I'm Going to Die

I did another slot canyon this Saturday.

We started out hiking in this lovely wash.  Nice and flat.  Soft sand.  Pretty autumn leaves.  I was thinking, "This is great!"

And then we went up.

Up a mountain.

A steep one.

**I am one of those people who pretends that I'm brave, but really, I'm a big fat chicken.

I was dying. 

Not of pain or exhaustion, but I really thought I was going to die at one point.  I was stretched as far out against the rock face as I could, trying to find a foothold while keeping my hands clenched against the rock.  I could feel myself slipping.  Oh man, it was bad.

And then we had to go down.

Down is even worse. 

You see how far you could fall the ENTIRE time.  Not just if you turn around and look down. 

I don't think I'm going to go canyoneering again in the fall.  Rappelling into a chest high section of water that was freezing cold is not my idea of a swell time.

**we also ran into this lovely group of men from CA there for a bachelor party.  Their favorite topic?  Rape.   And how funny it is.  Oh and let's not forget the f-bomb.   Because conversations are always so intellectually stimulating when that one is thrown in there.   I was definitely getting the "creeper" vibe.  We let them go in front of us. 

So I don't sound like a Debbie Downer, I did enjoy myself for part of the time.  And I do feel a sense of pride at tackling 190 foot rappels and big huge mountains.   But I don't think adrenaline rush sports will ever be my cup of tea.  I'd rather crochet.  (Grandma alert!)

We made it out of the canyon at 6:00, just when it was starting to get dark, (we started at 8:00 am).  Glade had locked his keys in our car, which was at the top of the canyon.  Glade's car was at the bottom and we were supposed to get a ride in it back to our car.  Guess who we flagged down to give us a ride?  Bachelor party guys.  We made Aaron ride with them.

Goat Hijacking

**this post is a crazy as the title sounds.  Hopefully I can tell it as well as it happened.

I helped coach a Parks & Rec 4/5th grade girls soccer team this fall.   Today was our team party.  As luck would have it, our star player got hurt playing tag.  No injuries during the entire season, and at our pizza party she's out with a bum knee. 

I had told her mom I would take her home.  As we were driving up to her house she was pointing out the goats to Cade and Jackson. 

I helped her up to her house

**first I had to ask her if her dog would bite me.  Apparently its something he likes to do.  She looked around, saw that he wasn't there, and told me I would probably be okay.  Probably.

and helped her hobble inside.  I turned around and saw

a goat. 


Two goats.


On the roof of my car.


My minivan. 


My first thought was that they had leaped from the ground to the top of the roof.  How in the heck did they get up there?

My second was, "Crap.  I'm kind of afraid of goats.  And there's two on my roof.  And three around my car.  How am I going to get in?"


**I almost went back in to ask her how you get goats off a car.


I could see my kids freaking out through the windshield.  Mama bear instincts kicked in and scary goat or no scary goat I ran as quick as I could to the side with the least amount of goats and hurried inside.

The goats started walking down the windshield.  I thought, "Oh.  That's how they got up.  Makes much more sense that being able to jump 6 feet in the air.  I don't know why I thought that."  I did what any sensible person trying to get goats off their car would do and honked the horn.  That just scared them and they ran back up. 

**I now know what Santa's reindeer sound like when they land on a roof.

The only thing left to do was back out.  Slowly.  I didn't want to hit the other goats around.  The other two ran down the windshield and we were home free.




I wonder if Progressive's comprehensive car insurance covers goat damage?  Hopefully.

Red

If any of you have ever taken the color code personality test, then me telling you that I am a red will make sense.

I'm bossy.

I like to have things "my way" or its "the highway"

I get things done.  And fast too.

I HATE feeling slowed down.  Aaron is not allowed to touch me while I'm doing things, especially when I'm cooking. 

I'm pragmatic.

And a teensy little bit stubborn.





Cade is my mini me.

Heaven help us.


side note: Today he insisted that Jackson wear Cade's red shirt.  When I put it on, he clapped his hands and said in a really high voice, "OH!  Really cute!"

 

Cade flying a Blackhawk.  We start 'em young here.  

