Turning 30

Over the last few days I've had a lot of time to think. Holding sick children is important, but not necessarily intellectually stimulating. While fake watching so many episodes of tv (Sesame Street, Wild Kratts, Cars, Finding Nemo, Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood!!!) I got in deep with my brain. Here are some of the things I've been pondering on.

First, my entire life I have wanted to make a difference. And I literally believe I can change the world, with real life changes. I think I can be so good at something that it inspires millions. Or that I can be so selfless that I serve others. Or that I become some kind of world leader. I wasn't just thinking this as a child, but even now I still can't shake that I can and should be living so that I can make the world a better place. It's pretty naive since I never did turn out to be prodigiously good at anything (but alright at lots of things), stayed in my home state to go to school, and never did get around to joining some top secret agency to stop world violence. Instead I studied hard and tried to be the best I could be. I pushed really, really hard in my K-12 and then maybe harder in college. I wasn't the best though. I was pretty good, but not the best. I'm not a secret genius or jaw dropping beautiful. Heck, I am not involved in politics like my favorite Leslie Knope. I'm not being depressing here, it's real life.

So in retrospect over the last 30 years, I realize I have been setting myself up for that moment when it becomes clear that I am living an ordinary life. Dang imagination!

You see, I've been working on lots of goals lately (I know, big surprise from those who know me well). I am trying to get fit physically. I want to be so strong. I want to be good enough to race and climb mountains and build my own home. I keep expecting it will come back to me, since I used to be so strong.

Only in thinking about it, I realize my strength has never been of that kind.

When I was eight years old I woke up one morning and couldn't breath. It was terribly frightening, but I also really didn't want to do something that day, chores, a game, I don't remember. Part of me wondered if I was just making myself sick so I didn't have to do the thing. But my face made my mom worried enough to take me to the ER. I got pretty stressed there. I knew hospitals cost big money. I should probably drop the charade and just go do the thing. Only I was dreadfully hungry and they wouldn't let me eat and they left me along for what seemed like hours. I lay in the bed with my mom by my side sneaking me saltines. Heart monitors bleeped just like in tv. In the shows that always meant someone was going to flat line. It scared me and my heart would speed up.

Turns out I had asthma, though what brought on that initial attack is still a mystery. Maybe I really, really didn't want to do the chores? Whatever the reason, I was stuck with an inhaler that was about as glamorous as a floral pantsuit.

So I tried to ignore my asthma. I have no idea how my teachers, friends, and especially my soccer coaches managed. As I learned much later, my mother was at every game, no matter her schedule, partially because I wasn't allowed to play otherwise. This rule may have been enforced because I often ran until I collapsed on the field, wheezing. It was a routine. I played as hard as I could for the first quarter and a half, then collapsed and had to be subbed out. During third quarter I had to watch, then if I was being really healthy looking they'd let me come back in for fourth quarter. It was normal for me. I'm sure it seemed strange to others. But I didn't know how to do things halfway. Either I was going to sprint or I was done. My whole attitude was very Yoda-like.

This routine continued until junior high school. I started ballet lessons. Dancing was, and is for me, a way for my soul to speak. But I started getting dizzy sometimes. I dropped out of soccer on the excuse that I couldn't do so many activities. But it wasn't until I started blacking out a bit during dance, and my mom would come and check my heart rate, that I felt like I'd failed. I went from four classes to one and fell behind my friends. So I stopped.

I dropped out of PE as well. At the time I believed it was because I was self conscious about how flushed and sweaty I would get after every day. I was always gross going into math class. My mom tells me it was because she was worried I wouldn't be able to do my schoolwork. I was late to class almost daily because I couldn't stand. Doctors were stumped. I had lots of tests. I gained weight. I felt teenage emotions. I grew older.

In high school more tests tried to conclude that I had a heart? neurological? condition. I felt nice to have something to say about it, but there were no real answers. So my only physical activities were musical choreography (those stairs were brutal in the dark!) and early morning workouts at the gym for older ladies with my mom (I was seriously the youngest by so much). I wondered if I was just lazy. Maybe if I tried harder I could do more, like I used to...

