All My Famous Friends

Top Row: Kylie, Justine, Sharlee, Johnna, Melissa, Courtney, Michelle and Kathy; Bottom Row: Me, Melonie, Brooke, Emily and Darlene

So today I got to spend some time at the Deseret Book store at University Mall and celebrate the release of the fantabulous Mother in Me, a book of essays and poetry about motherhood written by the Segullah gang. (See sidebar, then click on it and buy one if you haven't already. Trust me. It's wonderful.)

And I know you've all heard my lament . . . how I joined the gang too late to write an essay for the book . . . but it really was so much fun to be able to be there and support them. It was like I got all the benefits of being proud without having to be nervous. I helped out by introducing each illustrious reader (the contributing authors read poems or excerpts of their essays) and handing out raffle prizes, but mostly I got to walk around and bask in their goodness and feel swellings of gratitude in my bosom. Hopefully the swellings were relatively inconspicuous.

The turnout was great--really, really great--and I think DB was surprised. But I wasn't, primarily because the royalties that day were going to the NieNie fund (see sidebar again) and Stephanie's sister, Courtney of CJane fame, was there signing books. I think she has at least 1,000 people who've never met her who consider her their best friend, so coming to the reading was a more socially acceptable way than stalking for some of those best friends to meet her in the flesh. And she was lovely and gracious and smelled really good when I hugged her.

But many books were sold, and we even got a mention on the news. You can see the video here.

And here are some more pics, taken with the camera I'm disliking more and more each dayt:


Captain K, also known as Kathryn Lynard Soper, also known as Kathy--head honcho and dear friend


My lovelies, all in a row


And more loveliness . . .


Courtney's baby, the Chief, whose picture is included not because he's a contributing author, but because he's so cute. That head is so dang kissable.


Courtney at the NieNie table. (The Segullah ladies made these beautiful origami birds that people could affix notes to. To which people could affix notes? Anyway. It was a great idea and they'll be used to decorate Stephanie's hospital room.)

See? Doesn't that look like it was fun?

Then when I came home I got to go to the adult session of Stake Conference and listen to Elder Marcos A. Aidukaitis. (He spoke in the Saturday session of General Conference). Elder Robert D. Hales was supposed to speak, but he got sick, and I have to admit I was a little disappointed at first. But Elder Aidukaitis was GREAT. Spoke completely off the cuff, and he was passionate, moving, and hilarious. I'm going to have to go back and read his conference talk now that I've seen him "live," as it were.

So that's been my day. (That and soccer and a Scout pow wow and Wyatt drawing in marker on the desk in the kitchen and my parents coming over to babysit--thanks parents!--and now, silence and the comforting click of my fingers on the keyboard.)

And so it begins . . .

Yes, here is the Mister, watching "a show." I wonder if, in 40 years, his wife will find him in the same pose.

"Show" is among one of his favorite new words. Some others:

"Circles"--This is what he says when he's found a pencil and is drawing all over the wall/floor/cabinetry. Yes, he's drawing circles. I keep trying to get him to draw his circles in notebooks, but so far he finds them artistically uninspiring. The spiral binding, perhaps?

"Eli"--He loves his cousin Eli. The other day he found a picture of Eli and Eli's family and carried it around for a couple hours, and whenever we pull up to Grandma and Grandpa Sweat's he asks for his favorite cousin.



"Books"--He reaaallly loves his animals books. Almost obsessively so. There's one of those collage-of-real-life-photos board books (you know those kinds that are jumbly and kind of give you a headache to look at but kids love them??) and it has all kinds of animals and he MUST have it in order to go down for his nap. He looks and looks and looks at it. He's really into the giraffe right now (he calls it a "babo" and for the life of me I can't figure out why.)

"Elmo!"--Whomever the Sesame Street staffer was that decided to name the fuzzy red muppet with the squeaky voice "Elmo" was on to something. "Elmo" is the perfect toddler word, isn't it? Although Wyatt usually calls him "Melmo." He has a singing/dancing Elmo--it sings "E L M O" to the YMCA theme song and does all the actions, but when he tips over on one side to make the "M," if he's on carpet he falls over and says "Uh oh!" all dramatically. Wyatt thinks it's hilarious. He also likes to make the Elmo run through one rendition of his song before naptime. (This is the same Elmo that a big-kid-who-shall-remain-nameless made me remove from his/her bedroom because it was "freaking him/her out." Strangely, I could empathize.)