He works hard too

I get stuck in this mentality of thinking:

"I have the worst job in the world.  I wish I got to leave and go to work and then come home and only have the kids for a couple of hours with a helper around before they went to bed."

Aaron went on a trip to Washington state last week.  He was gone Sunday through Thursday.  I spent the whole time thinking, "He owes me big."

We got into a fight on Saturday.  It was a "I do more than you, therefore I deserve to be treated better.  You have no idea what I go through."

You know those types of fights.  The selfish ones.  Where no one wins.

This week I'm trying harder to understand that Aaron's job is hard too.  That I get a two hour break in my day when the kids take a nap.  That I don't have to get up at 5:30 in the morning to drive to Vegas for some accounting classes and not get home til 6:00.  That I can work out whenever I want because I don't have any place to be, rather than giving up my "me time" in the evening to do it. 

I get to sit outside in lovely 80 degree weather (can I just say that we can finally sleep with the windows open because it gets down to 50?) and read a book on my kindle while my kids throw pomegranates in the air or push each other in the stroller.  He's sitting on his bum all day, staring at a computer screen.  I'm playing volleyball or coaching soccer.

Hopefully I remember that the next time I'm thinking that he needs to do more.  Because its probably more likely that I need to do more and be less selfish.

Email

So this is what Cade's been doing when he tells me:

"I'm just going to check my email really fast"

I have no idea how he found that background.

Probably from Tim Burton's dream or something.

Life After High School

Last weekend was MVHS's homecoming. 

We played our "arch-rivals" Virgin Valley and easily handled them. 

**except I must give them props for an especially creative sign I saw which was, "The best of blue and gold is green." 

My sister Danielle is a senior, and was voted as one of the Homecoming queen candidates. 

It brought me back. 

Back to my senior year.

**no, I wasn't homecoming queen.

I thought I would be.

Everyone that I knew came up to me saying, "I voted for you!"

**usually, when you can get at least 6 people to vote for you including yourself, you're golden.  Especially as a senior, when you have 6 chances to be homecoming royalty. 

I expected it.  Was expecting to hear my name announced. 

I didn't.

I heard my sister's instead.

**we are 18 months apart, and very similar in looks, personality, and abilities.  I always felt that as the older of the two, I needed to be better.  In everything.  Except cheerleading.  She could have that all to herself. 

I had never been homecoming royalty.  And I was okay with it, as long as my sister wasn't either.  This year, was her first year on the float. 

I was crushed.

All my insecurities about not being enough.  Pretty enough.  Popular enough.  Nice enough.  Just enough...seemed magnified.

To make it even worse, the crowning of the royalty happened on my 18th birthday. 

I got to sit in the crowd, playing my trumpet in the band (hello, again, magnifying my loserness) while my sister walked out in a pretty dress announcing to all the world how wonderful and how much better she was than me.

**I know she never thought that.  I, in my own mind with my own fears, put that image on her.

The very next year, she was homecoming queen. 

I was still so angry and bitter about it. 

Fast forward 6 years, and my little sister is again a homecoming queen candidate. 

Nothing.  No insecurities, no worries, nothing.  Just genuine happiness that she wouldn't have to feel the same feelings of doubt about her worth as I did.

**but she still did.  I guess there was a campaign going to have all 3 Danielles as homecoming queen candidates.  She felt the only reason she was picked was because of her name.  Grass is always greener.

The wake up call for me was the high school ends.  And (hopefully) insecurities and fears and feelings of inadequacy associated with high school end too.  (new ones take their place but...c'est la vie) at least we don't crown homecoming moms.  Gah.  Can you even imagine?

Anti Skinny Dipping

Jackson really really really wanted to take a bath.  I walked into the bathroom to check on Cade and this is what I found. 

Apple Picking

I was doing so good writing in this blog...for about a month, and then my gung-ho-ness fizzled.

Back on the wagon.

We went and picked apples in the middle of September.  I spent the next week canning applesauce and pie filling.  I'm slightly proud of all the jars, but also feel like the amount of time I spent, I should have gotten millions of quarts, instead of only 21. 

 Don't let Jack Jack's clean face fool you.  He was all over this picking apples and playing in the dirt thing.  Except he thought they were balls...and tried to put rotten ones in our bucket. 

Cade loved the paddle boat they had.