Dear Everyone (if I have any blog stalkers left)...
I have been utterly horrible at keeping up with this blog. I can't seem to keep up with three different blogs. I'm not that organized.
Therefore, I am moving all family, photography and recipe posts to our new photography blog. You can access it at www.bluerockphotos.com/blog. The pictures are bigger. I update it almost daily. You'll be able to see what's new with my photography. What's new with Weslee. What's new with our travels. And what's new with our life.
We love you all and we'll see you there!
:) Teri
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
The Reasons I love you...
Oh my little man! You are a bucket of personality right now. There's not a day that goes by that I don't die laughing. We have the most fun together...and you keep me young each time we play!Some of my favorite parts about you right now are: You love to give kisses...butterfly kisses, eskimo kisses, and regular kisses...you are so affectionate. I love how you hug and kiss both your dad and I each night before bed and we have to pry you off!
You are starting to "get" and initiate games like "hide and seek". You love to "hide" from mom and dad, even if we are right there beside you watching you hide. You love to giggle and "shhh" at yourself while waiting for us to discover you under towels, couches, behind beds, and under the table. We often find you buried under all of your blankets at night, sweating to death, still waiting for us to find you. When it gets quiet in your room, we tippy toe in there to pull you out from your sweaty hiding spot, put Sheepie under your arm, and cover you properly. We can't help but kiss your head and talk about how adorable you are.
You have started imitating people's conversations. Because you can't string together real words quickly enough, you often throw in the important ones and fill in the rest of the conversation with what dad and I have started calling "Dub a Dub" language. Your conversation might sound like this. "Mom! Dub a dubba dub a Sheepie dub a dubba dub down". We'll reply. "Oh no! Did Sheepie fall down?" Your answer: "Yeaaaah. Sheepie down." You also like to copy the exact words you hear in conversations between people. For instance, at church this past Sunday while waiting for us to remove you from your carseat, you heard us greet another family with "How are you doing?" and you heard them reply "Oh Fine!". Suddenly, from the backseat we heard, "How a do-neen? Fiiiiiiiiine!" Your dad and I cracked up and complimented you on your big words.
You are a little crazy...it's totally true. And you come by it honestly. At night (or really, whenever you're tired), you don't get cranky, you get WILD! Tonight was just such a night. You needed a bath REALLY badly and we put you into the tub a little late. By the end of the bath, there was more water on the floor than in the tub I think. You had your terry cloth puppet, "Mr. Frog" diving into the water at alarming speeds, sending water and bubbles flying over the edge of the tub. You were laughing at the top of your lungs. You thought it was utterly hilarious. (To be honest, I couldn't help laughing too.) Again, at church, we woke you before you were ready and you were tired inside the chapel. We brought Teddy Grahams to keep you occupied. You decided to make a game of it and tried stuffng the crackers in as fast as you could. You looked like a chipmunk that had had too much caffeine! Your cheeks were filled with cracker and you were shaking your arm was so tense trying to make it go faster and faster from bag to mouth! We tried not to bust out laughing right in the middle of testimonies!
You are a good friend. You still love and care for the other kids you play with. You're still good at sharing, though you have learned the word "Mine!", you're quick to say "Sorry" if another kid gets hurt...even if you weren't the one at fault. You're still laid back and easy going. You are a happy kid, and I love you so much for it! You are just happy to be alive...and it reminds me everyday to look for my blessings too and count them one by one...starting with YOU!
Friday, September 4, 2009
Paris, France
At the last moment, Kevin and I decided to go to Paris for our 9th anniversary. Our friends, the Hatchs, were kind enough to watch Weslee for our 3 1/2 day trip.
I found out some interesting things about myself on this trip. I found out that I've allowed propaganda from the various wars in my lifetime to make me prejudice against the French...and other nationalities as well. I went to Paris not expecting to like the French people very much. I think subconsciously, I thought I'd find a mob of people who hated Americans, were burning their bras and our flag in the streets, and in general, just behaving like heathens.
Instead, we were greeted by a highly cultured, cordial people who took a great deal of pride in their history, their food, and their city. They were kind and patient as we stumbled through our handful of poorly spoken French phrases and flat out asked for help in English. One waiter went so far as to explain his entire menu to us and help us order something that was typical of the region. Only one unsavory character crossed our path...and that was on our first night while trying to purchase tickets for the metro. He was just a little too friendly for both of our likings...and while I went straight to the assumption that the man was mentally ill (a year in a mental health facility will do that to you), Kevin realized that we were being pickpocketed and caught the guy before he had taken anything of value. It kept us a little on edge the rest of the trip, especially when we were in large crowds...like at the Eiffel Tower or in the Notre Dame (sad, but true). Many times, we'd see signs warning of pickpockets and to keep watchful care of your valuables. And, in other exciting robbery news...we weren't able to visit the large market on the Rue Mouffetard because a bank robbery was in progress. They shut the entire area down and even had a very loud and noisy helicopter hovering above the few city blocks we had intended to visit that morning. We had planned to purchase some interesting cheeses and a roasted chicken for lunch that day...but we ended up lunching at a sandwich shop instead. Oh well...we captured some fun-filled pictures of the helicopter at least.
So...what were our impressions of Paris itself? I have to say that the first night, arriving near midnight, shrouded the City of Lights in a veil of depravity. Again, I had arrived with my prejudices and the almost immediate attack of a pickpocket had me thinking and feeling the worst. The stench of urine hung heavy in the metro station and it seemed to me that slouchy, homeless characters leered at Kevin and I hauling our luggage through the night waiting to jump us when the crowd died down. When the metro train pulled up, I stared at the cars covered in graffiti and was actually afraid to board. We exited the train at Place de Clichy and as we emerged from the dark of the station, we were met with the red glowing lights of the Moulin Rouge, and blaring neon that shouted "Sex", "Fantasy" and "XXX". As we walked down the street, two homeless men urinated in the bushes while watching us pass. It later struck us as ironic that the bushes they were watering were only a few feet from a free public restroom. Crouching around our belongings, Kevin finally pulled out our GPS to find our hotel and within a few minutes walk, we found the Hotel Utrillo.
Online, the Hotel Utrillo was given a 3 star rating. It even came highly recommended in Fodor's travel guide. It was indeed in a safe and bustling neighborhood by day...but again, we arrived at just after midnight and the place seemed dead and the street outside very dark. Our actual room was tiny, but clean. Except for the moldy tiles in the shower...but we've come to expect that as "normal" in the European countries. We actually came to like our room quite well. The bed was comfortable, the neighborhood lively, the metro station close...and we just ignored the moldy smell emanating from the shower.
Day two began to convince us of Paris's charms. As we walked down the street toward the Place de Clichy, the smell of the cafes and baking bread filled the streets. The locals and tourists alike dined on the sidewalks and the sound of clinking glassware could be heard like little tinkling bells in the distance. We basked in the already warm sun. We ate fresh bread and Pain au chocolat from the boulangerie and bought some of the best nectarines I've ever eaten from the market across the street. We enjoyed them while sitting in front of the Moulin Rouge, engaging in France's greatest passtime...people watching. It was fun to enjoy the fruit and bread while watching tourists fumble with their maps, and lovers stroll aimlessly along while holding hands. Today we were better with the Metro. It began to make sense, at least to Kevin and we soon found ourselves at the Louvre. We took the 1 1/2 hour "masterpieces" tour, getting lost in the maze of art and finding ourselves snapping pictures of some of the most iconic pieces on earth. Kevin desecribed Da Vinci's "Mona Lisa" as the most "overrated painting of all time". Though, I must say...she really drew the crowds. The crowds were so large, it was almost impossible to get a picture. I did something I never do to finally snap a shot. I knowingly broke the rules and got on Kevin's shoulders to finally grab a picture. It's funny...it you look closely, you can see the museum steward's very surprised face. Two seconds later, another steward was kindly asking us something that began with "Si vous plait" which we interpretted to mean that my picture time with Mona was done. A little embarrassed...but quite a bit triumphant, I moved on to the next masterpiece. My favorite of all of the paintings was one of Napoleon Bonaparte. It was so real to life, it felt like you could step into the painting like it was another room. I also really enjoyed Michelangelo's "Two Slaves". Kevin and I reaffirmed something about ourselves that we've always really suspected...we have no appreciation for art. We admire some of the aspects of art, like the time it takes to create the masterpieces, and the details in some of the sculpture...but really, after an hour and a half in the museum, both of us were no longer impressed with critic acclaimed pictures of naked women. The French Revolution picture was the most perplexing. The Republic, represented by a woman who's shirt has fallen off, is marching along with blood soaked, scruffy soldiers. We kept wondering why her shirt needed to be off? To us it was just gratuious nudity. It didn't make sense.
Anyways...back to the subject at hand...Paris. After the Louvre, we walked to the Notre Dame. What a beautiful cathedral. Our favorite part was climbing up to the top to catch a panoramic view of the city. We got to tour the bell towers...and NO, Quasi Moto is not there. We checked. Although the line to climb the top was absolutely crazy, going to the top of Notre Dame was by far, one of our favorite things we did. We have decided that since there are no big mountains to hike around here, we've taken to hiking churches and castles. So far, I have hiked to the top of some of the most iconic cathedrals in Europe. The Duomo in Florence, Italy...the Notre Dame in Paris, France...and this December, my whole family will hike to the top of St. Paul's Cathedral in London. After touring the top, we went inside. The stained glass was absolutely breathtaking. I don't think I've ever seen such gorgeous windows. I will have to say that I pitied the people who use the church as a place of worship. There were hordes of tourists coming and going, snapping pictures, clinking money into the money bins to buy candles to light for relatives and other people who need prayers, people whispering to one another, tour guides answering questions. I find that when I'm trying to commune with God, it takes all of my concentration to really tell him about my feelings, my struggles, and my needs. It takes all of my strength to listen for inspiration and guidance about how to meet those challenges. I wondered if I would be able to gain that kind of communion with my Maker if all of the hub-bub that happened in Notre Dame were happening in my own Sunday chapel back home? I don't think I would. My heart went out to them.
After a ham and cheese crepe, and alot of walking, we were back home. We crashed into bed with sore feet, but happy and cheerful thoughts. It had been a good day.
Day three was the day we headed to the market at Rue de Mouffetard. We weren't able to go to the market because of the bank robbery in progress...so, we caught a Batobus (which is one of the many boats that go up and down the River Seine) and rode from Notre Dame to the Eiffel Tower. I got so many good pictures. It was so cool to see the Eiffel Tower rise majestically as we rounded the bend in the river. We got out of the bus at the tower to take pictures in the daylight, hoping to go up the tower around sunset...and hoping that the insane crowds would die down (they didn't). There were lots of people selling miniature Eiffel Towers. Apparently they were illegal immigrants because they started running away when the Police showed up. I almost got killed trying to take a picture of them holding the miniatures (I have dumb moments...just like everyone else). My camera was focused on their hands, not their faces...and Kevin had to save me by taking the camera away. I was a little shaken for the next hour or so...more from my stupidity than anything else. But, I eventually got over it.
We headed to the Arc de Triomphe next. We ran across a VERY busy 6 lane roundabout, not realizing that there was an underground walkway to the Arch. We weren't the only ones who made that mistake. While at the Arch, I realized that the United States is not the only one with an Unnamed Soldier who has fallen in battle. In the center of the arch, an eternal flame burns for France's Unnamed Soldier. I'm sure every country has lost sons and daughters that can't be identified. My heart suddenly swelled for the French people and the sufferings they've felt during war. They became my brothers and my sisters that day.
From the Arch, we travelled down the Champs Elysees, which turned out to be the ritzy area of town. It was full of upscale shops and restaurants and a very interesting person dressed up like Pharoah who stood perfectly still and hoped you would put money in his little basket for standing so still. It was an interesting act. We saw another just down the street at the Place de Concordance where Madame la Guillotine used to stand. Now, a large obelisk and two fountains stand sentinel over the place that used to run with the blood of the noble men and women of France.