"Cookie! Juice! Nana! Chips!" Basically (junky) food of any kind. And "nana" is the least likely of all the aforementioned snacks to be suggested. :-)

and last but not least . . .

"Dada." Boy does Wyatt love his Dad. Just tonight Forrest came home from a business trip and went upstairs to change his clothes without Wyatt knowing he'd arrived. So Wyatt comes calumphing up from the basement and I say, "Hey Bud, did you know Daddy's home? He's upstairs." Faster than you can say "Melmo" Wyatt spins around and starts zipping up the stairs as quick as his little thighs will take him. Nobody beats Dada. Even Mama.

So now I'm thinking we should teach him how to say "Obama." Do you think it would cause trouble for him in the nursery?? :-)

(And an unrelated p.s. I'm sitting here next to Elise while she tries to finish her homework. And what is the homework you ask? A word search. Can I say how much I dislike word searches, even for "fun"? But for homework?? It's such a blatantly obvious busywork assignment. And I just spent 5 full minutes trying to find the word "moment" and I COULDN'T FIND IT. Arrghh! What is this teaching her, except that most of what you'll be asked to do in your work life is pointlessly time consuming??)

For a laugh*

*if you have a little devil on one shoulder. People with dual shoulder angels may not find these humorous. So now you're forewarned.



see more pwn and owned pictures



see more pwn and owned



see more pwn and owned pictures



see more





see more pwn and owned pictures




see more






All these are taken from a site called "Fail Blog." They have some that are a little naughty, though, so if you go there click on "G Rated Fails Only"--and if you don't, and are ruined, I'm not responsible.

And yes, the only time I watch Jay Leno is Monday night. Headlines! (Amy, the only reason I wanted you to marry that "other" guy is so you could have a wedding announcement for the Virgin/Sweat wedding and I could send it in. I'm over it now . . . but dang, that would have been funny.)

Rainy Days and Saturdays

Conference weekend is one of the things I like best about being a Utahn once again (and yes, for those of you who wondered last time I mentioned that my spell-checker underlined it, Utahn IS the right way to spell it :-)). So nice not to have to rush around, to be able to sit on the couch in my sweats in the middle of a regular Saturday, to sleep in a little more on Sunday and STAY in my sweats one more day. Such an easy, slow weekend. Love it.

Today is rainy, which makes me feel even cozier. Poor Joe (and poor Joe's dad) had to go to a soccer game--so I guess there was a little running around--and they came home wet-headed and chilly. But Jonas's team TIED, and given their track record so far, that's reason to celebrate. Joe played goalie the whole time. He has this strange compulsion to play goalie and I think it's so he can jangle my nerves. Or maybe because he doesn't like running :-). But he's getting to be a pretty good little goalie. Forrest said he made some really good stops today.

Hmmm, what else. Wyatt has been on a rampage. He's at that age where he likes to stomp and yell, grab you by the arm and drag you around the house, demand CHIPS PLEASEE!!!! JUICE PLEASSEE!!! It's hard to be charmed by the "please" when he's screaming it, though. But gotta love him just the same. He's talking a lot. He loves his books. He goes down for his nap and to sleep at night with at least two books to "read" by himself in the semi-darkness (just like the rest of the family.) We have to go through his whole stack of books some nights with Wyatt emphatically shaking his head "no" to book after book until we find the one he wants. He's a smart, self-possessed, opinionated little dude who gives enthusiastic hugs and kisses. (Sometimes his kisses are a little TOO enthusiastic. Closed mouth, buddy!)

Last thing. Elise has been trying to find a Halloween costume with her friend Tayler. Last year they were "twin" pirates, and they want to be twins again, so they've been looking online. The following is an example of the Halloween costumes marketed to little girls:



I keep having to tell her, "too immodest," "nope, too skimpy." Luckily, she's not fighting me on it. (I even heard her on the phone say, "I don't want to wear one that might show my stomach. That makes me uncomfortable." Go Lou!). But seriously, my daughter is 10 and these are the costumes she's supposed to be wearing? This world!!

Now I'd better go be productive. Forrest is walking around with a bottle of Windex in his hand--pleasantly, I might add, without any judgmental stomping or self-righteous sighing--but that can make a wife feel, we'll, shirky. Better unshirk.