After my freshman year of college things got a bit rough. Lots of dizzy spells and heart racing waking me up at night. More tests that yielded nothing helpful. At the end of the summer I hiked Ben Lomond, our local peek, with my mother. I wore a heart monitor. I tried to write about it in my non-fiction course that fall. My professor said it was cliche. I knew what she meant, but I wondered if real life could be cliche.

I learned to manage. I exercised alone so my weakness wouldn't be so obvious. I only went on hikes with really close friends who understood when I had to take lots of scenic breaks. When I decided to serve a mission for my church, I tried to figure out how much to really tell the missionary committee so they'd let me go. I managed alright. About halfway through I started getting stomachaches. It was new and frustrating. My letters to my family didn't mention all the details. I couldn't quit something else! My last companion was incredibly understanding of my paranoia that I was slowing us down. I'm still not sure I made the right decision to stay until the end, but I was so determined to make it through.

Those stomachaches were never fully figured out. I had a diagnosis and some treatment, several times. I was skinny. I did my hair. I cried myself to sleep because it hurt so much. I did well in school. I stopped going to doctors.

When I married Neal, I wondered if someday he'd have to take care of me because I'd be too sick. But I was feeling pretty well then. Infrequent stomachaches, few dizzy spells. I'm healthier now than I was before. But I decided last year that I had to get strong again, like I used to be. I wonder what that means to me. When was I strong? When I was skinny and sick? When I was pretending the struggle wasn't there? When I was avoiding all physical exercise because it would make me dizzy?

My strength has never been much to speak of physically.

This morning I was talking with my mother about this subject and she said that I was inspiring to those who knew what I struggled with, though I didn't tell many. I'm not sure I believe her fully because most of the time I can only see the ways I failed to achieve my goals. Ways to be inspiring: be a professional soccer player, a ballerina, a musical genius, an actual genius, hike the tallest mountains. Scratch those.

Tomorrow I will turn 30. Rinda tells me that 30 is the new 20. So I still have time to change the world. I'm trying to be strong so I can take care of my children and be there for them their whole lives. I want to be strong physically so I can always dance with them and ride bikes with Neal and hike (even with scenic breaks) with my family. I want to see the tops of mountains and learn Italian and Hebrew and Farsi. I want to run a mile (first time since before I was eight). I want to play a song on the piano so well that people want an encore and sing so people cry. I want to learn to be selfless enough to stop judging others and love them. I want to build a house with Neal and learn to ride a horse. I want to know how to throw a punch and decide I don't want to. I want to know how to teach my children about the kind of strength that isn't about muscle definition.

My life has not been the hardest. I don't pretend that I've had it worse than you. In fact, I hope that you too still hope to change the world for the better. Because I am unlikely to be Leslie Knope, Harimad Sol, Beauty, Meliara Astiar, Anne Blythe, or all my other favorite heroines. She's not real. You are real. I am real. We don't stop contributing to the world because we are older than storybook women. I still want adventures. Don't you?

You know, I almost deleted this entire post because it isn't written as it ought to be. I didn't revise. I wrote it in between breakfast and snotty noses and will rush off in a moment to play with my children. But if we have to be perfect to show ourselves to the world then I'd keep silent some more. And I'm tired of being silent. I want to sing and dance and let my soul speak.

And you inspire me to do just that.

Now, photos! Because it's been too long.

Mary is a magical unicorn with her hair.

She's also very happy, and her hair will stay tamed for approximately five minutes if I'm lucky.

She is big into paint.

But Peter is an artist (say it, arteest!)

And he's also a budding chef. I think Ramen and pancakes will be his first independent meals...

Neal had a Birthday! I made this awesome salted caramel chocolate cake. I couldn't eat any leftovers because...I was throwing up (thanks stomach bug!)

Mary got a little tent for her Birthday. I love when they squish inside to read or play!

I tried to be cool and make a bird feeder with a teacup. Actually, I was cool. The birds love it and so do we!

