To Reiterate...

Williams - Hot Pregnant Mama

Herbie and Sage, jumping on the trampoline.

I have had a few requests to see the belly so I posed for all you and took some shots. Enjoy!! I am 7 months pregnant and you can see my belly button sticking out.

Williams - Jog-a-thon

Sage's school did a jog-a-thon today to earn money for school activities. She had to get pledges from people and then run laps for the money. My mom said she would pay her $3.00 a lap, little did she know that Miss Sage was such a fantastic runner because she ran 18 laps. Herbie wanted to run with her so he was out there too.

Travis' Book

Remember Travis? I had lost touch with so many of the Salt Lake boys but thanks to facebook, we have reconnected. This is why I am constantly advocating facebook. Nicole just joined and she will not regret it. I'm still waiting for Jon (yes, Jon!) to show up but so far only his wife is on there. Anyways, I just ordered my copy from amazon. You should order yours, too! Click here.

El Guapo

Anika is sick. It's so strange how she likes to just sit around when she's sick. She just wants to watch her same shows over and over and it's the one time I don't feel guilty about it because she needs her rest. The good news is that her favorite movie is also my favorite movie... yes, I let my two year old watch The Three Amigos. I used to try and fast forward some things but she would just scream "El Guapo, I want El Guapo!" Strange little cookie. It sure is shaping up to be a fun weekend.

Everyone has their own El Guapo.

Williams - Nothin'

I haven't posted for a while because I really have nothing to say. I have a break from school this week and have been enjoying going to bed early, reading, and just not having a stressful life for once. Monday it starts again. Herb is going hunting this weekend. Looking forward to General Conference. It is starting to get cold here so your weather forecast makes me jealous. I am continuing to grow and every day is a struggle to get dressed because what could possibly be comfortable. Hung out with Jenny last weekend. She came with our friends and us to a party. We rock climbed, zip lined, and jousted (when I say we I mean everyone but me). I joked with everyone that Jenny was Herb's stand in date since I couldn't participate in the festivities:) We had a campfire afterward and ate smores and hotdogs. It was fun to see Jen. Love you all!

Collective Sigh of Relief

impossible

...cutting Anika's hair! Totally, utterly impossible. No amount of talking her into it or showing how "Emmet does it!" can help. Finally, her bangs were obstructing her vision and she looked like Cousin It. Something had to be done. I try and put on good youtube videos of the ants marching and then try to sneak some clips. She immediately started screaming and swatting the scissors. It's dangerous and I could probably do just as good a job if I was blindfolded. Well, once again they are totally botched! She looks like a boy. A boy with a bad haircut. It's so sad. I know I could do a really cute cut if she would just sit still!!!!! Each attempt gets worse because her fears of the haircut get worse! So, if you see my kid and think what the hell happened to that poor thing... cut me a break.

MY JOB IS KILLING ME!

I officially quit after this year.

Fun

Today's Travelin'Oma prompt:

"I have a tremendous amount of determination in this one area:_____. Not in other areas. For instance:_______."



This is a perfect prompt. I really do have a tremendous amount of determination in this one area: having fun. Not in other areas. For instance: working.

I am absolutely determined everyday to make things fun. If I put half this effort into getting things done, maybe I could accomplish something, anything.

I always try to do little surprises for my husband. Or play tricks on him. I have pulled some pretty successful pranks on him over the years. One place he can always expect to find a surprise (if that's possible?) is in his underwear drawer. I always come up with something. Sometimes normal things like cards, his favorite tic tacs, candybars. But there have been some total unmentionables that have me laughing STILL, TO THIS DAY. I'm talking some seriously funny business. Or so I think...

I don't think he thinks I'm as funny as I think I am. Sometimes, I'm unsure of whether he just doesn't get my jokes or he simply thinks I am psychotic. But that's not the point. I think I'm funny and get a big kick out of my tricks and surprises.

I have a tremendous amount of determination to entertain myself. I like to make a game of everything and can only hope the ones I love are at least moderately amused.

This has got to be one of the worst ideas ever!!!!

I guess it was a sign when while driving up here I got food poisoning.

