"This is so much fun, it shouldn't even be called a hike!"

Yesterday, Austin and I hiked the Narrows in Zion National Park. Basically, the trip involves hiking through a river as it makes its way through massive towering cliffs. Pretty cool. There are several different ways to hike the Narrows, but since we don't like backtracking, we went with the 16 mile through hike, billed as a 12-hour-long day trip. It's a hike I've wanted to do ever since I worked in Northern Arizona back in college, and with the help of Austin's sister watching our kids, we finally made it happen.

Part 1: A fracas at the outfitter's shop

Other than finding someone to watch our two little angels, our problem with figuring out this hike has been that it's logistically tricky and expensive. (We don't like to pay for outdoor activities.) First you have to reserve a pass for the Narrows and drive to Southern Utah and spend the night there before your hike starts early in the morning. Once you get there, you need a shuttle to take you to the beginning of the one-way trail/top of the river. (If you don't pay for a shuttle, you have to drive 3 hours after your 12 hour hike to retrieve one of your two vehicles.) In early May, if you don't want to get hypothermia you have to buy or rent expensive gear. So we got to Southern Utah, got a campsite, got a pass, paid for our shuttle, then rented gear.

Now, in my experience, employees at outdoor shops are usually very laid back. Not so much at the place we went. One lady pulled out dry pants for Austin and I, and then another employee came by and told us that we would definitely want full dry suits. *See picture of Austin above. Now, this seemed like overkill to me. When I used to live near all the national parks down in Utah/Arizona, me and my buddies would just throw on a t-shirt and tennis shoes and bust out some grueling hikes, all the while laughing at the invariably German tourists with their expensive gear and two ski poles. I wanted to hike the Narrows in a swimsuit originally, so a whole suit to keep you from getting wet on a super hot day seemed a bit ridiculous. Plus it looked really nerdy. And hard to use the bathroom in.

The dueling started. I was clear and firm that I just wanted dry pants, I would be claustrophobic in a full suit, etc. The guy that told us we needed suits was obviously some alpha male that was taken aback that anyone would argue with him. He told me the river was 4 1/2 feet deep in a few spots and freezing cold. Well, I'm not a German tourist, buddy. I don't fear the river. I politely asked for a smaller size of dry pants and he informed me that I'd already been sized by an employee and I had the right size, and went on trying to get me to get the suit. I was getting pretty annoyed, especially since the pants I was given went up to my armpits. "Will you just get me the smaller pants?" He called for reenforcements and some pregnant employee came over and tried to get me to get a suit too.

When I remained firm, she told me they wouldn't be responsible for the consequences if I just went in pants, but she would give me some tips to keep me safe. "Cinch the waist tightly," she said, "Otherwise they could fill with water and drag you under the river and you could drown." Me: "And how many people has that happened to?" Her: "Uh..." I didn't appreciate that her "safety tips" involved threatening me with death if I wore pants on my hike. And really, I just don't like overly aggressive people. Each dramatic thing they said to me made me want my pants more and more. The suit was only 6 bucks more than the pants, so it wasn't a money thing, it was the way they didn't care about me, they cared about me doing what they told me to. Epilogue: I wore pants.

Part 2: The Mystery of the Missing Tent

What do you do when you get back to your campsite and your tent is missing? This is not a hypothetical question and will be blogged about shortly.

Part 3: We hike

Being confident in our skills, we figured we could do 16 miles in 8 or 9 hours no problem. We had to return our gear by 7:00 and we were driving 4 hours home that night, so time was of the essence. We got up at 5 to break camp, and got to the trailhead via shuttle at 7:30 a.m. After we passed the two Texans that beat us out of the shuttle, it started out all fun and games:

The part of the hike where we spar with walking sticks.

 The part of the hike where we make comments about how the hike is so much fun and makes us feel like little kids playing in the river.

The part of the hike where we play in the river--Austin flaunts his dry suit.

  The part of the hike where we realize that we'll be hiking in the river for 12 more miles and we're already kind of tired of it.

