St.ly distractions

Sunday last week, as I said, we packed ourselves into the car and drove all the way to St. George.  It was by far the longest car trip we have taken with Liam.  He did fine until the last hour - and then he punished us for days.  Anytime we put him in the car seat he would start panicking.  ("Noooooo! I know what you're doing to me!  I will NEVER get out of here!")
Anyway.  Liam also became a stomach-sleeper on this trip.  I have no idea why.  I'd put him to bed on his back, like a good little mommy, and he would roll right over and stay that way.
Don't worry, I don't put him on pillows in real life.
We stayed in a second home (of sorts) belonging to Slice's former boss's father ... yeah.  I was expecting an older, small but well-kept home.  Not a brand spanking NEW 3 bed 2 bath with gorgeous oversized furniture, granite countertops, king-size bathtub, etc.  Talk about luxury!  I felt so spoiled.
We did lots of shopping (not as much buying), driving, TV/movie-watching, and eating.  We also took your suggestions and visited the Brigham Young winter home (loved it!), the historic park (fake river and all, it was awesome), and the temple.  Most of all, we enjoyed the warmer weather, and each other.  Thoroughly.
Incidentally, have any of you seen The Ghost Writer or the new Robin Hood?  Do you want to talk about it?  Because I do.
We met my friend Rachel from high school and her two lovely children at the park, and Liam had the great privilege of being in a Rachel sandwich. If you went to high school with me, you know what I'm talking about ... right?  Geoff?

Thursday was return-trip day, and we made it in time for me to go to my 7:30 voice lesson.

All around, a good time.


(mostly) sweet distractions

I, Jean, having been practically internet-free for two weeks, nevertheless my house looking like an utter catastrophe hath occurred within it, because of the many diversions I have sought to distract me from the Mortgage Waiting Game, do make an account of the events which have transpired in my absence.

And it came to pass that two weeks ago our dear friends the Farrers traveled from Springville for a short visit. We ate coconut curry (sorry, Liam!) and wontons, went for a golf cart ride, played in Neola, and viewed The House in Question. We also played Blokus many times. (I love that game.)

Two days later we arose early, yea, even before 6:00 a.m., and began our journey to the Mt. Timpanogos temple. And it came to pass that as we drove between Duchesne and Strawberry, we were hit by a very very large elk, which was moving in our direction. We had no time to stop and survey the damage until we were waiting at a traffic light in Orem. And behold, the Lord hath blessed us abundantly, for although we thought the destruction to our vehicle would be great, to our astonishment, the only thing damaged was our right side-view mirror.
And thus we see that miracles happen even in these latter days.

We attended the sealing of Lu & Dustin while my dear Brit watched Liam, and it was truly lovely. Afterward we stayed around the temple grounds and took pictures until it was time to go to the luncheon.

(Why are these pics fuzzy in Blogger?)

Then Slice left, and I spent the rest of the day with Brit - reception and drive back to Roosevelt (in the dark)
(I was a bit more anxious than usual) -  we made it.



In the St. George

... until Thursday. I've never been here except to pass through, and Liam and I will have the next two days all to ourselves - thanks to State Golf.

Is there anything we HAVE to do? Weather permitting, of course.



Dear Husband,

When I told you all those (5+) years ago that I like to do dishes,
I was lying.

Whew.  Feels good to have that off my chest.



FTM final

Last week I gave back my keys to the high school, heralding the beginning of my career as a stay-at-home-mom.

I've chronicled the library job enough that I don't think another post is necessary, except maybe to tell you what I won't miss.

I won't miss the appalling lack of respect or the terrible, terrible ignorance of rural teenage life.
I won't miss the weirdies that the Basin produces in droves, teachers who expected me to do their work for them and got irritated when I told them I couldn't.  Or the bullying, whining, the nastiness I had to deal with.

I will miss the books, the Special Ed kids, the excitement of putting new books on the shelves that I knew the kids would love.  I'll miss checking the stats on our circulation and turning them into wordles.
I'll miss proofreading things for the English teachers and administrators, setting up blogs for the Adult Roles classes, creating and rotating seasonal/historical displays.
I'll miss the unexpected things like finding Lyndon B. Johnson's signature inside his biography.
(That one made it into the local paper!)

And, seriously, I'm gonna miss shifting books on the shelves so that they fit just right.  It was my favorite part of inventory - by far.

I'll miss being part of the education system, part of the workforce, making money "out there."

But you know what?  My new job is not half bad.


Because he's so dang cute

This is what Liam does when put in front of a mirror.
I hope he always loves himself this much!


offering some sour grapes

So the awesome thing about working in a publicly-funded position is that everyone’s watching you, all the time.  And wanting to know where your money is coming from.

For instance:
Apparently some people think that Slice is getting paid double for coaching the boys’ golf team.  As in, paycheck from the school district and paycheck from the city for the same hours he puts in.


He’s not getting paid from either.

My husband coaches 3 hours a day on school days (not to mention summer practices) and all day on many Thursdays, volunteering his time, out of the goodness of his heart.  For the love of the game.  Whatever.
And half of those punks don’t even care.  They fool around, wasting their time and his (and mine!) because they’ve never worked a day in their lives.  Their parents buy them trucks and Ipods and clubs and carts - and college educations.  Their mothers call and make excuses for them when they're late for practice.  They haven’t a clue what a precious commodity TIME is for some people.

You sense my frustration, yes?
(I was having a hard enough time with this before I heard of the accusations...)

The injustice of it all, I guess, is that so many people don’t see my husband for what he really is.  I’m sure this is true for everyone to a certain extent, regardless of profession.  Spouses see it and lament over it and bear the burden of it.  Which is why I try to give people the benefit of the doubt, every time.

Oh, I wish they all would!

Rant over.

PS This has nothing to do with my post from last week, although I do seem to be agitated lately, don't I?
PPS Slice will probably want me to take this down so if it disappears, you'll know why.  He's like that.

slacking on blogging - CHECK

3 days of yard sale (after gutting the house and going through all earthly possessions) - CHECK

home inspection - CHECK

home loan application - CHECK

funeral musical number - CHECK

finally figuring out that "Majestic rises on the world" is just part of a longer phrase in this hymn - CHECK
(yes, this should have happened a long time ago...)

watching all eight hours of weekend goodness - CHECK

looking for new music students (piano and voice) - CHECK

selling old car - CHECK

enjoying every minute with my most delicious baby - CHECK CHECK CHECK

So sad to see the car go