FuN SAtuRdAy

Yesterday, after many weeks of boring, stay-home-with-the-baby monotony, the cabin fever got to us and we just had to get outta dodge. So we packed everybody up, even the peanut, and headed up to one of our favorite summer hangout spots-- Pine Valley Recreation Area. We love it there because we can play in the creek and it's cooler than St. George and we always have a great time. Additionally, Rob dusted off his GPS (never used birthday present from like 2 years ago) and we did our first geocache. Ben liked it to, but next time we go I've got to have a front carrier or something like it because Strollers don't go there and it's not terribly convenient to carry a baby in our arms (See Rob in the woods)

Anyway, this is the kids attempting a Geocache Commencement pose a la Charlie's Angels. On the way home it rained-- a rare treat in So. U. Summers.

And, the piece de Resistance --instead of movie night we watched Start Trek, the Next Generation on DVR. For those uninitiated in the audience, this is the best of the 4-5 Star Trek Spinoffs. The shows were always clean, usually had a moral, and the character development was amazing. I think it is one of the greatest science fiction television series of all time (or maybe I'm just a nerd). In any event, I thought I'd let my kids watch it, honestly expecting that Amy and Katie would hate it, but they loved it. Love that.

Mulletts

It's not enough that I have body issues and baby issues, I went in to my trusted, very hip hairdresser to have her fix my not so great layered cut that has been irritating me for two months. I tell her specifically to give me the long layers I usually get and fix the layers that give me really great curly hair but are a huge nightmare to straighten. I turn my head for two minutes to help Nate help the baby and when I look back in the mirror, she has cut a MULLETT in my hair. I kid you not. Very short ( I told her long, I swear)top layer, and LONG in the back. It has taken all my restraint in the last week not to complain to everyone I know about this horrible haircut. I really need to get this fixed. Help!!!!!!!!

The Spirit Is Willing . . .

Since long before I had Ben I have been wanting to Run. I get on the treadmill and my mind wants to run. RUN RUN RUN. Instead of the exhilaration I know comes from running when I do this, I experience a lot of pain and discomfort. WAAAAHHH!!!. But, now I am not pregnant and can run. . . NOT. Apparently my joints are not all back in alignment. Yesterday, I went for a walk during which I planned to intersperse jogging moments, thereby buoying my spirits, reminding me of how much I liked to run, burning calories along the way. AuContraire mon frere. At the first jog my pelvic floor started screaming and I knew, it was still too soon. I've got to give it two more weeks until I see my Dr. and get the go ahead. So, yesterday's walk was just a walk. Five miles of walk.
SOME RANDOM OBSERVATIONS ABOUT EXERCISE AFTER TAKING A SABBATICAL FROM IT:
Take water
5 miles is a long way. Even longer when you've left the baby and forgotten your phone.
Have to re-form those callouses-- which start out as blisters
Upper back muscles-- forgot I had them.
If your IPod isn't charged up, it will die-- allowing much needed time for reflection and renewal.
Leave early-- even 8:30 is too late in the So. Utah August sun

The only New Pictures I have

OK, confession time: I have not been taking tons of pictures. I plan to repent. Here are some I found on my Phone.

Interesting Point:

" We have given teens more money, so they can construct their own social and material worlds more easily. We have given them more time to spend among themselves-- and less time in the company of adults. We have given them e-mail and beepers and, most of all, cellular phones so that they can fill in all the dead spots in their day -- dead spots that might once have been filled with the voices of adults -- with the voices of their peers. That is a world ruled by the logic of word of mouth, by the contagious messages that teens pass among themselves." And, might I add, less comment moderation, so to speak. Fewer reality checks, fewer moments of loving , thoughtful interaction with parents. This quote comes from Malcolm Gladwell in his book The Tipping Point.