 (Last picture taken)

Takeaways: I don't think walking sticks are for nerds and Germans any more--they saved our lives in the river. Our rented neoprene socks and shoes were also great. Also, swallowing my pride here, I should have gotten a full drysuit. I know it was a river hike, (ergo, it's lame not to want to get wet) and Austin was roasting in his suit for a couple hours, but when it came down to it, I really didn't want to get that wet, especially since it was quite cool in the canyons. The only reason I never got wet past my dry pants was because Austin carried me and I hiked over boulders and small mountains to avoid long swims. It would have been less work just to stay in the water.

Also, I feel like we were misled by the words, "day hike." A day hike is frolicking through flower-filled meadows, clambering up a mountain or two, and feeling worn out but satisfied at the end of it all. The Narrows hike, on the other hand, is the only hike I've ever been on that I wanted to literally cry from hurting so bad.

The park's estimate of 12 hours for the hike was correct, and we were booking it most of the way, with a 10 minute stop for lunch being one of a handful and the longest of the day. Through some miracle, we managed to catch an employee locking up the gear shop an hour and a half after return time--we had no idea what we were going to do with our gear, since we were leaving town that night. We drove home and fell into bed around 2 a.m.

Part 3: Bragging rights vs. pain

I wanted to post a picture of my pale wrinkly feet with sausage toes and blisters, but I resisted. Let's just say that miles and miles of river rocks and boulders are really, really tough on your feet, no matter how great your footwear. We are both hobbling around like old people today, and I think that between us Austin and I will lose a few toenails. The scenery was amazing. The rushing river, the sheer cliffs blotting out the sun, the bright green clumps of forest and wildflowers, all amazing. We saw one other hiker in about 10 hours of hiking, so it was mostly just us and nature. (Although Austin did manage to end up in some Indian tourists' picture right at the end.) But the question is, did we really need 12 hours of amazing? We were hiking so fast and trying so hard not to drown or fall off a cliff that we stopped noticing the awesomeness after an hour or two. I think that next time we would do the bottom-up day hike, which is more of an "I feel satisfied and worn out" day hike than a "I feel like I've been dragged through hell" day hike. All-in-all, we have both agreed that the Narrows through hike was a cool hike but a once-in-a-lifetime deal.

Magical Boise

Who would have thought that Boise, Idaho could have so much to offer? I haven't traveled with Austin for a while--I don't like to be stuck in a hotel room all day with two kids and up all night trying to get them to sleep. With the warmer weather though, we decided to venture to Boise all together, with the plan being that I would spend as much time during the day doing activities as possible outside, so that the kids would go right to sleep at night inside.

We stayed downtown, which means we could easily stroll around to so many fun places: historic downtown and many cool restaurants, Basque museum and district, glassblowers, parks galore, zoo, pioneer village, nature center, library, etc.

No idea why this huge Abraham Lincoln is in Boise...but it was cool.

At the Zoo

  Awwwww!

 

 Geese were everywhere! (Plus poop) Ugh.

I thought it would be fun one morning to go feed the ducks. We must have gotten to the duck pond a little early, because the ducks were still sleeping. This didn't stop us from throwing bread at them, but I don't think they were too happy about having to wake up to homemade bread-chucking tourists. They all started waddling rapidly towards us, were quickly joined by two huge geese hissing violently at us, the seagulls started circling, and well--it was starting to feel like The Birds. I tried to throw the bread really far away from us, but it wasn't working too well. The geese actually seemed more interested in eating my small children and Sammy started freaking out, whereupon we made a rapid exit.

Our last animal encounter of the journey: the nerdiest alpaca I have ever seen at a gas station in the middle of nowhere:

All in all an awesome trip!

First Impressions

Oh how I love this movie. It's my go-to movie for when I'm recovering from surgery/illness, because it's just so peaceful and calming. And so full of Mr. Darcy. I used to praise it for being so true to the book, (It's so long that it must be!) until I realized the other day that while I have watched this version, the Kiera Knightley version, the Mormon version, the Bollywood version, and part of some weird British version, I have never actually read the book. *Shock*Gasp! How have I never read Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice?

In college I read Jane Austen for the first time during one of my Brit Lit courses. The teacher had us read Sense and Sensibility, which I thought rather slow and hard to get through. Maybe this was because I was also taking a Medieval Literature course at the time where we got to read vibrant, colorful stories full of death, glory, and people's arms getting ripped off. In any case, I decided Jane Austen wasn't for me and didn't think any more of it.

