Tagged by Angie

I was tagged by Angie, a few days ago. I have not met Angie, I'm guessing she went to school with my brothers Nate and Andy, is that right Angie? Anyway, I find her blog honest and hilarious and she seems so smart. Plus, she's a blond goddess. So here are my 7 semi-weird things. I didn't really follow all the rules, but I did dig deep.

1. I agree with Angie that hell would be 7th grade. I had a tough 7th grade year. Because I lived in a fairly small town, I started running varsity cross country and track in 7th grade. The cross country season went fairly well. I had a tough winter and was sick a lot. In fact I was hospitalized in Feb. or March, I don't remember which. Anyway, the track season started while I was in the hospital. When I got out, there was a meet about a week later. It was still pretty darn cold in Minnesota and I was pretty weak and out of shape. I should add that I was not a physically mature 7th grader, I still could have been in elementary school. Well, my coach made me enter the 2 mile race that meet. 2 miles is 8 times around the track. The 2 mile race was also one of the last races. Not only was I in no shape to compete at this point, but I was a tiny girl running against a number of juniors and seniors. It was dark, the snow was falling and I was lapped by the leader. 7th grade totally rocked. It was so sad. It would be a number of years until I would be able to make myself feel better by lapping someone else.
The picture below is not from 7th grade, I have no idea where my 7th grade yearbook is. This one is from 10th grade and it is to show you how awesome I look when i run.



2. My hair is big. It is thick. It is coarse. It is curly. And it is frizzy. I rarely fix my hair, I usually wash it and pull it back in a pony tail hoping it will be smoothish when it dries. It really never is, so I just continue to wear it up. I am a very low maintenance hair person.



This is what it looks like when untamed.



The above is one of the times that I have actually fixed it with product and a blow dryer.
The below is how I fixed it after I had Norah. Brad felt sorry for me and bought me a chi. I used it for a while and then just fell back into my old lazy ways.



3. I secretly have monster eyebrows. It took me until my freshman year of college to learn how to tweeze. My beautiful friend Metzi Martinez taught me how to tweeze my eyebrows and I will be forever grateful.

16 and hairy



4. This one is for you Emily Smith.One of my first dates with my husband was a B.B.King concert at the U. The weird thing is it was a threesome. I went on a date with Brad and his friend and band mate, Kelly. I had never met Kelly before and I still didn't really know Brad that well. It was an interesting date.

Kelly is the redhead below.



5. While Brad and I were engaged, Brad's sister Emily gave birth to her son Glade. She invited me to be in the room when Glade was born and I've always been grateful for the opportunity. I have yet to repay it Emily, maybe next time.

At Glade's Birth,



6. I secretly (now it's not such a secret) am a food, book, and movie (not that I see any) snob. I try to never let on and I really do not judge other's likes, it's just my problem. I try to be open minded but I guess I have high expectations.

7. I have serious issues with meat. I like the taste of meat, but it makes me feel indulgent and gluttonous. When I was young, before my parents were LDS, we were vegetarians. I'm not sure if this is where it stems from, but if I had to kill my meat I would be a vegetarian without any difficulty. Is it hypocritical to eat the meat if someone else had killed it?

Ghetto Martha {Stewart} Griffiths

I have a love/hate relationship with my (not so much) namesake, Martha Stewart. I love to be creative, if I were unable to create and to beautify (this is very subjective, so no nasty comments please), I would probably shrivel up and be a very bitter woman. Martha Stewart all but has the monopoly on creative homemaking, decorating, cooking, sewing, crafting, holidaying, and gardening. Could Martha have any more magazines that peddle her awesome enterprising abilities, craftiness, ingenuity, and style? Probably not. Could I subscribe to any more of her periodicals in order to perpetuate my need to compete/comply with the Empress that is Martha? Probably not.
My beef with Martha is that, although I have plenty of stylish/creative ideas, Martha always seems to stay one step ahead of me, or completely out do my idea by making hers just a little more spectacular, thus making me ghetto.

