Squirrel!

On our recent trip to Washington D.C. we couldn't get enough of these guys. They were scampering everywhere. I know they are theoretically vermin, but I still love their fat little bodies and bushy tails.

They Draw Me In

On a recent trip to Logan (for Travis' basketball tournament) a few old structures caught my eye. My iPhone did the capturing, but my mind did the wondering.

I couldn't resist these old golden arches.

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It was almost like going back in time when we walked through the doors of the Bluebird Restaurant and Soda Fountain.

Of course, I ordered a sundae with my favorite toppings: hot fudge and marshmallow.

Abby and Brian chose old fashioned milk shakes.

I couldn't help but notice the vintage dishes with their original bluebird design.

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Before Travis' last game we stole him away for lunch at Maddox. (Brian finally got the meal he was craving.) I wonder how long their iconic sign has been around.

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This building was the most impressive of all--the Logan Utah Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  Abby loves its castle-like appearance and has declared THIS is where she will be married. It was built in the late 1800s and is truly beautiful.

My Little Garden

My little garden consists mostly of herbs and a few tomato plants, yet each tiny effort lifts my spirit.

 The older I get the simpler the miracles that I appreciate.

Hill Air Force Base Museum

I am surrounded by airplane enthusiasts. My brother is a pilot and if my husband wasn't a chemistry professor, I suspect he would find his professional way into a cockpit as well. Although it isn't the National Air and Space Museum (which I have spent numerous hours in despite the fact that I prefer the Museum of American History) Utah's own Hill Air Force Base Museum is pretty awesome. Brian says it has an "outstanding collection of airplanes--a surprisingly good one for Utah."

Anytime we are traveling north on I-15 Brian tries to get us to stop for a "quick" tour. Of course, Travis and Abby have caught the aeronautical bug so they listen intently to all of Brian's explanations.

I caught snippets of "roll, yaw, and pitch" in this lesson. As for me. . . well. . . I enjoyed the photographic opportunities.

I am constantly amazed at how easily Brian can identify ANY type of aircraft he sees. Both he and my brother have that skill--whether the plane is soaring amongst the clouds or resting quietly in a museum graveyard.


Hill Aerospace Museum is free (which always appeals) and not only are there planes outside, but there are several hangars to explore inside as well.

In September many of the planes are open to the public. Last year (after a soccer game) Brian and Abby were able to go inside the cockpit of a B-29. In Brian's words, to see the original wood and electronics from a World War II aircraft was "pretty cool."

I had a much better time than the look on my face suggests, but I needed at least one photo to prove I was there. Kudos to me for being such a good wife and mother. :)

Sprawled

Earlier this week I was enjoying the warmth of summer rocking away on my front porch when Abby said, "Mom, look at Lucy." She had her two front paws perched on a rock in the flower bed below me. My iPhone was by my side. I grabbed it and clicked.

 A simple moment that made me smile.

Cursive

After her surgery Kellie moved herself back home for a week or so. It was great having her around, but admittedly, she was easily bored and often frustrated that she wasn't as mobile as she wanted to be. It's tough for an athlete, especially, to be down.

After a few days of self-pity, Kellie pulled herself together and found purpose again in her literal laid-back lifestyle. She signed up as an indexer for the 1940 Census. This was something she could do with an elevated leg and feel productive at the same time. 

The 1940 Census records have recently been released and the LDS Church is digitizing them through Family Search. Whenever Kellie feels like indexing, she is given a batch of records to transcribe from cursive writing into digital print. The task of interpreting handwriting from 52 years ago, however, has periodically been a daunting task.

Kellie has come to realize that it would be so much easier if she actually was a writer of cursive herself. Alas, cursive writing is a lost art, I fear. None of my children actually write in cursive. They each did learn it at some point, but they were not required to keep it up. When they DO attempt to do so, the form resembles that of a third grader. In fact, even my almost 50-year-old husband can't write in cursive any more. To try to teach my kids to have an actual signature has been a real treat.

I was impressed that Kellie took it upon herself to teach herself cursive writing again. I was delighted and amazed that she actually wanted to practice her handwriting skills.

She asked me to remind her how to make certain letters, and although I DO write in cursive on occasion, I (like many adults) have my own style. So, I was not as much a help as I had hoped to be. I suggested she Google the correct technique, and so she did.

I rounded up some old elementary school paper and Kellie began practicing and practicing until her fingers were tired and a sore indention was visible on her middle finger from gripping the pen too tightly. I recall that feeling all too well.