I'm a Mormon, Yes I Am

I'm feeling grateful for the church these days. Here's why:

1. This guy

just gave one of the best talks I've heard in a long time. If you want to, you can see it here. I felt strengthened and heartened after Saturday night's broadcast. Thank you, President Uchtdorf.

2. It's helping me raise my kids better than I ever could alone. Last week I went to Ethan's Court of Honor and saw so many dedicated, wonderful people involved in guiding him and teaching him. So much work and service is done in behalf of my kids. Elise and I also went to a "Mom and Daughter" party on Saturday morning with her Activity Days group and had a great time. Again, another example of a lot of people going to a bunch of work, out of the goodness of their hearts, unpaid and largely unacknowledged, so I can have a special experience with my child.

3. It allows me to serve and work, and allows my kids to serve and work. When left to my own devices, I doubt I'd be as interested in reaching out, but the fact that the church gives me the framework from which to do it . . . well, I get it done. Sometimes. (Which is better than no times.) And seeing Ethan get up early to set up chairs on Sunday, then stay late to do fast offerings door to door (Utah!), then FAST until 3:00 without complaining did my heart good.

4. Without it, I doubt this world would make any sense to me at all. Faith, hope, charity . . . all the good stuff is there, and I'm glad.

So Now I'm Supposed to Complain

Since I indulged in some bragging last post, I promised all seven of my regular readers that I'd whine a little to even things out. Here goes:

-Why does The Amazing Race keeping winning the Emmy for Best Reality Show? I'll admit that I'm a fan of the show, but my fandom is waning. The Amazing Race is waning. It's yesterday's news. Plus, it's won the Emmy in this category EVERY YEAR since the award was instituted. I suspect that the Emmy-voting academy isn't really giving it much thought--"Blah, blah, reality shows, we hate you . . . THE AMAZING RACE." Project Runway deserved it, especially since the evil Harvey Weinstein has SOLD Project Runway to Lifetime (LIFETIME!!!!) and it will never be the same. Sigh.

-I keep forgetting to make Ethan clip his fingernails before church on Sunday. It's especially important now that he's passing the sacrament, and yesterday I glanced down and went "uggh!" If I didn't get after him (him or any of them--well, except Elise, who picks hers so no clipping necessary :-) then I'm convinced they'd end up looking like this:

All of my children recoil in horror whenever fingernail clipping is even mentioned. They run away and hide. They whimper, they moan. Do they think *I* like clipping their fingernails? And when is it reasonable to expect that one will take responsibility for one's own fingernail hygiene??

-Why isn't Dreamworks putting more advertising $$ behind Ghost Town? Forrest and I went to see it on Saturday night and it was a wonderful little movie. It's not trying to be anything more than a wonderful little movie, either--not trying to be edgy or genre-defying or crassly obnoxious. Just a funny rom-com with some hilarious scenes (Ricky Gervais is a genius) and a predictable, yet strangely satisfying ending. It's one of those movies that plays the tone just right. Tip too far to one side, it's cloying and boring; tip too far to the other side, it's off-kilter and weird. But Gervais and Tea Leoni and Greg Kinnear were all pitch-perfect. So do you think Dreamworks is just supposing a movie w/ Gervais as a leading man will never make much money so they refuse to spend any? Cynical, cynical Hollywood. It's a fun movie, though. PG-13, but two f-bombs (be forewarned).

-Although I love everyone in my ward with a pure and unsullied love . . . if you sign up for Fabulous Friday crafts, please please come to Fabulous Friday so I don't have to gather up all your supplies at 11:15 p.m. and put them in my car and drive around with them banging into each other, metal clanging, gigantic pieces of wood sliding under my seats, until I take them to your house to give them to you and find you're not home after all and I can't leave them on your porch because it's raining. I'm just saying.

-My aerosol deodorant, which I purchased from Wal-Mart three days ago, has stopped working. I squirt and only air is expelled. I've shaken, disassembled, poked . . . to no avail. And I realize I deserve this for buying aerosol deodorant and ruining mother earth with all those chlorofluorocarbons.

-My tailbone hurts. Still.

And there you have it!

Don't You Hate Those Braggy Blogs?

I know, I know. Me too. But one of the reasons I birthed four humans was to have the right occasionally to talk up their finer qualities. So here goes.

