An Extravagant Hunger

Tonight as I was driving back to Mt. Pleasant, I listened to Radio West about a biography of M.F.K. Fisher, the food writer, called An Extravagant Hunger.   I had never heard of Ms. Fisher, which seems a loss on my part after hearing what a wonderful writer she was.  I might have to track down some of her books at the library.  As I listened to Anne Zimmerman describe her interest in Fisher and her search to understand a complex woman, I could hardly sit still.  It was one of those shows/topics/moments that made me want to be creative.  Could I be a Fisher and write wonderfully about food or perhaps a Zimmerman and document an extraordinary life?  What marvelous work is inside me?  I wish I could take something that I feel passionate about and turn it into something that makes other people feel passion.  Unfortunately, the thing I feel most passion about is being a wife to my husband and a mom to my kids.  Sure it involves things that are unexciting: laundry, poopy diapers, crying babies.  But there are rarer moments: hearing Kimball sing "Old MacDonald" to our chickens, hearing Stan laugh when I snort because he grabbed my nose, and watching Bryce play with the boys he loves.  It may be a great work on some level (an eternal one?), but I don't think Doug Fabrizio will be knocking on my door asking to interview me.

Crowbar vs. Door

This is the crowbar.

This is the moulding removed with the crowbar.

This is the door which used to have the moulding.  (Please note that the door is nearly split which resulted from my attempts to bust through with my shoulder.  Also note that the door knob is nearly removed which resulted from my attempts to apply a flat head screw driver and a hammer because the screws to remove the knob were inside the door.  Also note that there are several hammer marks on the door which resulted from the application of a hammer with force.  This didn't help to get me inside but did vent a little frustration.)

This is the kid who locked himself inside the door and was oblivious to his mother's frantic efforts to get inside. 

Adventures in Potty Training

Yesterday, I bought Kimball a potty.  In fact, I bought him this one:

But then I made a mistake.  We got home late from watching the BCS championship game with James and Kirstin.  It was way past 10pm, but we opened the potty anyway.  I had been telling Kimball that I would get him a "Kimball potty" and I didn't think he would want to wait.  Okay, in reality, I didn't want to wait.  So, without thinking about the consequences, we opened the potty.

We let Kimball sit on it without a diaper.  He liked it.  We moved it into the bathroom.  He wanted to sit on it again.  We let him.  He wanted me to go potty on the big toilet.  I did.  And then it happened . . . we heard a "psssssss" in the little potty.  We cheered.  We dumped the pee in the big toilet.  We let him flush.  But he didn't want to put his diaper on.  So we got ready for bed.  We changed into out p.j.s.  We brushed our teeth.  We closed the door and threatened to leave him there all night.  We came back in and . . . Kimball had peed again!  We cheered, we dumped, we flushed.  But he still didn't want to put his diaper back on.

So what was meant to be a pleasant experience for all became a fight over putting a diaper back on and going to bed.  I am sorry to say that we resorted to force so we could go to sleep before midnight.  And Bryce still had to go to bed with Kimball because otherwise he would have continued to yell, "Diaper off!  Diaper off!" into the wee hours of the morning.  Happily, he doesn't hate me for not letting him sit on the potty all night and he got to take his diaper off this morning.

Brothers?

Do these guys look like brothers?

Toddler Entertainment

Mt. Pleasant City installed a new fire hydrant in front of our house today. Kimball had a great time watching the big digger.

Happy baby

Stanford is a happy baby.

Happy Pioneer Day!

For the 24th of July, my family made the traditional hike up Ensign Peak. (I stayed at the bottom so as to avoid the pioneer experience of giving birth on a trail.) Bryce's parents joined us and we had three generations of Kimball on top.

Then my parents took us all to Lagoon. It was Kimball's first trip. First we got soaked in the fountain.

Then we rode some rides.

Then we rode some more rides. Kimball loved all the rides and was happy to even go by himself.

Then we crashed.

It was such a fun day. Thanks, Mom and Dad for taking us!!

Welcome to Mt. Pleasant!

Well, we finally made it! Sort of. I came down to Mt. Pleasant on Tuesday, but I am still waiting for Bryce to join us. It's not very much fun having him so far away. It's also not very much fun having all my stuff crammed into one small room. I keep thinking of things I wish I had with me but are currently located in the storage unit. The upside of living with my parents is that I can take a shower without worrying about what Kimball will get into and there are a hundred cousins here for playmates (at least for the 4th of July weekend). Ok, not a hundred but enough that Kimball isn't dragging me outside every five minutes. "Ouse! Ouse!" he says when he wants to go outside.

We hope you all are well and already miss our friends in Salt Lake.

The Adventures of Knitty the Cat

As some of you know, for the past five years I have had a cat. I am not a cat person. Knitty came into my life when I was single because someone I barely knew asked me to take the cat due to the fact she was moving. I am still unsure why I agreed. From the start Knitty was skittish, frightened and otherwise an unexceptional animal. Within a week of having her in my apartment she had escaped and hid in the cellar of the old Covey Apartments where I was living. For reasons unknown, I was able to find her and take her with me to the house on L Street.

After I married Bryce, he convinced me to let her roam the neighborhood. I had been reluctant to let her out before that because of the cellar incident. But Knitty found her place in the world, killing birds and mice in our backyard and coming home for food. She hid from guests, tolerated my niece and nephews and ran from Kimball who laughed and giggled when he saw her.

During the move she escaped from the house and all the chaos. (I would have liked to escape too.) We were unable to get her before all of our stuff was out. We left out food, went back a few times, but with the move to Mt. Pleasant and all the back and forth it looked like Knitty had made herself a neighborhood cat. That was until the new homeowners decided they didn't want such an animal as Knitty associating with their cats.

The new homeowners have been determined to rid themselves of Knitty all in the name of returning our cat. The climax in the search for Knitty came when they got a trap from their vet and called to ask us to come get the cat when the caught her. They wanted us to be on high alert and ready to come at their beck and call. We were in Mt. Pleasant at the time. I would have told them to take her to a shelter, which would have been the height of cruelty in their eyes. But Bryce tried to work things out (He's such a good guy). First they were going to board her but we have no vaccine info. (No, I haven't taken her to a vet in 5 years, so what?) Bryce suggested they leave her in the cage until we could get there. Unacceptable. Apparently that is inhumane (notice she is not human) because she will be scared and scratch and ruin her claws.

To make this long story short, we picked Knitty up Thursday night from the house on L Street where she had been doing time in the laundry room. My sister-in-law Jill has been kind enough to keep her until we can get her to Mt. Pleasant. I was ready to take her to a shelter because I was sick of the whole thing, but if you had seen Kimball's reaction to the return of the cat, you would have kept her too. So now, I just have convince my mother that having a cat in Mt. Pleasant is a good idea. Here's to hoping she doesn't get killed by a raccoon.

Sorry No Pictures

Is it possible that I have been living in an alternate universe for the past two months? Or is it simply that I am six months pregnant, sold my house, moved all my worldly possessions into storage and am taking my family to Mt. Pleasant for the summer? Did I mention I am six months pregnant? . . . and as my mother has always said, "Each pregnancy knocks 10 points off your IQ." I am pretty sure that if you move and are pregnant you can count on losing more than 10 points. I am re-entering the present universe slowly which means, I will start remembering birthdays, retuning phone calls and emails, and if I'm lucky I will find my keys and my cat.