Sandy Face

I loved a girl named Sandyface,
She lived outside of town
In a tent made of diapers
In the sand she laid face down
She had a pillow of cactus
And her bed was desert land
I suppose I called her Sandyface
Because her face was covered in sand

And I remember her sandy face
And I remember her sandy smile

                                                --The Aquabats

I've had this song in my head for a couple of weeks. I just can't imagine why.

Sense of place

I'd never even heard of "sense of place" until I took a class on Wallace Stegner in college. My teacher went on and on about his "sense of place." What does that even mean, I thought?

Well, Stegner does have sense of place. When you read his writing, you're there. The windswept plains of Saskatchewan, the forested isolation of the Northwest, the tenuous place of a bootlegger in Salt Lake City. I've experienced them all, in prose at least.

I'm glad I learned about sense of place, because Arizona has it. In spades. We took Highway 89 down through Utah, which was fun to see new places: Kanab, Glen Canyon Dam, the Navajo reservation, then through the mountains and into Arizona. 

I don't know why, but I was expecting Arizona to be flat. Uniform. Boring. My previous forays into Arizona were mad, sleepy dashes with friends to get through and to our destination before night fell. So the only things I really could remember were: kicking each other on Route 66 (get it?), the city of Surprise (!), and joking with each other about the army of immobile cacti.

Arizona is beautiful. Phoenix is the only city I can think of where I've seen both pines and palms in close proximity. Flagstaff was captivating, and deliciously cool. It smelled like the mountains it was nestled into. The picture above is a cloudburst we drove through on our way down from Flagstaff on our way to Phoenix.

And the place names of Arizona. There are the cities of Surprise, Sedona, Snowflake, Bitter Springs, Bluewater, Carefree, Gila Bend, Hope, and the plaintive Why. We saw signs for Black Gap and Horse Thief Gulch. These names just seem so much more evocative, full of the character of the place, than names in other places. These names have so much "sense of place," if you will.

Appreciating place names is how I kept myself occupied on our two days of driving. We also listened to a book on CD, The Know-it-All, which kind of made us want to buy a set of encyclopedias so we too can become really smart.

And the kids?

The kids, by and large, were amazing. The DVD player we'd brought along didn't see any use all the way down. Nathan had some "prizes" we'd gotten at the dollar store, especially two dinosaurs that he played with for hours. Clara slept most of the time, and when she was awake got a hold of a newspaper Nathan had picked up at a truck stop and tore it to shreds. Levi found a little spitwad she had made when he got her out.

On the drive back, though, the DVD player saved us. Nathan just kept asking for more "dinosaur prizes" and since the dinosaur prizes were all gone, would play with nothing else. He eventually lapsed into despair and at one point started saying "mommy got sick!" over and over, and laughing manically each time. (I did not get sick; I don't know where he got this from. His sense of humor is certainly original, and very boyish.)

And I think that's all that's worth sharing about the road trip portion of our vacation. I figured that we'd let you enjoy our trip like we did, a little at a time. I hope you enjoyed this first installment, and I'll post more later.

August 9

On Monday we celebrated five years of marriage. That's both a long and a short time, depending on how you think about it. To satisfy my idle curiosity, I looked up what each anniversary is supposed to represent. You know, like fifty years is your golden anniversary. Well, gold is a long time coming. One year is paper, two years is cotton, three is leather, four is fruit/flowers, five is wood. (And for my in-laws, who celebrated their fortieth on Sunday, it's rubies.) This list is intriguing to me. Where did it come from? How many lives and experiences and handed-down folklore layered up over the years until it just came to be known that one year is like paper and five years is like wood? I like how the gifts become more substantial each year. I'm just hoping I can hold on until our sixth anniversary, which will be candy/iron. Now that's an interesting proposition for a gift.

My brother did our wedding video, and he did an interview section as part of it. It was done just a few days before our wedding. Every time we watch it, Levi likes to point out how I looked scared out of my mind. Sort of a deer in the headlights, "This thing is forever. Are we sure about this?"

That terrified look is how I deal with change. I worry about change. I worry too much about change. And then the big change is never as big or awful or life-shattering as I fear it might be. I did the same thing before both of my babies were born, too. I did it before I went to college. It's just my coping mechanism, I guess.

And marriage is both more difficult and more easy than I had thought it would be. And it's nice to have someone to face the hard things in life with. Someone who's obligated to listen to everything you have to say. (Except when I'm reading a book. I'm not to blame for my deafness when I'm reading a book.) It's even nicer to have someone you can share a comfortable silence with.

