Anniversary

This weekend brought our 23rd anniversary and a long time ago, Corinne had tagged me to tell about my wedding-day memories. I never really have because although I am thrilled I married Eric, and being married gets better and better every year, the day itself actually wasn't the funnest day of my life in many ways. This will be a strange post, because I think I'm more of an elopement kind of girl and I look back on the day with a lot of mixed feelings, but the pictures seem to show that I'm having a good time. We'll go with that. It was an important day though, and worth remembering:

A Wedding List from July 26, 1986, in no particular order:

• It was 28 days before my twentieth birthday so I am cursed with having to say out loud that I was married at 19.
• It was a homemade wedding: I made my dress and all the bridesmaids dresses, a friend of a friend made the cake, my mom and her friends made all the food, a friend of my mother-in-law did the flowers. I do really like that it was that way.
• We did rent tuxedoes. I really liked those tuxedoes, even though my wedding was not nearly formal enough to warrant their wonderful fanciness.
• I love that the bridesmaids dresses were different colors and most of my bridesmaids actually liked the dress and used it again.
• I was married in the Washington DC temple, which meant that many in my family could not attend the actual ceremony because either they were not members of my church or not active members, but yet most of my extended family came from as far away as Arizona to support me anyway. That meant a lot to me.
• My older brother did not come, but I wasn't expecting him to so it was okay. This is us with my folks and 6 of my sibs. They are all grown up and married themselves, of course.
• I wanted to get married in October with the fall colors, so I was not thrilled about the date.
• My worst fears were realized as it was a horribly hot, hazy, humid day with white skies instead of blue.
• I hated my hair when I saw the photos but was such a tomboy at the time that I didn't even think to go to a stylist. It just did not occur to me. If only I'd known Mendy then. She never would have let me get to the altar looking like that!
• I was not very good at standing up for myself, so there were a lot of details that I didn't like but I just wasn't old and cranky enough to tell other people to leave me alone. So, I didn't love the flowers, or the fact that the reception was at the church instead of a reception place or my parents' house, and that there was no music or dancing. It was my way to just go along, or to accept the first idea that came up and so I did. I put my foot down about a few things and people did get upset and it was hard for me to handle. I was such a pleaser. That's why I look back on it with weird feelings. It's like someone else's wedding, not mine.
• Many, many friends came to the reception. I do remember being amazed really happy that all those people would come.
• No one wanted to catch the bouquet. People were actively avoiding it. I had to throw it a couple of times. I thought it was a stupid tradition anyway, so I would have been happy not to do it, but the tradition police insisted and I said okay. It was so silly that it did give rise to one picture of me that I like, so I guess it served its purpose:
  
• My Something Old was the cameo necklace I have on. My Aunt loaned it to me. The Something New was my dress. My Something Borrowed was the veil. It was Eric's cousin's. The Something Blue was a little piece of blue fabric that my Aunt tucked into my bouquet at the last minute. Again, these were things that I had not thought of nor was I worried about, but they caused large amounts of stress and upset-ness on the part of the tradition police, so I kept the peace.
• The cake was really delicious. It had real whipped cream frosting. I did get my way on that. I also got my way about having it decorated with flowers, including no fake bride and groom statues. It was not a trend back then and people thought I was nuts, and my MIL was actively disappointed, bless her heart. My mom did all the flowers on the cake, and that makes me happy.
• There was no alcohol at the reception. You can see in the photo how Eric's family felt about that. Don't they look like they are having fun? I was stressed about that.
• My favorite photo of Eric from that day also involves a bouquet:
• In the end, I got through it, even though I would have preferred to run away to a beach somewhere or go to the woods in Autumn. I know that sounds terrible, and for all those in the world who had their dream wedding day, I'm truly happy for you. I didn't, but I didn't really make it happen, either, so it is what it is. My friends and family worked hard for the day I did have, and I'm grateful for that and them.
• We did run away for a honeymoon in Maine but not before we went back to my parents' house the next morning to open presents. What is up with THAT tradition? I will definitely encourage my kids to get out of town by themselves as soon as possible rather than put themselves on display in front of all the snickering aunts and grandmas. Holy Cow.
• The good news is that the day itself isn't nearly as important as what has happened since, and that I wouldn't trade for the world.