After a much needed dinner at the La Ferme de Opera sandwich shop, we headed yet again towards the Batobus to catch a ride to the Eiffel Tower. We decided to hike the first two floors and take the elevator to the top at the second floor. Not only was it cheaper, but again...Kevin and I like to hike (although the knee I hurt in soccer in high school doesn't always appreciate it). We only had to wait for 15 minutes before we were hike, hike, hiking our way to the tallest point in Paris. It turned out to be one of the most humorous events of the trip. It turns out, Kevin is VERY afraid of heights. I didn't know this about him. I've known the man for a decade and did not know that he could not tolerate heights. It was fun to watch him try to catch it all on video tape while trying not to look himself. He'd hang the video camera out over the edge and turn and look the other way. (We haven't watched the video yet...it might be fun to see what he took pictures of). It probably didn't help that the tower was made so that you can see all around you while you're climbing. Kevin would try to get up the stairs as quickly as possible so that he could stand on the platform and look out at the horizon. (When he's looking at the horizon, he's OK...it's when he looks down that it's a problem). The elevator ride to the very top was amusing as well. It was a glass elevator...and scary even for me. Kevin didn't really like that at all! I must say, though...he really pushes himself. He figures his only way to get over it is to make himself do it anyway. He actually looked over the edge more than I did. And, he hung my camera out over the edge to get some cool pics of the Tower from the top down. I was too afraid to do that. I actually couldn't watch him hang the camera over like that. It gave me butterflies. (Kevin's right...I've got my priorities ALL mixed up!) At night, the tower lit up and every hour on the hour, it presented a light show to the world. We were able to get down for the 11pm light show. It was so beautiful!
That night it was difficult to fall asleep. My feet hurt so badly from all of the climbing and walking. I had blisters. I felt like a cripple. But, I awoke the next morning ready for Versailles.
Before we checked out the next morning, we ran quickly down the street from the hotel to Santa Croce. There was another long flight of stairs and I thought I was going to die...but we made it. The cathedral was beautiful. The Parisians call it the "sculpted cloud" and for good reason. Made of sparkling white stone with domed chapels, it very much resembles a cloud. While we were there, a man played all kinds of wonderful music on a harp. Looking over the hazy city, it was a nice touch. We finally bought a few Eiffel Tower trinkets from some of the vendors there, grabbed a baguette sandwich for lunch and headed back to the hotel to check out.
From the hotel, we headed WITH all of our luggage to Versailles. Between the Metro and the train, it took 45 minutes to get there. By the time we got there, we had 2 hours to tour the place. Being the art fanatics that we are, we decided to skip the tour of the inside which probably housed alot more art and "fine" things, and opted instead to rent a golf cart and tour the gardens. It was SO MUCH FUN. Kevin drove us through the maze of shrubbery and trees that once used to be highly manicured gardens. It was fun to catch glimpes of King Louis XIV's palace through the green. The gardens were absolutely massive and it took an hour to drive at a steady pace of 5 mph through all of it. We barely had time to stop and snap pictures along the way. Kevin and I both came to the same conclusion at the end of the tour, however. While Versailles is certainly massive and impressive in it's sheer size, it lacks some character that we've seen in other palaces. Everything, the building facade, the gravel paths, even the sculptures...all blended together in a blinding swirl of white. It was fun to see what the "Sun King" thought was impressive and best displayed his pomp, though. It was a fun end of our Parisian tour.
Now, a couple of weeks down the road from the trip, the things that still stick in my mind are the smell of urine. Yes...it was quite a stench...and you unexpectedly came across the smell in the most random of places. The AMAZING bread. Kevin and I both agree that we will never call it "Italian" bread again...the Italians DON'T know what they're doing with bread...we know that from experience. But the French...ahhh....they DO know how to make some of the best bread in the world. I still crave it, even a few weeks later. I can feel the crispy crust and the lusciously chewy center in my mouth as I write this out...ok Teri...enough!!! How colorful it was. I was in love with their subway stations. I loved the loud colors, the modern chairs and benches. I loved how ecclectic Paris is. I could see myself being right at home as a photographer in Paris. And last, the sidewalk cafes. I couldn't get enough of the charm of sitting outdoors with a nice meal and your "honey" and watching the golden sunset bounce off of ancient buildings. In a word, it was wonderful.
I found out some interesting things about myself on this trip. I found out that I've allowed propaganda from the various wars in my lifetime to make me prejudice against the French...and other nationalities as well. I went to Paris not expecting to like the French people very much. I think subconsciously, I thought I'd find a mob of people who hated Americans, were burning their bras and our flag in the streets, and in general, just behaving like heathens.
Instead, we were greeted by a highly cultured, cordial people who took a great deal of pride in their history, their food, and their city. They were kind and patient as we stumbled through our handful of poorly spoken French phrases and flat out asked for help in English. One waiter went so far as to explain his entire menu to us and help us order something that was typical of the region. Only one unsavory character crossed our path...and that was on our first night while trying to purchase tickets for the metro. He was just a little too friendly for both of our likings...and while I went straight to the assumption that the man was mentally ill (a year in a mental health facility will do that to you), Kevin realized that we were being pickpocketed and caught the guy before he had taken anything of value. It kept us a little on edge the rest of the trip, especially when we were in large crowds...like at the Eiffel Tower or in the Notre Dame (sad, but true). Many times, we'd see signs warning of pickpockets and to keep watchful care of your valuables. And, in other exciting robbery news...we weren't able to visit the large market on the Rue Mouffetard because a bank robbery was in progress. They shut the entire area down and even had a very loud and noisy helicopter hovering above the few city blocks we had intended to visit that morning. We had planned to purchase some interesting cheeses and a roasted chicken for lunch that day...but we ended up lunching at a sandwich shop instead. Oh well...we captured some fun-filled pictures of the helicopter at least.
So...what were our impressions of Paris itself? I have to say that the first night, arriving near midnight, shrouded the City of Lights in a veil of depravity. Again, I had arrived with my prejudices and the almost immediate attack of a pickpocket had me thinking and feeling the worst. The stench of urine hung heavy in the metro station and it seemed to me that slouchy, homeless characters leered at Kevin and I hauling our luggage through the night waiting to jump us when the crowd died down. When the metro train pulled up, I stared at the cars covered in graffiti and was actually afraid to board. We exited the train at Place de Clichy and as we emerged from the dark of the station, we were met with the red glowing lights of the Moulin Rouge, and blaring neon that shouted "Sex", "Fantasy" and "XXX". As we walked down the street, two homeless men urinated in the bushes while watching us pass. It later struck us as ironic that the bushes they were watering were only a few feet from a free public restroom. Crouching around our belongings, Kevin finally pulled out our GPS to find our hotel and within a few minutes walk, we found the Hotel Utrillo.
Online, the Hotel Utrillo was given a 3 star rating. It even came highly recommended in Fodor's travel guide. It was indeed in a safe and bustling neighborhood by day...but again, we arrived at just after midnight and the place seemed dead and the street outside very dark. Our actual room was tiny, but clean. Except for the moldy tiles in the shower...but we've come to expect that as "normal" in the European countries. We actually came to like our room quite well. The bed was comfortable, the neighborhood lively, the metro station close...and we just ignored the moldy smell emanating from the shower.
Day two began to convince us of Paris's charms. As we walked down the street toward the Place de Clichy, the smell of the cafes and baking bread filled the streets. The locals and tourists alike dined on the sidewalks and the sound of clinking glassware could be heard like little tinkling bells in the distance. We basked in the already warm sun. We ate fresh bread and Pain au chocolat from the boulangerie and bought some of the best nectarines I've ever eaten from the market across the street. We enjoyed them while sitting in front of the Moulin Rouge, engaging in France's greatest passtime...people watching. It was fun to enjoy the fruit and bread while watching tourists fumble with their maps, and lovers stroll aimlessly along while holding hands. Today we were better with the Metro. It began to make sense, at least to Kevin and we soon found ourselves at the Louvre. We took the 1 1/2 hour "masterpieces" tour, getting lost in the maze of art and finding ourselves snapping pictures of some of the most iconic pieces on earth. Kevin desecribed Da Vinci's "Mona Lisa" as the most "overrated painting of all time". Though, I must say...she really drew the crowds. The crowds were so large, it was almost impossible to get a picture. I did something I never do to finally snap a shot. I knowingly broke the rules and got on Kevin's shoulders to finally grab a picture. It's funny...it you look closely, you can see the museum steward's very surprised face. Two seconds later, another steward was kindly asking us something that began with "Si vous plait" which we interpretted to mean that my picture time with Mona was done. A little embarrassed...but quite a bit triumphant, I moved on to the next masterpiece. My favorite of all of the paintings was one of Napoleon Bonaparte. It was so real to life, it felt like you could step into the painting like it was another room. I also really enjoyed Michelangelo's "Two Slaves". Kevin and I reaffirmed something about ourselves that we've always really suspected...we have no appreciation for art. We admire some of the aspects of art, like the time it takes to create the masterpieces, and the details in some of the sculpture...but really, after an hour and a half in the museum, both of us were no longer impressed with critic acclaimed pictures of naked women. The French Revolution picture was the most perplexing. The Republic, represented by a woman who's shirt has fallen off, is marching along with blood soaked, scruffy soldiers. We kept wondering why her shirt needed to be off? To us it was just gratuious nudity. It didn't make sense.
Anyways...back to the subject at hand...Paris. After the Louvre, we walked to the Notre Dame. What a beautiful cathedral. Our favorite part was climbing up to the top to catch a panoramic view of the city. We got to tour the bell towers...and NO, Quasi Moto is not there. We checked. Although the line to climb the top was absolutely crazy, going to the top of Notre Dame was by far, one of our favorite things we did. We have decided that since there are no big mountains to hike around here, we've taken to hiking churches and castles. So far, I have hiked to the top of some of the most iconic cathedrals in Europe. The Duomo in Florence, Italy...the Notre Dame in Paris, France...and this December, my whole family will hike to the top of St. Paul's Cathedral in London. After touring the top, we went inside. The stained glass was absolutely breathtaking. I don't think I've ever seen such gorgeous windows. I will have to say that I pitied the people who use the church as a place of worship. There were hordes of tourists coming and going, snapping pictures, clinking money into the money bins to buy candles to light for relatives and other people who need prayers, people whispering to one another, tour guides answering questions. I find that when I'm trying to commune with God, it takes all of my concentration to really tell him about my feelings, my struggles, and my needs. It takes all of my strength to listen for inspiration and guidance about how to meet those challenges. I wondered if I would be able to gain that kind of communion with my Maker if all of the hub-bub that happened in Notre Dame were happening in my own Sunday chapel back home? I don't think I would. My heart went out to them.
After a ham and cheese crepe, and alot of walking, we were back home. We crashed into bed with sore feet, but happy and cheerful thoughts. It had been a good day.
Day three was the day we headed to the market at Rue de Mouffetard. We weren't able to go to the market because of the bank robbery in progress...so, we caught a Batobus (which is one of the many boats that go up and down the River Seine) and rode from Notre Dame to the Eiffel Tower. I got so many good pictures. It was so cool to see the Eiffel Tower rise majestically as we rounded the bend in the river. We got out of the bus at the tower to take pictures in the daylight, hoping to go up the tower around sunset...and hoping that the insane crowds would die down (they didn't). There were lots of people selling miniature Eiffel Towers. Apparently they were illegal immigrants because they started running away when the Police showed up. I almost got killed trying to take a picture of them holding the miniatures (I have dumb moments...just like everyone else). My camera was focused on their hands, not their faces...and Kevin had to save me by taking the camera away. I was a little shaken for the next hour or so...more from my stupidity than anything else. But, I eventually got over it.
We headed to the Arc de Triomphe next. We ran across a VERY busy 6 lane roundabout, not realizing that there was an underground walkway to the Arch. We weren't the only ones who made that mistake. While at the Arch, I realized that the United States is not the only one with an Unnamed Soldier who has fallen in battle. In the center of the arch, an eternal flame burns for France's Unnamed Soldier. I'm sure every country has lost sons and daughters that can't be identified. My heart suddenly swelled for the French people and the sufferings they've felt during war. They became my brothers and my sisters that day.
From the Arch, we travelled down the Champs Elysees, which turned out to be the ritzy area of town. It was full of upscale shops and restaurants and a very interesting person dressed up like Pharoah who stood perfectly still and hoped you would put money in his little basket for standing so still. It was an interesting act. We saw another just down the street at the Place de Concordance where Madame la Guillotine used to stand. Now, a large obelisk and two fountains stand sentinel over the place that used to run with the blood of the noble men and women of France.
