Swarmageddon

The cicadas have arrived in full force. It's actually pretty awesome. Since they wait 17 years to make their appearance, I thought they deserved some documentation. So here are the pictures that I took this morning:

 An adult, hanging onto his molted nymph shell.

 One of the thousands of molted shells hanging from our trees.

 Our front porch

A newly molted adult cicada--it fell on my front door mat right in front of me.

 

I know, I know. I'm a giant dork. I'm okay with that. I just think this whole process is so interesting! They live in the ground for 17 years, come out all at once, molt, mate, lay eggs, and die. The mating hum alone is awe inspiring. Every day this week it has sounded like a house alarm going off in the distance. It took me two days to realize that it was not, in fact, a house alarm. And apparently my dorkiness will not die with me...Charlotte loves looking at these bugs. We found a nymph climbing up a tree in order to claim his molting spot, and she asked, "Can I pet him?"

 

And just so I don't piss anyone off who wants pictures of my family, as opposed to bugs, here you go:



An Addendum

Yesterday Charlotte was sitting on the potty.  She let out a little poot.  She giggled, smiled, and said, "Sneaky fox."  The only correlation I can find would be that Swiper is called a sneaky fox on Dora.  But does he poot on Dora??

Cute kids

Since I have not posted anything about my children in over a year, I think it's time to record all of the funny things I have written down lately.  If not, the little slips of paper and memories floating around in my mind will be lost forever.  Some of these were on Facebook, but those are hard to recover, so I apologize for the repetition.

1.  We were at the pool a few weeks ago, and Charlotte had a tornado (dive toy) that another boy had commandeered.  She wanted it back but was too afraid to approach him and ask in a voice loud enough to be heard.  Owen realized what had happened and asked the boy very nicely if he could have it back for his sister.  After Owen handed the toy to her, she turned to me and with the most adoring face declared, "Owen's my brother."

2.  Christmastime, 2010:  Owen and I were scrounging through the pantry, pulling out non-perishables to donate to a food pantry.  After putting one too many practical food items in a bag he said, "They need treats too.  That way if they have kids, they can have a treat.  We should put in some money too, so they can buy a house."

3.  November 2011:  During his soccer game, Owen was playing goalie and blocked a kid's kick. He then apologized to the boy who tried to score the goal. This falls in line with his statement early in the season that being goalie seemed kind of mean, "You're always stopping people from being able to score."

4.  July 2011:  I told Owen that exercise helps your body get stronger. His reply, "That's what Allegra does. It helps you stop sneezing and it helps you get stronger."  At the time, he only watched pbs shows that have no commercials. What the heck? Has Allegra embedded subliminal messages in Curious George?
5.  Sometime in the past 18 months:  Owen told Will that he didn't want him to read to him before bed.  Will then declared that he wouldn't get any books read to him at all.  I, wanting to bring peace to their relationship, said, "You should tell Daddy that you're sorry."  Owen's reply:  "But will that help me get books?"

6.  Owen's second day of Kindergarten, as he is getting off the bus, "Mom, I like riding the bus!  I made a new friend on the bus!  We played a game where you hit your foreheads.  Not your own.  You punch each other in the forehead.  It was fun!"  That was the last time he rode the bus.

7.  Fall 2011:  Owen, my cautious, safety-conscious child decided to foil the criminals as we were heading in for the evening and leaning his bike against a tree in our front yard.  He shoved his bike helmet under a pile of leaves and declared with pride, "Hey Mommy, I hid my helmet!  So if anybody tries to take my bike, they won't be able to ride it safely.  They'll fall down and get hurt."  How's that for criminal justice?

8.  Owen and Charlotte watched Curious George 2 a few months ago.  There is a scene where an angry little man is bent on doing his job, no matter that that involves putting a sweet little monkey in handcuffs.  Owen, with lip trembling and righteous anger on his face, said, "If I were there, and that was real, I would punch that man in the bottom!!"

 9.  And speaking of bottoms, around that same time Charlotte had a terrible bout of diarrhea.  After many unhappy trips to the bathroom over a course of two or three days, she was getting better.  I went into the bathroom with her, and she finally had a normal poopy.  She finished, stood up, looked in the potty and said with great excitement, "No more chicken poopy, yay!!!"  Not sure where that comparison came from, but it amused me.

If I've forgotten something funny that I've told you about, please remind me in the comments.