Wyatt Dean

When he's not "helping" his dad fix the sprinkler system in the back yard (hooray for Dads!) he's kickin it big time at the pediatrician's office. The doctor was impressed at Wyatt's impromptu rendering of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" (and yes, I will concede that his lyrics go something like, "Na na, do do, le da mo," but he's got the melody down) she was also pleased by the fact that he--drum roll please--occasionally puts two words together (genius I tell you!). He's literally off-the-charts size wise. As big as your average 2 1/2 year old! 36 inches. And I wondered why his 12 month pants from spring all looked like dork pants. He weighs a healthy 27 pounds and is well on his way to being the biggest Hallstrom child so far. Go, Bubba, go!

Jonas Leo
Jonas is showing admirable sportsmanship on his soccer team as they've been heartily spanked two weeks in a row now (12-2, 13-3, respectively). He's learning the necessary virtues of introspection and disappointment-management. His second grade teacher thinks he's da bomb (that's not exactly how she put it, but she was pretty gushy about Joe's charms when I went in to volunteer . . . which I've gotta say is nice), and even though he has a hard time remembering not to put clean pants in the hamper--so much easier to do that than fold them and put them in the drawer--I'll forgive him because he's such a good kid.

Elise Julia
Elise is having a great time so far in 5th grade, and she's even getting up in the morning without much of a fuss. Hooray! Her biggest news is that she tried out for and made the Riverton Children's Choir as a member of the more competitive Concert Choir. Her friend Hailey made the concert choir, too, and many hugs were shared when the girls heard that news. Elise will be following in Mom's footsteps as an alto. I think she's going to love it.

Ethan William
There's been a lot of blog time dedicated to Ethan of late, since he turned the big 1-2 and was ordained a Deacon and went to Jr. High, but I have one more item to add to Ethan's list. He was chosen to be one of 100 kids in his Jr. High who will be serving on the "Hope Squad," a group of kids nominated by their peers and teachers for being helpful and positive and good examples to others. Their job is to help out kids who are having trouble (there's even a suicide prevention training that the group goes through so they can help other kids) and to basically be, well, nice. Which Ethan is. I'm really proud of him that his friends think he's that type of a guy.

Forrest Stephen
Of course I didn't give birth to this one, but I can still take some credit for his awesomeness, seeing as how he's known me and been talking to me extensively for 20 years. Yes, it's true there's a good chance he's turned out so well DESPITE my difficult influence, but he assures me that's not the case. I'll take him at his word.

Today he competed in Triathlon #2, the last one of the season, and did a great job once again. This one was up at Pineview Reservoir in Ogden canyon and the weather was picture perfect. Blue skies, hint of a breeze, the works. And thanks to Forrest's parents babysitting the chitlins, Forrest and I were able to head up there just the two of us. A six hour date! Nice.






What manliness, no? (Except for that one picture with me in it. Not manly at all. Well, half manly, half delightsomely feminine.) It's a lot of fun to be a spectator at these things and see all these driven, goal oriented people working hard and achieving. Not that *I'll* ever do one, nosiree. That swimming portion scares me silly.

And now I'm done bragging. I promise next time I'll complain about something, just to even things out.

Go Buy That Segullah Book!!

So my sister-friends at Segullah just got a book published by (dum, dum, daaaaaahhhh) Deseret Book. I, for one, couldn't even get them to return my emails, so I'm just sayin, I'm *impressed*.

It's a fantastic book about motherhood, chock full of great writing and even greater insights. Beautiful prose (and even, gasp, real poetry!) and some wisdom and humor to boot. Who could ask for anything more? It's the kind of book I'm thrilled to see Deseret Book publishing.

And hey, yeah, I can say that I wish I was a part of it. Unfortunately for me, I joined the Segullah gang after this book was already done . . . but if this book sells well enough, Segullah's putting together a sequel and I should be a part of that one. If I can ever get off my behind and revise my essay, that is. (Love ya, Kathy! :-). So buy lots of these, if only so someday I can say that I got published by the ever-elusive (except to all those friends of mine, plus my flesh-and-blood brother) DB.

Oh, and because it's really good. And written by lots of wonderful people, whom I love. And because not everything has to be about me, right?? :-)

Check out the link on my sidebar and you can read all about it. Plus look at pictures of my friends on the authors page and see how pretty all of them are. Really, I'm not jealous . . .