The other day though, Austin and I were re-watching the Kiera Knightley version of P&P, and I started wondering if some of the dialogue was in the book--it seemed very out of place for the time. "Don't judge me, Lizzie, don't you dare judge me" in particular seemed very 21st century, and Mr. Bingley telling Jane that he'd been "a complete and utter ass" was also totally out of keeping with the refined language I remembered from Sense and Sensibility. I promptly went to the library and checked out Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey, and Lady Susan. So far I've finished all but Lady Susan, and though I wasn't wild about Northanger Abbey, I loved Pride and Prejudice. Reading it filled in all the gaps in the many movie versions I've watched, brought to my attention the keen and witty observations of Jane Austen, and even let me know what happens to the characters after they marry!

I'm not sure every book liked by the masses is worth reading--depends on why it is liked, I guess--but I feel bad for my prejudice against Jane Austen brought about by my college reading, and my pride for having disregarded it for so long against the praise of so many for her works. I would highly recommend you check out one of her books next time you visit the library! (Preferably Pride and Prejudice if you haven't read it yet.)

Love Story vs. Cake Wreck

Question: on a scale of one to ten, what is more captivating--a love story, or a cake wreck?

Luckily I have tales of both. I'll start with the love story.

Last week we celebrated a joyous occasion--the marriage of Austin's little sister to her high school sweetheart. We were all excited for them to finally tie the knot, although now that they are married, we are sadly deprived of the drama that goes along with two people dating for 5 or 6 years. That whole story would take like 50 blog posts. Anyway, the bride and groom's final challenge was them both getting sick the week of the wedding: puking, fever, the works. Actually, pretty much everyone at my house except for me and Cici got sick. If you had walked in (which I would have strongly cautioned you against) you would have seen a bunch of slightly-drugged relatives laying about in the dark in various states of dishabille, with wet washcloths over their faces to complete the look. We were temporarily the House of Pestilence. Thankfully, amor vincit omnia, and everyone pulled it together in time for the wedding. The bride and groom looked great, it didn't rain for pictures, and the reception turned out to be a lot of fun.

Did I tell you I was in charge? I never realized how many loose ends are involved in a reception. However, I had my great party planner friend Bridget to lean on, (see her blog for a taste of the wedding!) and many relatives in town to make it work.

Sign-in table, one of the few pics that turned out

The only downside to the evening was the Cake Wreck. Austin's sister wanted a fun, whimsical, topsy-turvy cake in their wedding colors. She found this picture as the inspiration for her cake:

After calling around, I recommended that they order their cake from Harmons, a fancy-schmancy grocery store close to us, full of local produce and handmade soaps and gourmet sausages. I went to their bakery with my father-in-law a month before the wedding and they assured me they could make this cake and that they had done topsy-turvy cakes before. We ended up going with just a two-layer cake for our small reception, so I figured it wouldn't be a problem for them...

Austin's mom and dad picked up the cake right before the reception, and sadly informed Austin and I that the colors, stripes, and polka dots were right on the cake, but instead of being topsy-turvy, it just looked like two lopsided cakes on top of each other. I was a little upset, especially since I had left the bakery ladies a 3 page color document specifying everything from the size of polka dots to the angle of the tilt, but I had one hour in which to set up and decorate for a wedding reception, so I put it out of my mind. They could live with a lopsy-lurvy rather than a topsy-turvy cake, right?

Austin, his younger brother, and I were rather curious about what his sister's non-traditional cake looked like though, so the three of us took a moment as we were setting up to gather around and open the cake box. I wish you could have seen our faces. It was like in Napolean Dynamite when the farmer shoots the cow. GAAAASP***

Bottom layer of cake

Top layer of cake

The top layer had slid off the bottom layer, leaving behind...an unfixable 150 dollar Cake Wreck. I know, because multiple people tried to patch it back together. It was horrible. I was running around, flinging orders left and right--Mix that lemonade! Set out the plates! Move that table a little to the right! --while trying to come up with a viable solution for the cake disaster. I ended up ditching my supervisor duties, jumping in the car, and speeding down the hill to Smith's, where I picked up a chocolate cake so the bride and groom could have something to cut into to. (Austin offered to go, but at that point I didn't trust anyone when it came to the cake.)