So moving to Oregon has not been going so well. I have been on four dates so far and every guy has taken it upon themselves to criticize everything that I put in my mouth can I eat nothing!!!

This place is a little crazy to say the least.

My roommates are so funny one is a total gamer he sits at the computer for hours a day clicking away and laughing like DR Evil!

I did go rollerblading down by the riverfront and I was yelled at by a total stranger. Who yells at someone they don't know????

On the positive side I am getting a lot of exercise.

I have realized that ST George isn't really as bad as it seems, perfect weather, safe, great people, and it's beautiful there I can't wait to move back!

PS: if anyone has any ideas of places to meet NORMAL people let me know.

On the flip side I am addicted to Victoria Secret bras I go there once a week looking for new styles, why didn't anyone tell me that wearing a bra could be so fun.

deep thoughts

First:
I think I'm going weird.

Also:

Nancy Pelosi. I want to slap her. Perhaps backhanded. I haven't decided yet.

Bruce Lindsay. Have you noticed his ties? He has the most amazing taste in ties.

Nadine Wimmer. Her skin. Have you noticed her skin? It's beautiful. And she radiates The Spirit.

Mike Rowe. Reaffirmed crush after that alligator episode.

Hot shots. I love firemen.

And last but not least on my mind lately:
The Nuva Ring. Have you seen this commercial?
monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday, sunday, everydaaaay....

Is it really that hard to swallow a pill once a day? really? that hard? Because inserting a hormone-laden jelly bracelet into my special purpose and then fishing it out three weeks later is so much more convenient.

This reminds me: that schick quatro commercial. I had to pause my Tivo. Do you see what I see?

Please click here. (since childbirth isn't bad enough already.)

Leave Your Pants at the Door

Inspired by today's Travelin'Oma prompts.
_____________

It's customary to leave shoes at the door when entering your home. But... how many people do you know who also leave their pants? I've evolved from wearing just undies to wearing at least sweat pants around the house. But when it comes to comfort, I just don't screw around.

The slightest hint of a scratchy fabric or a waistband cutting my muffin top off can send me into a near panic. Likewise, feeling gross. I love to be freshly showered, lotioned, pedicured. I would shower 15 times a day if I could. I also panic if my feet feel hot. I wear sandals or flip flops nearly year-round. I fantasize about wearing nothing but a big bath robe. Perhaps I wore a burka in a previous life?

My closet is full of cute clothes that no one has ever seen me wear- at least more than once. I try. I really do. But I always end up taking it all off and putting on a white Hanes V-neck tee, which has been my staple for over fifteen years.

Thinking about my personal style made me realize my home is the same. Very simple. Some would even say stark. (?) But most importantly... refreshing. When I shop for clothes or home goods I ask myself one question: Is it refreshing? If it's not, forget it.

I think my personal style in every aspect of my life is clean, comfortable, refreshed.

I hope I make it to heaven one day. And I hope we really, truly get to wear white robes and bare feet!

The Secret

Today's Travelin'Oma was the best yet. So true and hilarious. Go read it now!

______________

We were driving down North Bay Road. My older sister, Janna mentioned to my Mom that she held hands with a boy at school. Janna was ten at the time, myself seven. My Mom slammed on the brakes, pulled over and yelled, "You did what?!"

I don't want to see that overreaction again, I thought. Remember: don't ever talk to Mom about boys. Don't ever talk to Mom about boys. And I didn't.

But I have three older sisters so word got out. I was ten when Janna filled me in on the facts of life. After the shock and awe wore off I proceeded to gossip The Secret to my schoolmates. I remember telling my friend, Jaylynn as we walked home from school. She didn't believe it. She wanted to know who told me that great and terrible lie.

And those books? You mean, You Were Once Smaller Than a Dot? I remember browsing through those books (seems like there was a whole series?) we had on our shelf and aside from some awkward illustrations of naked people, it still beat around the bush, so to speak. I'm sorry, I was what? It never got to the point. But big sisters do.

