space.  If you absolutely have to (like it's an emergency) then you should at least say "Excuse me." 

The end.

A sense of place

In order for a property to qualify to be nominated for the National Register of Historic Places it must meet at least one of four criteria.  A characteristic on one of these criterion is that the property possess "a sense of place" among other things.  That's always been pretty ambiguous to me.  But this past week I have thought a lot about what gives something a sense of place and I believe it is the memories and events associated with the location.  My thoughts this week have been on the small, inconsequential town of Eagar, Arizona and its neighboring sister city of Springerville.

This part of Arizona is burning from the Wallow wildfire and the towns have been evacuated.  These little towns are important to me because my grandparents lived in Eagar for most of my youth (my grandpa was the mayor at one point) in fact, my grandpa's family has been in the area for generations. Both of my grandparents are now buried in the local cemetery.

Here are some of the memories that give Eagar significance in my history:

Picking and eating raspberries with grandma from her bushes
Grandpa milking the cow and the sound of it squirting into the pail
Taking a drink of warm, fresh milk and being grossed out
Watching grandma separate the cream from the milk
Listening to "Red, Red Robin" on the record player
Sitting on the couch in the kitchen looking out the back window at the corn and watching grandma make rolls for dinner
The smell of the wood burning stove in the kitchen
The red heat lamp in the bathroom
Aunt Jo's Shirley Temple doll
Riding with cousins in the back of grandpa's truck to the feed store
Playing horseshoes for hours on end with cousins at the local park
Riding along with grandpa while he drove the school bus

Luckily wildfire can't destroy the things never leave you-- memories made with loved ones.

Kitty picture updates

Post recital



The Jungle Vines dance



Never Smile at a Crocodile dance




Team Hot Lava



 

WANTED

DEAD OR ALIVE (preferably dead)

The bird responsible for wreaking havoc on every car on our street... every day.

Favorite perch: The rear-view mirror.