Finding awe

On Sunday evening we finally switched Peter to a toddler bed. He'd been climbing on top of his crib almost nightly and had fallen out so it was a safety precaution. I feel like the switch was this huge leap in parenting. Suddenly there is nothing holding that little boy back from doing whatever he wants. And I realized that soon, sooner than I am ready, he will be capable of so much independence. And that we have to trust each other if we're going to get through the many lessons of life. I cannot physically protect him from everything anymore. I can't force him to eat, sleep, or listen. And in reality, I never really could. But seeing his silhouette in the hall in the middle of the night calling out, "daddy, mommy" makes me realize how dependent we are on each other. I rely on my Peter boy for so much. He helps me with the silly chores of the day: picking up dropped food or trash, throwing away the one disposable diaper we use during the night, carrying the blanket to the stroller for our morning walk, giving me hugs and kisses when I am sad. But mostly I rely on him because he has become so much part of my life.

Last Friday he turned two years old.

And although he has shown he is just as much a two year old as any boy, he has also shown me how anxious he is to please and how much he wants to know and learn. How much he is starting to show love and concern for those around him. I like him, as a person, not just because he is my son. And he is growing up so quickly.

Today Mary also took me by surprise. She has been struggling with sleep for over a month now and we knew she has been teething a bit, and Peter woke her up sometimes. But as we ate lunch I realized that she has not just two new teeth, but four. And I missed those last two. Somehow she managed to cut the teeth without any extra attention. I finally updated my facebook photo and realized that Mary is much bigger than any photos I have of her with me. She crawls and stands and cruises and says "dada" (much to Neal's delight). She loves baths as much as her brother and squeals with joy when she hears the water running. She loves to be outside and hates that she can't crawl around because it's all full of prickly plants (or their left over prickles).

And I want to cherish every moment.

I read an article recently which talked about how feeling a sense of awe can contribute to more happiness and pro-social behaviors. Although I can't say if I've become a kinder person since moving to my awe-inspiring home, I can say that I have more moments which feel happy. Life is less of a blur. It's like those moments of awe are time pegs in my unwritten experience here. I think that part of it has to do with the scenery. Since my children inherited my early morning tendencies (sorry Neal), I get the chance to watch the sunrise almost daily. In fact, we usually walk Neal to work and then around the track. This morning I considered starting a study in photography. The series would simply be shots one minute apart as the sun rises. First there would be the gentle light just touching the bottom of the clouds. Then the bottom of the clouds would catch fire, increasing in radiance until suddenly the rest of the sky is brushed with the kind of pink I like best. Next the butte behind our house is lit up like a beacon. Finally the sun actually rises above the horizon, making the sometimes prickly landscape glow softly.

My words cannot capture the experience. I guess that's why I can call it awe-inspiring. Because to me it's more than just beauty. It's bigger than me. Raising children feels a lot like the sunrises here to me. It's crazy beautiful, hard to wake up for, and so fleeting you might miss the most incredible moments if you're not looking for just five minutes. Maybe that's how all life is. And I am just realizing it because I'm here, now.

In reality, I'm pretty convinced that this beauty exists all over. I felt it frequently as a missionary in Southern California. I'm not sure if that was because it was a very religious time for me, or because I spent all day, every day, outside. After all, I'm really not a big fan of so many people so close together, but somehow that didn't matter. I felt it a lot during certain years while in college in Logan. I think that was also because I took these morning walks most Saturdays. I felt it a lot when I lived in New Jersey with my brother and his family as I would take evening walks in the humid heat of an east coast summer. Ultimately, I think that for me, nature holds the key to that feeling we search for so often. I think that other parts of my life hold that connection too: conversations with those close to me, religious study, the way music fills me. I wonder what makes you feel awe. When was the last time it stopped you in your tracks as you realized there was just so much that was bigger than you?

Since I have a rather small readership, I can pretty much guarantee that I know you personally and I want you to know that each of your have inspired me in that way. Your courage in approaching life and your selfless moments reach more than you realize. I love you all, folks.

So here are some photos which made me feel all sappy and such.

The moon sets just before dawn.

Neal and the kids playing together, laughing!

