Poster child

Add super model to the long lists of reasons why my mama is amazing. Also add that they biked 200 miles last week. All done while I caught up on episodes of Grey's Anatomy (I blame Hulu for getting me into that show and now I want to watch all the seasons I've missed).

She's splashed across collateral for Guide Dogs for the Blind, Inc. and I couldn't be prouder. There isn't a better mom and there isn't a better organization. I'll never forget seeing my mom walk with her first guide. She was walking faster than all of us at the Portland airport, my dad and grandma were crying and I realized that my mom was finally going at the pace she always wanted to go. Fast.

That makes me realize that I have my mom to blame for my "I can do everything" attitude.

With her guide, my mom can do everything.

I don't think you'll be able to read this, but Guide Dogs, Inc. asked all of us to write how having a guide dog in our family has changed us (maybe if you click on it to see it larger). The hubs wrote something incredibly sweet and I thought I would post it here since it didn't make it into the newsletter.

I married into this guide dog family, which means I came late in the game, and was frankly ignorant about what it meant to have a guide dog. However the learning curve is small, and with patience from my wife and her family in answering many questions, I now have a greater understanding and feel a small connection to Cricket. Having a guide dog in the family means watching a miracle. I tend to watch Cricket work more than I watch my own surroundings when I walk. I watch Cricket be the eyes of someone else, but more so, I watch my mother-in-law be braver and more resilient than anyone I have ever known. This I know for certain, a guide dog means always been licked when the dog is off harness, it means listening to people talk about Cricket as I walk through the mall, and it means being a better person for having joined the family.

He's a keeper too.

Changes

My childhood pet is sick. I can’t so much write about this without my heart being exceptionately heavy, so I just haven’t. Writing about it makes it more real and it is so easy to pretend that everything is OK when you are so many miles away from home. I do it often, I am quite good at it. When I think of home, my parents are both happily employed, living out their empty nester years, my brother is off at college and everyone is being nice to them and getting along. And Missy, who started life out as “little Miss” and has evolved to “old Miss” is still healthy and happily greeting everyone at the door.

Of course that isn’t entirely true. But that completely helpless feeling sets in when I realize it isn’t. That feeling of knowing that even if I lived close by, there’s no way I can sweep in and play hero – that I never was a hero, never will be a hero in that regard. That horrible feeling that life keeps on going.

She has a collapsed trachea. All those noises that we’ve discounted as a pug characteristic, well some weren’t. Some were “no seriously guys, I can’t breathe.”

And my buddy is on four different types of medication and she can barely walk and I’m having to come to terms with the fact that she might not be happy anymore. But then, her tail is still wagging. That tail – she’s already survived tail cancer.

She’s that connection to my childhood, to elementary school, to high school dances and trying to not let her get my black formal covered in tan hair. To getting divorced and bringing her down to Provo to live with me, and it was just her and me in a townhome, renting Sex and the City episodes from Blockbuster at 10 p.m. and staying awake until 3 a.m., only to repeat the exact same process the next night. She was there, reminding me that while I had truly messed up my life, I still deserved cuddles.

And now I can’t be there for her, and it hurts me. So I’m going to fly home over Memorial Day. They say she’s doing better, but I must see for myself.

She's all about the adventure

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms in my life, but most importantly, to the one I call my hero. She does it all with flair. She rocks my socks. She is more than a cheesy poem, she's a mom-dot-bomb.

She puts up with a lot of crap -- one of her close pals recently called her "crippled." To her face. And she forgave. Just like she has done countless times.

She is my "I can work and go to grad school" hero. I never understood how she did it. Still don't. Especially since she did it with two kiddos.

When I was confused on which boys to date in college, she told me to date them all. Unless I didn't want to, then she told me to say no, straight up. Best dating advice ever.

We can giggle, we can party plan, we swap clothes, we enjoy the bumpy ride.

Oh, and mom, surprise! You were featured on My Mom is Fabulous this weekend.  And I can't wait to see you on Thursday.

P.S. Congratulations to my pal Alanna who became a mom 4 days ago!

Family connections

Do you ever have moments that make you want to learn all about your history?

I just had one of those. My great-great uncle's (is that what I'd call my dad's grandpa's brother?) project Nineteenth-Century Publications about the Book of Mormon (1829-1844 is now available as an online digital collection at the Harold B. Lee Library at BYU.