After a much needed dinner at the La Ferme de Opera sandwich shop, we headed yet again towards the Batobus to catch a ride to the Eiffel Tower. We decided to hike the first two floors and take the elevator to the top at the second floor. Not only was it cheaper, but again...Kevin and I like to hike (although the knee I hurt in soccer in high school doesn't always appreciate it). We only had to wait for 15 minutes before we were hike, hike, hiking our way to the tallest point in Paris. It turned out to be one of the most humorous events of the trip. It turns out, Kevin is VERY afraid of heights. I didn't know this about him. I've known the man for a decade and did not know that he could not tolerate heights. It was fun to watch him try to catch it all on video tape while trying not to look himself. He'd hang the video camera out over the edge and turn and look the other way. (We haven't watched the video yet...it might be fun to see what he took pictures of). It probably didn't help that the tower was made so that you can see all around you while you're climbing. Kevin would try to get up the stairs as quickly as possible so that he could stand on the platform and look out at the horizon. (When he's looking at the horizon, he's OK...it's when he looks down that it's a problem). The elevator ride to the very top was amusing as well. It was a glass elevator...and scary even for me. Kevin didn't really like that at all! I must say, though...he really pushes himself. He figures his only way to get over it is to make himself do it anyway. He actually looked over the edge more than I did. And, he hung my camera out over the edge to get some cool pics of the Tower from the top down. I was too afraid to do that. I actually couldn't watch him hang the camera over like that. It gave me butterflies. (Kevin's right...I've got my priorities ALL mixed up!) At night, the tower lit up and every hour on the hour, it presented a light show to the world. We were able to get down for the 11pm light show. It was so beautiful!
That night it was difficult to fall asleep. My feet hurt so badly from all of the climbing and walking. I had blisters. I felt like a cripple. But, I awoke the next morning ready for Versailles.
Before we checked out the next morning, we ran quickly down the street from the hotel to Santa Croce. There was another long flight of stairs and I thought I was going to die...but we made it. The cathedral was beautiful. The Parisians call it the "sculpted cloud" and for good reason. Made of sparkling white stone with domed chapels, it very much resembles a cloud. While we were there, a man played all kinds of wonderful music on a harp. Looking over the hazy city, it was a nice touch. We finally bought a few Eiffel Tower trinkets from some of the vendors there, grabbed a baguette sandwich for lunch and headed back to the hotel to check out.
From the hotel, we headed WITH all of our luggage to Versailles. Between the Metro and the train, it took 45 minutes to get there. By the time we got there, we had 2 hours to tour the place. Being the art fanatics that we are, we decided to skip the tour of the inside which probably housed alot more art and "fine" things, and opted instead to rent a golf cart and tour the gardens. It was SO MUCH FUN. Kevin drove us through the maze of shrubbery and trees that once used to be highly manicured gardens. It was fun to catch glimpes of King Louis XIV's palace through the green. The gardens were absolutely massive and it took an hour to drive at a steady pace of 5 mph through all of it. We barely had time to stop and snap pictures along the way. Kevin and I both came to the same conclusion at the end of the tour, however. While Versailles is certainly massive and impressive in it's sheer size, it lacks some character that we've seen in other palaces. Everything, the building facade, the gravel paths, even the sculptures...all blended together in a blinding swirl of white. It was fun to see what the "Sun King" thought was impressive and best displayed his pomp, though. It was a fun end of our Parisian tour.
Now, a couple of weeks down the road from the trip, the things that still stick in my mind are the smell of urine. Yes...it was quite a stench...and you unexpectedly came across the smell in the most random of places. The AMAZING bread. Kevin and I both agree that we will never call it "Italian" bread again...the Italians DON'T know what they're doing with bread...we know that from experience. But the French...ahhh....they DO know how to make some of the best bread in the world. I still crave it, even a few weeks later. I can feel the crispy crust and the lusciously chewy center in my mouth as I write this out...ok Teri...enough!!! How colorful it was. I was in love with their subway stations. I loved the loud colors, the modern chairs and benches. I loved how ecclectic Paris is. I could see myself being right at home as a photographer in Paris. And last, the sidewalk cafes. I couldn't get enough of the charm of sitting outdoors with a nice meal and your "honey" and watching the golden sunset bounce off of ancient buildings. In a word, it was wonderful.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Home
Ok...so I have been so focused on keeping up with my photography blog, that I've totally neglected my family blog (how sad is that???) Anyway...I wanted to write a little of the last month. Kevin has been away from us since the end of March and I was not handling the separation well at all. There have been few, if any, times in my life where I have truly experienced homesickness. I am truly a gypsy at heart. I love new experiences, new places, and new faces. But, probably the combination of being a lone mother of a two year old, living in a foreign country, and just missing Kevin to death brought on a rather crazy case of homesickness. So, we flew to the USA to be with Kevin. And what a fun experience it has been!
I was super worried about flying for 10 hours with a toddler. But, once again, my little master-traveller handled it beautifully. Out of 14 hours of being on the "road" so to speak, we had 5 mintues of bad behavior. I was amazed!!! (Where did this kid come from anyway?) He played with the little toys I brought, his books, ate snacks, played with the earphones the flight attendants gave him and was happy as a clam. He briefly watched the airplane movies, and just chilled in his chair for most of the time. The guy beside us was amazed. You could tell when he sat down that he thought he'd have a rough flight. But, aside from the crumbs that were thrown his way a couple of times, it was a "good flight" according to him.
Our plane was delayed both in London and in Chicago. We ended up getting to Omaha at 9pm (about 4am our time). Kevin waited for several hours for us and it was so good to see him at the airport just reading his book. When we got home, we were so exhausted, we just fell into bed.
It took us a couple of days to recover. But, recover we did! And then the adventure began. The first week, we mostly ate at all of the restaurants I've missed, hung out at the swimming pool and basked in the sunlight, got a suntan, and played board games. For the first time this year, it truly felt like summer. I got a little bit of a sunburn, Weslee always smelled like coconut because of the sunblock we had to smear all over his fair skin. It smelled like barbeque in the air. And the hot, sticky breeze blew all day long. At night there were fireflies and a big bright moon. It was a wierd sensation of feeling like you're finally "home" and knowing all the while that home is thousands of miles away in a whole 'nother country.
The next week brought time with my family. Mom, Dad, Bubba, and his wife Tessa, Charla and my little clan all met at my brother's loft apartment in Kansas City for a weekend sleepover. We shopped at the outdoor market, went to see "Up", strolled through an art fair, and just hung out and talked. Weslee almost got his ankles nipped off by these vicious little dogs at the swimming pool at their apartment complex and he screamed joyfully at them at the top of his lungs. He was so excited to have those little ankle biters circling around him. I don't think he realized the growling was a scary thing. I was feeling a little edgy and overprotective. I'm not a dog person anyway...so I wasn't real wild about the crazy dogs at the pool. Dad made some awesome steaks for us to eat, and Tessa was a gourmet chef and we got to sample her food. I got to take pictures of the different family groups and we got to hear my sister's latest songs she's written. It was so awesome...and hard to say goodbye at the end of the weekend.
One of the coolest parts about going to Kansas City for the weekend was that we got to begin our adoption process. We met at LDS family services to begin the paperwork for another adoption. We're hoping the process isn't too long and tedious. We'd really like our family to grow. So...if you're reading this, and you know of anyone who is considering placing their baby for adoption, please send them our way. We'd love to chat with them.
Two days after returning home from Kansas City, we found ourselves on the road to Denver to be with Kevin's sister, Denise for 4th of July. Knowing that Denver is where we want to settle when we exit the Air Force really made Denver feel like home. We had such a fun time. We cooked out on the barbeque, hung out and talked until late at night, played Guitar Hero on the Wii, played the piano, went to the movies, and all of the nieces and nephews beat up on Kevin. He brings it on himself. It's wierd that Kasen, our oldest nephew in that family, has bulked up to the point where he could seriously contend with Kevin in a wrestling match. The two of them had fun messing around. We had so much fun laughing and joking around. I really miss that family!
And now, we're back at TLF. Weslee and I went to the pool for the last time today. The smell of coconut sunblock is still in the air. I have a photoshoot in less than an hour, my last photoshoot of the trip (I've done 7 in total). My camera battery is charging over by the toaster. My clean laundry is begging to be folded and packed away into the suitcase for the last time. I'm beginning to make to-do lists of things that need to be done when I get home. We'll have our last game night tonight. Finger printing for our adoption process tomorrow morning and our last meeting with our adoption caseworker. By this time tomorrow, Kevin will be alone in this very room.
He won't have to worry about me stealing the covers at night, or Weslee waking up at 3 am thinking it's party time. He won't have to worry about the laundry basket overflowing or cereal pieces all over the floor. There will be no one to contend with for computer time. In short, as Kevin put it, it will be lonely.
I am so glad for this short trip back "home" with Kevin. So glad for the laughs, and the memories, and the sunshine, and the fun we've shared together. It has been the dose of medicine I needed. But Man! It's hard to leave "home" behind...because you see, "home" is always where Kevin is. Where he is is where I belong. So, here is wishing that "home" comes back to England very, VERY soon.
I was super worried about flying for 10 hours with a toddler. But, once again, my little master-traveller handled it beautifully. Out of 14 hours of being on the "road" so to speak, we had 5 mintues of bad behavior. I was amazed!!! (Where did this kid come from anyway?) He played with the little toys I brought, his books, ate snacks, played with the earphones the flight attendants gave him and was happy as a clam. He briefly watched the airplane movies, and just chilled in his chair for most of the time. The guy beside us was amazed. You could tell when he sat down that he thought he'd have a rough flight. But, aside from the crumbs that were thrown his way a couple of times, it was a "good flight" according to him.
Our plane was delayed both in London and in Chicago. We ended up getting to Omaha at 9pm (about 4am our time). Kevin waited for several hours for us and it was so good to see him at the airport just reading his book. When we got home, we were so exhausted, we just fell into bed.
It took us a couple of days to recover. But, recover we did! And then the adventure began. The first week, we mostly ate at all of the restaurants I've missed, hung out at the swimming pool and basked in the sunlight, got a suntan, and played board games. For the first time this year, it truly felt like summer. I got a little bit of a sunburn, Weslee always smelled like coconut because of the sunblock we had to smear all over his fair skin. It smelled like barbeque in the air. And the hot, sticky breeze blew all day long. At night there were fireflies and a big bright moon. It was a wierd sensation of feeling like you're finally "home" and knowing all the while that home is thousands of miles away in a whole 'nother country.
The next week brought time with my family. Mom, Dad, Bubba, and his wife Tessa, Charla and my little clan all met at my brother's loft apartment in Kansas City for a weekend sleepover. We shopped at the outdoor market, went to see "Up", strolled through an art fair, and just hung out and talked. Weslee almost got his ankles nipped off by these vicious little dogs at the swimming pool at their apartment complex and he screamed joyfully at them at the top of his lungs. He was so excited to have those little ankle biters circling around him. I don't think he realized the growling was a scary thing. I was feeling a little edgy and overprotective. I'm not a dog person anyway...so I wasn't real wild about the crazy dogs at the pool. Dad made some awesome steaks for us to eat, and Tessa was a gourmet chef and we got to sample her food. I got to take pictures of the different family groups and we got to hear my sister's latest songs she's written. It was so awesome...and hard to say goodbye at the end of the weekend.
One of the coolest parts about going to Kansas City for the weekend was that we got to begin our adoption process. We met at LDS family services to begin the paperwork for another adoption. We're hoping the process isn't too long and tedious. We'd really like our family to grow. So...if you're reading this, and you know of anyone who is considering placing their baby for adoption, please send them our way. We'd love to chat with them.
Two days after returning home from Kansas City, we found ourselves on the road to Denver to be with Kevin's sister, Denise for 4th of July. Knowing that Denver is where we want to settle when we exit the Air Force really made Denver feel like home. We had such a fun time. We cooked out on the barbeque, hung out and talked until late at night, played Guitar Hero on the Wii, played the piano, went to the movies, and all of the nieces and nephews beat up on Kevin. He brings it on himself. It's wierd that Kasen, our oldest nephew in that family, has bulked up to the point where he could seriously contend with Kevin in a wrestling match. The two of them had fun messing around. We had so much fun laughing and joking around. I really miss that family!
And now, we're back at TLF. Weslee and I went to the pool for the last time today. The smell of coconut sunblock is still in the air. I have a photoshoot in less than an hour, my last photoshoot of the trip (I've done 7 in total). My camera battery is charging over by the toaster. My clean laundry is begging to be folded and packed away into the suitcase for the last time. I'm beginning to make to-do lists of things that need to be done when I get home. We'll have our last game night tonight. Finger printing for our adoption process tomorrow morning and our last meeting with our adoption caseworker. By this time tomorrow, Kevin will be alone in this very room.