Peter's joy as he helps me crush herbs in the kitchen

A rainstorm makes the butte fade into light.

The clouds during a windy day practically run across the sky.

The walk to the high school one morning when the sunlight made everything (even fencing) glimmer.

Peter learning to talk and enjoying practicing his hello and goodbye mommy from his cardboard playhouse

Mary's so satisfied face when she eats something she loves and also, her super dirty feet from bouncing in the garage

Clouds are pink and yellow...

There's that glowing bit before dawn

And the sun just peeking over the horizon

Peter is making faces at Mary because he can play outside and she can't (at least not freely).

And this isn't awe inspiring, but it was fun! We had our church sponsored trunk or treat last night and I made an "I spy" in the back of our van. It was pretty popular with the kids, not to brag or anything. I mean, I planned it for a whole...thirty minutes so it's basically a work of art. 

A Change in the Weather

For the last two days my wind chimes are a cacophony of sound. When Neal bought me the chimes he was glad to tell me they had the same patterns as “Canon in D”. Sometimes when the wind is mild, I think I can hear the chord progression. Lately it’s like listening to the entire song at once. In my limited experience of life down here, I think the gusting wind may be a sign of autumn here. I have to look for these kinds of seasonal changes. I’m used to the dramatic shifts of the mountains, where the entire palette of the world changes. Here it’s a difference in the clouds, the wind, the light, and the morning air’s bite. In some ways I do miss the vibrant reds and golds, but I do have plenty of red here.

Like the changing of the seasons, my life has begun to adjust to what seems to be a new normal. Neal leaves at the same time each day, I get up early to try and get some exercise in before my early bird children awake, and we eat hot cereal while gathering the motivation to complete the tasks of the day. In reality, things aren’t that different than before, no major changes. We still spend most evenings quietly reading or studying or doing chores. But Peter has begun talking much more. It’s the most frustrating experience to have him speak to me, expecting me to understand, while all I hear is the same nonsensible words repeated. When I ask him to tell me again he even slows down for me, as if I could understand what he’s saying if he says it louder or slower. Just yesterday I tried to walk him through the word tomato. He would get halfway through and then gleefully shout “dirty!” I even called my friend Kim to help figure out how to help him, but he just joyfully claps his way through the word now, “Mommy, dirty-ty!” It’s adorable. And frustrating. Such is parenting I guess.

Mary is officially crawling and pulling herself up to standing. Her laid back attitude made me believe she would be a bit slower than Peter, but she just trucks along with a smile (always with a smile). The red hints in her hair are mostly gone now and she is sporting a bleached blonde wild haired look. She is so patient as Peter steals toys from her constantly, and gets her revenge when I’m changing Peter’s diaper by crawling all over him and stealing his water cup.

Last weekend was Homecoming here. I had no idea what a big deal it was to the community and school. Each grade makes a float for the parade. Neal helped the 7^th graders with their messy but energetic display. The entire parade consisted of a dozen floats and trucks. As the kids and I stood on the side of the road, Peter was floored that his dad was actually part of the parade. Later, we went to the football game (if you know us at all, that’s saying something) and enjoyed part of the game from down on the field. I guess when you’re a teacher you get the perks of watching from the training equipment. It was much more exciting there, especially since Peter kept trying to run on to the field to find the ball. I laugh that in our three years at Ogden we never did anything with the school (sorry Ogden!), but we’ve already been to two football games, a parade, and a BBQ since we moved. Perhaps it’s because we’re in such a small, close knit community. It just feels natural to take part in the activities here though. It’s also nice that we can always walk, since there’s not even a road between us and the high school.

Lately I’ve been playing the piano and singing a lot more. In fact, I discovered that I still have my borrowed copy of Eduardo Lecuona’s Andalucia Suite for piano (sorry Mom!). I’ve been enjoying playing exciting music while the children run around and dance and get under my feet. I have also realized that I am not nearly as good as I once was at playing the piano. Ugh. Why can’t we just keep our honed talents and toned muscles all the time? I have also made a goal to play more of the primary songs (especially since I occasionally help during singing time). There are many songs I am unfamiliar with and I love to play and sing. Peter joins me often and we have a good time banging out tunes on the piano. Someday I will regain the skill level I had during my undergrad years and give another solo recital…a really good one. But perhaps I need a little more time to actually practice, maybe even time without stopping every two minutes to get Mary untangled or stop Peter from playing with knives or the like. Wow, I sound like an awesome mom right now!