I'm so grateful to have older siblings. They taught me everything. They taught me at a eight what was cool and what was not. If they ever saw I had the boom box (you heard me, I said boom box.) tuned to the wrong station, I heard about it. I watched them put green masks on their faces and use the very 80's astringent, Sea Breeze...remember Sea Breeze? I watched them go to prom and coif their hair. I kept my mouth shut when their boyfriends came over, or when they sneaked out. I got their hand-me-downs. Ummm, I still get their hand-me-downs.

I want and plan to be very open about everything with my kids. If you always talk about IT, it wont be so awkward. At least that's what I think. But I thought I had everything figured out about parenting before I had a child, so there goes that weak plan.

Just be sure to give the talk to your firstborn. Chances are, they'll gossip to the others... perhaps inaccurately, but much less awkwardly.

I think that pic is awesome for the new banner wow we all look so different now.

So my move to Oregon is complete for now i don't know how long i am going to last in the cold and the rain.

I also have three boy roommates and that is crazy i really don't like living with people so we'll see how long that lasts.

I went mountain biking for the first time on a hill that i was sure i was not going to make it down but with a little coaching from some professional bikers i got down the hill unscathed.

The day ended by going downtown to meet some friends and on the way back to the car we heard gunshots. There was a drive by shooting. Welcome to Portland!!!

Oops I forgot my bullet proof vest. I guess i may have to invest in one of these for the occasional hangout downtown.

In other news everyone will be shocked to learn that I now own three yes count them one two three bras Victoria Secret i love you. (do you think that they sell bullet proof bras?)

This pretty much brings me up to date.

Alana i like the color you have chosen for your room you need to come up here and decorate my room then maybe i would actually hang out there instead of the kitchen.

Love all of you guys sorry for not posting on a regular basis.

Should this be our new banner?

We are SO still best friends. LUCKY US!

P.S. we need a new look. That purple was making me gag. Any requests? If someone can send me a new pic I'll photo shop something if noone else wants to. All my pics have been buried in storage since I moved to New York (UG!) ... But you can do it if you want.

CIARA- that lake does look cold! Was it?

forgot

I can't believe I forgot to share the good news. My bedroom is no longer bright blue! Did I really think, as moody as I am, that I could commit? At least now I can switch up the bedding constantly! Thanks again, Brandino.

Williams - Labor Day Camping

We went camping and boating with Herb's family over Labor Day weekend. We drove to Prineville Resevoir which is about 3 hours southeast of us. We had a great time. The only thing Herb would let me do is ride the tube with Sage. This baby is cramping my style and my waistline:)

IPR

Oh how I wish I was there this morning! We had to cancel last minute. Andrea got a new house, Cara's working a ton and the you-know-what really hit the fan around here for myself in the last weeks. We were too late to even sell our race places, which were $60 a piece. And too late to get the money back from the house we rented. I talked the owner into getting a little more back than her cancellation policy but we still paid $600 for absolutely nothing... her house is sitting there empty and she made $$$. Her calendar says it's booked this week now, too! So she's making double the money from replacement renters! Have a heart lady. I'd do it for you, stranger.

We were staying here. Right now I 'd be hauling my behind up that mountain and later I'd have a turkey and avocado on an everything from here. And tomorrow I wouldn't be able to walk.

Nothing compares to the run down off that mountain. It's like a roller coaster. I'm longing for it. And I miss Telluride. Ah well, perhaps next year, my dearest IPR?

projecting...

I am loving Travelin'Oma's blog and inspiration.
It inspired today's assignment:


I was unzipping my little girl's sweatshirt when I took note of her icy fingers and toes. She wasn't hot and in need of losing a layer. I was. I've noticed I do this often. I call it projecting, though I don't know if that's quite what that term means or not. No matter, it's natural to project what I am feeling to her. If I am sweaty, she must be as well. If I am cold, likely she is too.

I think we see in people what we are. And when we don't, we're shocked. I see the world not through rose-tinted lenses but through my own eyeballs. Distorted? Not to me.

Hawthorne's Great Stone Face, I think, is whatever one projects onto its expression. Ernest became noble because he was born noble, and worked all his life perfecting such. Ernest saw in the face what he valued. Someone else could have seen something different. Perhaps even power or control and become just that. To me, Hawthorne's Great Stone Face represents our ideals. We become our ideals.