What is cool about that is that it is informally referred to as the Kirkham Project -- and I am a Kirkham. The name is in honor of my great-great uncle Francis W. Kirkham. In 1930s he collected newspaper articles about the Book of Mormon from New England and Ohio papers

He recognized the importance of archiving and sorting these things (hmm, maybe I should to and dust off my half-kept journals). The compilation is now more than 600 documents, almost one million words, published about the Book of Mormon during the Prophet Joseph Smith’s lifetime. The intention of the collection was to bring together everything, from whatever perspective, both detractors and defenders of the church in it's early history.

He seems like someone who I would have been fascinated to listen to, as I love history and love reading both sides of any story.

My dad said that Francis and his brother, my great-grandfather Oscar A. Kirkham were frequenters of Lamb's Grill and Cafe -- which coins itself as "Utah's oldest most famous restaurant." I've never been and I've heard the food isn't too hot, but now I want to go. If only to feel more linked to those in my past.

Does it get any better than this?

Can't stop thinking about how amazing our holiday was with the family. Tonight will be fun, but quiet.

I am so crazy blessed to have such a crazy family. And a husband that goes along with everything with joy.

Aren't these ladies beautiful. I want to be just like them. My grandma had just thrown the turkey into the oven and was covered with turkey crud.

Because my grandparents are serving an LDS mission in Southern Utah, we celebrated Christmas with them at their "South House." It was an inbetween spot between Salt Lake City and San Diego, too.

The quarters were a bit cramped for the seven of us, but that made for some fun moments too. Thanks Kendall for sleeping on the couch. Don't know what we'll do when you get a wife or girlfriend, seems he's always a good sport about taking the sleeping bag.

No mantle, no problem. Forgotten stockings resulted in the use of shoes. Yum.



Our tree was this branchy thing. How very Southwest of us.

Note: the top photo is not of my parents house, but in the Jacob Hamblin home, one of the LDS church historical sites in St. George, Utah. My grandparents are spending their mission at the different historical sites, giving tours and talking to people who stop by. Jacob Hamblin was critical in early negotiations between Western settlers and the Indians and in helping explorers draw maps of the Southwest United States.

I love my mom

She isn't as perky in some places as she used to be so she gave me a sweater while I was in town.

One womens sag is another's perk.

All day long I get to feel cozy in Izod and think of our awesome week in Utah.

And of course my mom is gorgeous and skinny and lovely. She does yoga.




P.S. Atria Books sent me 13th Hour to review. It comes out today - my review is here. If you like a thriller (it kept me up until 3 a.m. reading it, and then I couldn't sleep!) then I'd give it a go.

Mary had a little baby

This season I always feel grateful. Moreso than at Thanksgiving, for this is the season to remember the birth of my Savior.

And believe me, I need some saving. So I am grateful.

Surrounding the Bountiful LDS Temple are pretty homes that have created this series of signs. We drove through slowly and each took turns reading the scriptures out loud.

So grateful for my family in this season too.

I hope you have a happy holiday today. Merry Christmas.

If the scriptures seem a little choppy it is because not all of my pictures turned out.

There is also a street in Sugarhouse in Salt Lake City that has been doing "Bible Street" for fifty years.

Family white out

Sledding is one of those things that sounds like an arduous task before you go. And then after that first ride down the hill, I find myself running back up. Whooshing down. Then walking the next time. All while the younger counterparts beat me.

Lexi was born when I was eight. Kourtney was born when Lexi was eight.

Perfect age difference to be a buddy.

Pretty sure that someday they both will be taller than me.

For now, we will play. They keep me young.

I heart being in Utah for the holidays. A week off to let it snow.

Count of chicken tortilla soups from Cafe Rio consumed thus far? Two. And counting.

A {sparkling cider} toast to a guiltfree holiday

The problem with December is it is over before it has begun. In early-November, the weekends for the next month are already filling up.

Then boom, it is Thanksgiving and you are all thankful that you got to dinner on time. And the hustle and bustle begins. The shopping, the parties, the shopping for dresses for the parties along with finding presents. The last minute, do-something-for-charity to teach ourselves a lesson events. Budgeting and stressing comes too, hitting right about the time the first Christmas card comes in the mail, causing one to think, oh shoot, we have not snapped any family photos all year!

Suddenly it is time to make up for memories lost in the entire year and the guilt trip fest begins. Because the year is ending and somewhere in the box of holiday décor, there is a post-it note with an ambitious list of resolutions from the year before.