He won't have to worry about me stealing the covers at night, or Weslee waking up at 3 am thinking it's party time. He won't have to worry about the laundry basket overflowing or cereal pieces all over the floor. There will be no one to contend with for computer time. In short, as Kevin put it, it will be lonely.
I am so glad for this short trip back "home" with Kevin. So glad for the laughs, and the memories, and the sunshine, and the fun we've shared together. It has been the dose of medicine I needed. But Man! It's hard to leave "home" behind...because you see, "home" is always where Kevin is. Where he is is where I belong. So, here is wishing that "home" comes back to England very, VERY soon.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
P.Y.O. Isleham
So, we kept seeing these signs around town with a big strawberry on them. They said P.Y.O. Isleham. We asked around and found out that (duh!) it was a "Pick Your Own" Strawberry place. So, today we hopped in the car for a fun berry adventure. It wasn't really planned. In fact, I thought of it while I was showering this morning. I threw some clothes on, changed Weslee and we headed out the door before my hair had even dried.We picked about 4 kilos (and no...I don't really know how much that is) of strawberries and spent the rest of the morning hulling and slicing them to make jam tomorrow (and to eat for the rest of the day). There is nothing more tasty than fresh picked strawberries. The store bought ones don't even compare!
Today while picking berries, I had all kinds of flash backs of working with my grandma in her garden and helping her pick blackberries. She's always telling a story about me picking blackberries and eating way more than I picked. They would tell me to "just pick the black ones" and to eat only "one at a time". Today, I found myself saying almost those very words. "Wes, just pick the red ones". "Eat that strawberry you've got in your hand before you pick another one". I have so many memories of watching Gram make jelly and jam and I realized today, that my son will have similar memories of me, endlessly stirring behind a very hot stove of wonderful fruit...and then eating it later on hot toast with butter.
I also have to say, I love his little dirty cherub face in these pictures too. Not only is he covered in sticky strawberry juice and dirt...but snot as well. England has been tough on this poor kid. I'm pretty sure he has some crazy allergies! Everything flowers like crazy here...and pollen is so thick in the air, it settles in a yellow dust on your car overnight. His nose is always running and he is forever sneezing. My little angel with a dirty face!
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Oatmeal
So, my mom just left from a fabulous visit. Well, it was fabulous for me, and she SWEARS it was fabulous for her...but she was sick the whole time. Throughout the night I could hear her coughing. I thought FOR SURE she'd lose a lung. But, she's back home safely in the USA with both of her lungs. Whew! (That was close).Anyway, the very first thing she did when she got off the plane, after kissing Weslee mercilessly was hand him a hand-crafted, homemade-with-love little bunny that my sister in law made for him. Mom and I thought he should have a British name since we are having this fabulous UK adventure for the next few years. We called him "King Henry". We called him that for approximately 12 hours. But, Wes had his own ideas for this bunny's name. He named him "Oatmeal".
It's an appropriate name. He looks like oatmeal. Weslee likes oatmeal. So, it's a compliment to the bunny. Anyway, he loves sleeping with Oatmeal now along with "Sheepie" (his partner in crime and his best comforter) and Port-a-Peep, the smaller, more portable version of Sheepie.
Anyway, this is a shout out to Tessa, my very gifted Sister in Law. Thank you, thank you for the cute bunny. And to all of you who don't know Tessa, she makes the most awesome vintage stuff. Check her out at http://www.tessamariearanda.com/.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
New House
Nani sent a box of birthday gifts for you a few weeks back. This mammoth box almost killed me to lug to the car (and the whole while I was worried that you were running into oncoming traffic at the post office because I couldn't see a darn thing while carrying it). It wouldn't fit into the trunk. It barely fit into the backseat. It sat in the house, waiting for Nani's arrival and I tripped over it more times that I would like to admit. And then, you gave me a brilliant idea! You tried climbing into a very small box, but you wouldn't fit.
I immediately got to work on emptying the mammoth box and storing all of your gifts in the closet until Nani arrives. Then, we took a knife and some crayons to the box to make the MOST AWESOME HOUSE EVER! You love this thing. You sat in it reading books to "Sheepie" for over half an hour the first night we made it. Since then, you've pushed it down the stairs to sit in while you watch movies, and right now, it's outside where you had lunch. You and Sheepie have had alot of fun in your new little house.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Mayfair Date
After my impromptu photo shoot today with one of my Young Women, Weslee and I hit the RAF Mildenhall Mayfair event. We made it a "date". Weslee loved it! He got to pet the owls from a local wildlife reserve and even ride the teacups (he chose the pink one). I was worried that he wouldn't stay on the teacups by himself, but he rode them the entire 5 minutes, twirling his cup around and around, shouting "WOW, Mom, WOW" the entire time. It was so fun to see his face each time he would pass me. He was spinning himself so quickly, it was hard to get a picture of his face at all. We had a fun time. I love going on "dates" with my little man!Sunday, April 26, 2009
You're Two...
Weslee,You're two. Where has the time gone? You've traded your cute little chipmunk cheeks from your first mortal days for the leaner look of your toddler years (though no matter how old or lean you get, I'll never, as long as I live, forget holding you in the hospital for the first time with only your cheeks poking out of the blankets, and falling in love with you instantly. ) You've kept the beautiful blue eyes I adore so much.
You bring joy to my life everyday. You are a wonder of a little boy. How I ever earned the privilege of being your mother, I'll never know...but you are one of a kind. You are my own personal angel. I couldn't ask for more from a son. I am so very proud of you.
Some of my favorite things about you at this age: You are so compassionate. If anyone is crying, or hurt, the concern shows in your eyes. If it happens to be me that is crying or hurt, you come and stand beside me, pat my back, and ask if I'm "doh-tay?" I love that you kiss owies, both mine and your own. You try to love and care for everyone you come in contact with. The nursery leaders have told me that you've been a real friend to those in nursery who are crying or hurt. I am so proud of you for being a good friend.
You are so independent. "My too" or "my turn" is something we hear alot around here. Thank heavens you want to do things on your own! I love watching you put your wellies on to go outside, struggling with everything you've got to get your little feet inside those rain boots. I love watching you "read" books to yourself and to me. You don't want to sit in the high chair anymore, but in the other "chai-oo" to eat your food with the rest of the family and drink out of a normal cup, not a sippy.
You are obedient. I rarely have to ask you to do something more than once. If I ask you to get in bed, please...you begin climbing into bed. If I tell you to hold my hand when crossing our street, you hold it up for me to reach. And, the latest in miracles, when I'm mowing our crazy lawn and leave the back gate open for a split second to get the mower where I need it to go, and I ask you to stay in the backyard because it's dangerous near the road. You stay right within the door frame and go no further. You poke your head out to see what's going on, but you never moved out of the backyard. I thought to myself, "This child is uncommonly obedient" and I was so thankful.
You are helpful. Mommy has such a big job to do right now. Holding down the fort while Daddy is gone is a big responsibility and I appreciate all of the help you give me every day. You unlock the door to the car each time we go somewhere. You like to help carry the groceries in from the grocery store. When you spill at the table, you often get down with a rag after the meal and help me clean up the mess. You pick up your toys, often without being told, every evening before bed. You put your dishes in the sink after the meal. And, you help me load the washer with our dirty clothes. You have no idea how much these small things really do help me. I appreciate all that you do to make mommy's burden lighter while Daddy is away. I love you for it!
You are imaginative. I love sneaking up on you while you're pretending. I caught you feeding "Sheepie" in the high chair the other day and asking him to help clean up the mess. (Your tone of voice sounded so much like me as you said "Uh oh, mahss. Keen up, keen up, sseepee!" and you pretended to wipe the tray.) I know that we probably shouldn't encourage the whole "gun" thing, but I love watching you pretend to shoot the bad guys and then "die" in the hallway. I know my laughter just encourages you...but it's dang funny!
You are smart. You have always picked up new things quickly. I am persuaded that you will do well in life at whatever you pursue simply because you grasp new concepts so rapidly. I love that you want to learn. You are inquisitive. All day long you'll ask "Dat?" meaning "What's that?" and I'll tell you, "That's a car-jack." or "That's a magnet." or "That's a microphone." and I'll hear you repeat the word to yourself. You always surprise me when a few weeks later you'll whip that word right out and use it in the right context. Today you could see your shadow at dinner (a word you learned 3 weeks ago on a walk) and you looked at me with a knowing look in your eye and simply said, "Dahdow, mama". I was shocked as I acknowledged you were right. Or today when we were watching a documentary on Joseph Smith and they showed the earth on the screen. First, you pointed out that it was a circle and then asked me "Dat?" I told you it was the earth and that yes, it was in-fact a circle. "Eawt". "Eawt." Eawt." I heard you say it over and over again while the earth remained on the screen. I will not be surprised if we see another "earth" in the near future and you pull that new word out of your bag of tricks.
You are a daily miracle to me, my boy. I hope I never forget to see you as the miracle that you are. I hope I don't ever let the little bumps in the road that happen from day to day get in the way of all of the incredible good that you do. I hope I always remind you, over and over again, that I love you. I hope I tell you of your incredible worth to our Father in Heaven enough times that you always believe it. I hope I nurture the gifts that are already in your possession and help you to become the man your Father in Heaven (and I) see in you. I hope I always treasure each day with you.
Because I know that the next time I blink, another year will have gone by. It won't be long before you fly the coup and I'll be missing the dirt smudges, the booger kisses, the little messes, and the mooshed bugs. I'll have a stain-free shirt, but I'll be missing your little fingers wrapped around my own. I'll look at those scribbles in my scriptures with fondness. I'll be longing for the sound of a sleeping baby on my chest. I'll miss your laughter ringing through the house. So, I hope I always remember to treasure those things while I have them. Happy Two Years, my big boy! Here's to another great one!
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Tycle...
Is there anything more endearing than hearing a toddler begin to use language? I am totally enamored with hearing Weslee's attempts to communicate his feelings, his wants and desires, and placing labels on everything that makes up his world. Some of his words are easy to recognize: mommy, daddy, hi, bye bye, and my personal favorite...Yyyyyep! Others are a little harder to make out. And some are impossible for me to understand. It's the ones that I understand but no one else does that just tug at my heart strings. I'll be so sad when he talks like a grown up and I don't hear words like "wuz zoo" (love you), "Deezus Cwyst" (Jesus Christ), "day too" (thank you), "a-mas" (airplane) and "tockolee" (chocolate) anymore.
Lately, one of his favorite words (because it is one of his favorite things) is "Tycle". This word, to Weslee, means motorcycle. There is a bouncy motorcycle at the park, and he runs for it shouting "tycle, tycle, tycle". He thinks his trike looks like a motorcycle (in fact, the reason we bought this particular trike is because when he saw it he started shouting "tycle. My tycle" in a very excited voice. We were there to buy a trike anyway. Thought it would be good to get one he was so excited about. And everytime a loud vehicle passes our window....sometimes even when Wes is completely asleep, I'll hear from some part of the house "Tycle. Mom! Wow! Tycle!"
So, even though I don't necessarily like "tycles" and even though I definitely don't listen for them all day, I love my son's enthusiasm. He teaches me everyday to enjoy life and be excited for the miracles (including the tycles) that are all around me.
Monday, April 6, 2009
My Heroes
Life has been very good to me. It has presented me with several opportunities to rub shoulders with amazing people. Some of them came into my life for a short time and then left, probably never knowing how much they meant to me. Others have stuck around and have seen me evolve as a person. And, of course, some of them are sealed to me forever. But, I've had alot of time to think over the past week and inevitably, these people have come to mind. I wanted to take a little time and give a shout out to my heroes. (And this is by no means a comprehensive list...I'm just going to write until my arm gets tired or the boy wakes up...whichever happens first).
My first hero is my husband. He wouldn't consider himself a hero, that's part of his appeal. Full of conviction, brave enough to share that conviction, and lives according to that conviction. He is a man of integrity. I can always trust the things he tells me. In 1o years of knowing him, I have never caught him in a lie. Ever. He is genuine. He has never worried about what other people think about him. He never frets over impressing people. He is solely focused on what God thinks of him. (If I can pick up anything from him, this is the attribute I most want). And last, he genuinely cares about other people. Time and time again, I've watched him go out of his way to bless the lives of other people. I've watched him put aside his cares, his worries, his busy schedule to go and do whatever is needed of him...even here at home. I've seen him come home from work immediately to start the dishes, take Wes out to play so I can have a moment alone, or vacuum the floors...and I've never once heard him complain about it. He seems thrilled to help. (I realize that I am totally blessed in this regard). There are about a million more things I could put here...reasons that he's my very greatest hero of all. But I have other heroes too, and limited time to write.