Controversy

I know it's been a year and a half, and I should probably start back with something funny or some cute pictures.  I even thought about writing one of those blogs first and saving what I really want to say for tomorrow.  But that seems disingenuous.  So here we go...

Jesus was deeply misunderstood by his family, followers, and even his disciples.  You see, they thought that he was there to be their literal king.  The Jewish people had been waiting and waiting for their deliverer.  They weren't thinking about a spiritual deliverer, someone to take away their sin and give them eternal life.  They wanted an actual, sword-wielding, government-overthrowing king.  Because, as I understand it, they were suffering.  There were all kinds of wrongs being committed--not the least of which included slavery and persecution.  You can understand why they would yearn for their Messiah to swoop in and bring justice for them.  But that is not what Jesus was there to do.  He was not a political figure.  He is the King and lover of our souls.  He said not one word about changing their government or bringing down slavery or making laws to support His teachings.

Am I implying that those of us who love Jesus should divest ourselves of the right to participate in government?  Absolutely not.  I believe that we should, in fact, must, bring our politics to the throne of God.  Before we go to a voting booth we should steep our decisions in prayer.  But please remember that the button you choose to push in that booth has not been emailed to you by the Lord.  Do not be so foolish to think that you (and those who agree with you) are the only ones who have sought out Jesus' wisdom and received an answer.  We are all wrong sometimes, and it would be arrogant to presume that we are always in perfect alignment with the mind of Christ.  Yet, in regards to a current hot-button issue, some Christians have decided that their opinion is the right opinion.  They have gone so far as to declare that those who don't agree with them are on the side of Satan.  Which is what brings me here today.  I want people to know that politics and religion are not synonyms.  That it is okay to pray and feel led to vote in a way that does not agree with your parents or pastor or best friend.

I intend to vote against NC Constitutional Amendment One.  For those of you who do not live in North Carolina, here is the wording for our May 8th ballot:  Constitutional amendment to provide that marriage between one man and one woman is the only domestic legal union that shall be valid or recognized in this State.  I believe that God created marriage.  I believe that He intended for a man and a woman to become one, to live all of their days together, to refine each other, and to serve as an earthly picture of Jesus' love for us, His bride.  However, not everyone believes that.  If you do not see the Bible as God's truth, if you have not accepted Jesus' sacrifice, you have absolutely no reason to agree with my interpretation of marriage.  And I do not want to force my interpretation upon you. I do not want all of my personal religious beliefs made into laws.  The argument that marriage is God's, that we Christians somehow have a copyright on that word is based entirely on religion.  Yet I have not heard of large numbers of Christians declaring that atheists should not be allowed to marry or that Hindus need to come up with a new word for marriage.

I believe that everyone, no matter their religious beliefs, should be given equality.  And when marriage opens a gateway to special protections, both socially and economically, limiting access to that is effectively saying that not everyone is equal after all.  It seems designed to declare that homosexuals are "other" and their beliefs are worthless.  As a Christian, I do not understand how marginalizing a group of people shows them that we love them.  I yearn to show compassion to them.  My heart breaks for those who feel so completely alienated and unloved.  I feel as if we as a state are holding our stones, ready to throw them.  Ready to say that the majority of us do not care about you.  We care so little about you and your personal desires that we want to change our entire constitution, making it impossible for you to ever enter into a civil union or marriage or anything that will afford you the same rights that we, the heterosexuals, afford.  We will close our eyes to the sins that we commit.  We do not wish anyone to make a law that will punish us if we gossip to our friends, or that will limit our economic freedoms if we fail to tithe.  Every time that we put our selfish desires first, we will pretend that this is not a sin that we fall to every single day.  Because it is so much easier to focus on the sins of someone else.

In my mind, it does not matter whether you personally believe homosexuality is right or wrong.  This is an issue of love.  This is me, loving my neighbor as myself.

The Whole Truth

When a forward appears in an inbox, it rarely has an author. Some Joe Schmo is sitting at his computer, spouting off nonsense based on something he heard some dude saying at the other pump while he was at the 7-Eleven. He mixes that with something he heard from his crazy Uncle Bubba, and some news story he half-listened to while he had a conversation with his wife about the bills. He's not brave or stupid enough to sign it. And now half of the nation is devouring every word. Not only are they soaking up his half-baked ideas, they are clicking the forward button and sending these ideas off to everyone they've ever known.