_____

I value kindness, compassion, humor, goodness. And will work all my life perfecting such. Isn't it good news? Isn't it the farthest reach of optimism and good attitude to believe we will eventually become exactly what we want to be? This is positive thinking.

I am positively sure of who I am. And who I am not. Say what you will, world. Come and go. I feel grounded. I feel powerful. I feel strong.

I will not let others control me. Or my own negative thoughts. I affirm to myself aloud, "I am a good mother." "I am a good person." "I'm doing what's right for my family." I have lately had to stand very strong. And I did it. And I'm doing it. And guess what? I am so very proud of that.

I want to become the perfected version of what I see in The Great Stone Face.
I want to see the goodness in everyone else's face.
I want to project positivity and goodness to the world,
onto every face I see, stone or otherwise.

I choose to see the good, even in myself.
I choose a positive attitude.

I choose everything.

_____

How am I actually supposed to become my ideals? Does it just happen? Is it magic? I think it happens just like it did for Ernest in Hawthorne's story. I think Ernest became what he saw in the face because he spent his life
looking for those things in others.

Williams - Violin & School

Sage started her first violin lesson today. I have always loved the violin so I decided that I wanted her to play. We shall see how it goes. The teacher said she did excellent for her first day.

What a big day, not only did she start violin, but she started school today too. Her first day of Kindergarten. Why do they have to grow up so fast? I am going to miss having her around. I told her that and she said that I would be okay because I still had Herbie:) I thought I would cry but Herbie beat me to it and wouldn't stop. He even climbed on the bus and I had to go on and get him. He wanted to go with his sister so bad. I carried him in the house and he screamed at the top of his lungs and then he ran back outside after the bus had gone and ran all the way to the corner crying. He cried for a good 15 minutes and I finally just put him down for a nap. He really loves his big sister!

Williams - Soccer

Sage playing soccer. She wont' play unless she gets to wear a skirt. She looks so cute, how can I resist allowing it. So many people compliment her when she shows up. Luckily, it has underwear attached.

Williams - Swim Party

Herbie and Sage, enjoying the water.

My friend, Rachel made me pose for this special shot. Now I have a picture of me at 5 months pregnant. So for all of you who have been wondering how I look. This is it!

The Darndest Thing

Today's assignments, from Travelin'Oma.



I spent a week this summer with my family on our favorite plot of sand. I've been basking in the sand there since, well, the womb. But this time was different. I felt beautiful. In a swim suit. It was the darndest thing.

It really shouldn't make sense. It's just not logical. I didn't feel this great thirty pounds ago. Or ten years ago. Not even when my rock hard body was rehearsing Pas de Dix eight hours a day. I am (or was at least!) a ballet dancer. I couldn't help but stare in the mirror and compare myself to Kenna. She was perfect. One thing I've always liked is my height. But Kenna had it too. She also did her hair in this amazing french roll for class. I envied the way she wore her dainty little earrings atop her long neck. And she was nice, too. How dare she!

But here I was... basking, frolicking, jumping in the waves and bouncing from sea to shining sea. I don't know what it was that finally clicked inside my head. I think ultimately, it was a choice. I decided I would choose to feel free and beautiful. I decided I would let it all fly. I decided tomorrow may never come. I also realized that nobody cares. Nobody cares! Nobody cares about my muffin top, real or imaginary. They just want to enjoy my company, laugh with me, bask in the sun.

Let me tell you: it was wonderful. I wasted not one minute of the beautiful week tucking and pulling or covering up. Instead, I laid back in the sand. I never combed my salty hair. I got goosebumps drying in the sun. I got goosebumps because I felt like a goddess.

Surely, the process isn't complete. I am still trying to reconcile the photos from the trip. Wait! (I WAS SHOCKED!) That's not what I looked like that week! I was goddess of wind, sand, sea and salt... and that... well that, I'm afraid, is a sea hag.

Oh well, onward and upward. All in it's own time. If this is what aging is: to feel more comfortable and more confident by the day, then I can't wait. It feels really, really good. I like me. I think I'm beautiful.