My mother is one of my heroes. My mom defied her family to join a church that has brought a multitude of blessings into the lives of my family. Almost every good thing in my life I can trace to that decision of hers. My successes at school, in my career, the development of my talents, my beautiful eternal family, and my testimony of Jesus Christ. She is an independent thinker. I admire her bravery and even her stubbornness. My mother is stubborn in doing what is right. And last, I admire my mother's unsinkable optimism. She can see blessings in the bleakest of circumstances. Our house burns down when I'm in eighth grade and I hear her saying "We own our home outright now." No mention of it being a hopeless, burned out shell of a place. Just the blessing of owning it and not having to make any more payments on it. And then, she grabbed her tools along with my dad and went to rebuild the place. We find out a couple years later that we're moving to Argentina, away from everything we know, and the first thing out of my mom's mouth is "This is going to be an amazing adventure". No whining about missing family or friends, the absence of the comforts in the states we were used to, or any misgivings about misfortunes we might meet there. Just confidence and a shopping spree to buy a whole lot of peanut butter and taco seasoning. She packed our house up while my father was already gone and we were at school, and still managed to make it to the plane with a big grin on her face.
And then, there's my sister, Charla. Full of faith, that one! If I've ever met a rock, it's Charla. She gained a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ long before I did and held onto it with everything she's got. She was a missionary from the very beginning. Not afraid to open her mouth, she's still known for speaking out at a Fellowship of Christian Athletes meeting in our high school as a FRESHMAN and submitting that Christ said to "Come follow me" not just to "Come believe in me". She admonished those who were upper classmen to show their faith in Christ by living by his teachings and following his example, not just professing a belief in Him. She's had many more opportunities to share the gospel since then, and she never fails to say exactly what is on her mind. She is a hard worker. She sets her sights on a goal and works until she obtains it. Whether she's running marathons, getting a teaching degree or learning to play the guitar, she doesn't get off of her course until she's obtained her goal.
My brother, Bubba. The most generous person I've ever met. He's been like this for as long as I can remember. He must have been 8 or so when my grandmother gave him some birthday money one year. He turned around and spent most of it on my sister and I. Even at 10 years old, I was floored that he would do something like that. He would give you the shirt off of his back...even if it's his favorite Abercrombie shirt. We're lucky to have him in our family...he's taught us alot.
Randy and Liesl Bailey. Not many people would allow almost complete strangers to come and live in their spare bedroom, but that's what these two did. More than generous, their friendship has taught us to share with all those we meet. They taught us that all of our substance belongs to the Lord and it's not ours to keep, only ours to give. They've touched our lives forever.
Tera Rocknak. With 5 children, I don't know how she finds the time to keep up with all of her friends. I always feel special around Tera...or even if we're countries apart. She emails, and updates, and sends Christmas cards. Tera has a special talent for brightening people's lives and getting them out of themselves to mingle with the world again. And then, she continues to be a ray of sunshine in their lives long after the darkness has passed.
Carol Hales. I count my lucky stars that she is my mother in law. Carol is blessed with the ability to see the good in everyone, and to forgive quickly when people show their not-so-great side. I love hearing her talk about the people she's meeting on her mission with Clint (my awesome father in law) and how beautiful they are, inside and out. I love hearing her "skewed" view of my own attributes in birthday cards and anniversary letters.
And of course, Clint Hales. Mr. friendly. Clint can't walk into a grocery store without coming out with a new friend. The man can talk to people after church almost as long as the church meetings themselves take. He always makes you feel like what you have to say is important. No matter the topic, he's always interested. People like that are rare...and I've found out from watching Clint...people like that have ALOT of friends. We can barely go anywhere without people knowing Clint.
Sarah Egbert. My cousin in law. We've only spent a couple of days here and there in eachother's presence, but she is one of my heroes. She knows how to love others. Her heart is big enough for the whole world to fit into. She has a heart of gold. Even when we're playing games or wave surfing at the beach, I feel like I'm in a warm embrace when I'm around her. Being her friend is uplifting. Always.
Vicki Wilkins. My hero because of her ability to mother. As our current bishop's wife, she personally mothers 9 children...who are all wonderful and love eachother and are well behaved, etc. etc. I have learned to be soft spoken from her. I have learned to pray for a house free of contention. I have learned to teach Weslee to love from my own actions. She also extends that mothering to all of us who are here without a mom. She is wonderful.
Allison Stokes. One word. Thoughtful. I get the privilege of serving with her in Young Women's. She is always thinking of others, how to lift them, serve them, make them feel special. I was just the recipient of her thoughtfulness. The flowers are still in my window and bring a smile to my face every time I see them.
Kris Cassat. She's a natural leader. I enjoy working under her in Young Women's. She knows how to motivate and inspire people to do their best. Never overbearing, but always interested in what's going on. I love this woman!
Well, the kid's awake and there are about a million people I could still list here for various reasons. If you don't see your name on the page, know that your name is in my heart. I am who I am today because of all of the people who have touched my life.
My first hero is my husband. He wouldn't consider himself a hero, that's part of his appeal. Full of conviction, brave enough to share that conviction, and lives according to that conviction. He is a man of integrity. I can always trust the things he tells me. In 1o years of knowing him, I have never caught him in a lie. Ever. He is genuine. He has never worried about what other people think about him. He never frets over impressing people. He is solely focused on what God thinks of him. (If I can pick up anything from him, this is the attribute I most want). And last, he genuinely cares about other people. Time and time again, I've watched him go out of his way to bless the lives of other people. I've watched him put aside his cares, his worries, his busy schedule to go and do whatever is needed of him...even here at home. I've seen him come home from work immediately to start the dishes, take Wes out to play so I can have a moment alone, or vacuum the floors...and I've never once heard him complain about it. He seems thrilled to help. (I realize that I am totally blessed in this regard). There are about a million more things I could put here...reasons that he's my very greatest hero of all. But I have other heroes too, and limited time to write.
My mother is one of my heroes. My mom defied her family to join a church that has brought a multitude of blessings into the lives of my family. Almost every good thing in my life I can trace to that decision of hers. My successes at school, in my career, the development of my talents, my beautiful eternal family, and my testimony of Jesus Christ. She is an independent thinker. I admire her bravery and even her stubbornness. My mother is stubborn in doing what is right. And last, I admire my mother's unsinkable optimism. She can see blessings in the bleakest of circumstances. Our house burns down when I'm in eighth grade and I hear her saying "We own our home outright now." No mention of it being a hopeless, burned out shell of a place. Just the blessing of owning it and not having to make any more payments on it. And then, she grabbed her tools along with my dad and went to rebuild the place. We find out a couple years later that we're moving to Argentina, away from everything we know, and the first thing out of my mom's mouth is "This is going to be an amazing adventure". No whining about missing family or friends, the absence of the comforts in the states we were used to, or any misgivings about misfortunes we might meet there. Just confidence and a shopping spree to buy a whole lot of peanut butter and taco seasoning. She packed our house up while my father was already gone and we were at school, and still managed to make it to the plane with a big grin on her face.
And then, there's my sister, Charla. Full of faith, that one! If I've ever met a rock, it's Charla. She gained a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ long before I did and held onto it with everything she's got. She was a missionary from the very beginning. Not afraid to open her mouth, she's still known for speaking out at a Fellowship of Christian Athletes meeting in our high school as a FRESHMAN and submitting that Christ said to "Come follow me" not just to "Come believe in me". She admonished those who were upper classmen to show their faith in Christ by living by his teachings and following his example, not just professing a belief in Him. She's had many more opportunities to share the gospel since then, and she never fails to say exactly what is on her mind. She is a hard worker. She sets her sights on a goal and works until she obtains it. Whether she's running marathons, getting a teaching degree or learning to play the guitar, she doesn't get off of her course until she's obtained her goal.
My brother, Bubba. The most generous person I've ever met. He's been like this for as long as I can remember. He must have been 8 or so when my grandmother gave him some birthday money one year. He turned around and spent most of it on my sister and I. Even at 10 years old, I was floored that he would do something like that. He would give you the shirt off of his back...even if it's his favorite Abercrombie shirt. We're lucky to have him in our family...he's taught us alot.
Randy and Liesl Bailey. Not many people would allow almost complete strangers to come and live in their spare bedroom, but that's what these two did. More than generous, their friendship has taught us to share with all those we meet. They taught us that all of our substance belongs to the Lord and it's not ours to keep, only ours to give. They've touched our lives forever.
Tera Rocknak. With 5 children, I don't know how she finds the time to keep up with all of her friends. I always feel special around Tera...or even if we're countries apart. She emails, and updates, and sends Christmas cards. Tera has a special talent for brightening people's lives and getting them out of themselves to mingle with the world again. And then, she continues to be a ray of sunshine in their lives long after the darkness has passed.
Carol Hales. I count my lucky stars that she is my mother in law. Carol is blessed with the ability to see the good in everyone, and to forgive quickly when people show their not-so-great side. I love hearing her talk about the people she's meeting on her mission with Clint (my awesome father in law) and how beautiful they are, inside and out. I love hearing her "skewed" view of my own attributes in birthday cards and anniversary letters.
And of course, Clint Hales. Mr. friendly. Clint can't walk into a grocery store without coming out with a new friend. The man can talk to people after church almost as long as the church meetings themselves take. He always makes you feel like what you have to say is important. No matter the topic, he's always interested. People like that are rare...and I've found out from watching Clint...people like that have ALOT of friends. We can barely go anywhere without people knowing Clint.
Sarah Egbert. My cousin in law. We've only spent a couple of days here and there in eachother's presence, but she is one of my heroes. She knows how to love others. Her heart is big enough for the whole world to fit into. She has a heart of gold. Even when we're playing games or wave surfing at the beach, I feel like I'm in a warm embrace when I'm around her. Being her friend is uplifting. Always.
Vicki Wilkins. My hero because of her ability to mother. As our current bishop's wife, she personally mothers 9 children...who are all wonderful and love eachother and are well behaved, etc. etc. I have learned to be soft spoken from her. I have learned to pray for a house free of contention. I have learned to teach Weslee to love from my own actions. She also extends that mothering to all of us who are here without a mom. She is wonderful.
Allison Stokes. One word. Thoughtful. I get the privilege of serving with her in Young Women's. She is always thinking of others, how to lift them, serve them, make them feel special. I was just the recipient of her thoughtfulness. The flowers are still in my window and bring a smile to my face every time I see them.
Kris Cassat. She's a natural leader. I enjoy working under her in Young Women's. She knows how to motivate and inspire people to do their best. Never overbearing, but always interested in what's going on. I love this woman!
Well, the kid's awake and there are about a million people I could still list here for various reasons. If you don't see your name on the page, know that your name is in my heart. I am who I am today because of all of the people who have touched my life.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Daddy Home?
The old saying goes, "You never know what you've got until it's gone". This is certainly true with my little Weslee. Just last weekend, we came to get Weslee from our friend's house after a day trip in London alone...and Weslee totally bypassed Kevin to run into my arms. I think in that moment, Kevin thought Weslee would never miss him when he was gone.
But, the last few days have proven otherwise. The day we said goodbye to Kevin, Weslee seemed much the same. He's used to being alone at home with me all day. But, when the sky started getting dark, and especially when I announced that I would make dinner, Weslee began the arduous search for "Daddy". He went upstairs, expecting that perhaps he had snuck through the door when he wasn't looking and was lurking in our room somewhere, or was perhaps on the computer. He went from room to room calling, "Daddy? Daaaaaaaaaddy!" When he finally decided that Kevin was nowhere in the house, he came to me, put his arms around my legs and looked up with a huge question mark in his eyes. "Daddy?" It was up to me to try to explain that Daddy was gone to work for a very long time.
This morning we woke very early (7:30 am is the crack of dawn in this house). Weslee was crying hysterically in bed. I laid him against my chest. When he finally calmed down enough to speak, he looked up at me with huge tears still in his eyes asked "Daddy Home?" I shook my head no, that Daddy wasn't home. I explained again that Daddy was at work for a very long time. He put his head on my chest and wrapped his little arms around my neck as tight as he could get them. For the next few minutes I heard him whisper, "Daddy home....daddy....my daddy home", into my shirt.