Case and point, well a number of cases and points:



A few years ago, I had the idea of doing a black and white photo family history wall. The idea was to have my ancestors, or at least the ones I had photos of and my family on one wall, to create a visual history. I started, and then the above is all the further I got. One of these days it was really going to happen. Then I get my Martha Stewart living and the chick has stolen my idea and made it magnificent.



Ok, so maybe there are a few black and white family history walls out there, but it was MY idea I say.



When we moved into this house, I made a little collage of sketches and paintings on the wall. But I guess it's not chic because according to Blueprint, the frames should be empty and all the same color.





I've always loved my pot rack. It' functional, it's pretty. Then I open the issue with Martha's Turkey Hill home and find out no one does the pot rack like Martha.



I had the idea of doing a harlequin pattern in our entry way in our new home (after deciding it wasn't right for the kitchen). Then I see she did a harlequin pattern in her Turkey Hill entry way, and she even stenciled it on.





I've always fancied myself a little of a post modern pinup. I don't like trends. I love skirts, red lipstick, femininity, and soft unmanicured hair. Next thing I know, Martha turns the PMP hip. The unmanicured hair is perfect and just makes mine look like what it is, messy.





Sometimes I just accept defeat and comply with the powers that be. I made the above and although it was delicious it didn't look nearly as beautiful because it boiled over in my oven and filled my house with smoke.



I decided to just let the god that is Martha dictate what my familie's Halloween costumes would be this year. Her version is above, my ghetto version below (I have to say, I did one up her with the leaf skirts though, maybe that cancels out the rest of the haphazardness of it).



It's like I live in a parallel universe with Martha. Only I live in Lehi, UT and she lives, well, like in 10 different places (none of which are Lehi).
I once had an investigator on my mission who told me that he really wrote the lyrics to The Eagles' Hotel California. He said he wrote it in a trailer out in the woods and that Don Henley must have been spying on him and stole the lyrics (why he wrote a song which involved California is puzzling since he had never left New Brunswick, which is clear across the continent from California, and why Don Helnley would be looking for lyrics in New Castle, New Brusnswick is also puzzling). I used to think he was nuts. But now, I have to consider that maybe he was onto something. Perhaps Martha has been taping into my genius and improving upon my ideas. Do you think I have a lawsuit (Andy)?

From the Mouth of Lulu

Brad is the cub master for our ward. There are only a handful of cubs so we join with the 1st ward for the once a month award ceremony.




Brad usually attends without us, but once in a while we all go. Last night was once in a while.



All of the families and scouts were seated as the other ward's cub master introduced the night's theme. He was dressed in a straw cowboy hat, overalls and boots. He said, "tonight's theme is on the farm".



Just as farm came out of his mouth, Lulu yelled loudly, in a sing-song voice, EEE-I-EEE-I-OH!

Sweet, sweet Lu.

Sew Busy

Do I have the skills to turn this pile of crafty crap into 3 fabulous costumes by 6pm tomorrow night?



And make enough home made potato chips and chili piled with blue cheese to feed 30 people?



Can I pull it off? I don't know.

I

feel

tears

and

major

STRESS

coming

ON.

wish me luck.

Super Super Super Saturday

My biggest gripe with my hard-working husband, is that he works so much that he has not had the opportunity to spend a sufficient amount of alone time with the children in order to really know what my life is like. I've never left all 3 children alone with him. I've never gone anywhere over night or even a whole day for that matter, that is until this past Saturday. Sure, it wasn't over night, and it wasn't all day, but it was 4 whole hours.
My husband took last Saturday off of work so I could go to Super Saturday.(About Super Saturday- I used to completely bag on homemaking/enrichment/supersaturday. In my younger, more naive days, I thought 'crafts' and such were for sissies. I used to think, "I bet they aren't talking about 'gardening in small places' in elder's quorum", or "I'm sure the high priests aren't making family home evening plaques". In fact, the very first enrichment that I ever attended was when I was 31 years old, and it was only because I had been called to serve on the enrichment committee. The first Super Saturday I attended was later that year and it was because I, as well as a few other ladies, were in charge of it. I even made the below magnet board that year.)