Happy Anniversary to my good, loving, patient husband. I think he managed to separate himself somewhat from my frustrations on the wedding day, and he was blissfully happy. I'm glad about that. Mostly thanks to him and his rock-steady ways, it's been a happy 23 years.

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Away From it All

Here is where I spent a good deal of the last 3 days. Oh the loveliness and serenity of some places. They are the places where I feel loved and safe and happy and peaceful. This is one. I've only been there a very few times (four, I think) but whenever I go back, it is familiar and cozy and full of happy memories. This is the dock in front of the cottage that belongs to my friend. The cool thing is that it belonged to her family before her, then it didn't, but now it does again. The fact that it is a family place that was lost and then rescued makes it even better (it's such a good story-I want my friend to write a book about it).

This cheery, tiny yellow cottage has a spirit and seems to always say to me, "Welcome! I'm so glad you're back!" I know, I'm a romantic, but it's true. It is rustic and simple and luxurious only in the sense that it is such a treat, such a respite from every day life. There is no mobile phone service at all, very little internet, and only movies on the tv. There is still a rotary phone with a cord and I hope there always will be. Like all the other places that I love, it is not the place itself, it is the connections and relationships that make it someplace special.

Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happened while I was ensconced in this bit of cottagey coziness. No major problems were solved, no cures for cancer or solutions found f0r the issues in the middle east, no, there was nothing whatsoever of note to anyone but me and my sweet friend. But yet, it was perfect. It was just what I needed. We just did what women have always done to keep strong enough to live our lives-those things that must be done with our friends and mothers and sisters-we talked and talked and talked (our husbands will be so relieved-we should be out of words for a little while at least). We laughed and solved lots of little problems (most of them not our own, but you know how that goes). We took lots of photos and wore pajamas while we watched movies and knitted and talked about kayaking around the lake but never made it out because we were enjoying just sitting and being together. The kayaks were still put to good use, though:

We walked down the lane and made an evening photo safari of it, noticing ordinary things and trying to see them in new ways. My friend has a wonderful photographic eye and it was so fun to see how we looked differently at the same things.





We went shopping at wonderful little local shops with local artist's wares, antiques and special little things. This is The Sea Hag Soaps and Art Mercantile.

I didn't buy a single thing that was a need, but the things I brought home have already started to warm and refresh my little house. The desk and mirror are the new aquisitions, one old and of unknown provenance and purpose, one not so old and carefully made by hand by a man who has no home but makes his life carving wood and living wherever he can for the moment. I love that I bought the one from a lovely old woman named Mary who is hard of hearing but offered to help me carry my desk out to the car, and I love that I bought the other from a charming and friendly woman who has met the artist and knows his story.
So, now I'm back, and for a scant 24 hours or so, so is everyone else. Sara and Sam were on Trek, a reenactment of the Mormon Pioneers crossing the Great Plains on their way to settling the Utah Territory in the mid 19th century. The kids dress in period clothes, give up toothpaste and electronics for 3 days, cook over a fire and pull all their worldly possesions behind them in a handcart. It was a great experience for both of them. I'm so grateful for all the work that went to making it happen. I've been on that end of three of these Treks in the last 12 years, and it is a major undertaking. This time, I was not involved at all, but instead got the joy of welcoming home my tired, happy, sunburned kids and hearing their sighs of pleasure as they took a real shower. They always come home VERY appreciative of all the blessings of a modern life.
That's Sam in the middle, leading the way to the end of the Trek.
That's Sara roughly in the middle in the red bandana and white dress. Around you can see the other family groups. I think about 120 kids went on this adventure.

Tomorrow, Sara goes away one last time before we start to realize that summer will be over in just a few short weeks. I'll drive her to meet a friend in another state and go get her in a week or so. She is happy to be going, but I feel certain she'll be happy to finally be back home after a month of being a veritable nomad.

I came home to Evan being sick, poor kid. I'm hopeful that it just a summer cold, or even strep, because then we can get him on some meds to get him well. It's just not right for a kid to be sick in summer. He's at least a pleasant sickie, with his main demands being the aquisition of the next book in the series he's reading and the occasional back-tickle.

Tonight, Eric and I went on a date to celebrate 23 years of marriage. I really can't believe it has been that long. This is the oldest cliche in the book, but it really does go by so quickly. I'll write a bit more about that tomorrow, the actual day. For now, I'm off to bed to dream of a quiet lake and a yellow cottage, then wake up to a regular, real life that is just a little sweeter because I was there.

