Ooo eeee ooo...

...I look just like Buddy Holly. -Weezer

Within each of us, ofttimes...

...there dwells a mighty and raging fury.- "The Incredible Hulk" title card.

Pondering Pappy Part 2:

I dont' know if this perplexing behavior is humorous or ornery.

With four adults in the house and three growing boys, we put away a lot of food.
Thank goodness for Costco and their glorious 12 cup bags of cheese and 2lb bags of carrots. I especially appreciate the resealable ziploc tops. Imagine, if you will, lifting a bag of cheese from the fridge. You grab it from where? The top by the ziploc seal right?

MISTAKE.

Chances are, there is a secret hole in the bottom of the bag.



Pappy hates resealable bags. So he rips a hole...
I like to imagine his frustration with the seal looks something like this...



Beware. If you pick up the 12-cup cheese bag from the handy ziploc top, you'll most likely end up with a shredded-cheddar carpet on the floor. Courtesy of the Incredible Hulk-like Pappy.

I love my dad.

Whatever our souls are made of...

...his and mine are the same. -Emily Bronte

Each day, every day, I complete my ensemble with one vital accessory.
Do you know what it is?



A hair tie.
Or two.
On my wrist.
It's a habit.
Even if my hair is already up, I need extra hair ties, just in case.

The other day Josh and I were out, just the two of us. This meant I could have grown-up hair. Long, curly, not in a pony-tail. I felt HOT. Until it was literally hot. Too hot for grown-up hair. Luckily, I had my hair tie wristlet and could sweep my hair off my neck. But alas, the hair tie snapped. Grrr.

"Here," Josh said.
I looked down at his outsretched hand, there in his gorgeous palm was a perfect black hair tie.
I took it gingerly from his rough and callused hand and looked at him quizically.
"Don't worry," he said, "I've an extra if it breaks."
And there, on his wrist was a second hair tie.
I looked up into his beautiful blue eyes and said,
"I love you."

See...soul mates.

All aboard the choo choo train, all aboard the choo choo train...

...all aboard the choo choo train all aboard, all aboard- "Choo Choo Soul" Disney

But we aren't boarding a choo choo train.
Nope.
We're boarding... the tickle train.



I'm not always proud of my mothering abilities. I am proud of my bedtime routine.

Brush teeth (they all share one toothbrush. It's electric. They fight over it. Don't judge, at least they are brushing their teeth).
Pajamas (Cole, puts on workout shorts but then takes them off to sleep only in underwear. Finn sleeps shirtless, even when it's freezing and Cash throws a fit because he doesn't want to change clothes again, so often times he sleeps fully clothed).
Three books (each midget picks one).
Scripture Power (song and then scripture reading).
Family prayers (Cash has said it 7 nights in a row. Why fight it?).
Mommy's one woman show (Three songs. Current playlist: "Ice inside your soul," "Alligator Song," "Hey Jude").

That's it.
Light's out.
But sometimes... they won't simmer down.
So I call everyone to board the tickle train.

The only bummer is that we are a few children short so the train cannot curve back around to reach mommy. So mommy's always the caboose.

Curse you vasectomy.
I needed two more for my tickle train.

Into the great wide open...

...under them skies of blue. -Tom Petty

Did I ever tell you about my first Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers concert?
No?
That's another blog post.


(That's not a cool camera effect, it's me taking a picture through the screen)

The house was quiet and still. As I've told you before, that's a bad thing. It means the kids are doing something NAUGHTY! I went room to room, checking under beds (where I've previously found Cash eating Pappy's Girl Scout cookies), behind sofas (where I've found Cash cutting up $1 bills with safety scissors), and in the food storage room (where I've found Cash unwrapping and licking every sucker in an old Halloween candy bin). Anyway, I was searching and searching and could not find Cash anywhere. I started to panic. I'd looked on the playground and in the sand pit, nada. I walked through Momo's piano room and that's when I spotted him.

Standing quietly on the retaining wall.
Looking far off in the distance at...I don't know what.
His hands were in his pockets.
The wind was rifling his hair.
He looked so small.

Apparently, he was in a contemplative mood because he stood like that for 15 minutes. A very long time in Cash minutes.

I wonder what he was seeing?
I wonder what he was thinking?
I wonder what he was feeling?

I wonder if he knows how much I love his mischievous little face!

Where liberty dwells...

...there is my country. -Benjamin Franklin

I love this country.
So much that it makes me emotional.

I know that people will always remember where they were on 9/11. Will they remember that it was an attack on innocent people NOT on a battlefield of war? Will they remember the men and women who rushed into the burning towers, willing to give their lives for their fellow man? Will they remember how united we stood after an assault on our liberties?

I worry the lessons we could have learned from such a horrendous act may have been lost on many in our great nation. I worry that liberty is fleeting, people are willing to give it up as long as their creature comforts are not forsaken. I worry so much that it makes my stomach sick and I lie awake scared for my children's futures.

It is then I remember to return to my knees. Fervent in prayer, begging my Heavenly Father to protect our nation and the people who crave liberty. I thank my God for blessing me, allowing me to grow up in this incredible country. I ask him to bless my children with the courage to stand for what they know is truth.

I hope you all have had an amazing Patriot's Day. I spent it with my family. Which is exactly what patriots have fought and died for, our families.