Since we were already doing a dessert bar for the reception, I don't think anyone noticed anything out of place with the cake,

Bad picture, but you can see chocolate cake in center

but I was so mad at Harmons and embarrassed because I had recommended them, and I felt quite a bit responsible for the whole fiasco.

The reception was Saturday night, so first thing Monday morning I marched into Harmons, found the store director, and sat him down so I could wave photos of the Cake Wreck around. The problem was the construction: the top layer was not attached to the bottom layer in any way. Since the bottom layer was slanted, the top layer was like a little sled perched on top of the bottom layer and predictably and promptly slid off. He was very nice about it, gave me back all my father-in-law's money, and kept apologizing profusely, which got to be a little awkward after a while. My father-in-law said to give the money to the newlyweds, and hopefully with their hands full of cash they found it in their hearts to forgive my part in the whole miserable affair.

Drop, Cover, Hold On!

I don't know why this picture strikes me as oh so hilarious...maybe because it looks like an Ikea ad, except the people that coordinate their clothes with their dishes are worshipping the furniture instead of eating off of it. In reality, it's a safety ad showing what you're supposed to do in case of an earthquake. I have a few things to post about this past week--a week full of sickness and wedding madness and cake wrecks--but yesterday we had a state-wide earthquake safety drill and I want to post about that while it's on my mind.

Ever since I (finally) completed our emergency 72-hour go bags, I've been pretty enthusiastic about earthquake safety. Austin has even gone so far as to accuse me of wanting an earthquake to happen, just because I'm prepared for it. Of course not true, (well maybe just a tiny bit true) but in any case, yesterday for the earthquake drill, all Utahns were supposed to pretend there was an earthquake at 10:15 a.m. and simulate their real-life response, so I got my chance to practice. Austin was home sick in bed, and I was in bed too recovering from Cici teething and up all night, so I shook Austin violently, yelled "Earthquake!" and stuck a pillow over my head. Austin was a good sport and stuck a pillow over his head too. (Although maybe that was to drown out my yelling.)

Did you know that people who get out of bed during an earthquake significantly increase their chances of dying? For more info about what to do in various earthquake situations, I would encourage anyone who lives in an earthquake zone or who visits people in earthquake zones to read this article:

http://earthquakecountry.info/dropcoverholdon/

It's very clear and comprehensive, and debunks several myths about earthquake procedure. (And you get to see the Ikea ad/earthquake picture again!)

A Better Way to Eat

Picnic pants! All the rage in Italy! But that's not actually what this post is about. What I really wanted to talk about was my search for better eating. I grew up on potatoes, lots of white sauces, lots of desserts, basically down-home cooking. Which is yummy, but not the healthiest. Slowly I've been getting to the point where I feel that what I'm making is healthy for the family. I just decided that I need to re-work our diet yet again, and I'm starting with breakfast. I love breakfast. It's cheap, quick, and healthy. There are some easy ways to get protein without eating meat. (Fage greek yogurt and eggs!) Not that my love affair with bacon is going to disappear, (despite its price) but I want to have it crumbled in eggs from now on, not just slabs eaten by itself. Once I have healthy breakfast eating down, I will move on to other meals.

Here is a list I made today of breakfast options I will actually make/have:

Oatmeal and raisins
Eggs (with optional cauliflower puree for scrambled eggs)
French Toast (with optional pureed banana mixed in batter)
Applesauce Muffins (with pureed carrot hidden in them)
Pancakes (with applesauce or sweet potato puree mixed in with Krusteaz)
Steel cut oats
Toast
Strawberries
Bananas
Cantelope
Strawberry syrup (homemade for pancakes)
Yogurt
Bacon
German pancakes
Granola (preferably homemade--way cheaper)
Cereal
Malt-o-meal
Hashbrowns
Breakfast potatos (ourbestbites)
Smoothie (Yoplait mix from Costco)
Orange julius
Orange juice
Banana bread

Anyone have an easy smoothie recipe involving mostly berries? Don't try to sell me on anything involving spinach.

I also made a menu for the whole month of April today. I think I'm going to save a lot of money by buying all my non-perishables in one trip, and just going back to get fruit, milk, etc., throughout the month. Plus, if I get most of my month's groceries in one go, I can easily see how much of my grocery budget I've spent for the month and know how much I have left for any extras I need throughout the rest of the month. Brilliant!