Gossip sent by email or Facebook is just as evil as the gossip that comes right from your lips. But the fact is that most people hit the forward or post button and don't think twice about it. They don't care if it's accurate. It doesn't even cross their mind that they are creating an exponential increase in the spread of lies. They "don't have time" to research anything. Even if research just means going to Snopes and typing two words in the search box. Here's a quote from one of the researchers at Snopes:

"For a good many people, it's not important whether things are true or not. It reflects what people want to believe. It reflects a worldview. It's their way of passing along things that concern them. Things they're afraid of. Like it could be, 'I don't care if Richard Nixon really did this. It sounds like something he would have done.' A lot of people are unwilling to acknowledge anything that contradicts their worldview. So telling them it's false doesn't necessarily slow them down. That's how urban legends get started for the most case."

I've gotta get off my soapbox. I have dirty dishes to wash.

Chicago--A Pictorial Review

Outdoor sushi. Yummy. Will being irritated that I am taking his picture while eating, making us look like crazy tourists.

Me, at the planetarium, looking like a total dork using the "Lunar Gravity Simulator." I have not personally been to the moon, but I imagine that this is not remotely similar.

Poor statue lady, getting shot in the face all day long by streams of water.

Proof that aliens have indeed landed.

The first of eight attempts to take a self portrait. The others were awful. Particularly the one where I decided to close my eyes until right before Will took the picture. I look like an alien.
This is the photo we texted Owen, just to let him know that we were still alive, even if Daddy was going to come home headless.
This photo does not do justice to the enormity of this fountain. I wanted to frolick in it. Since no one else was frolicking, I decided that was probably a bad idea.

October Adventures

The first week of October was exceptional. Princeton defines exceptional as "Far beyond what is usual in magnitude or degree." I'd say that fits.

On October 1st, during quiet time, Owen filled a gallon-sized ziploc with water and carried it to his room--about four times. I'm not sure what the plan was. I think he was trying to create something. A moat? An island? A water park? Praise the Lord for the rubber-backed rug that was resting under his drowning block creation.

On October 4th, I was sitting quietly at my kitchen desk, writing. It was nap/quiet time. Owen appeared beside me. I did not speak to or look at him (because it's quiet time and I try to avoid giving him attention when he's supposed to be in his room). Finally he said quietly and with a note of trepidation, "Mom, look at me." All I could do was stare. He had given himself a haircut. A very BAD haircut:When I asked him what he had done, he handed me this:

We were about to leave for swim lessons, so there was nothing I could do. As soon as his swim instructor saw him, she laughed. She suggested I put some gel in his hair and get him in an emo band. By this time, every glance in his direction made me want to giggle. His daddy didn't quite see the humor in the situation when he got up from sleeping off his night shift. We immediately left for a family trip to Great Clips, where the stylist very seriously explained to Owen that in the future, he will need a license to cut hair.

October 5th: tree removal. The kids were both mesmerized by the equipment, workers, and noise. Here they are, literally hanging out of the window.

October 6th: camping in the backyard. I love camping. I love the night sounds, the cool weather that makes you snuggle down into your sleeping bag, the campfire. Since camping with a 20 month old is not the easiest thing in the world, we decidied to make use of our very own piece of the great outdoors. Charlotte went to sleep as usual in her crib, the monitor went in the kitchen window, and we sat by the lake, roasting marshmallows. Owen held the flashlight under his chin and told "scary" stories. He and Daddy spent the night soaking up the camping goodness, while I went back in to make sure the baby didn't burn down the house. I can't wait until she's old enough to come join in the fun.

October 7th: Dixie Classic Fair. Petting zoo. Pig races. Demolition derby (where Owen and Will got sprayed with dirt--does it get more awesome than that?). Fried candy bar. Cotton candy. Ferris wheel. I think I may start a countdown for next year.

Proof of Life

September was not lost. I did indeed manage to capture a few moments on camera. We had quite a few gorgeous days, one of which compelled me to drive to Bojangles and gather impromptu picnic provisions. What says a picnic like fried chicken? Charlotte can be seen here scavenging for bag fries:
Another fun activity: making a wooden car with your dad. Will is really interested in woodworking right now. And I adore watching him involve his little boy in that new hobby.
And here is the activity that consumed many, many hours of our month: Owen is now an incredibly capable swimmer for a four-year old. And so proud of himself. Driving 30 minutes every day for six weeks sounds insane, but it was absolutely worth it. Too bad Charlotte didn't love it quite as much as he did. This was the face that she made every single day:

This face was usually followed by the pitiful, Why Are You Torturing Me? cry. However, she now floats like a champ. I have no doubt that if she were to accidentally fall in the lake, she would pop up like a tiny, screaming rubber ducky.