I am rather proud of all we’ve accomplished since we moved though. The fence is nearly in, my laundry line is up, our food storage is organized, and the boxes are mostly put away. Mostly, I just do the regular chores and Neal does the hard stuff. I’m really, really glad he is willing to do the hard stuff. Together, we manage to make this house into a home we love. 

When we moved down, our bonsai was thought to be dead. I gave up on it first, then Neal gave up on it, then I hacked off a bunch of branches and voila! It came back to life! One side is still struggling to send out leaves, but I feel like I learned a lot about life with this experience. 

Yet another lovely view. A neighbor of mine said she was sorry there wasn't a view like hers from our house (because we don't look on the official monuments), but I like this just fine!

The laundry line Neal made and put up! Now I just have to do laundry sometime...

I bought a rug and I like it and haven't shared a picture of it yet. So here's the rug that has saved Mary from multiple skull fractures as she learns to stand.

Even when I feel bad that my front yard is still full of weeks, I find beauty in those wild plants and their blossoms.

The color seems washed out now, but the red of our stone front and the blue of the lemon tree pot make me appreciate moments of color variety.

To find my moment of beauty, I got really, really close to an ant colony. You can't see the ants, but they so industriously build even though the wind destroys their home every single day. I want that kind of determination!

We feel so very culinary as Neal makes pasta!

Peter has begun helping in the kitchen as we cook. Sometimes he can help stir, but sometimes he 'does dishes'.

I just love the way this shows Peter and Mary's personalities. Peter is such a ham and Mary is always so sweet and happy.

Settling in to this place I call home

Time moves differently for me right now. I hear news from my family back home and wonder how so very much has happened. It feels like I was just there, with my niece and nephew running around upstairs and the sounds of airplanes, trains, and cars constant in my life. Now I feel like I gauge time by the storms that roll by in the afternoons sometimes, or the supply of home made bread in my kitchen. It isn't that life has slowed down really, just that it seems quieter in many respects. I mean, I still have two kids under two, so it's never that quiet.

This last week has held such wonderful opportunities. We met a neighbor just a couple of times who, for reasons beyond me, decided to just come over and help pull up all the prickly bushes in the back. He really just kept working even when Neal and I had to leave the house. Then on Monday he came back to burn all the dried up plants for us. It's incredible to me the generosity I find around me. I told him we'd have the whole family over for a steak dinner as a thank you, but their vegetarian so it'll be something else delicious I hope.

This is how nice and clear our yard looks now. I feel like Peter and I can play out there without bodily injury!

Speaking of the yard, I have learned why the previous occupant dug those mounds everywhere. Apparently the soil here has a high salt content and the mounds help the water pull the salt away from the plants so they don't die. This is probably why I lost my thyme plant, because it was in the flattest part of the front yard. Also, it was struggling when I planted it to begin with. We're leveling most of the backyard, effectively undoing all his hard work, but that's because Peter wants a place to run around and we do not need a garden that huge. We'll do nicely with a corner garden I believe. We have had several neighbors share of their abundant harvest already. One neighbor kindly shared not only her precious peaches, but a banana squash (Neal loves those) and tons of green beans. I feel a lot less sad about leaving the garden at our last home when we get to enjoy harvest here even without a garden. I'm hoping my herbs do well enough that I can share those with the neighborhood. I haven't seen anyone with herbs yet. 

This beauty is the Hyssop. The photo is blurry because it was windy. But the smell and the pinkish purple flowers really make me excited to this herb to thrive!

The little cucumber is still alive! I'm not sure if I should try to transplant it or not.