_________________________________________


Dear friend,

I know you're worried about everyone under the sun. You feel responsible for everyone's happiness and success. Knowing you like I do, I know you will continue to feel responsible no matter how much you tell yourself others are responsible for their own happiness. But I trust your instincts. Maybe you are responsible for some of it, too. Maybe part of your job on earth is to be responsible for their happiness. I trust you will let go when the time is right. I trust your instincts. You seem like you always figure it out. You seem like you always do the right thing. Others' choices are not yours. You seem... like you know that.

33

Happy Birthday to Brandon!
Just what, exactly, does one gift The Professor for his 33rd birthday?
Why this, of course. If I'm not mistaken, I remember Brandon trying to prove the conjecture in his spare time, scribbling in a notebook. Oh, and two $4.50 hanes pocket tees from Walmart. Yes, that's two. I like to go all out, you know.

Abbey Understands.

Today's TravelinOma assignment.


Familiar as the voice of the mind is to each, the highest merit we ascribe to Moses, Plato is that they set at naught books and traditions, and spoke not what men, but what they thought. A man should learn to detect that gleam of light that flashes across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the firmament. Yet he dismisses without notice his thought because it is his. In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts; they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty.

(I first read this paragraph when I was sixteen. I carried a tattered copy of Ralph Waldo Emmerson's Essays the way the preteens carry their copy of Twilight through middle school halls... tucked up tight, close to the heart, like it was the world's last copy and they alone will see it to Mordor.)

Yes! Yes, that's exactly how I feel! That's exactly what I've been thinking while reading all of these essays! Emmerson's words about thoughts of others coming back to us with a certain alienated majesty was at that instant coming back to me with a certain alienated majesty! I had thought this just moments before and here it was on the page. But he wrote it down, over a century ago. It was deja-vu. It was infinite regression. I was dreaming in a dream of a dream of a dream.

_________

Thoreau the spinster-poet. In the year 1850, when Henry reached the age of thirty-three, Emily Dickinson in nearby Amherst became twenty. Somebody should have brought the two together. They might have hit it off. I imagine this scene, however, immediately following the honeymoon:

EMILY (raising her pen)
Henry, you haven't taken out the garbage.

HENRY (raising his flute)
Take it out yourself.

-Edward Abbey, Down the River


Edward Abbey's Down the River is another book I tuck up tight, close to my heart. HENRY, in this excerpt is Henry David Thoreau. He and Emily Dickinson could have hit it off, right? Soul mates even? Well, this excerpt comically shouts, NO! No existential poet, philosopher, romantic will ever find true union. This thought came back to me with a certain alienated majesty. I recognize in Abbey's writing my own loneliness. I recognize in Abbey himself, my own eternal loneliness.

I know who I married and I knew what I was doing when I did it. And I love him more than anything. I even love him for his oblivion to me, of my strandedness. I really believe he's the world's last good man.

I struggled a lot in early adulthood, grappling with this. I clamored around everyone, trying to reach their core. I tried to connect with everyone on the level I wanted. I tried and tried and ultimately gave up. Thoreau chose isolation. Abbey chose rivers. I chose someone I truly appreciate and love. Totally soul-fulfilling? No. Is anything? We get what we can get. Still sometimes, I wonder if I couldn't do just as well wandering my canyon alone.

_______


Those who love it call it "The Canyon"---the canyon--- as if there were no other such topographical feature on the earth's face.

... Meanwhile, there it is, in my own backyard, waiting for me all these millions of years--- the Canyon. I am tempted to write "my canyon," so possessive can that place make on feel. But the canyon is not mine, nor anyone's; the Canyon belongs to us all- and to no one...

...To know the Canyon is to love it? Not necessarily. Crawling up the Tanner Trial some moonlight night in August, without food or water, you will hate the canyon. Bitterly. That pale rim so far above, higher than five Empire State Buildings piled one upon another, seems inaccessible as heaven, remote as salvation. But if you survive, if you make it, you learn not to despise the Canyon but your own fear and foolishness, in being unprepared and return again and again...

... To die in the act of love- every lover's fondest fantasy...

