Here's to You

Here's to Foster family reunions at Island Park,

picking and eating fresh blackberries, strawberries, peaches, and pears,

driving to the top of Mount Ashland,

camping in a yurt at Valley of the Rogue State Park,

playing on rocks, and in rivers and mudholes,

eating picnics, running through sprinklers, dancing in swimsuits,

reading Little House on the Prairie and Farmer Boy and pretending to be Pa, Ma, Laura, Carrie and Almanzo day after day after day,

and to those lazy, crazy, hazy days of summer.

Fiddledeedee

For some time, I've pondered about the word, "fiddledeedee" with amusement.

Who was the first exasperated soul to stub their toe on a bag of beets and exclaim, "fiddledeedee!" Why did Scarlett O'Hara use it in a playful banter with Rex in Gone with the Wind?

My first exposure to this fine word was in the Pehrson home in Driggs, Idaho. As a sophomore at Teton High School, I thought Amy Pehrson's Dad was quite the jester when he uttered it.

Much later, I discovered a family from Colorado who used the word whenever the opportunity arose. "Fiddledeedee" was one of Dad Hill's favorite words after watching The Great Race in his youth.

And now, I find myself revisiting the word when I watch one of the best Donald Duck episodes of all time with Trevor and the kids: Donald Duck: Early to Bed. For a good laugh, visit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghYUX5eeMrE

And while I sit at the computer tonight, catching up on emails and writing in my journal, I may just find myself uttering "fiddledeedee" when I think of the chocolate-chip cookies I burned while writing this post.

The Funk

I think the funk is lifting. I felt it going a few days ago. A complete stranger clutched the pulpit and said inspired words that could only have been directed to me. It lifted at the dinner table when Trevor was telling stories to the kids about our courtship and marriage and I was reminded of the things I value most. Every time (seriously, every time) I crack open the Book of Mormon things become clearer and clearer. People, conversations, and words of scripture speak words that only God knows I'm needing to hear.

Orson Scott Card says, "As long as you keep getting born, it's alright to die some times." I think he's right.

Where to Build Our Sandcastle

I love watching waves roll in and out. Because the strength of the wave is random, it’s hard to pick the precise moment when the tide stops going out and starts coming in. I never can tell where to build my sandcastle.

Knowing what the future holds for our family is even more difficult than calling the tide’s turn. This much is certain; Ashland is only a temporary haven for our castle, though we've taken great care to make it beautiful and inviting. It is also certain that we will have busy days ahead with auditions and applications, boxes and Magic Eraser cleaners. We're certain that things will work out...God's proven that to us time and again. We're just not certain how.

We're trying not to get seasick in these waves of change. We knew this day would come and so we plan and work and pray and think and discuss, but mostly, we wait. Well, that's not true. Mostly, we pray. Praying gives us the patience and peace to wait. I can see us in that "waiting place" Dr. Seuss talks of in Oh, the Places You'll Go. You know the picture: people standing around waiting for "planes to go, or buses to come, or trains to go" or "fish to bite, or Friday night."

"What are you waiting for?" I ask myself as I stand at the linen closet trying to decide which towels should go and which should find a new purpose. It's time to get packing and cleaning! But then, I look at the calendar and I know I have until November 1st before those towels should be turned into rags.

And then I sigh in relief. I have 3 more months of teaching the girls in my Young Women's class, playing at Lithia park with the kids, exploring the mountains with Trev, and seeing the Claysons in church. I'll get to pick peaches in the orchard, camp in Grant's Pass, schedule play dates with Emmy and Blaine, ride bikes to pick blackberries, walk with Leisa and Aslan, and jog at the OSU track. And who knows, maybe in that 3 months, we'll figure out if the tide is coming or going and where to build that sandcastle.

Crazy for the Coast

In July, Trev had 3 days without performances, so we raced to set up camp at Harris Beach, Oregon, and were sad to see those days slip by so fast.

The water was frigid, but we finally dared each other to body surf while the kids watched in the sand. They had always suspected that their parents were crazy. Now they knew.

The campsite was a comfortable distance from the wind-beaten shore, but we couldn't help ourselves from exploring the beach every day. When the wind had blown sand into every pore and we could no longer hear or see or smell, we drug our bodies back up the steep cliff to our tent to rejuvenate by the grace of fire and junk food. We were grateful for the sand in our ears that helped us survive each night of night terrors and bathroom needs.

Call us crazy, but we're counting down the days 'till we can load up the tent again.

The Freedom To...

Today, I enjoyed the freedom to watch veterans, swamba dancers, activists, and roller skaters parade down the streets of Ashland wearing and saying whatever they wanted.




I enjoyed drinking a Wild Cherry Slurpie from Seven Eleven for the first time in years and sauntering home in my flip flops with Trevor and 3 heat-exhausted children.




After dumping a sticky Sophia in her crib, turning up the AC, and drinking 2 glasses of water, I enjoyed the freedom to teach Isac and Haddy why we celebrate, love, and fight for America. Trevor and I had a pretty attentive group as we told stories about our forefathers, read scriptures about freedom, and recited the pledge of allegiance with candles in hand.

My stomach wished I hadn't had the freedom to top off my huge dinner with a slice of apple/blackberry pie, but my taste buds were delighted.

And crazily enough, I enjoyed the freedom to sneak into the kids' room at 9:45 p.m. and wake them from a dead sleep to see the fireworks. We drove to the park, found a spot to sit, and snuggled in a gray blanket just in time to watch bursts of color. While Sophia buried her head in my shoulder and asked to go "back, back," Haddyn "oohed" and Isac spurted out "awesome" at every explosion.

And now, I've enjoyed the freedom of sharing a glimpse of our day with you.


What freedoms are you thankful for? Check out this video and bask in your freedom.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kkTKQsYWBxc

Be Prepared

Never leave the house without an extra diaper. You may think a blowout is not likely to happen. You may think that your diaper packing days are through. You may be wrong.

Today, Sophia and I are thankful for disposable diapers and disinfectant sprays. Church bathrooms are not convivial places to clean up catastrophes (nice alliteration, eh?).

For those of you who don't have young children, disregard this post...for now. At some later point in time, you may find this advice helpful.

Maybe When I Have the Time...

When I have the time, I might just post something brilliant here. I might remember why I even started a blog.

For now, you must excuse me while I clean up the black beans that spilled out of our ripped beanbag chair (why not fill a beanbag with actual beans?). Oh the wonderful things I will do...when I have the time.