I just smile to myself remembering this pile of papers on Kellie's bed sheets. Her efforts have made it a bit easier for her to decipher the census worker's scribblings. She has indexed records from Louisiana, Oklahoma, and most recently New York. In fact, the last batch was from a prison.

It's made me think--this whole handwriting script. Will it be lost completely in a few generations? Are they even teaching it in the elementary schools these days?

As for me, I'm making a more concerted effort to write my shopping lists, thank you notes, and journal entries in cursive. I wonder if my posterity will even be able to read it though?

Dear Rachel (#10)

Dear Rachel,

Happy Birthday! I can't believe you will be a whole quarter century old tomorrow.

This is one of my most favorite pictures of you. I carried it around in my wallet for years. It was even taken on your birthday--the day you turned two. And, yes, you are still just as cute and just as sweet.

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Memorial Day weekend we made the traditional rounds at the cemeteries. Here is the extended family of your Great Grandma and Grandpa Carlson that gathered in Pleasant Grove on Sunday evening. In reality it is a very small percentage of their offspring, but it was so nice to reconnect with those who are local. Your dad missed the festivities because he was still helping out at church.

On Memorial Day we headed north to the Clearfield and Ben Lomond Cemeteries and were looking forward to dinner at Maddox. However, Maddox is closed on Mondays. Your dad was so disappointed he didn't get his chicken fried steak and coconut cream pie. (It seems to me we have made this mistake before. You'd think we would remember!)

We weren't far from Brigham City at that point so we drove by the site of the new Brigham City Temple.

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Remember the construction going on at BYU's southern end? Here is the latest view from your dad's office in the Benson Building.

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The honeysuckles in our yard are blooming just for you. They smell divine.

We're sad we can't be with you as you turn 25 (I sure hope your package arrives on time). Have a most wonderful day with David. We love you!!

Happy Birthday!

Mom

Provo Places: Station 22

To celebrate the first day of summer vacation (and mostly because we were banished from our kitchen because the floor was getting refinished) I took Travis and Abby to one of my new favorite downtown Provo eating establishments--Station 22.

Station 22 is a pretty hip place that makes me feel like I am being cool and trendy just by walking in. The artwork on their old brick wall seems to rotate seasonally as do some of the items on their menu.

One of their trusty standbys, however, is the Memphis Fried Chicken sandwich. I think it is fabulous. Travis ordered it as per my recommendation and he was not disappointed. It has quite the spicy kick.

Abby isn't much of a sandwich gal so she ordered barbecued hush puppies and grilled corn-on-the-cob for her lunch.

I'm not sure what spices they put on this corn--definitely lime, but it was so good that Abby declared, "That was the best corn ever!" She let me have a teeny bite and now I am tempted enough to get it for myself next time.

Station 22 is just north of the old Provo Tabernacle/future LDS Provo City Center Temple--an ideal location in my mind.

How could you not be impressed with a place that strategically planted fresh herbs and vegetables right outside their front door?

I've decided that this will be a summer of local exploration and discovery. I wish I had photo-journaled more of my real hometown: Fairfax, Virginia. That regret has been my motive for appreciating and recording life here in my new hometown. After all, it IS the town of my home and embrace it I will.

Spring's First Rose

"God gave us our memories so that we might have roses in December."

--J.M. Barrie

  

Holes No More

Why, oh why do so many TOMS shoes end up with holes in the toe? I shouldn't be surprised since they are made out of canvas, but when Abby refused to wear hers after only a few months (because they were such a mess) I was a bit irritated. They had cost a "pretty penny"!

I hadn't even thought to repair her holey TOMS, but when I came across the idea to do so on Pinterest I thought I would give it a try. I used this tutorial as my reference, although I did a few things differently.

Abby chose a blue swatch of home decor fabric I had on hand for the repair. I started by using a rotary cutter to make a perfectly straight fabric edge. This I lined up along the diagonal seam on the toe of each shoe, and attached it using fabric glue. I stuck pins in the gluey edge to help it bond completely.

The bottom edge was next along with more gluing and pinning.

(Abby said it looked like a torture chamber at this point.)

When that was dry I carefully cut along the bottom edge of the shoe, folded the fabric at the toe in the traditional TOMS manner, added more glue and pins, and waited.

They didn't look too bad. I must admit I was skeptical, but Abby was thrilled and excited to wear them to school. Her friends even asked if she had gotten new shoes.

She simply smiled and said, "maybe." :)