Busy, Busy, Busy

It's September, and I have not a single blog post or photograph to my name. What on earth am I going to put on my "2010 in Review" Calendar for the month of September? Tomorrow, the camera must be dug out from the pile of papers on the desk and used to prove that we did indeed exist during the month of September.

School has started, church activities are in full swing, the kids' six week (daily) swimming lessons are nearing their end, and hopefully we are finding a rhythm. Charlotte is not at all sure about wandering the house without her brother from 9 to 12 each morning. She prefers being out and about, as long as no one tries to talk to her. How is it possible to have two children with entirely different social dispositions? Since he has been able to sit in an upright position, Owen has been entertaining everyone who crosses his path. Charlotte, however, hides her head on my shoulder, in my side, the crook of my knee. But take the people away and out comes the personality--squeezing her nose to try to make snorting sounds, puckering her lips for kisses from her daddy, laughing hysterically at her brother, calling everything "silly." I almost want to store video proof on my phone, just to show people that she is not all solemn eyes and serious face.

Owen is loving school. He is convinced he is the world's greatest swimmer. And cannot get over his excitement at having a boy his exact age living right next door. He would ask his new friend to move in if we would let him. And of course he is still producing quotable moments by the bucketful:

Me: I'm going to go put in my contacts and then we'll leave for school.
Owen (after a pause): Then you won't look so weird with your glasses on.
Me: I don't look weird with my glasses on!
Owen: Well, I think you do.
Me: I like my glasses!
Owen (apologetic smile + shoulder shrug): Okay.

On a totally different note, if you find a Leapfrog globe at a consignment or yard sale and have any children, please buy it. We got one for Owen and I put new batteries in two days ago. You point the attached pen at any spot and it tells you the name (plus the population, area, music, etc if you are so inclined). He has been randomly pointing at places for a couple of days, off and on. I was pretty sure he was absorbing absolutely no info from it, until today. We were in front of a building today that had an outline of Mexico (with a man's face and body attached) drawn on a window. Owen looked at it and declared, "That man's made out of Mexico." Holy canoli! That was the best $8 I ever spent.

Summer Fun

Our best friends from Norfolk visited a week ago. If I could make them move to North Carolina, believe me, I would. We had such a great time. If you are interested in the details of our fun weekend, she's already taken care of that for me here. But I believe the picture above won't be found there, and I just love the image of these two being hatched.

I found Charlotte in the den playing the other day, fireman hat perched upon her head. How can you not run for the camera? She's even color-coordinated.

Not only is Charlotte a capable firefighter, but she also takes home safety very seriously. Protection goggles aren't just for Bob the Builder anymore. Consider getting some for your children too. Forks are sharp.

And last but not least, the picture with a real story. Those spots on Owen's nose are not blueberry juice or dirt or stray boogers. No, those are battle wounds. I knocked him down. The weather has been really manageable over the last couple of days and we decided to take advantage of it after dinner on Friday. We put the kids in the paddle boat and floated off. We talked to the neighbors who were out in their boat, watched some turtles, looked for fish. It was great. Until it was time to get out of the boat. Charlotte and I got out first. Since I was having to run after Miss Look at Me I Can Walk Now, I didn't grab the rope to tie the boat down. Will finally got the boat back to the dock, and Owen pulled his upper body out, but decided it would be a fun time to just hang out there for a bit. The boat started slowly floating away, and Will began firmly telling Owen to get out. He did not oblige. In my desire to keep two eyes on the baby, I decided that I would make quick work of the situation and grab Owen's legs, assuming he would sort of wheelbarrow himself fully onto the dock. But no. That's not what he did. He face-planted into the wood decking. I felt awful.

The next day, he asked me somewhat out of the blue if I ever make mistakes. My answer: "Of course I do, everyone makes mistakes." His reply: "You mean like yesterday, when you and daddy made me fall and hurt my face."

Independence

First, a pictorial update:

Will's new favorite activity
Charlotte's new favorite activity--she's about to stand (and is even walking a little now!)

Owen's new favorite activity

So many little stories...I keep thinking, "Must right them down." And then I get caught up in the grocery shopping, kitchen cleaning, butt wiping business. Better late than never.