Oh Kevin, I wish you could see just how much you are loved...just how much you are necessary to both of our lives. It would both swell your heart with joy and break it into tiny pieces.
But, the last few days have proven otherwise. The day we said goodbye to Kevin, Weslee seemed much the same. He's used to being alone at home with me all day. But, when the sky started getting dark, and especially when I announced that I would make dinner, Weslee began the arduous search for "Daddy". He went upstairs, expecting that perhaps he had snuck through the door when he wasn't looking and was lurking in our room somewhere, or was perhaps on the computer. He went from room to room calling, "Daddy? Daaaaaaaaaddy!" When he finally decided that Kevin was nowhere in the house, he came to me, put his arms around my legs and looked up with a huge question mark in his eyes. "Daddy?" It was up to me to try to explain that Daddy was gone to work for a very long time.
This morning we woke very early (7:30 am is the crack of dawn in this house). Weslee was crying hysterically in bed. I laid him against my chest. When he finally calmed down enough to speak, he looked up at me with huge tears still in his eyes asked "Daddy Home?" I shook my head no, that Daddy wasn't home. I explained again that Daddy was at work for a very long time. He put his head on my chest and wrapped his little arms around my neck as tight as he could get them. For the next few minutes I heard him whisper, "Daddy home....daddy....my daddy home", into my shirt.
Oh Kevin, I wish you could see just how much you are loved...just how much you are necessary to both of our lives. It would both swell your heart with joy and break it into tiny pieces.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Goodbye
Goodbye comes to our household more than I would like, and it always takes with it my handsome husband. It takes with it my security at night...strange sounds always sound scarier when you realize that YOU'RE the one who has to protect the family if anyone breaks in. Goodbye takes with it my desire to cook big meals (and Wes and I live for months on tacos, sandwiches, salads, yogurt, cereal and fruit) because Kevin's not there to ooh and aah over my latest culinary experiment, and Wes mostly throws it on the floor. Goodbye steals the warmth from the sheets at night and I always wake up cold. Goodbye brings tears to my eyes when I'm in the privacy of my own home and a "brave" smiling face when I'm not. Goodbye brings a flurry of activity and service projects to keep my mind occupied. It steals away late night conversation and cuddling.
Goodbye does give sometimes too. Goodbye lessens my ice-cream cravings (I only eat the stuff when Kevin is home). It cuts the laundry by a third. Goodbye gives me the car to drive around and see the countryside at will. Goodbye gives me stacks and stacks of wonderful email to read from my beloved (this is the very best part). Goodbye gives me strength (what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, right?). Goodbye makes me rely on God more than I ever would otherwise. Goodbye makes me patient.
Goodbye. An enemy and a friend. Dreaded, yet necessary. Goodbye, my offering to my country, unwillingly, but resignedly. Goodbye, my husband, my truest friend, I love you and I'll see you again.
Goodbye does give sometimes too. Goodbye lessens my ice-cream cravings (I only eat the stuff when Kevin is home). It cuts the laundry by a third. Goodbye gives me the car to drive around and see the countryside at will. Goodbye gives me stacks and stacks of wonderful email to read from my beloved (this is the very best part). Goodbye gives me strength (what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, right?). Goodbye makes me rely on God more than I ever would otherwise. Goodbye makes me patient.
Goodbye. An enemy and a friend. Dreaded, yet necessary. Goodbye, my offering to my country, unwillingly, but resignedly. Goodbye, my husband, my truest friend, I love you and I'll see you again.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Ireland- March 3-7, 2009
Ireland. The Emerald Isle. This is a place we've both wanted to visit since, well, we've seen Tom Cruise fall in love with Nicole Kidman in Far and Away. Teri discovered that some of her family originated from Ireland and it added fuel to the fire. We booked our tickets, made reservations at a condo near Limerick and headed out to greener pastures...literally. I've never seen so much green in my life...and it was still technically winter in Ireland. In fact, our first day there, it snowed!Kevin gave Wes and I the window seat, as usual. I've tried to let him sit there, but he never takes me up on my offer. Our first visions of Ireland were minutes before the plane landed. We decended through a thick grey cloud and suddenly, laid out before us was a vast patch-work of beautiful green land. We landed at Shannon and acquired our rental car...a tiny bug of an automobile (and boy, were we glad it was small on THESE roads!) and headed for our condo in Bodyke...a small golfing town in County Clare. I was smart enough this time to get an automatic, but it was still a harrowing experience sometimes. In Ireland, ancient stone walls line every road on the west coast. The vegetation then has covered these stone walls. So, it looks as though you are driving through cliffs of vegetation with zero mess-up room on either side. It was terrifying at first to be the passenger and see this 5-7 foot wall of green whizzing past your window, inches from the side-view mirrors. Kevin navigated the roads very well again...but agreed to drive on our next family adventure.
Since it was snowing when we got there, and since we were expecting our friends to arrive a little later in the after noon, we spent our first day, Tuesday, driving around the immediate area looking for a grocery store and an ATM. We found both of these just 10 minutes from the condo. We also found a yummy kebab shop that we visited a few times later in the week. After grabbing groceries, we headed back to the condo to start dinner for our travel weary friends. We ate and enjoyed...but we all went to bed early tonight. It was freezing and we were all tired.
Day 2 took us to the Cliffs of Moher. One of my favorite things to see. 200 feet of sheer rocky drop off into the Atlantic ocean. It was snowing at the condo, raining when we got to the Cliffs, and freezing cold in both places. The kids' lips started turning blue just minutes after starting the stroll along the tops of the cliffs. Wes's teeth chattered and his eyes watered the entire time. We kept trying to block the wind, but to no avail. If it were a sunny day, it would have been a lovely place to spend the day, have a picnic, and let the kids run around. As it was though, we had to turn in early to keep everyone from getting frost bite. So, instead we just ended up with a minor case of wind burn.
The rest of the day was spent driving around. We tried to see the small town of Doolin and catch some traditional Celtic music. Umm...that didn't start until 9pm. A no go with small children. Then, we wanted to know if we could catch a ferry to the Aran Islands. Um, they don't run the ferries until after Easter. The sea is too stormy. Then, our friend Shawn picked out a site in the Burren, Polnabronne, a 5,000 year old portal tomb in the middle of nowhere and we decided to go see it.
When we pulled up, after winding through some of the most barren (and might I say ugly???) landscape I've ever seen on some of the craziest roads I've ever driven, Shawn jumps out to look at the little leaning rock pile and says "Is this it???". He promptly hopped back in the car without so much as coming and taking a picture. His wife, Kim came with us to check it out. It was a pile of rocks. We read the signs about its history, and still weren't overly impressed. We snapped some shots, but ultimately, we were glad to head home.
Tonight we played games, ate Chicken Tikka Masala and had a good time. I was a wimp and went to bed at eleven. Everyone else was up way later.
The next morning, we split up. Kevin, Weslee and I went to the Eastern side of Ireland to see Bru na Boinne, another very old prehistoric tomb. It was ALOT cooler than the one the day before. We were glad we went. And, we got to tour a museum about the prehistoric peoples that dwelt in Ireland...how they lived, ate, worshipped. It was fascinating. Each year at the winter solstice, the sun shines through the portal of the tomb and lights the place up. Each year, hundreds of people put their names in a lottery hoping to be chosen to see the lighting of the tomb. We put our names in the hat...we'll see what happens. It would be cool to see, and it would be nice to get to see Dublin or some more of the East coast the next time. As it was, we spent too much time at the tombs to really see much of anything else.
On our way home, we stopped by Trim Castle. We stopped there mainly because of our good friend Elder Trim. We wanted to take some pictures for him and show him how important he was. :) A beautiful ruin of a castle, surrounded by a moat, I walked around it for over an hour taking pictures. On the hill top, where the ruin of the abbey was situated, you could see the entire town, the entire castle, and the rain rolling in in the distance. It was a lovely place to sit and think (which several University students were taking advantage of) or stroll with your dog or loved one or both. A peaceful place. But, as we learned more about the castle, it was anything but a peaceful place in its heyday. Trim was the stronghold of the Normans. It was meant to protect the Normans from the fierce Gaelic people. It was made large and imposing to intimidate the Gaelics...but it didn't stop frequent attacks. Because Trim was a center of trade, the Gaelics often attacked the surrounding people. I'm sure people weren't strolling around the castle with their dogs during those days.
Day 4 was my favorite day of all. We headed south in the rain to visit Blarney Castle and kiss the Blarney stone. Today had special importance for me because of who had built the castle. The Mac Arthur clan built the castle to control the southern portion of Ireland. My ancestors, the O'Sullivans were Lords of Beare and Bantry under the Mac Arthurs. They would have come to this castle to discuss wars, lands, and other governing issues with their king. I could imagine my ancestors in the great dining hall talking with other lords and ladies, in the guest quarters, and in the nasty indoor toilets doing their business (gross, I know)...especially when you realize that their "business" rolled down the side of the castle onto the ground below. As Wes would say...."Ewwwwwww". We climbed to the very top of the castle and hung upside down to press our lips to the famous Stone of Eloquence. I had great hopes for myself after kissing the Blarney Stone...but I will say, to the disappointment of many, it didn't improve the eloquence of either Kevin or I. Just minutes after kissing it, we were still our same sarcastic selves.
We spent some time roaming around the gardens, imagining what they will look like in the spring. The trees and shrubs were just starting to show signs of life, but it would be many more weeks before the full beauty of the place is known.
We spent the last of our day driving through Killarney National Park. I SO WISH it hadn't been so grey and cloudy today. The visibility was poor, but what we saw of the park was gorgeous. We went home to console ourselves with several hours of board games and fun with our friends, the Hatches.
The next morning, we got up and checked out of the condo and went our separate ways again. Our family headed to County Tipperary to see the Rock of Cashel, a medieval fortress/church set up on a hill. Weslee loved our visit to this place because he got to run around amongst the ancient tombs and crosses. Kevin chased him all over the place, threw him in the air, tickled him to death...and in general, made Weslee's day. I had a WONDERFUL time taking pictures. What a beautiful place. Black birds were swooping all over the place and flying around like a storm cloud above the church and tower.
We headed next to the 1848 Wartime Famine Museum. It was out in the middle of nowhere. We mostly went to learn more about the famine. It talked a great deal about the rebellions in Ireland that were exacerbated by the famine that brought thousands of Irish immigrants to the United States and elsewhere. I can't imagine living in such circumstances. We found out that while the potato blight hit all of Europe, the Irish were the only ones who faced a famine, because they were the only ones who's primary food source was potatoes...not wheat or corn. We also found out that during the famine, Ireland was still exporting millions of pounds of corn. There was enough food for all of Ireland's people...the gentry just prefered to line their pockets with gold instead of look out for the poor. It was a sad tale of the natural man overrulling the commandments of God.
After the museum, we went to Limmerick for dinner. We had hoped to eat in a pub...but apparently, the pubs in Limmerick are more like an American bar and less like an English pub where families are welcome and good, cheap food is served. The only family pub we found cooked American cuisine and charged an arm and a leg. We decided we'd rather have kabobs and ended our Irish experience. We headed to the airport to await our plane back home.
Our favorite things about Ireland: THE PEOPLE. Some of the friendliest people we've ever met live in Ireland. They mill about the towns in large crowds, talking loudly and smiling broadly. They are helpful, and not at all reserved and stuffy like the British. We also really enjoyed the roads. They were scary at times, but totally unique to Ireland. The rock walls and greenery hugging the pavement as it whizzes past your car were a sight to behold. And last, the company. The best decision we ever made was to make this trip with friends. We enjoyed seeing the sights with the Hatch's and playing board games until the late hours of the night.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Pisa, Italy- February 7, 2009
We awoke to a gorgeous, sunny day...our last day in Italy. We loaded the car and got ready to check out around 10 am. The check out was an omen of things to come today. The landlord we had talked to on Tuesday, Frederico, was gone already and his mother checked us out. We were charged WAY too much for gas and electricity usage and then charged an unexpected cleaning fee on top of it all. It was still a good deal for the condo, but it left a bad taste in both of our mouths. And, it was hard to argue with someone who barely spoke English. We paid, and left somewhat frustrated.
On our way out, Kevin stopped at a cemetary I had often looked at on our way to Florence. It looked like something out of Romeo and Juliet to me. The grounds were covered in white marble crosses. It was beautiful. I took alot of pictures while Kevin and Weslee waited in the car.