The challenges of life here are different than anywhere else. We feel so rich with so many kind neighbors and so much beauty. On Friday, some friends invited us on a local hike to Teardrop Arch. We ended up switching vehicles because our van is not going to make it off roading. After a ten minute drive through hilly, sandy wilderness, we got out and hiked around. There were some ruins which we peered at through a small opening. Neither of us crawled in because I was too big while wearing Mary and Neal was too busy keeping Peter from running off a cliff (you think I'm joking, but I'm not). The views from halfway up the butte were incredible. We happened to go as several storms were moving in, and the stormy clouds surrounded us in a little bubble of blue sky for just enough time to enjoy the hike. After looking at the ruins, we hiked to the actual arch. Through it you can see several of the monuments of Monument Valley. Honestly, I felt like everywhere I looked was breathtakingly beautiful. 

The storm moving in on Friday afternoon. The cloud seemed to push against the sky.

I don't have enough vocabulary to describe it accurately. I haven't been a nature writer for long enough. Let's just say that you should all visit us down here so you can see for yourself. I had someone here tell me that it wasn't that pretty after you've been here a while. They even suggested I might hate it in a few months. I hope that statement isn't true at all. In fact, I've been so bothered by the concept that I would just stop finding beauty that I made it my goal to find at least one thing of beauty every day: one thing which brings me joy. So far it has been a simple task. The way the wind moves my chimes, the rolling thunder I feel in my bones, Peter's face when he sees a lizard, the stars so bright I can see them even without my glasses.

Each morning I take a walk on the street and down by the elementary school. It's short, since my children insist on waking up earlier and earlier (why did they inherit my love of mornings?). At that very time, the dawn is just painting the monuments into dark silhouettes and lighting the sky on fire with an orange glow. Even when the kids wake up through the night (teething is the worst), I still get up to have that moment of stillness. Of course, in that peace, I wonder what animals are out and about. There are apparently mountain lions here. I'm reminded of a book from my college days, Beast in the Garden. I'm not exactly afraid, just awed that I could be so alone and so close to the wildness that pervades life here. 

There's something about a new place, a new space, which invites me to reinvent myself. By no means have I become all that I want to be, but I enjoy this honeymoon phase where my house stays clean most of the time because I'm so interested in how nice it looks when it is clean. My ambition could also stem from how large and open my kitchen feels. Having natural light and a kitchen island is the dream. I don't know how I'll ever go back. This means that I've taken to studying our cookbooks and trying new recipes. Baking bread has become a weekly task once again and, miracle of miracles, I've actually planned and prepared dinner for almost a whole week in a row. Mind you, there have been lots of pancakes for dinner kind of nights, but generally cooking makes me feel so fulfilled right now. This weekend Neal made pasta (like with our new pasta roller and everything) and I made a peach crostada with an all butter crust (important because it seems so much harder than the shortening ones). We felt so fancy! I am also realizing that living far away from stores and fast food isn't making me more healthy. I'm too capable of cooking and baking delicious, fattening, fabulous foods. Oh well, at least I know what I'm putting into these ridiculous dishes? 

This week has been fast for us. Mary suddenly cut two teeth last night (it felt sudden to me at least) so we were basically up all night consoling her. Peter has started mimicking finger spelling in sign language. Mostly I have only spelled their names because I already have a sign for mommy and daddy and he wanted one for Mary and he. It's adorable to see him try, but I am slightly stressed because my finger spelling is the worst. My signing in general is pretty terrible. I apologize to anyone who actually speaks such a lovely language because I'm slaughtering it in my attempts to communicate with Peter. 

My final photos are of my front entry. Isn't this so inviting? I wish more people came to see us because we are trying really hard to make our home welcoming! So, if you live nearby, come on over! If you don't, then get in your car and drive about eight hours and come visit! I'm joking only a little on that one folks. We have sleeping accommodations ready to go for you and know one hike and one restaurant and almost how to say hello in Navajo.  

My mom made me this mini library. It's got children's books and more advanced reading!

I made that extremely simple wreath by myself! I have a tiny amount of craftiness! Well, okay, there is more to it than the sunflowers, just you can't see that from here. I ditched the ribbon bow I was supposed to add. I am not there yet. 