Last year we were so busy with traveling and seeing the family and then a quick trip to the animal hospital that I didn’t get to open a gift or even sit down until 10 p.m. My eggnog was via Jack in the Box.

I called an end to it this year.

I have fabulous friends who are trimming their tree with handmade ornaments. Then there are others who are giving everything to charity. I fall somewhere in the middle and this year, I am going to be OK with that. This year, I cannot accomplish peace on earth but I can accomplish peace within.

First step is elimination. The next step is acceptance.

We did reservations for Thanksgiving dinner. At the San Diego Wild Animal Park no less.

Our gift list was trimmed and our Christmas Card list expanded. I will celebrate friends this year, not by material things but through a hello, likely in a party dress from the year before.

I am not foregoing gifts completely but they will likely be useful – my husband asked for a cheese grater the same size as a block of cheese – not useless. We shall gather during the holidays and enjoy company. Most of all I will hold my husband and puppy close and say many “I love yous.”

And if I fail, I won’t consider it failure because it is all about the quest for that peace. And there are very few things a slice of pie won’t cure.

Family in town!

We parked it up with the parentals.

Hoping the swings would work out to be a Christmas card potential. Nope. But we had fun. OK, husband and I had fun, the puppy wasn't so sure about it.


My crazy parents are riding their bike 100 miles on Saturday. To prep, first they drove to San Diego to hang out with us. Then, they will go back to St. George and do the century ride.

And we're back

I highly recommend landing in Hawaii three days before a hurricane is supposed to hit. It makes one grateful for every sunny moment. And there were many sunny moments.

Dear Hurricane Felicia, we completely missed you, except for the night the cruise ship went right through you on the way to Hilo from Maui. Thanks for the bumpy ride, and thank you Dramamine for insuring husband never threw up on me. And the torrential downfall in Kauai was a sight to be seen, so I forgive you.

Cheers to a fabulous trip full of pineapple juice, seafood, sunshine and family.

Mottos of the trip included:

A family that stairs together, stays together

We don't mess around with the elevator in this family. Oh no, stairs all the way.

"TIK" aka This is Kauai.

Our kayak trip was canceled due to flash flood warnings and poo colored rivers. So we went on a catamaran to see the Na Pali coast (think Jurassic Park cliffs). Basically, crazy things would happen but it was still amazingly beautiful. That's life, right?

Along with several inside jokes. That's why I love family vacays. The forced bonding. I think it worked well.

And yeah, I'm the only one in a swimsuit here, because it was our last day and I wasn't going to not get in the water. Forget the SPF salty stickiness that follows, I have no idea when I'm getting to Hawaii next!

Carpe Diem.

Off

We are taking off on a jet plane today. Navigating LAX and eventually ending up on Honolulu. Where we'll meet my parents and brother. And then do absolutely nothing for a whole week.

Six days off of work, consecutively. Hasn't happened, oh, ever.

I am looking forward to total rejuvenation. Wearing a swimsuit everyday. Jumping into a different beach everyday. And spending time with the family.

Because I really can't giveaway a trip to Hawaii, I've asked a few pals to guest post. I was so delighted when they said yes! Beyond delighted, I shrieked at my email. Its the little things.

It will be a diverse week around here, with posts coming from both coasts and inbetween, and all sorts of belief systems. Mostly 20 somethings though. Yay happiness.

My mom showed up

My mom flew in on July 3, and out on July 3. Yup, some serious same-day action. Why not? Its only an hour and a half flight after all.

So we did typical mother-daughter vaction things. We picked food out of each others' teeth at the beach in Coronado (can't believe my husband got a picture of that)

It was Cricket's first time to a dog park or dog beach - and it was sensory overload for her. She's lived a pretty sheltered life as a guide dog - and usually doesn't get to interact with too many dogs. She does live with Missy the pug, but Missy's not exactly playful.

I showed mom how her grandpuppy can "come" like nobody's business.

Husband was a good sport and played along with the mother daughter antics - walking the puppy so I could be with my mom and Cricket. He's such a good daddy.

Then we hit up a Mexican restaurant on Coronado - Costa Azul - and followed it with the fabulous Extraordinary Desserts in Hillcrest.

Extraordinary Desserts is my favorite place because of the beautiful presentation. It makes you feel special. My parents have flown in many times, but we've never made it there because my dad is anti-sugar.

