My nephew graduated. He'll be heading up to USU for a year and then head off on the painful and purposeful adventure we call a mission. I first found out about my nephew after my mom and I raced to the hospital because my sister was in labor. We met his dad in the elevator. He said, "It's a boy; 8lbs 6 oz." He was very calm which I found anticlimactic. And now my nephew's all growed up.
This is my niece. She'll graduate much later. As you can tell, she's not very mature.
This is our friend RDS. He introduced us to Dr. Who. And we love it, love it. It's British, clean, and fun. It about a "time lord" who travels around in his Tardis (a blue police box that's small on the outside and huge on the inside) solving mysteries through out the ages -- it's always the aliens "who done it."
A really scary episode includes angel statues which start out beautiful and get scary. The statues come alive and come after you... but only if you aren't looking at them. So you have can't turn away, leave, run, or even blink. It's a super thrilling episode... that I haven't yet seen, oddly enough. I saw another episode with the angels, but not the episode. I hope to soon. Anyway, we got sidewalked-chalked by RDS and JG and were delighted to wake up to this.
The stairs read "Don't even blink."
And here's a hot photo of my girls and me from the farmer's market, which happened to be less farmers and more market.
And now a poem from Chalie Boy to describe the photo.

On my mamma/ On my hood
I look fly/ I look good
Touch my swag/ wish you could
I look fly/ I look good



Along the top of my internet page run my bookmarks. There are the usual ones -- gmail, youtube. (I don't have one for Facebook. The reason being that I don't want to go there too often. I find I go there less if I have to type out the address instead of just click a link. it also helps me forget it exists.) The necessary ones because they are useful and I go there often -- this blog and lds.org. The boring ones -- credit card accounts, investment sites. Then there are ones just for me.
Pandora. If you don't know what it is, crawl out from under the rock and prepare to have your life changed. My favorite stations are my broadway and my John Mayer.
Links to my favorite libraries and my paperback swap, where you can trade books for free.
Playlist. This connects to my blog. I use it to make playlists for parties as well. I like it because I can listen to a song until I'm sick of it without paying for it.
Goodreads. Many of my friends are on it. We write about what we are reading and compile lists of the things we read. I also have a link to it on the right side of this page. I enjoy seeing what my fellows are reading; I like writing out my opinions and admiring the list of my readings. And I like reading that other people loved/hated whatever book I loved/hated. For example I loved A Separate Peace as did many others; and I hated Anthem, as did most others. Very validating.
What've you got bookmarked?



Queen said, "I like to ride my bicycle/ I like to ride my bike." I can relate to this song.
Today I went for a bike ride. I enjoy leisurely bike rides -- I have to, my bike has no gears. But even still I am not an endurance bike-rider. I sit on a beach cruiser.
I love the feeling of bike riding. Especially through a city. It's idyllic for me. Walking you can observe the minutiae of the street, in a car it's much too fast. Bike riding is the goldilocks of transport. I feel a connection to my surrounding. I can hear the street, see the pavement, observe nature, greet strangers, but not soooo slowly.
Bike riding gets two thumbs up.


One Year

It's been one year since my dad died. At first, when everything was fresh, it was hard. But knowing that my dad is ok and that I'll see him again has made a difference. And I've been ok this year. I've gone on with life. But the last few days, leading up to this anniversary, have been reflective and more painful that I'd expected.
I went to his grave today, just to have a moment. I was talking to him and going over some memories when I thought, I don't know if I've recorded these memories. I want to write down a few more.
My dad's back was arched over. A long time ago he was 6'2" but he'd slumped over and was shorter than me. When you'd hug him you could feel his spine, which is kind of odd but somehow sentimental to me. I can remember exactly his hands, callused and long fingers. And when he was sitting and excited he'd bounced his knees and slap his hands over them and say, "Oh! I'm just so..." whatever.
I keep kleenex in my car because my dad did. I'd recommend it.
I reflected on the fact that I have never once doubted that my parents love me. My parents have always, without exception, treated me with love. And I'm a really lucky kid because not everyone has that. My dad was stoked about any decision I made and it was easy to be me around him, and to make my own decisions, and to live my life my way, making my own mistakes, because I knew he'd be stoked whatever. And even if he thought a decision was weird (On going to grad school "Getting married's a good thing too") he still supported me.
He helped pay for my mission. Last night I was going through some things we got from his house and among them were the emails from my mission. My mission means everything to me. It is the most important experience of my life. And I got to go because of my supportive family, and because of my dad.
School too. My dad paid for a lot of my costs associated with school. Yeah, I could've done it without him, but it was so much nicer to do it with him. And he let me use his car until I got my own, which was a big relief to me as I was returning from my mission.
When Fred and Dad and I went to Disneyland -- just weeks before he really got sick -- when I was still in high school, he made us ride the Matterhorn, like, three times in a row. I didn't get a big thrill out of it, but Dad did. Fred and Dad had mint juleps as we rode the ferry around Tom Sawyer island -- I probably had a coke.
Balm Bar. Never heard of it? Dad had some in his house and his car. Apparently it moisturizes very well. When I'd borrow his car we'd have to get his things out: the Balm Bar, medications, his disabled sign, his glasses.
When I was little Dad went to Italy. I know because he bought me back a small bottle of sand that read Venice. I wondered, because Italy was so far away, that he really hadn't told me about it until he was back. It wasn't until much later in life that I learned of a nice beach in California called Venice.
In January 2009, when dad busted his femur, I visited his every week in the rehab. Loved the wheelchair that sat by the side of the bed. I attempted to teach dad to text. But, uhh, Dad had other talents.
When Dad test drove my yellow PT cruiser (which I love almost as much as life itself) he rode the brake. I about died. I kept thinking, don't ruin my car, don't ruin my car. He recommended I think about the car for three days and see if I still wanted it. He went home and I bought the car on the spot. Love is love. And Dad was stoked for me.
Dad and I went shopping before back-to-school night for the sixth grade. We went to the Gap and I got gray stretch pants with a long-sleeved short/mini dress with twirl power (it's a legit power). I felt like a million dollars going to back-to-school night.
A couple years ago Dad and I were driving along way together, probably to the family reunion held in upper Mongolia (or Eastern Utah, I forget which). Dad told me how he broke into a radio station when he was in high school. They played some prank on the DJ.
Dad loved cars. He always wanted a Cadillac. He could name the makes, models, and years of old cars. He would tell me about the cars he'd had and I'd have no clue what he was talking about.
I asked Dad why he didn't wear Wrangler's like most of his family. He said he wanted to have kids.
Dad loved the Golden Girls and Dallas. Probably loved Dallas a little too much.
When I was five, Mom was at work and Dad was tending me. It snowed outside and I asked go out and play. He said no so I told him it was opposite day and asked again. He said yes. So I went out and played for five minutes before I was too cold and came back inside.
Miss you, Dad.