A Happy Home is an Earlier Heaven

I hope you can see from this picture how much fun we had at our family reunion last week. No? Sadly this is the only picture I took. It's of Grandpa Paul with Cici on his lap watching everyone play in an indoor pool, bonding over water basketball. I think my favorite part of our reunion was watching people come together and get to know each other better. You would think that if you threw a bunch of weirdys with strong opinions together in a house for a few days, you would just end up with a big mess. But instead, we (the aforementioned weirdys) had a great time. We laughed, we talked, we played, we ate, we sang...pretty much the only thing we didn't do is sleep.

I really believe that a happy home gives us a glimpse of what we'll be doing in the next life. I will tell you now that heaven is going to be a very alliterative place, filled with family, fun, food (all vegetarian of course) and folk dancing. Lots and lots of folk dancing. Love you, family!

"And That's how you Load a Semi-Automatic"

Our 5 year wedding anniversary is coming up in June. On the wish list:

Custom made ring

Biometric fingerprint scanning safe

Spacious gun concealment shoulder purse

Smith and Wesson .38 double action enshrouded hammer revolver.

It also has integrated laser sights, although I'm not sure whether that would be useful to me or not.

Choices, choices. My list originally started out with just the ring, but then I went to a class to get my concealed weapons permit. My husband was nice enough to watch the kids so I could go to the four hour course last Friday night, and although the class went late, which I usually hate, I had a great time. We were waiting for the class to start, and the instructor asked us why we were interested in getting a concealed weapons permit. One guy started talking about a cougar he encountered in the woods while hunting, blah blah blah. Not sure why you need a concealed gun for cougars. I think he was just trying to sound cool. However, the instructor quickly one-upped him by talking about the time he saw two cougars and a couple cubs. Bam. It was clear that the instructor would easily be able to retain his dominant male status.

Actually, there weren't as many testosterone-filled men in camo there as I thought there would be. It was a nice mixture of men and women and people that felt compelled to ask the instructor in front of all of us about past crimes they had committed as we filled out our permit forms. All in all, it was a very informative class, and made me feel more confident about buying a gun. We went over a lot of basics: how guns work, revolvers vs. semi-automatics, gun safety, and local gun laws.

There were a few low points: talking about zombies, that urban legend being brought up about the guy who hides under womens' cars and slashes their legs, (snopes.com, people) and the guy behind me who got all worked up because by law if someone hurts your family member you're not supposed to revenge yourself on the perpetrator by shooting him/her in the back. Guy: You mean that even if a robber shoots my family member, I can't shoot him???? Instructor: Not if he's running away or giving up. Otherwise it looks like vigilanteism. Guy: Are you kidding me????? Blah blah blah blah ARRRgh. Me: Eyeball roll.

I haven't turned in my packet and fee to get my permit yet. Guns are a serious thing with some ownership pros and cons to consider. However, I really want one. Should I forge ahead with this? 

 

Shopping in Texas:

The Best Part

Here we are, waiting for my brother Matthew to get back from his two year mission to the Philippines. I walked into the airport with my little girls and random members of my family kept popping up, until we had gathered a large and motley group of relatives and almost-relatives to welcome our long-lost brother. Matthew's plane was a little late, so by the time he arrived, his welcome balloon had floated up to the ceiling, his signs were a little ripped, and his cousins had frightened a large number of people as they lurked around the corner to surprise him.

Here he is!

(We edged out all the other people waiting and spread ourselves out front and center, so this other poor missionary is a little confused as to where his family is. )

He seemed so much older and more mature to me.

I was talking to my cousins about whether missionaries really notice who all is there when they arrive at the airport. I knew that there were so many people to welcome Matthew that it wasn't a big deal if I didn't show up, but I wanted to go because there's something about these very real moments that are very compelling. Like saying good-bye or a baby being born or having your heart broken, the times when you know that you are alive and living life, (even if it sucks) not just sleep-walking through the daily trivialities.