We decided to head to Pisa and see the leaning tower before we had to return the car and catch our flight home. We got to Pisa and got lost. We had a hard time finding parking, and all the while, the sky was starting to darken. Rain was once again threatening our sight-seeing. We finally found a place to park and headed up to the ticket counter. Weslee wasn't allowed at the top of the tower, so we took turns hiking up to the very top.
Kevin had me go first so that I could get shots of the city and cathedral before the rain clouds moved in. It was so cool to look down so far and see Weslee chasing the pigeons down the sidewalk. Kevin had me wave from the top so that he could catch me on video. The coolest part about climbing up the tower was that it felt almost like you were going down-hill on the side where it was leaning, and then it felt like a very steep hike on the side that was tilted up. It had a sense of vertigo about the whole thing. The marble steps were heavily grooved and if you didn't watch where you were going, with the vertigo and everything, it was easy to slip and fall.
When I got to the top, I leaned against the railing (I'm still a little afraid of heights, and my stomach was turning flips) and watched all of the tourists below taking pictures on the lawn, pretending to "hold up" the leaning tower. Vendors were crowding the streets selling pizza and other snacks, pictures, souvenirs, and umbrellas. And all the while, the baptistry and cathedral stood like white giants looming out of the very green grass below. The wind wildly whipped my hair into my eyes and mouth. It was exhilarating.
I got to stay on the top for half an hour before it was Kevin's turn. Kevin handed Weslee to me, and he made the hike up. While he was up there, it began to sprinkle. Weslee LOVED it. He ran around, jumping in mud puddles, and splashing after the birds. By the time Kevin came down, Weslee was wet to his knees, but very, very happy.
At this point, we decided that we'd tour the cathedral. While we were inside, it began pouring rain. Our time was almost up on our parking meter, and we had no other choice but to run out into it. We were drenched again, by the time we made it to our car.
Tom-Tom still wasn't working. The narrow streets weren't allowing the satelites to pin-point our location. We guessed our way out of there...and luckily made good choices. But, we had a bigger problem on our hand. Italian siesta had closed every gas station between the leaning tower of Pisa and the airport. We were at a quarter tank and were supposed to turn the car in full. Apparently, the Italians have never heard of "pay at the pump". We finally decided to just take the car back and pay for it (and oh, did we ever pay for it) there.
By the time we got to the airport, we were wet, tired, and feeling irritated with the financial dealings of the day. We felt swindled. But, there was more yet to bear. The lady at the check-in counter...we'll call her "Nazi Lady", informed us that our carry-on bags were too heavy and would have to be checked in. Both of our bags were over the weight limit by a couple of pounds. We tried to rearrange, but their policy wouldn't let us...and there was a long line of weary travellers behind us. It wouldn't have been so bad if they didn't decide to rip you off if you have to check a bag. It cost us about $60 to check those extra 4 pounds of stuff in. Yikes. And, to top it all off...she was so pushy, we forgot Weslee's diapers and wipes in the carryon. Luckily, I had the presence of mind to remember my wallet and passports.
As we angrily stepped away from the counter, and through the security check-out, I remember Kevin saying, "Hope Weslee doesn't go poop". Less than an hour later, I was trying to salvage a diaper in the women's room. Still steaming that Nazi lady wouldn't let us get the things we needed most, I tried to clean the diaper as best I could (it wasn't too bad, actually...but it seemed horrendous at the time) and put it back on Wes. We got on the plane without speaking much and Nazi lady took our tickets, making my blood boil all over again.
Once we settled into our chair, it wasn't so bad. In fact, I was able to laugh about everything that had happened. We joked with some of the other passengers on the plane that perhaps Ryan Air wasn't such a good deal after all, and that paying a little extra for another airline might make up for the inconvenience and lack of customer service on this airline. We all chuckled for a little while.
When we landed, I can honestly say I was ready to be home. At the time, I really wasn't missing Italy at all. Maybe that's why it's taken me so long to write this blog update. I didn't come home "glowing" from my experience, even though the experience as a whole was wonderful. I came home feeling swindled and angry. I came home never wanting to return. How silly is that?
Now, with a few weeks between me and Nazi lady and Federico's mother...I can look back and feel blessed. I can look back and love the olive groves and grape vines again. I can think of the wonderful food and the amazing architecture. I can think of sitting snuggled under the blankets in our condo with Kevin at my side, reading good books, eating strawberry gelato, and hearing the frogs croak outside. I can think of how the sun made the hills sparkle with magic. And, the parts that didn't go so well have turned into part of the adventure, part of the story-telling, part of the fun of our journey.
On our way out, Kevin stopped at a cemetary I had often looked at on our way to Florence. It looked like something out of Romeo and Juliet to me. The grounds were covered in white marble crosses. It was beautiful. I took alot of pictures while Kevin and Weslee waited in the car.
We decided to head to Pisa and see the leaning tower before we had to return the car and catch our flight home. We got to Pisa and got lost. We had a hard time finding parking, and all the while, the sky was starting to darken. Rain was once again threatening our sight-seeing. We finally found a place to park and headed up to the ticket counter. Weslee wasn't allowed at the top of the tower, so we took turns hiking up to the very top.
Kevin had me go first so that I could get shots of the city and cathedral before the rain clouds moved in. It was so cool to look down so far and see Weslee chasing the pigeons down the sidewalk. Kevin had me wave from the top so that he could catch me on video. The coolest part about climbing up the tower was that it felt almost like you were going down-hill on the side where it was leaning, and then it felt like a very steep hike on the side that was tilted up. It had a sense of vertigo about the whole thing. The marble steps were heavily grooved and if you didn't watch where you were going, with the vertigo and everything, it was easy to slip and fall.
When I got to the top, I leaned against the railing (I'm still a little afraid of heights, and my stomach was turning flips) and watched all of the tourists below taking pictures on the lawn, pretending to "hold up" the leaning tower. Vendors were crowding the streets selling pizza and other snacks, pictures, souvenirs, and umbrellas. And all the while, the baptistry and cathedral stood like white giants looming out of the very green grass below. The wind wildly whipped my hair into my eyes and mouth. It was exhilarating.
I got to stay on the top for half an hour before it was Kevin's turn. Kevin handed Weslee to me, and he made the hike up. While he was up there, it began to sprinkle. Weslee LOVED it. He ran around, jumping in mud puddles, and splashing after the birds. By the time Kevin came down, Weslee was wet to his knees, but very, very happy.
At this point, we decided that we'd tour the cathedral. While we were inside, it began pouring rain. Our time was almost up on our parking meter, and we had no other choice but to run out into it. We were drenched again, by the time we made it to our car.
Tom-Tom still wasn't working. The narrow streets weren't allowing the satelites to pin-point our location. We guessed our way out of there...and luckily made good choices. But, we had a bigger problem on our hand. Italian siesta had closed every gas station between the leaning tower of Pisa and the airport. We were at a quarter tank and were supposed to turn the car in full. Apparently, the Italians have never heard of "pay at the pump". We finally decided to just take the car back and pay for it (and oh, did we ever pay for it) there.
By the time we got to the airport, we were wet, tired, and feeling irritated with the financial dealings of the day. We felt swindled. But, there was more yet to bear. The lady at the check-in counter...we'll call her "Nazi Lady", informed us that our carry-on bags were too heavy and would have to be checked in. Both of our bags were over the weight limit by a couple of pounds. We tried to rearrange, but their policy wouldn't let us...and there was a long line of weary travellers behind us. It wouldn't have been so bad if they didn't decide to rip you off if you have to check a bag. It cost us about $60 to check those extra 4 pounds of stuff in. Yikes. And, to top it all off...she was so pushy, we forgot Weslee's diapers and wipes in the carryon. Luckily, I had the presence of mind to remember my wallet and passports.
As we angrily stepped away from the counter, and through the security check-out, I remember Kevin saying, "Hope Weslee doesn't go poop". Less than an hour later, I was trying to salvage a diaper in the women's room. Still steaming that Nazi lady wouldn't let us get the things we needed most, I tried to clean the diaper as best I could (it wasn't too bad, actually...but it seemed horrendous at the time) and put it back on Wes. We got on the plane without speaking much and Nazi lady took our tickets, making my blood boil all over again.
Once we settled into our chair, it wasn't so bad. In fact, I was able to laugh about everything that had happened. We joked with some of the other passengers on the plane that perhaps Ryan Air wasn't such a good deal after all, and that paying a little extra for another airline might make up for the inconvenience and lack of customer service on this airline. We all chuckled for a little while.
When we landed, I can honestly say I was ready to be home. At the time, I really wasn't missing Italy at all. Maybe that's why it's taken me so long to write this blog update. I didn't come home "glowing" from my experience, even though the experience as a whole was wonderful. I came home feeling swindled and angry. I came home never wanting to return. How silly is that?
Now, with a few weeks between me and Nazi lady and Federico's mother...I can look back and feel blessed. I can look back and love the olive groves and grape vines again. I can think of the wonderful food and the amazing architecture. I can think of sitting snuggled under the blankets in our condo with Kevin at my side, reading good books, eating strawberry gelato, and hearing the frogs croak outside. I can think of how the sun made the hills sparkle with magic. And, the parts that didn't go so well have turned into part of the adventure, part of the story-telling, part of the fun of our journey.
Venice, Italy- February 6, 2009
We woke up early this morning to make the 3 hour drive to Venice. We decided that if we ever came back to Italy, we likely wouldn't be any closer to Venice than we were this trip...and if we never came back, we would be sad to miss seeing such a unique city. So, we made today a road trip day.We packed what few snacks we had with us into the car, strapped Weslee in and headed off on our next wild adventure. This is where we got our first understanding of how crazy Italian drivers really are. When you go to any European city, you expect mayhem. For instance, the drivers in London would as soon run you over as yield for a pedestrian. Their line of thinking seems to be something like this. "My car is not very big, but it's bigger than you...and if you want to play chicken, be my guest. But, I'm encased in metal, and you are nothing but flesh and bones. So, if you don't want to be a greasy smear on the pavement, you'd better move out of my way." (Like I said, it's a loose translation. The way they'd say it in British English is rather unintelligible, so I have to make up words to go along with their actions. This, to me, is what their actions are saying.) But, the actions in any European city speak the same thing. It's a "get what I can, while I can get it" type of an attitude when European city dwellers are in their cars.
This is particularly true for Italians. As you approach a red traffic light, there may be three lanes painted onto the pavement, but that doesn't mean that just three cars should line up there in neat little lines. Oh no! Let's all cram up to the white line and have 9 cars revving their little engines, daring to be first. And, let's throw in a couple of scooters in between them all. When the light turns green, everyone floors it...whether you're in the front of the line or the back of the line. You hit the gas with everything you've got and pray that the person in front of you moves fast enough. The cars weave in and out of the painted lines and the whole time, you feel as if you're cheating death. It's a wonder anyone is still alive in Italy. That's all I can say. One of our friends, Dave Cassat, who served a mission in Italy told us that traffic rules in Italy are more like suggestions, not finite regulations that are enforced.
So, like I said, we were expecting craziness in the city, but we were not prepared for it to continue on the highways, where there was little, if any, traffic. We noticed that the Italian drivers would weave all over the road, like drunkards, with little regard for any cars that might be around them. There were several times that we'd be driving in the left lane and the car in the right lane would drift over the line toward us and then slowly drift back into their own lane. It was crazy. There was no "safe" place.
Anyway, around noon, we finally made it to Venice. We crossed over a long bridge to the island where we abruptly had to choose from 2 different parking garages. You see, in Venice, there are no cars...just boats. You park your car right when you get there, and you either walk or you ride a boat to wherever else in Venice you'd like to go. We were headed to a restaurant I had researched on the internet, Taverna San Trovaso, but we had no idea where to look for it. We just knew it was in the "Dorsoduro" part of the city.
Finally, Kevin was able to make sense of our map and we began our slow trek across the maze of canals, bridges and narrow walkways. I have never seen anything quite like Venice. The water was an amazing turquoise color, ebbing and flowing between ancient buildings that looked like they rose from the depths. In front of the homes, motor boats were tied to their moorings and secured with tarps so the rain couldn't get it.
When we arrived, it was cloudy, but the rain hadn't started yet. The sky threatened, but we came with an umbrella and weren't too worried. We finally found our way to the restaurant and had a pretty good meal. Kevin enjoyed his lasagna, but I wasn't too impressed with my pasta. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't spectacular. We were some of the last customers to exit before siesta began.