... Even so I hope now, as I have always hoped, that my own last vision, through fading eyes, will not be a window in a strange room, nor even the face of friend or lover, but the spectacle of distant canyon walls, the profile of a mesa against the sky, the gleam of a river far below. Those are the things I want to take with me in my dying moments, if I too must die, and taking them with and within me, all the way, become a part of them.

-Edward Abbey, Down the River.

The Canyon brings me as close as I can get to the last good man alive. He loves it too. Yet like some sick triangle, my jealousy says I love the canyon more than he does. He loves it like money, a means to an end. I love its very fabric, the way it crinkles up when thrown in the wash, then dries crisp in the sun.

I recently handed him my Down the River copy to read. He and Precious took things downstairs for an hour, me feeling jealous all the while, then returned.

BRANDON (gesturing with book)
I think it's good but I don't really get it. I don't have a big enough... what do you call it when there are a lot of big words?

ALANA (furrowing her brow)
Vocabulary?

They didn't even make it to first base... in an hour! I thought our passion for canyons and rivers stood a good chance of building a bridge. But he handed it back. I write it off as another tributary canyon of my soul he will never explore, enjoy, feel the fabric of. I return repeatedly to desert. To wind. To rock.

And that's okay. Abbey understands. I told my Mom once that the Grand Canyon was My Canyon. She laughed and said my father called the Mojave, "Alan's desert." My dad, the drag-ass land surveyor with sand in his blood, understood. The lonely understand. The only problem is, we'll never connect. Only briefly through words and books and poems and second-hand stories of our dead fathers.

...But this is morbid, idle talk. Better to think DO NOT LITTER, neither the Canyon nor the trails, with gum wrappers, beer cans, emergency underwear, frazzled socks, or the bodies of worn-out decrepit useless literary romantics seeking a picturesque death with a view. Dead bodies sprawled along the Hermit Trail would soon become a public nuisance, leading to more Park Service regulations. PERMIT REQUIRED FOR DYING HERE. ADVANCE RESERVATIONS NECESSARY. Therefore let us be discreet, considerate of others, and do our untidy final business well away from any trail, on some little pinched-out dead end ledge where only the lizards will ever find you.

Seeking true unity with a human being has become a personal nuisance. Discreetly and considerate of the Last Good Man, I do my untidy business here. In black on white. Hoping someone is reading. Hoping someone will recognize their own rejected thoughts returning to them with a certain alienated majesty. Hoping someone will understand.

I. Fear. Cruise Ships.

Today's TravelinOma prompt:

-List ten places you'd like to go someday. Write a paragraph about your ideal type of trip. Prompt: "I don't like to _____ when I'm on vacation. I go away so I can _____."


First, let's tackle the obvious. I don't like to bring the kid when I'm on vacation. I go away so I can have sex whenever I want... and that, audibly.

My ideal vacation is simply any vacation not afloat at sea, imprisoned with slobivius americanus. I'm talking to you, Cruise Ship. A cruise is so unappealing to me that I'm prepared to make a list of ten things I'd rather do than board the Love Boat.

1. Stay home.
2. Swallow a chainsaw.
3. Hard Labor in North Korea with Ling.
4. I've always liked coal mines.
5. Give Kim Jong-il (Lil' Kim) a pedicure.
6. Give my father-in-law a pedicure.
7. Skip my own pedicure.
8. Babysit the Duggars.
9. Be a Duggar.
10. Eat the FDA's recommended 8-10 servings of fruits and vegetables a day.


Cruise ships are a virtual petri dish of communicable disease afloat at sea. At sea! Do you know what happens at sea? ... Hurricanes, walls of water that swallow ships whole, sinking. Sinking! I said sinking! If I managed to return home it could be with hoof and mouth, meningitis, staphylococcus, and most certainly an exacerbated case of claustrophobia. Where do they store the buffet food? How is human waste treated, stored or expelled? Have you asked yourself these questions?

Possibly, I could make good use of the gambling available while in international waters. Or the 24 hour bar. And if you watch Primetime Crime, you know you can throw just about anybody overboard and get away with it. (Increase husband's policy, check.) This is as far as my exploding optimism can throw me.

I don't like to suffer and/or die when I'm on vacation. I go away so I can come back.