Speaking of real life moments, I was disappointed that Matthew's girlfriend Kellie wasn't there. I was really looking forward to seeing Matt's reaction to seeing her, and how they would handle their private/romantic/potentially awkward moment with an audience. Put it this way: it's like watching a romantic movie--a reeeeeaaaallly loooong movie--and not getting to see the moment at the end when the hero and the heroine get together. I remember when my sister Anna came home from her mission and her boyfriend (now husband) was there waiting at the airport for her. We all got to tease him and nudge him and make snarky remarks and ask if he was nervous. The best part was when she ran into his arms to give him a hug, with Dad's plaintive voice in the background: Remember...you're still a missionary! It was great. So yeah, I was deprived. Other than that though, it was such a great feeling to see Matthew again and gain back the very tall and skinny piece of our family that had been missing.

Party Hearty

On Saturday my cousins and I had a cousin party. Is that redundant? So I don't know if it's a Utah thing or just a thing, but the women I live near are really into throwing very cute and craftily-decorated parties. Starting at the tender age of 1, their kids are treated to elaborate themed birthday bashes with correspondingly large guest lists. In contrast, the highlight of my daughters' first birthday parties has involved giving them a cupcake in their high chair to get messy with. Voila! Every kid's dream first birthday! It's been kind of an adjustment for me here.

I think it would be easy to say that these moms are in a competition, and they just want people to 'ooh' and 'ahh' over what they've done. I know there is that element, but I think more than that, these moms just want the party or birthday to be special, and decorating and cooking is a way to do it. The problem then comes when their friends are throwing these super cool parties and they start thinking that maybe they're not doing enough, and they're being a slacker mom, and wow, won't it be embarrassing when their friends ask what they did for their kids birthday and all they did was cake and ice cream. Then you end up with over-the-top parties and the element of competition creeps in.

It was so refreshing to hear a mom I know talking about taking her son to Burger King on his birthday to get a crown for him. I thought, here is a mom who is really concerned with making her kid's day special by doing what is important to him, not what is important to her. Some kids might care about having a ton of friends/"friends" at their party and intense food and decorations, but I don't think most kids do.

So back to my cousins party, I know we would be happy sitting around my unadorned table and talking for a few hours, but I decided to decorate anyway. Just like we get dressed up to go to church or to a wedding, I think there is value in decorating for special occassions and holidays to lend an air of importance to them. But it's hard to rein yourself in sometimes. I could have easily spent 50 dollars on a tablecloth and dressing up my house. But I borrowed a teapot, serving set, and vases from Mom, spent 5 bucks on fabric from the fabric store, 6 dollars on flowers, and everything looked really nice. (Although pitiful compared to my friends' parties.)

My Kitchen

Females of any age like tea parties

Look! I did a crafty decoration by my calendar!

Like I said, I knew I didn't have to decorate for us to have a great time, but it helped make our get-together feel special. So I'm glad I did.

Walking Marshmallows

Something about little kids in snow gear is just so darn cute. Something about the ratio of width of snow gear to height of child plus hat with ears equals the golden mean of cuteness.

So stinkin' cute.

Okay, enough cuteness. Get to work.

Dad needs some help.

Sammy? Sammy?

At the Local Bar

I wish I had gotten a picture of Austin and I at the bar on our weekend date. No, we haven't suddenly taken to the bottle. This was no ordinary bar, people. This was an oxygen bar. Now, an oxygen bar is run along the lines of selling bottled water. Why don't we charge people for an abundant resource that is readily available? It just has to look fancy and they'll pay lots of money for it! Normally I don't spend money on abundant resources that are readily available, but it was included in a Groupon we got. So we sat down, hooked ourselves up (Ahh...scented air!) and kind of looked at each other and grinned. We felt pretty ridiculous. Probably because we were paying (kind of) to breathe air and we looked like terminally ill hospital patients. I wouldn't recommend it for a first date.

But if you need a date night idea, we watched a movie later that night that is worthy of your time. I finally understand the appeal of Clark Gable. (Shout out to Aunt Kristi).

Ignore the dramatic and smarmy cover. It was not dramatic and smarmy, but fun and romantic. I think you'll especially enjoy the scene with the guy who picks them up when they are hitchhiking.

Welcome!

Welcome to my house!

Be sure to say hi to the Welcome Bear as you come in!

If you can make it past the 5 foot high snow drift in the driveway...

I would love to see you!