These are pictures from our Independence Day 2011. I've been saving them for today. People for whom I'd rush into a burning tower.

A diamond is a chunk of coal...

...made good under pressure. -Henry Kissinger

My Cole is a diamond.
I actually call him our "golden boy" because he just gets it.
And, he can do better/more push ups than most of the men in my aquaintance.
With the exception of his father, which is obviously where he gets it from!





We were on Pearl Street in Boulder after hiking on Labor Day. Pearl Street is famous for their street performers aka hippies that don't want to get jobs or pay taxes but want to tell everyone else who has a job and pays taxes how to spend their money, but I digress. Cole crawled forward to get a front row seat. Seconds later the performer "Peter" pulled Cole from the audience because he liked Cole's faux-hawk. Cole told me afterward that his tummy was full of butterflies. I assured him that everyone feels that way in front of a crowd. He said, "I liked it."

Uh-oh... ...another hippy is born.

Whipped cream isn't whipped cream at all if it hasn't been whipped with whips...

...just like poached eggs isn't poached eggs unless it's been stolen in the dead of the night." —Willy Wonka (Roald Dahl's "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory")

Who doesn't like whipped cream?
My parents' dog, Zeke, loves it.
In fact, our shared fridge can be entirely empty except for 3 cans of Costco-sized whipped cream, exclusively-used for Zeke's 10:00pm snack.

In case you didn't know, we live with my parents. Well... we live together. Last year we bought a home on 13 acres together. It has always been our dream to live on land and doing it in tandem with the folks made that dream a reality. Actually, it's still a dream. It has been amazing having their love and support 24/7. You'll have to ask them if they feel the same way.

Anyway, living together with roommates exposes you to all kinds of new experiences. In fact, the things I've witnessed my parents doing (GET YOUR MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER) have been weird, funny, and heart-warming. I have such a journal of odd behavior, specifically relating to my dad (AKA PAPPY), that I've decided to start a series of post entitled "PONDERING PAPPY." I'll run the series as long as there is material to run.

PONDERING PAPPY: PART 1

Don't you hate when you wake up and pour yourself a bowl of cereal only to realize you're out of milk? I usually pour my cereal back into the box and have eggs or a protein shake.

Not Pappy.
Lack of milk will not stop him from enjoying his cereal.



Yes, that's whipped cream squirted on top of his cereal. He then adds water to thin down the whipped cream.

GROSS OR GENIUS?
I don't know. But you should know this is not the first time I've witnessed Pappy substituting whipped cream in a recipe. I've also seen him using whipped cream as a replacement for Miracle Whip in...wait for it...tuna salad.

Now you all might shiver and think my dad is nuts.
But you know what I think?
I think my dad is teaching me to...

Be creative. Don't knock it till you try it. Think outside the box. Don't let anything stand in your way. Improvise.

Mainly he's taught me...

...who cares what other people think?

The miracle isn't that I finished...

...the miracle is that I had the courage to start. -John Bingham (Completed over 40 Marathons)

It's a miracle that I am a runner.
I never thought I'd be a runner.
Moreso, I never thought I'd feel this terrible when the ability to run was taken away from me.

I did not participate in traditional athletic activities as a youth. I danced. 5 days a week, 2-3 hours a night. That was enough for me to be long and lean. But three children later, I'm soft. Not just mushy fat but soft in determination and discipline. When I turned 30 I realized that I had spent my 20's being pregnant, bearing children and nursing said children. My body was not my own. I want to be strong. I want to be fearless. I think that's what runners are. Strong because they know their sport requires immense preparation. Fearless because they set out at the beginning of a race and know they are going to finish it.

It took me 5 months to train for my first race. It was suppose to take 3. At the beginning I could only run for 30 second intervals spaced 3 minutes apart. Before my first race I hadn't actually ran 3 miles straight. I was up to 2.75. I decided it was now or never. I decided to run in whatever race was next. Being the dead of winter, choices were slim. I picked the "Love'em or Leave 'em 5k." I recruited my husband, his brother Morgan and a great friend to come be my witnesses. Like the proverbial "tree falls in the forrest"...if no one sees Erika run, did it actually happen? I was not extraordinary. I ran a 12.5 min mile. But my goal was to run the entire time. I didn't want to walk even one second of the race. People passed me. But guess what? I passed people. Other friends I saw there ended up walking, which was great for them, but I needed to run.

And you know what? I did it.

With the help of my husband and his hand pressed on the small of my back, I did what I set out to do. My dear friend Jacqui pulled into the parking lot just in time to see me cross the finish line. She jumped out of the bushes a mere 15 feet from the end and screamed "GO ERIKA! GO ERIKA!" It was incredible and I literally balled as I crossed the finish line. I am balling now remembering how badly I wanted to quit and how much it meant for Jacqui to come see me run my first race.



The week before I broke toe I logged 19 miles running. And I mean full running. No walking when I felt tired. I was training for my first half-marathon in January 2012 (why I like to run in winter is beyond me). My first 10k was suppose to be in October. I was devestated when I broke my toe. How can something so small cause such searing pain? I've been unable to wear closed-toe shoes for 5 weeks. For those who know how I feel about flip flops at church, you know how hard it was for me to not be able to wear my beautiful heels and strappy sandles. But the shoes I've been saddest to neglect are my running shoes.



Hello girls.
Today, I ran again.