We've been in our new house for a little over a month now, and that seems to have ushered in a new sense of independence for Owen. For about a year or so, Owen has been able to tell time. Not down to the minute, but the boy knows his hour hand. He had to learn because he wanted to get up far too early for my taste. I decided 7:00 am was reasonable, so that's the time I taught him, "Big hand at the top, little hand at the 7." For many months that meant that little feet slapping up the stairs of our old house were my morning alarm. Several months ago, he learned how to operate the tivo. He is allowed to watch two tv shows in the morning. That bought me another hour. Fantastic.

Upon moving here, however, he decided that he could do far more than turn on a few tv shows. He could make breakfast. A few weeks ago I came downstairs to the sight of a cherubic face covered in fruit juices. The half pint of blueberries...empty, container laid waste upon the floor of the den. A half dozen strawberries...gone. A dozen gigantic cherries...missing, save for the tell-tale pits lurking at the bottom of the cup that Owen had poised upon his protruding paunch. Virtually every piece of fruit in our refrigerator was consumed. That night I locked the fridge. The next morning I went downstairs, feeling smug. My son was not deterred. This time he examined the pantry for his breakfast options. And what did he find? A box of Cheezits and some raisins. Thankfully, he has not learned to operate the stove, otherwise he may have made himself a pan of brownies. We then started pulling the pantry tightly shut (it sticks, he can't open it). After a week or so we decided he had forgotten about his breakfast making skills, so we stopped locking away the food.

That was all well and good until a few days ago. The first thing I saw upon walking into the kitchen was THREE open containers of yogurt, lined up neatly at the edge of the counter. I peer down into them, realizing that they are all half empty...odd. I walk into the den and find Owen sitting on the couch with a cup full of yogurt and a very tiny straw. He looks up and says, "Look! I made Rainbow Yogurt!" I am surprised that he had not popped blood vessels in his eyes trying to suck yogurt through a tiny, swirly straw. I could do nothing but laugh and give him a spoon.

Unfortunately his free-wheeling days of independence will come to an end in a few weeks. Preschool will put an end to Mommy sleeping until 8:15. There's always Saturday.

Strawberry Picking

I know, I know, strawberry picking season ended already. And these pictures are indeed two months old, but now that I'm feeling blog-motivated, I wanted to break out these photos that never made it on. Of course the battle of picking with the two little ones was two-fold: Charlotte only wanted to pick the tiny green ones and Owen wanted to eat everything he picked. We did manage to take home plenty, most of which are already long gone.

Beautiful Things

I've been planning on posting a picture of this chair for weeks, but it just kept getting pushed to the bottom of the to-do list. Since I have about ten million boxes to pack in the next two weeks, maybe I should have pushed it to the bottom of today's list too, but I just couldn't resist. I'm so proud of my handy husband. He made this. I think it's gorgeous.
This is the picture that actually motivated me to post today. I was on the verge of tears (hypothetically speaking) watching her happily use her fork to put pieces of strawberry in her mouth. She also ate some green beans and a chicken nugget. Many of you may be reading this and thinking, "Who cares, my kids eat that stuff too." But for Charlotte, this is a BIG deal. We have a long way to go when it comes to meal time, but this is such a huge step in the right direction.

While Charlotte was busy slowly eating her lunch, Owen occupied himself in the dining room with his craft box. Now that he understands what, "Don't touch anything with your fingerpaint-covered hands" means, letting him create with paints is such a great way to spend a hot summer afternoon.

And my last beautiful thing...watching my children enjoy books. I love books. I have loved books my whole life. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting in my great-grandparents' house looking at my books. I can almost smell the library that I used to go to as a kid. I can still remember the feeling of excitement at going into a bookstore, trying to decide what book or two I was going to buy with my meager savings. And now I get to watch my kids fall in love with books too.

The Burglar

Owen and I were having a fabulous time pretending. We were riding an elevator that let us out on various themed floors. There was the one full of beads, the one filled with water, and the one with the ice cream machine. Unfortunately, on the last floor, there also lurked a burglar. He was in the bathroom. I did not become aware of his presence until Owen declared, "Oh no, there's a burglar." He promptly ran into the bathroom and made an "umph" sound. I knew that this was the sound of a burglar being tackled by a four year old. Herein lies a sticky situation. We have tried to teach Owen that fighting and hitting are not the answer to life's frustrations. However, were he to come across a real-life burglar in his bathroom, I would not particularly want him to try to explain to the burglar that it makes him sad when his house is robbed and his privacy is violated. This seems to be a more complicated conversation than I need to have with my four year old, so I decide to remain silent and expressionless over the attack on the burglar. Owen, on the other hand, rarely chooses the silent route. He marches back into the living room, looks at me with great self-assurance and declares, "There was a sign beside him that said you could knock him down."