Now back to the story. So Saturday morning I headed hesitantly up to the church, wondering what my home would look like when I returned. Once I got going on my projects, I started to relax and enjoy the company of the best women I've ever known (seriously). Stephanie, did such an awesome job organizing the affair, thanks Steph for letting me benefit from all of your hard work. Thank you to everyone who helped me with my drilling and hammering and painting. Thank you Breanne Wisan for the enriching conversation and the food for thought. Thank you Lori Hacking for the light hearted life coaching conversation. You are a super star Lori. I need to apologize to all the women who I left in my wake as I ran Mario brothers style to the food table in order to be first in line. I'm always hungry and I like my food. I apologize to everyone at my table who had to watch me eat: 2 bowls of soup, bread, salad, cookies, chocolates, and whipped cream with my fingers.
I rocked hard at that Super Saturday. In 4 hours (minus my carb and sugar binge), I made 8 of these fabulously gift-worthy, colorful magnet boards (don't ask me what's up with the magnet boards).


Jealous? If you are nice maybe I'll give you or your kid one of these as a gift. Really, I should have made 50.
After feeling all awesome about my accomplishments and our conversations, I returned home to find: a clean house, children fed, crayons and pen magic erasered off of walls and furniture, clothing folded, and a son put down for a nap (OK, he was crying and his diaper was dirty, but I'm so not complaining). Later, when it was apparent that we were not going to be able to go out to eat without our children, my husband drove to Provo to get my favorite food, Bombay house.



This may not look appetizing but it is so good, so good.

In conclusion my Traverse Mountain sisters rock, my husband rocks, and I rock. Thank you very much for indulging me.

Misdemeanors

I hesitated to post the following but my father said I should. And I do what my daddy says.

Also, I need to preface this with a disclaimer. Let it be known that the following stories in no way need to reflect upon our skills as parents, or as pet owners.

And, if you can not abide very light profanity, please discontinue reading this post.



Story 1.
The other evening Brad was giving the girls a bath. After getting out of the tub Norah was bouncing around on her make-shift trundle bed. As usual, great pains had to be taken to get her dressed for bed. As Brad held Norah down in order to put her pajamas on, he noticed something stringy and blue ribboned through her hair and on her face. He asked her what it was and she told him it was gum. While trying to get the completely stuck gum out of her hair, Brad muttered a "son of a..." under his breath. Norah, hearing this said, "bitch dad, it's bitch".
I seriously have no idea where she heard this phrase.



Story 2.

Last Sunday, on our way down to Orem, we stopped by the home we are building. We let Tequila (our dog) out of the car as we checked a few things. We again boarded the car and drove to my parent's home. As we sat down to eat dinner, Brad turned to me and said, "we left our dog at the house", meaning we forgot to reload our dog after letting her out of the car at the house site. I told Brad that I didn't think it was a big deal, dog's are smart (supposedly), the house isn't that far from our home, and she probably will find her way back.
After dinner we decided to head back in order to find Tequila. As we were driving on the freeway, Norah started to get upset about Tequila being lost. I asked her if she wanted to say a prayer to ask for help in finding Tequila. She said yes and began the prayer. She said, "Heavenly Father, please help us find Tequila. Help us to get up off our butts and look for her...".
As we drove up to the new house, Tequila was sitting in the front yard, completely oblivious to the fact that we had deserted her.



For those of you who are my neighbors, you can be rest assured that I am trying to teach Norah proper etiquette and better language skills so that she can continue to play with your children.
And please forgive us for naming our dog Tequila.