So I know you are wondering...what does one do with a 5 foot high snow drift in the driveway? Well,  when all one owns is a shovel, and one's husband is gone, one goes outside, moves a little snow around to try and incite the pity of neighbors with snowblowers, then takes lots of pictures and blogs about it. See you soon!

Alarming Times

Here it is, the humble smoke detector. Saver of lives, silent protector of the home. Also my arch-nemesis the past few days. Some time ago, my husband may or may not have set off the fire alarm while grilling in the basement. (Don't ask.) The smoke detector kept chirping after it was disconnected, and it ended up stuffed in a large suitcase in the basement. Chirp. Chirp. It was an appropriately incompetent end to an embarrassing little saga in our lives. (Who grills in their basement?) When Austin brought the suitcase upstairs to pack for a business trip, the problem resurfaced, but like a good husband, he reattached it to the wiring downstairs as part of his husbandly fix-it duties before he left. Fixed!

Unfortunately, the smoke detector must have been lying low, because hours later it started its cheery yet incessant chirping again, once a minute, on the minute. Chirp. Chirp. Only this time, it was attached to the ceiling right underneath my bed. I ventured into the cold, creepy basement (we once found a dead mouse down there) and disconnected the alarm and took out the battery, which must have been low. Problem solved.

Last night I was turning in around 11, when I heard a noise. Chirp. Chirp. Seriously? I went out to the living room and looked around. Do you know that it's extremely hard to detect the source of a high-pitched chirping sound? Especially one that only goes off once a minute? It's a very time-consuming process. I finally traced it to Sammy's room, where she was somehow snoring soundly with the incessant chirping going on next to her. I grabbed the piano bench from downstairs to take the alarm down. Couldn't...quite...reach. I could either drag a heavy ladder up lots of stairs from the garage, or use my quick wit and native intelligence to find a quicker solution. I went with option two and found a little stool that Sammy stands on to brush her teeth. Picture this:

Then add a piano bench underneath the stool to the mental image. I don't know what my solution says about my native intelligence, but it got the job done. I took the old battery out then headed to bed. Chirp. I whirled around. The awful thought struck me--maybe, just maybe, all the smoke detectors were put in the house at the same time. Ergo, maybe all their batteries would fail at the same time. So much for silent protectors. I glared at the dead smoke alarms lined up on the piano...no noise there. I sat on the sofa for a minute...then a couple more minutes, just to make sure I wasn't imagining things. No sound. With my house less protected, but my sanity fully intact, I went to bed.

I wish I could say that this extremely interesting story had a happy ending, but alas, that's not how life works. I swear I've heard a chirping somewhere in the house today...most likely another alarm with a low battery in the cold, creepy basement. Or perhaps an extremely obnoxious mouse. I'll let Austin investigate.

Case Closed

Yes, dear readers, I have solved The Case of the Missing Keys. When I last wrote, the number one suspect was the adorable mastermind Cici. However, it appears that I have falsely accused her. She did seem highly suspect at the time, but I can definitively say that she is not the culprit. In fact, she has somewhat reformed her character--the other day Austin found her toothbrush in the recycling can, which means she's being more eco-friendly in how she gets rid of things. (Only plastics 1--7 in the recycling, Cici.)

But back to the case. Last night we had a foot of snow from our Sunday blizzard, so I put Cici to bed and Sammy and I went out to help Austin shovel. I put my snow coat on, tried to stick my arms in the sleeves, and found in one sleeve the elusive missing keys. !!! Of course I was in shock. The fact that the keys were in my sleeve would imply that I was in some way responsible for their loss. Who me? Couldn't be.  I have a cute coat to wear out and about in the winter and a more functional coat that I only wear when it snows, and it never snowed during the time the keys were lost. The snow coat containing the keys was hung neatly on a hanger, so it's not like I was in a huge hurry and ripped off the coat, leaving the keys behind in the sleeve.

I've been racking my brains trying to come up with a good reason for the keys to be in my sleeve. It's this sort of thing that haunts you the rest of your life, you know? My best guess is that my snow coat was in the basket by our garage door where I throw my cute coat and purse when  I come home. The keys slipped out of my coat pocket or purse and landed on top of my snow coat. When I got my snow coat out of the basket to hang it neatly in its place, the keys slipped inside and lodged in the sleeve. It sounds plausible. Kind of. I guess we could just leave it by saying that the keys appeared as mysteriously as they left. Case closed.