The Beginning of a Grand Adventure

It’s sort of ironic that the day after I get internet connection, it goes out and I’m unable to do the one thing I’ve been waiting to do, write. As it turns out, I can type on a computer even when it doesn’t have internet connection. This way when my brief window comes, I can just post it. I’m ever so glad that I’m living in these sketchy connective circumstances right now though. It helps me truly feel like I’m living in the present. I don’t have a device with me all the time. Any television I watch is consciously chosen from our stash of shows. Cooking, cleaning, organizing, gazing out my window, playing with my kids, talking with Neal, and singing fill my days much more than before. I find that for the first time in almost a year, I truly want to bake bread and read my cookbooks. If you had told me where I’d be a year ago, I probably would have argued that we were staying where we were, thank you very much, for at least three more years. Adventures like this seemed to be far off and along the same lines as the fiction I read.

I’m not claiming to be doing anything truly different than what so many do, but for me it’s a dream come true. I have always wanted to have the gumption to step away from modern city living for a bit. Thanks to Neal, I have that chance.

The big move was humbling to me. We had so much help in packing up our basement apartment and putting in the trailer. Then the next morning, we realized the trailer was packed with too much weight so we got a moving truck and repacked everything. During this second packing both Neal and I felt emotional. So many good friends came to help us with almost no notice. It ended up being an inspired decision, because we really did have a lot of stuff and a long drive with some bumpy roads! As we drove down, we somehow lost track of my dad (driving the moving van). My mom and I were leading the caravan and Neal and his dad were a bit behind because they had errands to run. So we knew he was somewhere between us, but not where. After four times calling my dad’s cell we realized it wasn’t in the truck with him. Thank heavens for the random person at the rest stop who let my dad borrow a phone so we could track him down! And I congratulate everyone who ever drove long distances without cellphones: it was a stressful couple of hours while we didn’t know where my dad was.

When we arrived in Monument Valley it was later than we’d anticipated, but we still had so much help! About a dozen neighbors came and unloaded the truck. I ended up with some delicious stuffed French toast dinner and two different loaves of zucchini bread, plus some phone numbers for in case we needed more help. After such a long and exhausting drive (courtesy of kids screaming for the last hour), we just collapsed. But as we’ve begun settling in, I am more and more grateful for those who have helped us get here, even if they wish we hadn’t decided to move.

To be honest, the longer I’m here, the more I realize I could still run out and get just about anything I needed quickly. The tiny grocery store actually has decent produce and apparently makes excellent cakes. Based on the way the doughnut counter looks, I believe it. There’s a restaurant at the local hotel, one by the Monument Valley tours, a tiny food court by the gas station, and a Subway just twenty minutes south. I’d spend twenty minutes getting to and from the Subway when I lived in Roy just based on traffic. I don’t want to use all those things though (well, I may want fresh produce). The goal of living away from the city was to really live…away from it. So Neal and I will take a big shopping trip once a month. We tried Cortez, Colorado first. It’s just over two hours away. For some reason, I was expecting a mini metropolis. It does have a Walmart and a Thai and Indian restaurant (yay!), but it’s not nearly as big as Logan is. I had to laugh as we drove in and realized it was still a much smaller city than most I’ve lived in.

They did have what we needed, most of it anyways. They were all out of bottled pesto and I couldn’t find Israeli couscous, but those are luxury items anyways. The thing I was most excited for was just about four miles out of town, a huge nursery. It felt so good to get out of the van and see the greenhouses filled with perennials, herbs, and regional plants. I had carefully planned what we wanted so I didn’t spend all day wandering. We did have a two hour drive home with cranky kids and groceries in coolers after all. They had almost everything I wanted: basil, chives, rosemary, oregano, and sage. We planned to buy some Russian sage too, which grows really well out here. I grabbed some Red Hyssop because it’s supposed to grow well. I didn’t realize until much later why hyssop sounded so familiar. It’s both an herb and a biblical one at that! I was sad there wasn’t any dill and my scattered brain forgot to grab some lavender. Oh well, we’ll make the trip again. I would hate to buy everything I wanted at once just to have it die because I wasn’t used to gardening in red sandy soil.

