Conversation with a four year old

Riley: "Nanny, did you know that you are a grown up?"
Me: "Who told you I was grown up?"
Riley: "Aunt Jan told me. She said you have a job and everything. And that you are old."
Me: "How old do you think I am?"
Riley: "Old."
Me: "Yes, I've been figuring out I'm a grown up."
Riley: "That means you have to move out of your room, and live in your own house, and get married."
Me: "Get married? Who do you think I should get married to?"
Riley: " I don't know, but you should also have a baby."
Me: "Wow, do you really think so?"
Riley: "Yes, that's what grown ups do.... Nanny, lets go jump on the tramp."
Me: "Okay."

You know you are a grown up when the four year olds start coming at you with marriage and children advice. Maybe it's time to get serious about this stuff.

A Veritable Smorgasbord

Recently Rachel, Nick, Baby Soren and I had the enjoyment of visiting the Eastern Idaho State Fair. Here are some of the highlights.

Baby Soren petting a bunny
A Goat
Baby Soren and Rachel saying hello to a cow
A napping goat
Soren and I feeding a baby goat


The Fair was not all "goat"-centric though. We also ate delicious food. Looked at tiny houses. Explored the rides and toys, and again ate delicious food. It was a delight that I look forward to each year.

The Case of the Missing Missionary

So, Rusty has been serving his mission in Houston Texas for a little over a month now. He left August 27th. He was in the MTC for a couple of weeks and went down to Texas on September 17th. The last letter we got from him was September 15th, the Monday before he went down to Houston. There are so many issues with this. Because I know he has arrived there safely. The mission president sent us a lovely letter telling us so. So why is he not writing? Is he too busy? Is he miserable and doesn't want to tell us about it. Is he so happily thriving in Texas that he has no time to for his wretched family back home. What is the deal Rusty! Write us a stinking letter. We must know how you are doing. WE MUST!

Tribute to Lorianncumr...

Ahh... Loriann. You should post here more often. But I'm glad you invited me to contribute, because I just did.

You're great. I can't wait to hear your witty remarks tomorrow at Documentary Night.

Why I love Oscar

Oscar came to live with me 3 and 1/2 years ago right before my 21st birthday. He is fabulous. He is really noisy and makes a lot of talkative grumbly noises. He loves kids, especially babies. Mostly he likes to lick them because they taste delicious. I love Oscar because he loves me and everyone in my family. He is always excited whenever anyone comes home. He is most excited when I come home. His favorite thing to do is go for walks by the canal, which we do daily. We also enjoy snuggling while watching television. He also is a bed hog, but I don't mind. These are just a few of the reasons why I love Oscar.

Best thing about my backyard... the trampoline

While there are many things to love about my home, the thing I like most is the backyard. I love the grass, the garden, the many many trees my father has planted over the years (it increases property value). We have a lot of room to play games and have water gun fights. I like to lay in the grass with both dogs and look up at the sky, pondering the many meanings of life. But by far the BEST part of my backyard is the trampoline. The trampoline was given to us by a man who lives down the road and is a friend of my father. He is old and his children grew up and didn't use it anymore. We got it when I was about 10. It is fabulous. You would think that at the age of 24 I wouldn't still love the tramp as much as I do, but who doesn't love jumping through the air? I am still the person in our family who uses it the most. The person who uses it the most after me? My dad.

Beggars Can't Be Choosers

While driving to work the other day I spotted this young man on the side of the road with a sign that read, "Spaceship broke down, need parts, may the force be with you." He wasn't making eye contact with anyone, and I don't know if he was making a lot of spare change that particular morning. It was more entertaining to me than most of the, "Lost Soul, God Bless" signs, so I decided to take his picture. He found this comical and though he tried to contain himself, couldn't. I thought about giving him a dollar for the sheer fact that he had posed for my picture taking, but then noticed he had a new case for the guitar he was carrying and must have had enough money to pierce his lip and his ears,so I figured he was doing okay. I would save my dollar for something else. And just write about the guy who was begging for my with a spaceship sign.

The Fighting Three's

The terrible two's have dissolved away for my cousin Riley into a new stage of life. I don't know how else to describe it but, the fighting three's. Being raised predominatley by a single father she is surrounded by quite a lot of testosterone, and innudated by a lot of boxing and wrestling type television programs. It is no wonder that in the middle of playing something like 'shopping cart' she will turn to me and say, "let's get down on the carpet and fight."

"I don't feel like fighting right now. Why don't you go see what Rusty is doing?" Armed with a pillow Riley is now on the hunt for my brother Rusty to play a fighting game.

Sometimes when Riley is totally relaxed, just about to go to sleep she makes a face. It is her baby face, still chubby and round with her mouth closed and her eyes concentrated. I miss this face, as it is the one I spent months looking at and taking care of. She never talked back or squealed at me, never invited me to fight with her on the carpet. She was just a little bundle of wiggling joy who I was the boss of and got to feed canned baby food and graham crackers to daily. I miss that face.

Riley has now resurfaced with Rusty behind her, her pink sundress flouncing around her as she prepares her battle stances. She smacks him with a pillow. They roll to the ground locked together in a serious wrestling move.

Riley goes in for the next round with the bucket that the blocks are housed in on her head. It is her helmet. I am cheering out "go bucket head!" as she charges Rusty, but the 'bucket head' comment was too hilarious for her and she collapses in his arms in a fit of giggles. "Nanny, come fight with us", she laughs. As she removes the bucket from her head she stands up and SLAMS Rusty with a pillow. I refuse to fight with them on this day.

My name is ART.