The Deacon

So last week Ethan finally turned 12. I say finally because, as an official Jr. High student, Ethan was one of the only 11-year-olds in the joint.

But one of the best parts of having a son who turns 12 is the chance to have a Deacon in the house. Ethan was ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood by his Dad (and a bunch of the other important men in his life.) It was a great occasion worth celebrating.







So fun to have so many family members participate *and* celebrate. (And Wyatt enjoyed the Fritos.)

Other goings-on? I finished the tallying and hounding necessary to pull of yet another Super Saturday. Tallying: dozens and dozens of individual checks representing two pages worth of orders equaling almost $3,000 worth of stuff due to our much appreciated Super Saturday lady (yeah, we have these out here--it's a new profession that's sprung up in the crafting industry, roving craft ladies visiting wards with desperate Enrichment counselors like me). Hounding: Calling and cajoling, entreating, then begging women in the ward to come GIVE ME THEIR CHECKS. ("I want my two dollars!!" Quick, name the movie.) Luckily I only have three more outstanding payments to recoup.

Makes one feel a bit like a moneychanger in the temple. Sigh. But we're makin some dang cute square pumpkin porch decorations and modgepodged magnet boards, I'll tell you what! And we're doing some hygiene kits, just so we don't feel completely commercial and lucre filthy.

I also taught my very first creative writing class at BYU, lo this very night. Enrollment is pretty low in elective courses at the SL Center, and right now I only have SEVEN students! Egads. I was hoping for around 12--small enough that I can spend some real time with each student's manuscript, but large enough to encourage discussion--but, heck, it will be less work for me, and the students in the class seem engaged and interested enough. Man, it was fun to teach, though. So much more fun than Freshman Comp and rhetoric. Rhetoric. Blech. But now I get to talk about poetry, short stories, the writing process, what it means to be creative--all the stuff I actually LIKE to talk about. I feel so lucky and blessed to have this opportunity.

I was thinking about this while driving to the Triad Center tonight: I have been in school, either as a student or a teacher, pretty much continuously since I was five years old. I had a break of about six months after Elise was born before I enrolled in a creative writing class in MN, and I had another break of about a year after Wyatt was born (I went back to teaching when Ethan was SIX WEEKS OLD, crazy, and I went back to Hamline when Jonas was two months old). But other than than those short breaks and the inevitable summers, school has always--always--been a part of my life. Isn't that amazing? I went up to the BYU Provo campus last week for a faculty meeting and being on a college campus gives me an almost drug-like shot of adrenaline. I guess it's how some people feel when they're in the mountains, or near the ocean, or in the middle of New York City. I suppose roaming a college quad is a better way than some to get my adrenaline fix. But man, do I love school. And I'm so lucky to be able to have it be such a big part of my life.

Parting shot (and change of subject): Sarah Palin was impressive last night. I was skeptical, and she impressed me. John McCain tonight? Not so much. Forrest kept saying, "I'm Tim Calhoon" and I agreed completely. And for those of you who don't watch Saturday Night Live, here's the reference:



Harsh? Or eerily similar?

Four for Four

On Thursday, August 21, the fourth of my four nieces was born! Macy Claire weighed in at 6 lbs. 14 oz. and she's (of course) just beautiful. Enormous congrats to my sister, Amy, and her husband Dave. And I'm sure Jack is going to make an excellent big brother. I can't wait to meet her in person.

A Plethora of Cords

And I don't mean corduroys. I mean cords for connecting electronica. They are EVERYWHERE anymore, no? Charger cords, computer cords, plain old plugs--all with their own special purposes and special connectors. And at some time over the last few weeks I'd lost a very very important cord--the one that connects my camera to my computer. Thus the dearth of Hallstrom family photos on this here blog.

But joy! Today Forrest found my cord! It was entangled with the Singstar microphone cords (of course!!!) and stuffed in among all the PlayStation cordage. So hallelujah, we have pictures.

The first picture is one of Wyatt, which I've fondly titled "Guck!" (Meaning "stuck." It's one of his favorite new words, since he finds himself--or his beloved toys--"guck" multiple times a day.



I felt kinda bad about this one because I'd been in on my computer and I heard him wailing "Guck! Guck!" in the kitchen, and I assumed it was something inanimate that was stuck. Like a spatula he wanted to play with. (He loves spatulas). But no, it was Wyatt himself . . . and then I went and grabbed my camera and compounded the indignity of it all by taking his picture. He's a good sport.