Blogging Conflictions

I guess I'll just come right out and say it, I'm conflicted about blogging. I started to blog because I believed it would be a good way to document my families life and because I thought it would be a good way to keep in touch with my family and friends.
I have done much better, since I became a blogger, at documenting my families life. I take tons of pictures and I write about our children.
I have been able to better stay in touch with my brother Nate, who lives in NYC, and I have enjoyed that.
My sister who lives in Pittsburgh, is another story. She doesn't blog and she doesn't read my blog, OK, like maybe twice she has.
My best friend Erica was all pumped when I presented the idea of blogging as a way to see each other's families and keep up. She had a good start. We were blogging buddies for about a month. Then she moved. She always falls off the face of the earth every time she moves (this is true Erica, don't deny it, if you read this, that is). Last time she moved, I thought something horrible happened, like she was dead, or she got divorced. But all the worry was for naught, she just disappears for a while when she moves. Kind of like she has disappeared from blogging land.
I have enjoyed all the new friends I have made. I love reading their posts and getting to know them. I've been provided entertainment and a lot of laughs.
I've loved understanding and knowing my sisters in church better. They have wonderful blogs that have propelled me forward as a mother and wife, and I will be forever grateful for that.
I have also been grateful to have blogging as a creative outlet. At times, I've been able to express myself in ways that I haven't been able to in years.
I have a few problems with blogging though. First, it takes a lot of time. Blogger is slow, or at least my computer is.
Second, it makes me a little anxious. I tend to get anxious at times, so posting for the whole world to see sets off a little anxiety. I really don't care who reads my posts, it's more about the creation and then throwing it out there. It's a little bit of stress and it gives me a headache on top of the headache of my baby still not sleeping (and I really am doing everything by the book with trying to get my baby to sleep, please do not think that I'm not).
Third, I have lots of stories and pictures, but not enough time to post them, thus there is the frustration. I get frustrated that I'm too busy to write stuff down, then I feel selfish because I feel frustrated.
Fourth, even though we have a general contractor, the home we are building takes a lot of time. I feel guilty because I drag my children all over the place and they sit in the car in front of our home watching Bambi or something of that nature, while I talk to a sub. So it is difficult for me to feel good about taking the time to post 4 or 5 times a week.
I guess what I am asking and saying is, do you ever feel this way? Do I attribute too much stress to blogging? Maybe I should only post 3 times a week (which I have done on occasion, but for some reason I feel pressure to post more often).
Maybe I'm looking for an excuse to feel better about blogging.

There will be a few pictures of my children at the Scarecrow festival to semi-prove that blogging is worth it, when blogger will finally allow me to upload them.

Any thoughts, I need them.

Creeper

My sister, Sarah, called me at the beginning of last week to inform me of the the "Haunted Canyon" ride on the Heber Creeper. She said the whole family (which includes Sarah, her husband Blake and son Owen, my parents, Andy and his wife Sarah, maybe Peter and Tim, but certainly not pimp daddy Bob) would be going on Friday and for me to plan on it. As I got off the phone, I thought, "whatever", for a few different reasons. First, Sarah lives in Ogden and rarely participates in family activities. And second, we rarely have family activities.
But Thursday came with a phone call from my mother who said she was at Smiths and wanted to know if we would like her to pick up our tickets. Of course I said yes (I'm not a party pooper) and Vivian park and the Heber Valley railroad were added to the docket for Friday night.


The night started at my mom's home for dinner. My parents' next door neighbors have often won the 'Orem beautification award' for their Halloween decorations. Their yard also provides my children with endless hours of entertainment and nightmares.


Dinner conversation at my parents house always seems to focus on the dating practices of my twin brothers, Peter and Tim. Tim informed us that he wasn't able to join us on the railroad because he had a date. He also informed us that the next night he was going on another date with his date's roommate. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement that dating 2 roommates means trouble. Tim has so much to learn.


My brother Bobby wanted me to make sure to post a picture of the pimp mustache he has grown. I guarantee that this mustache is not getting Bobby any dates with two roommates.

So up the canyon we headed and into Vivian park we walked.



We feared that Brad would miss the train. But we were so wrong. The train was delayed because of technical difficulties, so we waited and waited.

While waiting, a heckler came through the line to tease the children.

Norah wasn't having any of it. I wonder where her non-compliance comes from.

Finally we were able to board the train. As we found our seats, scary, foreboding noises filled the train cars.

This is my favorite photo. The trepidation in Norah and Abram's faces is classic.