Hawaii

The post you've been waiting for, the one that makes you hate us for going to Hawaii instead of sending you. Two weeks ago Will and I went for our ten year anniversary, and it was absolutely wonderful. So instead of waxing poetic, I'm just going to post pictures.

Day 1: Settled in. Rented snorkel gear. Walked around Waikiki. Toured Pearl Harbor. This is Will right before he stole the submarine:

Day 2: Toured the North Shore (in a convertible). Side note: God does answer small prayers like, "Gee, it sure would be nice if they'd let us have one of those shiny little convertibles instead of the crappy economy car we're paying for."
Byodo Temple with the Ko'olau Mountain Range in the background:
Laie Point: Waimea Valley Audobon Center and the fabulous waterfall that you can swim under. That's me getting slammed by the falling water:

Day 3: Hiked to Manoa Falls. Like walking through another universe. Ferns as big as my house. Crazy vines wrapping around towering trees. Stunning. Later that day I got my Mother's Day massage. Sorry, no photos.

Day 4: Scenic drive on Tantalus Road. The lookout near the top was amazing. This is the view of Diamond Head crater: Spent the rest of the day at the Polynesian Cultural Center. The luau was made complete by a giant pit cooked pig. Mmmmm. Here we are with very full bellies:

Day 5: Snorkeling at Lanikai Beach. Followed by kayaking off Kailua Beach to Flat Island.

Day 6: Hiked to the top of Diamond Head. The view from the top is beautiful. I didn't really know the water could be so many different shades of blue:

A Jumble of Thoughts

No, I have not given up on my blog. I'm still here. And I have lots of little things to say:

1. We are buying a house. As of today, we are officially under contract to buy a wonderful house in Lewisville, North Carolina. I am controlling my urge to mentally decorate.

2. Charlotte is my sweet baby girl, she is almost weined, and I might have to throw myself a dairy party. This is particularly relevant since I managed to eat something dairirific during the past few days and had a diaper-rashed, screaming little ball of fun on my hands for a few hours this evening.

3. Owen is hilarious. I have told this story several times during the past two weeks, so please forgive me, Will, for having to hear it again. I just need to write it down so I don't forget. We were headed into Roly Poly for lunch one day. There was a sign at the door that showed a man holding a briefcase with a big circle and a slash through it. Underneath it read, "No Soliciting." Owen asked what the sign meant, so I explained, "It means you can't sell anything here." We then went inside, the family sat by the door, and I went up to the counter to order. Soon thereafter, a man entered. He was just a regular guy, no briefcase. However, Owen immediatly looked at him and firmly stated, "You can't sell stuff here."

4. Jesus was not a card-carrying member of your political party. Please, please, please stop acting like he was. Intelligent, devout, loving people can be found on both the Republican and Democratic sides of the fence. Love God, love others. That's it. If you put your focus on those things, I'm pretty sure you'll have less time to spout off hateful rhetoric.

Risk Assessment

Here's a post I actually started back in January:

In high school I rode a Sky Coaster. It's one of those ridiculously tall bungee/swing things. I thought it was fabulous.

After my freshman year of college I spent the summer in Santa Cruz. I went spelunking while there. Shimmied through holes deep in the ground that you couldn't fit your whole body through unless you were flat on your belly, arms straight in front of you. Fantastic. Probably fairly stupid, but one of the most exhilerating things I've done.

And now I'm scared of skiing. I've been on five different ski trips, sometimes skiing multiple days during those trips, and still the thought of strapping two boards on my feet and heading down a mountain makes me nauseous. Seriously, I'm feeling a little queasy even as I type this. Maybe it's because I'm older and my sense of mortality has kicked in (a friend told me that your brain doesn't develop that far until you are in your twenties), or because I have children and don't want to fly head first into a chairlift pylon and leave them with a vegetable for a mother, or because I'm just a weanie now. Despite my trepidation, I will continue to go on these trips. One, because I love my husband. Two, because I do enjoy myself after I make it down the mountain a few times. Three, because I am determined to get better and stop being a weanie. For example, I want to learn to stop screaming "Aughh!! Aughh!! Watch out!! Watch out!!" whenever I am careening out of control down a tough stretch. Better yet, I want to learn to stop careening out of control. In the mean time, here are some pictures to remind me that being in the snow is indeed wonderful.