Resurfacing

I feel like I'm just coming up out of deep water, it's been so long since I've even thought about blogging.

Recent happenings at our house:

• We spent a week in Denver with my dad, and boy howdy did we eat some good food. Did you know that someone has thought to create an all-you-can-eat Italian buffet - complete with a bakery and crepe bar, not to mention really fabulous food - and that it may quite possibly be the most dangerous place on planet earth?
  

• My husband graduated with his bachelor's degree last week. There is something so adorable about a picture of a college grad, decked out in wrinkled robe and square hat, holding a grinning baby (and standing next to one of our good friends at that!):

You'd never know that less than 24 hours before this shot was taken, it was snowing like MAD. Such is April.

• Greek Easter. I don't have any pictures, but suffice it to say that there was, as usual, a lamb roasting on a spit, a bucket of heads (Matt saw this part, I didn't, but he claims my dad was poking around in there and eating...stuff out of it. Eyeballs? Lamb brains?), and plenty of obscure relatives. Our baby was quite the hit as one of the few 'white boys' who showed up.
  

• The Big Black Angus Cleanout. My dad bought all the 'guts' out of a couple of out-of-business Black Angus restaurants in the area and has been stripping them bare - with help from grandkids, sons-in-law, brothers, friends, enemies - for the last couple of days. If anyone needs a 50-gallon capacity bread mixer, he's your guy.

So there you have it, in case you thought we had gone missing. We've just been under water.

An Update on Going private

***Per the comments on this post as of Wednesday night, I've decided to do the word verification thing on my comments; I've also changed the settings so that search engines can't find me. I think I'll try this for awhile and see how I feel - although I know that my husband will never want to comment anymore. That letter-typing thing bugs him. Thanks to all who commented with advice and especially to those who emailed me asking to be added to my 'in-crowd.' I feel so loved. :) ***

My husband is always telling me that I should limit access to my blog with a password, but I've been enjoying that fact that random people can reconnect with me via the blogosphere.

Until now.

A comment on my last post put me over the edge. I think I'm creeped out enough to actually go to the trouble of gathering everyone's email addresses and sending invitations and the whole bit. That is, assuming that I can still do that at this point. I guess I'll find out just as soon as I give it a try.

So if you'd like to be included in the soon-to-be-private blog, please email me. If you don't have my email address, drop me a line at the address we give to all the spammers and scams: mattandbrittany@hotmail.com.

It's been nice in some ways to be found (ward friends, Hillary V, Sharon, Emily, etc.), but I'm ready to get lost for awhile.

Sprung

Spring has sprung,

The grass is riz,

I wonder where

The flowers is?

My mom always recited this little ditty to us near the beginning of springtime each year, and this year the season really did spring upon me. Just a few days ago I was bundled up in the house (yes, in the house - it's a veritable ice box), cursing the sky as it bestowed the biggest, fattest snowflakes I'd ever seen. Today I went on a walk in capris and a t-shirt. And I kept asking myself, "When did the grass get green?"

This change in season always makes me a little nervous, for reasons I can't quite pinpoint: maybe it's knowing that the wardrobe will have to change with it - and just when I was getting comfortable with the same five shirts. Maybe it's the realization that my life is hurtling along almost without me, getting faster and faster by the day. Maybe it's the onset of swimsuit season...

I think the anxiety is more pronounced this year since our lives are poised on the brink of a dozen different dreams. But springtime is inherently hopeful, and I'm optimistic about what's budding. I just wish my allergies were so cheerful.

Voracious Reader

I'm usually fairly confident that I can name everything my child has eaten in the last 48 hours - after all, the boy can't get his own food, so anything that he consumes has had to pass inspection by me first.

Or so I thought.

I changed a diaper this afternoon that contained unidentified shreds of something blue. Yes, blue, a color almost unknown in the realm of naturally-colored consumables. Needless to say, I was mystified. And curious. So stop reading now if you've got a weak stomach...but I wanted to know what had turned this whole diaper mess a sickly shade of green.

So I plucked out a piece. I washed it off. I stretched and inspected and hemmed and hawed over it.

I still have no idea what it was.

I do have one guess, and it has to do with a moment of weakness a few days ago when I handed the boy a back issue of the Reader's Digest. (He loves to crinkle the pages.) And that got me thinking, does anyone else see the pun in this situation? The Reader's DIGEST, for crying out loud?

Looks like it's time to get back on a steady diet of board books and Cheerios.

Why I shouldn't blog

I don't know how he does it, but my eight-month-old knows the difference between the real computer keyboard and our old fake one (which, might I add, is strategically placed CLOSER to him than the real one as I sit here and type), and he insists on reac hing as far over the old fake ke yboar d as his stubby body will allow to repeatedly hit the spacebar on the real keyboard (as you can see by my creative ly spaced sentence). How, HOW at this age does he know just how to push my buttons? Literally AND figu rat ively?

Boy, that's embarrassing. I just found myself trying to type on the fake keyboard. You can imagine my confusion when it didn't work. What? I just typed a whole paragraph and now the thing is busted?! Stupid computers!! Oh...duh. There, now I've moved the boy and the fake keyboard to the floor. I've got a good three minutes to come up with something interesting to say.

Hmm. Maybe I should have dusted that keyboard before I let the boy have his way with it...

Three minutes have passed. Still nothing.

Probably wouldn't have been a bad idea to remove the cables from it either, though he most likely won't strangle himself with me right here...

I've been sitting here another seven minutes. The well is bone-dry.

...and unless he can figure out how to reconnect the cord and then gum through it, I'm thinking that he can't electrocute himself...right?

This post may be turning into a colossal waste of time. A sinful waste of time, even. Shouldn't we be reading scripture stories or baking bread or something?

Flop, there he goes. Lunging for a shoe one minute, on his face whining the next. It's a tough life. Come here, little guy...

Well that's it. I got nothin'. I'm serious, don't even bother reading this last sentence, because it won't tell you anything.

Eternal Stimulus Plan?

I was thinking about that Economic Stimulus Package thing earlier today, and I realized that the government is really doing its part to build the kingdom.

Say there are 5 million LDS people in the U.S. (I really have no idea how many there are, but work with me here). That figure includes spouses and children, so divide it by, say, 5 and end up with roughly a million Mormon households. (How's my math so far, Jon?) Even if only 40% (I think that's the average statistic) pay tithing on their ESP money (Economic Stimulus Package money, mind you, not money made from transactions involving Extra-Sensory Perception) - and even if each household received only the minimum $300 in ESP dough - that's 400,000 people forking over 30 bucks apiece that they otherwise wouldn't have had to a well-deserving church.

Thank you, George, for generously donating 12 million dollars to the Mormons. Although in Matt's words, "Not that the church needs it. The government should keep its money." Just the same, I'm sure all that green will be put to good use.

On Loss

We went to my grandpa's funeral yesterday. He's been a member of our family for almost 20 years (as my grandma's second husband), and the only grandfather I've ever really known; yet, I learned more about his life during the hour-long funeral than I did in all the time I knew him alive.

My brother remarked how sad that was - that there was so much about this good man that we didn't know until he was gone. And I started to think about my own parents and siblings and whether I have 'gotten to know' them as well as I should. I think the verdict is that I haven't. While I don't necessarily know how my life should change to improve those relationships, I feel to pause a moment & reflect on truly living and loving in every moment. And choosing to play with the baby instead of spending any more time on this post. :)