We made up for it. We may have ordered strawberry shortcake, a orange zest scone and this passion fruit pavlova.

My mom and I can really really eat. Like Rory and Lorelai Gilmore eat. We bond over food. So we followed up the Extraordinary Desserts with a large order of froyo at Seaport Village. Husband balked at that decision and sat out.

Thanks mom for flying in, it was cool to spend a day with you, like we actually lived closeby or something. I know if we lived close by, we'd party all the time. Someday.

And thanks Delta for keeping it real this time and not messing up. I was so scared that something was going to happen and our plans of a day was going to get wrecked. For all the hatin' I do, I might as well recognize you for a job well done. This time.

Fine form

I'm almost positive that it was husbands and my's first time bowling ever. He says no, we did it a Fat Cats in Provo, Utah, but I know I have never bowled at Fat Cats. Picked up food at the adjoining restaurant, yes, but never bowled.

This happens to us often.

Either way we had a fun night in America's Hottest City, I swear.

First stop of the night included Cafe Rio. No trip to Nevada or Utah is complete without some Rio. I may have overordered with the tortilla soup, rice, beans, and shrimp tacos. Oh and Diet Doctor Pepper from the fountain. Only at Rio.

Sometimes, around noon at work, I get this crazy soup craving for Rio and there's nothing I can do. So its fabulous to have that taste to hold me over for awhile.

Cosmic bowling followed. With some sister-in-laws who danced with me to the Beach Boys and B52s. I showed my young age by knowing all the words to "Say My Name" by Destiny's Child and not knowing the words to Bruce Springsteen. But hey, I'm old to my Beehives, so what can you do.

The night was topped off with me seeing The Proposal. Hubs watched Star Trek with my brother-in-law. Do you ever watch movies by yourself? It was only my second time ever, but I felt like I could really let go and laugh.

Sure, I could have gone and cuddled with my husband, but I see movies in the theater, oh like never, so I wanted to seize the day. Is that totally weird?

Viva las familia

Las Vegas and family reunion on the hubs' side this weekend.

In Bunkerville, Nevada. Haven't heard of Bunkerville -- it's just out of Mesquite. Didn't know there was such a thing as "just out of" Mesquite? Neither did I. Allow me to set the scenery with a pic of the Bunkerville Community Center where about 100 peeps gathered, who hubs is related to through his mother's second marriage five years ago (read he doesn't even know anyone outside of the direct in-laws).

But we love the fam, and wish we could see them more. It always so good to hang with our 16 nieces and nephews. We are the only family without two kids (well, we will be after December!)

They really are the cutest on the planet. And this one proved she can work the iphone better than me.

So, I really wanted to take the kids down and win the cupcakes in the cake walk, mmkay?

An older woman may have gotten after me for cheating (there was a blank chair next to me when the number was called, so I moved), but I made it out with the cuppy. Chocolate whipped frosting, 'nuff said.

I didn't eat it as intense as this, but I wanted to.

I didn't know this, but everyone was supposed to bring an item for the raffle. We didn't contribute, but we sure did win this "Family Home Evening Kit." Awesome. Maybe now Monday nights will be more exciting. Confession: I don't think we've ever held a formal FHE. Looks like there is even more room for improvement in our household. Yeah for feeling inadequate.

There was also an auction with some pretty sweet blankets and quilts. I want to learn how to quilt. Or crochet. Or make "Family Home Evening" kits with misspelled words.

Round one: GMAT wins

First of all -- ohmyheck thanks to everyone who sent good luck wishes. The tweets, the voicemail, the comments, the gchats, the flowers from my husband. Even the embarrassing picture my mom posted! (sidenote: -- I really thought I looked cute in that outfit)

My goodness, on Friday I think I actually said "wow, I didn't know all these people loved me! I should take tests more often!"

Famous last words.

I hate taking tests. Those "W's" on my transcript that I hope the admissions people look over are for classes that required tests. I used to throw up all throughout finals week -- until I got done with my general eds and there were no more finals, just papers, which I love.

The test was no different. I rocked the essay portion, that no one in an admissions office anywhere apparently cares about. The question was about health care in America.

Holy cow, at that moment I felt like Carrie Prejean, except much more eloquent. At least like a pageant contestant of some sort. Here is a question I know the answer to and feel strongly about. I rocked it, I think I did anyway.