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The view from a bike

Ev and I did make it out for our ride. 9.8 miles from our house around
the lake and back again. Ev wasn't on his own bike so he was a little
tentative at first. By the end I was just looking for flashes of his
red shirt through the trees as he started flying along the winding
trail.

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The view from swim practice

Today I have a little margin in my day. After a lovely evening of
youth activities that went really well followed by a delightful trip
to see Harry Potter, I got up, went for my run with my faithful pal
and now find myself with time to sit outside and read a bit while Evan
swims. Later I'll have time to clean and keep the laundry caught up.
Having one kid is a piece of cake in some ways. Of course he'll be
bored later on and I'll have to drag him off th screen-centered
entertainment, but it is much less of a production to talk one kid
into a bike ride around the lake than five. Plus a lot easier to just
get out the door. Of course it will be fun to have everyone back home,
but I will enjoy this relatively quiet day. It is a stark and welcome
contrast to the busyness and turmoil of the last little while.

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Second Son at Twenty

Here is the photo we received this week from Johnathan, serving as a missionary in Chile. The cityscape in the background is a view of Valparaiso and Vina del Mar. He says that on really clear days, the Andes Range is visible. I'm wondering if the faintest outline of them is visible in this photo. Yesterday was his Twentieth birthday, and I'm certainly proud of him for being where he is and doing what he's doing. It comes from his own conviction, not from any forcing on our part, and he is making the most of the experience. From a mother's perspective, he looks good, like he's gained a bit of weight, and he definitely looks happy.

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A Little Perspective

So, my sister-in-law stopped by yesterday to drop off her kids for me to watch. In an effort to process the family drama I find myself locked into, my SIL and I were having a conversation about the emotions of my parents' move. It was actually a half-joking, light-hearted conversation, because my SIL is awesome and always makes me smile. Her quiet 6-year old son and not-so-quiet 4-year old daughter were at the table with us. Here is how it went:

Me, trying to effect an air of Anne of Green Gables Drama: You know, I was fine until Monday, but that day just threw me into The Depths of Despair for some reason. It's been a long week.

SIL: Yes, but it will get better.

Me to 6-year old: L, have you ever been to The Depths of Despair?

6-year old: No Aunt Kellie.

Me: That's good. I hope you never go there.

4-year old, brightly and excitedly: Aunt Kellie, I've been to The Depths of Despair!! It was at Sea World and we saw animals there! It was great!


Fast forward to dinner.

6-year old, with an air of wisdom and superiority over his little sister: Aunt Kellie, we never went to The Depths of Despair. We just saw Shamu.

4-year old, apologetically: Yes we did Aunt Kellie. There were animals there.

Fast forward to this morning:

SIL, to 4-year old: So O, I heard you've been to The Depths of Despair.

4-year old, slightly sleepy and snuggled deeply into my lap: MmHmm. I saw hippos there. Aunt Kellie, did you see hippos when you went to the Depths of Despair? I like hippos.


I hope I will always remember to look for the hippos in The Depths of Despair.

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Goodbyes

Today, Sara left for a trip to see my sister for a week. It leaves me, from now till Saturday afternoon sometime, with that strangest of all circumstances-a truly empty house. I am fairly certain that this is the first time we've had everyone gone for more than one night. The others are gone to other camps and retreats. Today I am not waiting for anyone to come home, nor is there anyone to get out of bed or remind to eat breakfast. There are messes to clean up from the process of getting her out the door, but once they are cleaned up, they will not get dirty again for about 48 hours.

Another first was that at the airport today, after I helped her check her luggage, I did not get a gate pass but instead watched from behind the cordon as Sara got herself through security and down to her gate. She has flown by herself about 5 times since she was 12 or so, so she has complete confidence. It was great to see her be so poised and grown-up. I bobbed up and down on tippy-toes looking through the crowd for her golden hair and also for her signature fashion look right now-two different colored socks-to make sure she got through the scanner and picked up her bag. At one point, she looked back to see if I was still there, and it may have been in total irritation, but it made me weepy that she was even thinking of me. We had a good week this week with her brothers gone, full of shopping and fast-food lunches and dinners. We didn't have any arguments, and while I would have preferred to take long walks by the river in the afternoons, it was okay that we spent time together in her world. She started reading The Woman in White, and she likes it, so we had that to talk about. I think for a mom and a very strong-minded 15-year old, that's pretty good. It's enough for me right now. Maybe the thing she'll appreciate about me when she grows up is that I let her go and have her own adventures. We'll have time for other adventures as she becomes an adult and our relationship evolves. I look forward to that.