The Key to the Case

Call me Nancy Drew. I'm not quite as well-dressed as she is, but like her, I inevitably have to solve mysteries. This week, I've been working on The Case of the Missing Keys. Unfortunately, I have been one of the few people of interest in the case, because Austin was recovering from nasal surgery most of the week and didn't drive. I think I uncovered a vital clue last night though. I put the kids to bed, and exhausted, needed to watch a little HGTV to unwind. But where was the remote? I knew I had seen it right before supper on the sofa, and now it had totally disappeared. I geared up for The Search for the Black Remote. I searched high, I searched low, I dug around in the couch, I crawled under and around things, all the while muttering very un-Nancy Drew-ish phrases such as, "I hate my life."

Then in a flash of brilliance, I remembered a small *thunk* I had heard earlier while the kids were playing, and checked one of the few places I hadn't looked...the trash can. Yes, there it was, buried underneath a few pieces of trash and limp celery. The missing remote. I had just gained a new culprit for my Keys case.

  Not the crazy one, the small one.

 Look at those shifty eyes.

The next morning, I also uncovered a pair of the suspect's socks in the trash can, and my worry that our keys were now buried in our local landfill thanks to my child's new hobby changed to the calm serenity that comes with the certainty of disaster.

Well, I confess--I still have a little teeny-tiny hope left that the keys didn't get sent to the dump on Monday. When Sammy was the same age as Cici, we lost our car keys and thought they had been thrown away. Bleak despair, gloom all around. A few months later, we got out our Yahtzee game and found them inside. Joy, jubilation! In retrospect Sammy was very cute and clever for managing to find such a great hiding place. So I won't close the case quite yet. I've already eliminated the board games we had out this week, but as soon as I find a suitably fashionable frock to wear, I'm off to search my guitar case and the guest bathroom.

Wish me luck!

My Special Surprise

I sat down tonight with the intent to blog about stuffed animals, and how the gift of one signifies that the giver is placing him/herself in the role of adult--the one with power and dominance in the relationship--while at the same time subjugating his or her significant other to an infantile, child-like role. Then I was planning on diving into the transfer of adult/child relationships to husband/wife relationships, then wrapping it all into the greater framework of imperialism and colonization. Then I realized that I had probably been reading too many of my old college papers while scrapbooking and that maybe all people are thinking when they buy stuffed animals is: "This animal is cute. My significant other is cute. Ergo, I will buy it." Or something along those lines. So instead of a post titled Stuffed Animals: The Role of Gift-Giving in Imperialistic Relationship Power Dynamics, I give to you a story about an old boyfriend.

Writing 101: Know thine audience. 

It was a cold day in Idaho...for those who didn't have a date. Thankfully, this Valentine's Day I did. My first college boyfriend and I had been dating for about a month, and I just knew he was going to have something great planned for us. I was right--he picked me up and we headed off to one of the most popular restaurants in town. Unfortunately, his great plan did not involve making reservations ahead of time on the most popular date night of the year, so either we could wait an hour to get seated or we could go to Arbys. I was a little nonplussed as I picked at my curly fries, but when my boyfriend told me he had a special surprise for me, his lack of planning was forgiven. What woman doesn't like a special surprise on Valentine's Day?

We finished eating, got into the car, and I eagerly watched as he reached into the back seat of his truck, and pulled out...a pillow. A decorative Valentine's Day pillow, with a cutesy saying on it--I think it was "Be Mine." You know, at least with a stuffed animal, you can read, "He thinks I'm cute!" into it, but all you can read into a stuffed pillow is, "It was at his eye level at Walmart and it was on sale." Let's just say I went home that night reconsidering my life. (Roommate: So what did X get you for Valentine's Day? Me: Ummm...a pillow. There's no way to make that not sound lame.) I immediately stuffed the grand token of my boyfriend's affection into the darkest corner of my closet and then broke up with the poor sap as soon after Valentine's Day as I decently could. The pillow then got flung into the middle of the dorm courtyard, where I watched it get kicked around for a couple days. The End.

There are quite a few morals to be gleaned from this story. (Not that there always has to be a moral.) But I think the most important one is this: only buy decorative pillows for your grandma.