But then the math, oh the math. It was numbers and x's and y's and I stared at it not even knowing what the heck it was saying.

But I persevered. Made it to the verbal part -- where I was rockin again. Supposedly, the questions start in the middle level of difficulty and then get harder or easier depending on if you get them right. I could feel them getting harder, but the answers were coming.

So when I finished, my score pops up right on the screen, which I can't decide is a good thing or not. Its good to know, but it also comes at a time when I was exhausted and drained.

The good news? I only missed two on the verbal section. TWO. That's the 87th percentile.

The bad news? I got almost half of the math ones wrong. That's the 20th percentile.

This equates to a 550, and the average for the schools I'm wanting is at least a 600. Thank heavens I'm going to the evening program too -- its lower.

I made it to my car, and cried all the way home. Self medicated with three bowls of cookies and cream ice cream. Oh, and bought a top from Anthropologie, (from the sale section). Watched "Real Housewives of New Jersey," the "Kardashians," "What Not to Wear," "Bridget Jones Diary" and an episode of "Friends."

Then I was ready to hire a math tutor and go for it again.

Because I know I can do better. I am better at math right now than I ever have been in my whole life! Three months ago, I had never heard of "special right triangles" and I had no idea how to divide fractions.

Now, I'm a freakin factoring and geometry genius. I know I can be.

Well, we'll give it one more time and then I'll take the 550, put it on the mantel and call it good.

A down home weekend

There is something so down home about being down home. The weekend was short -- less than 48 hours. So only time to really do family things. Because that is what's most important, right?

By most important, I mean this little one. Thirteen years old and going strong.  Can't hear. Can't see. And is having a hard time walking. But still wags that little tail. And loves to cuddle. A pug is a pug is a pug. 

I think mom and I look a little alike in this shot. I like that. Same eye shape. Same love of pearls. Similar nose -- though hard to see because we were in front of a window. And lovely lovely those big circles under my eye, eh? I can't seem to get rid of those. Not with the migraines I have.  All prim and proper and ready for church. Cricket poses too. I look way too proper -- really my shoulders were sore from the yoga my mom and I did Saturday. It was awesome. So different than I remember from being a teen. I need to find  a yoga studio in San Diego. 

I returned home to these flowers. It is my first Pup-Mom Day -- and perhaps the husband missed me? And I was thrilled that my flight got me home just in time for the Brothers and Sisters finale. 

To all the mamas that raised me

To the main mama, my main squeeze. Thanks much.

You taught me to follow my heart. To not fear. To get my college degree. To not let anything ever stop me from obtaning my dreams. To go on a little adventure here there and everywhere. And to not be afraid of waking up early. Sure, that one hasn't kicked in yet, but it will. It will.

To all the young womens leaders, primary teachers, Sunday School teachers, the friends mamas, the ones that fed me. You taught me diversity in your mothering ways. You always dropped everything to laugh with me. And made me feel important.

To the mother who raised such an amazing boy-turned-husby, thanks much. He's so cute!! I love him to pieces. You did a great job.

Walking through flowers

My mom was in town this week for a conference all about meditation (no seriously, she meditated for three solid days. Awesome). And I know what you're thinking -- didn't you just see your mother? I know, isn't it awesome? I wish she was coming back in two more weeks so we could go back to Banana Republic and find more $5 shirts. Because a trip with my mom always ends up in a dressing room somewhere (the larger one, so both of us can fit with the dog) trying on $10 shirts marked 40 percent off. 

We didn't go to the outlets on purpose though. We actually went to the Carlsbad Flower Fields --and the outlets were right next door. 

Have you heard of the flower fields? Because you still have a month to go if you haven't heard of it, or if you've just never been. And you should go. 

There's a 50 percent off coupon, too -- and I definitely think it is worth $5. I'm a great judge of what's worth $5 -- I worked as cut table girl at JoAnns Crafts & Fabric for $5.15 an hour once.

Anyway...  It's a splendid walk (don't you dare take the wagon ride if you can walk) through 50 acres of blooming flowers that just take your breath away. My pictures don't do it justice. There are ocean views in the distance. It's just incredible how beautiful this place is. Perfect for my mom and friend who were starting their meditation conference. We stopped several times to sit and chat.  

Thanks to @sdtips on twitter for tipping me off to this great place -- if you live in San Diego or are thinking of coming to San Diego -- follow her on twitter for great tips!