After I dropped Sara off, I went to say hi to my mom, who lives near the airport. I came face to face with the large, beautiful built in bookcases that had been my refuge during my high-school years. They were mostly empty. It was a shock to me. When I found out they were selling the house (it came up very quickly and unexpectedly) I made plans to get a whole series of photographs of the inside of my mom's house. I loved it when Cami did that at her Grandparents'. I missed my chance though. My sister and my sister-in-law brought the white tornado of order and efficiency and a lot of the house is already unrecognizable. I was at Girls' camp and I missed the last moments of the house as it was. I am left with a gray storm of hard-to-understand emotions at the sense of loss I'm feeling. I only lived there for 4 years, then a couple of summers, then I got married. My teen years were full of turmoil for various reasons, so I strain to even call up many happy memories of those years because I've blocked out as much of the conflict as I can. I guess they were important years nonetheless, and in spite of our family's imperfections, we hung on and still managed to stick together. Also, we have lived nearby for most of my marriage, so that house was the gathering place-the place of family and memories and it does feel like home. Now that my idea of preserving those memories has been taken away, I'll have to work to create the portrait I want in other ways. So, now I will go through hundreds and hundreds of photos and try to scan the ones that show the place as I remember it. In the end, maybe it will be even better, because it will show the people that were there. That's what a home is anyway. Not the stuff. The bookcases are only the background in this photo, not the important thing. That's what I have to remember.

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The Harvest Begins in Earnest

My garden is amazing me this year. I've never had so much success. We had wonderful lettuce and spinach for several weeks. I'm frying up some chard tonight for dinner. I got my first tomato yesterday and I've been getting about two-three pounds of green beans per week for the last two weeks. My cucumbers are this wonderful long variety with very small seeds, sort of like the ones they call English or Hothouse cukes in the grocery store. I'm getting 5-10 of those per week. The squash is starting to come on strong and the volunteer pumpkin plant, while it may do the eggplants in, has a tiny pumpkin on it that we'll try to keep alive for the fall. I'm considering nipping off all the other blossoms and just letting the one that has started get really big. The kids think it is a watermelon, not a pumpkin, so I'll keep you posted. It is small enough right now that it really could be either. The blossoms indicate to me that it is a squash, not a melon, but we'll see. We have peppers coming on and a couple of tiny eggplants trying to hang on in the shade of the pumpkin plant, but since I'm the only one who likes eggplant, it wouldn't be the end of the world if we don't get a ton of eggplants. It appears I may have enough plum tomatoes to can a few jars, which was my goal.

I give gardening a go every year, but this year, there is a convergence: I seem to be at the right place in my life to give it the attention it needs, the soil I've been working on for 10 years seems to be rich and generous, and the weather has been right. There's a life lesson in that for sure. Sometimes you work and work and work on something and it never goes the way you really want it to, but your efforts aren't wasted. Suddenly the time is right and all the practice attempts, during which you may not have felt at all successful, combine to give you the experience you need for the big moment. I feel like that about this year's garden.

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Therapeutic Shopping

Yesterday I had a hard morning. Family Stuff. My folks are selling their house of almost 30 years and the drama over all their things has already started. Oh. My. Goodness. I think it would be easier to burn it down except for the small detail of a very nice family who is expecting to move in around the beginning of September.

It was a really, really hard morning, so, Sara and I went shopping. I bought pens and smell-nice beauty products. Two of my favorite things. It was very convenient to have Office Depot and Ulta right next door to each other.

It was pre-meditated, intentional, therapeutic shopping, and it helped.
I feel better, I smell lovely, and I have a Flair pen in every color of the rainbow.
Today will be a good day.

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Testing

I'm still trying to get mobile blogging figured out. This is a test.
Only a test.


Ooh, it worked this time! Now I can blog from anywhere: the grocery line (I'll make sure to include pictures from there), my bed (no pictures..I'll be in my jammies), the car (as a passenger, of course), etc. Because this blog just wasn't exciting enough...

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