After dinner, we roamed around for a while. We didn't come to Venice with any specific plans. We just wanted to see the city, more than anything. I stopped often for pictures of the canals. We passed a little bakery on our way to San Marcos Square. I bought a few little tarts and chocolate pastries. We ate them while we walked.
When we got to San Marcos Square, about a half hour's walk from our car, it began to rain steadily. Weslee held the umbrella over his head and Kevin and I were left to the elements. We found shelter under the various shops. By the time we reached San Marcos Square, it was getting late. Weslee was tired. We were sopping wet. We decided to head back to the car, walking a different way.
We saw so many high end shops and jewelry stores. Italian leather and silk was everywhere. As beautiful as it was, it just wasn't my kind of atmosphere. I'm not a "high-end" person. I never have been. I felt somewhat out of place.
By the time we got to our car, nearly an hour later, we were drenched. Weslee was exhausted. We had lost our way in the maze of buildings several times. It felt so good to get out of our jackets and warm ourselves in front of the heating vents. Weslee fell asleep, and we ate the remainder of the tarts. Kevin braved the crazy drivers for another 3 hours, even though he was exhausted too. We swung by the Gelateria dei Neri in Florence on our way home for some blackberry and strawberry gelato and headed to our comfy condo for our last night's sleep in Italy.
Florence, Italy- February 3-5, 2009
This was the trip I have looked forward to the most since we moved to England. I have always wanted to go to Italy...and more particularly, I've always wanted to go to Tuscany. To me, Tuscany is the seat of good art, good food and beautiful countryside. The rustic villas I saw on television always drew my heart away to Italy. The rolling hills covered in grape vines and olive trees...the brightly colored, tiled roofed houses that dotted the countryside like flowers. Ahhh...to escape to Tuscany and bask in the sun. That was my idea of a dream vacation. And honestly, I wasn't disappointed. True, it rained every day that we were there...but it a strange sort of way, it added to the immense beauty. At the end of the day, the bright sun would break through the clouds and the wet foliage would seem that much more magical, the city of Florence, that much more majestic.We arrived on my birthday in the Pisa Airport, rented a little dinky European car (manual...it was all they offered), strapped Weslee in and away we went. We were all hungry, tired and thirsty. We had gotten up at 4:30 am to get ready and catch our plane on time in London. We had barely eated breakfast. We packed so lightly we forgot to bring many snacks. We were so thirsty. We could hardly wait to get to our condo in Scandicci, just outside of Florence.
We arrived at our very charming Italian villa around 2:30 in the afternoon. The drive through the countryside, winding through the mountains had been breathtaking. My expectations for beauty had already been met. At every corner, I was amazed by the expanse of vineyards and the quaint villas on the rustic hills. The rain drizzled down steadily, but the sun would peek through the clouds every now and then, touching the scenery in magic. After a little searching, we found our condo. We parked under an olive tree and headed through the wrough iron gate.
Our very VERY energetic host brought us up to his condo to settle the room. He talked about a million miles an hour and his mannerisms seemed almost pushy to me. I found out later, that's just being an Italian. They are very friendly, very helpful, and very much "in your face". They want you to be comfortable in their home. When I hung back waiting to be invited to sit down, he was all loud, "Oh come, you sit. You sit here." In my face now, "You sit". Obviously, I sat. Weslee was pattering all over his apartment, trying to get into everything...his musical instruments, his art. I was obviously distracted and trying to keep an eye on him, as was Kevin. "You no worry. He is OK." We couldn't help it, we worried.
He showed us to our room. It wasn't lavish, but it felt authentic. The rooms had a rustic feel about them as if we were really living in the Tuscan countryside. It added to the experience, even if it wasn't completely convenient.
At this point, our stomachs we protesting LOUDLY. We asked about nearby restaurants. We were told that we were "in the countryside. The restaurants generally aren't open on Mondays and Tuesdays". I found myself thinking "Well duh...anyone would know that! Why would anyone want to eat out on a Monday or Tuesday!" But, he gave us directions to a pizza restaurant that "might" be open closer to Florence and a supermarket as well.
When we got to the pizza restaurant, we found it closed. We had assumed that Italy would work like England and the rest of Europe...meaning, you need to get food before 6pm because everything closes at that time. WRONG! Italians take a siesta. That means that the entire country shuts down from 2pm to 5pm. Restaurant employees return to work at 6pm and the place doesn't officially open up until 7pm. Then, they serve food until 2am. We were standing, starving, in front of the restaurant at 5pm...2 more hours to wait. We couldn't do it. We decided to take our chances in the dinky supermarket.
After roaming around confused for an hour or so, we finally decided on some chocolate flavored cereal, milk and fruit for breakfast the next day. We put a few different breads in the cart. I got a couple of packages of what looked like lunch meat (but I honestly couldn't tell if it was cooked or not, and I was nervous beyond reason) and some provolone cheese with a rind on it. And, then we bought some fresh vegetables (onions, zucchini and bell peppers) and a package of something that looked like chicken and sausage from the butcher and headed home.
We cracked into the bread while I was cooking. I literally mean we "cracked" into it. It was hard as a rock and had NO FLAVOR whatsoever. We were starving and it still wasn't very appetizing. We found out that many Tuscan breads are made this way...hard and lacking flavor. Who knew that the hailed capital of Italian cuisine would be so clueless about bread? I got to work immediately with my cooking experiment for dinner. I sauteed the veggies and meat together and grilled thin slices of bread with provolone cheese on them for dinner. To be honest, it was delicious. I don't know if it was because we were starving or because it really was that good. But, man! It hit the spot. I even took pictures of the whole ordeal, it was so tasty. We went to bed early, exhausted, but finally, our stomachs were satisfied.
On Wednesday, we woke early and headed to Florence. We finally found a place to park (though we had no idea where we were in relation to the things we wanted to see). On our way to the city, we stumbled across a large car park overlooking the city (because we made a wrong turn...stupid Tom-Tom) that became a favorite place for us for pictures. We went to this overlook every day that we were in Florence for pictures. The city changed moods every time we came. We were so glad to have our dinky Italian car at the car park because the parking spots were made for toy cars, not real ones...and if we had been in our Stratus, we would have never fit. But, we fit, with room to spare. We threw Wes into the stroller (which was pink and purple, because we forgot his stroller and our friend, who only has girls, loaned us theirs at the airport when he dropped us off. We got so many ODD looks from people as we wheeled Weslee, our strapping young boy, around in a girl's flowery stroller. So embarrassing.) and headed off to the city. Just walking among the buildings was an experience. I've never been any place quite like it. Small, tight alleyways actually lent charm to the place, and craziness to the already crazy traffic. It was charming.
We found a map and figured out where to go. We headed first to the Piazza del Signoria and saw the Fountain of Neptune, the replica of the Statue of David, the Palazzo Vecchio, and alot of other art. This is where Kevin first realized he was going to be seeing alot of nude people. We had someone take our picture at the fountain of Neptune, and I cracked up when I got my camera back and looked at the pictures. In the picture, Weslee, Kevin and I are all cozy, looking like a happy family...and then up in the right hand corner of the frame is the giant reproductive part of Neptune himself. Hello! We walked around and looked at some of the other statues. Almost all portrayed some scene from a war...but apparently, back in the old Roman and Greek days...everyone liked to fight in the buff. I thought, for some reason, of the Lamanites...and I wondered what all of these nude people (who remembered to wear their helmets at least) would have done if they had met with Captain Moroni's army? Hmmm...it makes you wonder.
Anyway, we headed from there to the Piazza del la Republica to see the government buildings and the exact center of Florence. Usually there are artists there in the square painting...but it must have been too cold and rainy that day for artists. So, we moved on.
Next, we headed to the Santa Maria del Fiore Cathedral (or the Duomo, as it's known in Florence). It was gorgeous. Carved out of white, pink and green marble, the massive structure with its brick dome rose like a giant out of the other clustered buildings. This was our main objective for today, and it turned out to be our favorite experience from Florence. We first went in to tour the cathedral. It housed works by Michelangelo, Dante and Donatello. We listened to an audio tour of the place. Mostly though, we just took in the immense space. There were hardly any pews or chairs in the chapel and we wondered if they set up chairs or if people stood during mass. We never did figure it out. The main attraction indoors was the cupola. The large domed ceiling was covered by a painting depicting the last Judgement begun by Vasari in 1572 and completed by Zuccaro. It was breathtaking, mainly because I couldn't imagine being up that high, for so long to paint something so detailed. It would have frightened me to death.
The highlight, however, was climbing to the top of the Duomo. Kevin (who was hefting a 30 pound child the whole way...my hero!) and I hiked the almost 500 steps to the top of the dome, getting a better glimpse at the fresco inside the dome, the structure of how it was built (out of bricks...seriously, this thing must weigh a TON), and got an amazing view from the very top of the building of the whole city. We were breathing heavy when we reached the top, but it was so worth it to see the patchwork of buildings that made up Florence, the Tuscan hills surrounding the city...just beautiful.
While we were up there, we ran into a group from Brazil, and Kevin enjoyed brushing up on his Portuguese as well. Weslee spent his time flirting with the Brazilian girls who kept taking pictures of him and exclaiming every other word, "Que lindo" (how cute).
After all of that exercise, all of us were hungry and tired, and it was getting close to siesta time. We went to a place called the "Yellow bar" for pizza, calzones, and pasta. Kevin ordered some pizza with purple onion and sausage. It didn't turn out quite the way either of us had pictured. They didn't mix any of the ingredients. There were a couple of wedges of pizza that had cheese and only onions. A couple with cheese and only sausage. And a couple with cheese and only peppers. It was a strange pizza indeed...especially the onion slices. Gross. I ordered a cheese and ham calzone, which I thought was SO DELICIOUS. We also got some Spaghetti Carbonara. The waitress looked at us kind of strange when she came back and all of the plates were clear. Crazy Americans! We eat way too much. Oh well.
Our eating wasn't finished either. I had researched gelaterias before going to Italy, and I had the address of the best ice-cream shop in Florence...Gelateria dei Neri. We headed there before heading home. We come vanilla and strawberry gelato...and fell in love with Italian gelato. We went to this gelateria every night we were in Tuscany. It was so good. We tried Mango (not so great), White Chocolate (which was pretty good, except neither of us really like white chocolate), and blackberry, which was amazing.
On our way to the car, we crossed over the Ponte Vecchio bridge, a bridge with lots of shops and apartments that is a symbol of Florence. We decided it was too many jewelry shops all in one place. We wondered how they all stayed in business.
We came home very happy with all we had accomplished. We put Weslee to bed and settled onto the couch, under the heater to read our books. Kevin was reading the Borne Identity, and I was reading the Twilight series. I was hooked, I tell you. Who knew I could be hooked to a series about high school aged vampires?
The next day, we took a different approach. We spent the morning hours driving around the Tuscan countryside. We took in the views and enjoyed the amazing scenery. This was actually Kevin indulging me. Every time we saw something amazing, he'd pull over and let me snap a picture of it. It was still a a little misty in the morning, but it was a gorgeous day, nonetheless. I took so many pictures.
We got out and walked a little through the olive groves and enjoyed the wet morning. But, by the time we reached home again, Weslee was tired and ready for a nap. We let him sleep while we read a little more from our books. We had sandwiches for lunch and just lounged until after the siesta hours. And then, we headed into Florence to experience it at night.
We went to Le Campiano pizza restaurant around 8pm. We both ordered pizza. Kevin still wasn't impressed with their thin crust variations on pizza, but at least the toppings were all mixed together. I loved my pizza...but then, I like thin crust. Mine had 3 different cheeses, fresh basil, roasted tomatoes and eggplant. It really was divine. I could live in Tuscany and eat like the Italians do. Everything except their nasty bread, that is. And then, of course, we had to go get some more gelato. After dinner, we headed up to the parking lot again that overlooked the city. I took some night time pictures of the place. We would have done more, but poor Weslee was conked out in the back seat again, and we decided to head home.
All in all, it was a lovely time in Florence. We didn't see everything. I don't think 2 days is really enough time to experience a city like this. Especially as parents of a young child, we didn't really expect to experience all of Florence. We didn't see as many art galleries as we had planned...but we did experience the art...just mostly out in the plazas where Weslee could run around and chase pigeons while we did it. We're finally learning to plan our trips, not like single or newly married people would do...but like parents would do...taking ample time to linger, stretch, walk and enjoy the simpler pleasures of the places we visit.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