A while ago I found this editorial in the Boston Globe. It's a beautiful conversation about the shared language you develop in a marriage. The experiences that bind you together and the words you choose to define and remember the experience. We have those words, those inside jokes and phrases, together. And I'm sure you do. If not with a spouse, then with a family member or a friend. It's one of those intangible markers of a good relationship: being able to make the other person laugh without anyone else understanding.

And so, husband, after five years, after all the good and the bad, the happy and the sad, I'm glad I chose you. I'm glad we have built this life, with our cozy house and our beautiful babies, together.

Time to brush up on gospel doctrine?

This morning we've been building with blocks. It started as normal, building a bridge. Usually we just build bridges. Today we progressed, though, to building a library tower temple barn. It was pretty impressive.

But Nathan wasn't done there. To the best of my understanding of toddler speak, he started using his blocks to build Zion. That's what it sounded like. I really need to take a closer look at that nursery manual my mother in law gave me. What are they teaching my kid at church? 

When "Please bless the food" becomes "bwess food!"

Last week we started on cereal.

It was not her favorite. She hasn't yet gotten the idea that when the spoon comes, she should open her mouth. We'd have to put our fingers close to her mouth. And she, thinking she'd get to suck on a finger, would open and get a mouthful of...what? What is this? But she did swallow most of it. I don't think food will get exciting until we start on something that has actual taste, though. I'd probably make the same face if I had to eat a rice cereal/formula mush.

We've also been working on prayers. Nathan likes to pray. And he'll say about half of the words that you tell him to say. My favorite, though is "Thank you for..." Because Nathan's "thankyou" sounds like "give you." "Give you mom, give you dad, give you Clara." It sounds like he's willing to trade his whole family in exchange for blessings like "sleep good" and "have fun." Apparently family, the thing that should be most important, matters little. All he wants is a good night's sleep and a good time the next day. Little hedonist. It's funny and sweet to watch him learn to pray. And he pays attention a lot better when he's the one praying. Double good.

This baby

This baby is six and a half months. Can you believe it?

I can't. We took her in for her six-month visit a couple weeks ago. She's huge. At four months, she was still zero percentile for her weight. At six months, 14 pounds, she's skyrocketed up to the fifteenth percentile. I'm thinking the fourteen pounds may have something to do with the six ounces she consumed immediately before going to the doctor, though. Literally, immediately before. I lost track of time (I wish I could say I was doing something important) and realized both kids were asleep and we needed to be at the doctor in twenty minutes. So, supermom that I am, I fed Clara a bottle while putting shoes on Nathan and myself, changed Clara's diaper and got her overalls on. Yes, I fed a bottle and changed a diaper on the same baby at the same time. I'm a little proud of my multitasking skills.

She's working on learning to sit. And she loves to watch her big brother. Big brothers are the best, except when they trip and fall on top of you. That is sad.

This picture goes all the way back to June 1, when we first got the exersaucer out. Her feet barely reached the ground and if you didn't prop her up right, her arms would get stuck and she'd sit there with her chin resting on the seat. She's grown into it now and loves it. She especially loves the giraffe on it, which was also Nathan's favorite. He made the giraffe permanently bendy from pulling it down to chew on it.

And Nathan couldn't resist the novelty of a new toy. This is the only time he climbed in it, though. It's not fun to be stationary anymore.

All hands on deck

We've been a little preoccupied around here lately. Building will do that to you, I guess. Ever since we moved in we thought it would be nice to add some sort of patio to our backyard. Because seriously, how has this house existed for twenty-plus years without making the backyard space a little more livable?

So this year we took the plunge. It started as an impulse.  We went into the backyard to talk about location, size, etc., and the next thing we knew, we were ripping up grass to move a sprinkler line. Whoops, we started building a deck. I guess we better finish. Has that ever happened to you?

We got the footings, poles, and beams into place. Nathan called it a barn. And then my dad, wonder building-man, came to the rescue. Because we really didn't know what we were doing. And my dad, who built both of the houses I grew up in, thinks decks are "simple" projects. He helped us get it square, strong, and ready to plank.

 With a little expert help and innumerable trips to Lowe's, it's nearly done. Well, nearly usable. Once the planks are finished, I think we'll celebrate with an outdoor dinner. We'll still need to add stairs, railing, and some trim around the sides. Hopefully that won't go the way of all other projects I start, lose steam, and then wait a couple of years before completing.

But if you ask Nathan, it's already just right. Just right for dancing.