For those of you who have not ridden the haunted canyon railroad, there are stories told as your make your way up the canyon. These stories are about ghosts that inhabit the railroads path. With each story, an apparition appears on the banks of the Provo River or in your car window. Although it was all very amateur, it was a little creepy for me and I have to assume, very frightening for my children.


As you make your way back down the canyon, the ghouls board the train and walk down the aisles. Lulu in the photo above was clearly afraid of the werewolf man.
The canyon ride was entertaining and I am glad Sarah corralled us all in for the night.
Now, if I can get a few costumes sewed, we will be all set for Halloween.

The End

I fear my garden's beautiful bounty is drawing to a close. I will miss running down my spiral steps in order to obtain a few ripe tomatoes, yellow squash, zucchini, basil, peppers, cilantro, and parsley. The garden has enabled me to be a lazy mom this summer. I often put off thinking of dinner until about 4:30p.m. when I would meander out to the garden and decide what was cooking by what appeared to be ripe.
So goodbye to the perfume of thyme, marjoram, and marigolds. Your passing is too soon.
I believe I will celebrate this farewell by having a fried green tomato party. Anyone want some green tomatoes? I have at least 500.

Another phase has come to a close in our little lives. My son is no longer an immobile baby. Finally, days before he turns 11 months, he has learned to crawl. Now when people ask me if he is walking, I will no loner have to hang my head in guilt as I tell them that he doesn't even crawl yet. You wouldn't believe how many, "Well have you tried showing him how to crawl?"s I got.



Congratulations Abram!

6 Things (for laurie w. and anyone else who may be interested)

I like to include photos in my posts, because, hey, I like to read posts which include photos. So I desperately tried to scrounge up interesting photos to accompany my not so interesting 6 things.

1. My high school job was as an assistant librarian at the local (private) library. I love books and boy do I know how to shelve a book (sorry, no photo for this one).


2. I attended Ricks college my freshman year. The above photo includes my very first roommates ever, except for the guy at the end. Number 2 leads me to number 3...


3. At Ricks, I met my best friend, Erica (Erica is the one on the end on the left).
My husband and I attended the same neighborhood ward (church congregation) before and right after I served a mission. We were friends but we really didn't know each other well. Previous to serving a mission, I had been on some dates with my husband's friend in the ward named Kirk. When I returned from my mission, Kirk and I went on a few dates again. Kirk and I tried to set Brad (my husband) up with Erica so we could double. They never ended up dating, but they became good friends as Erica frequented Brad's place of business(which provided a place for bands to play on 9th east in Provo), so she could see her now husband play in his band. I never did set foot in Brad's Soul Kitchen (his band venue), for which I feel guilty for to this day.



4. This one also has to do with my husband. Brad and I went on a bike ride right before I entered the MTC. I got to know him a little and he told me that his father had served a mission in the area that I was going to serve in.
A few months later I reach the mission field and am shipped off to be a companion to my trainer, Sister Amy Overton (who is in the photo above). As she and I become acquainted, I learn her father served in the area as well. I tell her that I know someone whose father had served there. She asks who, and I tell her that it is Brad Griffiths. She then tells me that she knows Brad's family really well because her father and his father were companions while serving a mission. In fact, later on in my mission I got a tape and recorder from Brad, the Kirk above, and Brad's brother. While Brad's brother (Wade) and Kirk were talking on the tape at some golf tournament, they ran into Amy Overton, who also talked on my tape. Small world and weird stuff.


5. I love the Old Mission Peninsula. I was born there and I think of it as home. I spent many summers as a youth, at my familie's cottage in Old Mission. Here I am pictured with my cousins, Jessie and Johanna. I would love to spend every summer there with my children so they could have the same experience I had. I don't know if that is possible. Michigan is far away and Brad works here. Maybe someday Griffiths and Turner will be a 9 months out of the year job.


6. In junior high and high school I took trying to look sexy for photo booth pictures very seriously, as is evidenced by the foxy photos above. Kissing lips and monster eyebrows were all the rage in my '80's life.

Ok, that's all I have.