Speaking of our soil, it’s a whole new adventure. I have always lived somewhere with grass. I also always said that I didn’t need much of it because I wanted a sort of wandering yard with lots of herbs and trees. I don’t think I imagined the first time I’d get to try life without grass would be when I replaced it with prickly bushes. I can’t properly call them weeds since I’m the one encroaching on their territory. But they are everywhere and can be difficult to get out when the ground is rocky. To be fair, it’s not nearly as much trouble to get rid of as morning glory or dandelions. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of either of those pests! It took me a couple of days to realize that the bushes which grow wild everywhere, when dead, are the stereotypical tumbleweed plant. The wind just picks them up and throws them everywhere. It makes me feel bad when I pull weeds and don’t get them in the trash right away because then my neighbors have to deal with them too!

I have planted all my herbs now, and we have cleared about half of our yard of the prickly bushes. I am praying for the little herbs. They like dry soil, but I am not sure the fertilizer I bought will be good enough for here. I didn’t have time to do a soil analysis and add compost and the likes. I’ll be sure to do those things for my vegetable garden, but I wanted to give the herbs time to establish before any frost hits, not that frost is coming anytime soon. The temperatures soar during the day. What’s so nice about living in the desert is that the temperature also drops every night. It’s so lovely to sit outside and see the stars come out and the bats swoop up and down in the backyard. In other words, life is good, beautiful, and trying at times. I am incredibly grateful for this new place and all the friendly faces I’ve met so far. As always, here are some pictures to go along with my ramblings!

Before we moved, our goal was to (finally) get a cement path down in the backyard of my brother's house. Peter helped us get prepared...

But somehow he found something he is allergic to, and boy howdy did he have terrible hives! Poor kid!

Unfortunately, we usually spend part of each church meeting in the foyer...but we still enjoy it!

We tried to go to Thanksgiving Point with Neal's mom several times before we moved. The last time, we got ice cream! Notice Mary's jealous face...this little girl just wants to be big like her brother. 

We also made a goal to go enjoy dinosaurs with my brother and his family. This is our attempt at a funny photo. It's mostly funny because Peter is so not into it. 

We really took almost everything with us when we moved. But here are the twenty-nine-ish boxes of books we put into storage instead...we have a bit of a problem with that. Someday we'll open our own library though!

This is the view our first week there. It was so beautiful to have storms when we were expecting scorching heat!

More storms! And also, this is what the houses look like!

The view from my desk is spectacular. It looks like a page from a magazine. It makes me feel like I should write about epic things instead of everyday adventures.

Mary likes to give kisses, or eat your face, whatever you prefer.

Grand scenery!

Fantastic sunrises!

Peter and Mary actually interacting like siblings!

These are the most beautiful shelves that Neal, his dad, and my dad built. There's nothing on them at this point because the stain is still drying. But I love them and I love that they are off the ground (so there aren't any...bugs.

The previous tenant must also have liked herbs, but they were all dead when we moved in (except that hearty oregano!)

Peter can finally look out a window and see what's happening. Too bad there is almost no traffic on our dead end, teachers only street.

Peter is pointing out how much her colored on the wall. He is also holding a rag because I made him try to clean it up...he enjoyed that part just as much. 

More storms! The neighbor's house is in the way, but the lightening was incredible.

This is what our backyard looks like...the prickly plants abound.

But somehow there's a volunteer cucumber plant! Who'd a thunk?

I could take a photo of my backyard view every day and it would look different. I just might do that. You can pick your favorite.

I wish you could see how pretty the moon was a bit better. My camera isn't exactly state of the art...

Today Peter helped me make bread! He really like the part where we punched it down!

And in case you thought the storms were a fluke, it's storming now! There's rumbling thunder that shakes the house and the power went out for a moment. My wind chimes are going crazy and I'm contemplating whether I can keep Peter from running for the hills if we all go outside to enjoy it for a bit!