The next photos are the obligatory kids-standing-by-a-tree-in-the-front-yard first day of school pictures. Ethan was not enthusiastic this year. We had to do it early, before anyone started gathering for the school bus. Do you think I can keep it up until he's a senior in high school??? Maybe not. But they're cute pictures nevertheless.





Ethan's first official day of school is tomorrow. Aaacckk! He had a 7th grade orientation "dry run" day on Thursday, where the 7th graders came from 7:30-11:30 and did a quick tour of the school and visited all their classes without those menacing upperclassmen present. Great idea, I think. Ethan enjoyed it and is looking forward to tomorrow. I hope all goes well!

Elise and Jonas are both enjoying their new classes and teachers. They come home smiley and tired. And Jonas was the student of the week in his class for the first week of school! Way to go, Joe.

And finally, here are pictures from the biggest event of the weekend, Forrest's first triathlon. He did it with my brother Tony and they both did a great job.


Good lookin men, ready to show the world how tough they are. And Forrest in a BYU shirt? I know, I know. He says it's comfortable.


The kids, scrambling on the rocks beside Jordanelle resevoir. You should have seen me scrambling down them. Graceful as a mountain goat.


Ready to swim. Kicky white cap. Sweet.


Tony, rising like a leviathan from the waters. (But not an evil, monster-like leviathan. A nice, seminary-teaching leviathan.)


Tony very helpfully wore a wetsuit with green on the arms, so it was easier to see him coming. Here he is on his way up the ramp to get his bike.


And here's Forrest looking wet and proud after kicking it in the swim portion. And he really did kick it.


Cindy and the Vivster on the road, waiting to catch sight of the menfolk racing by. I missed Forrest on his bike! Don't know how, but he must have zoomed by in a flash of black and red.


We caught him on the run, though. He was feeling good enough to flash us a peace sign, even though it was near the end of the race.


And here he is, crossing the finish line.


Two sweaty guys, carbo loading after a long, hot race.

It was a lot of fun to be there and cheer them on. And even though we had to walk about three miles in the heat, lugging blankets and coolers and lawn chairs, it was worth it.

So, photo update complete. Hopefully I'll keep better track of my cords from here on out.

Connected Through the Internet

Through the internet--blogging in particular--I have found myself part of a community that has strengthened and enriched my life. Segullah, in particular, has been a place where women of uncommon strength and wisdom and humor and insight can gather to lift each other up and share a portion of themselves.

Through Segullah, I became acquainted with a wonderful person (and fantastic blogger) named Courtney. I've linked to her blog on my sidebar because it's so good. I don't know her well, but I *feel* like I know her because I read her blog. (And yes, it was Courtney's review of my novel on her blog that was responsible for a the single largest number of my book's sales--more than reviews in Meridian Magazine or In Utah This Week or an article in the Salt Lake Tribune or a book signing at Women's Conference.)

This weekend, I read the news on Courtney's blog that her sister, Stephanie, and her husband Christian had been in a devastating plane crash. I'd checked out Stephanie's blog, The Nie Nie Chronicles, only a handful of times, but in even those few short visits I was so impressed with her sister's beauty and goodness and love of life. She's a young mother (only 27) of 4 children, ages 6,5,3 and 1. She and her husband were both severely burned in the accident--Stephanie was burned over 80% of her body--and are facing months and months of painful healing. The flight instructor piloting the plane died of his injuries.

So I post this here not because I know Stephanie. I hardly know Courtney, really. But I have been so touched by both of them through their blogs. There are literally thousands of people praying for this couple and their family, many of them because they got to know them through the internet. I'm sure a few prayers from some of us couldn't hurt. The internet can be a wonderful blessing for good.

7th Grade

So Ethan's headed there, in just a couple of weeks. He got his schedule yesterday. Band (beginning brass), honors English, pre-algebra, Utah Studies (remember Utah Studies? It seemed so important to me at the time, like my patriotic Utahn duty, and my spell checker just underlined Utahn which, as one, I KNOW is spelled correctly), gym, science, the whole shebang. He's excited. Called all his friends to see if they had any classes together (and some of them do, sigh of relief) and already has his locker combination memorized.

Here's what I remember about junior high. First, my dad took me to my junior high orientation for some reason. I wasn't alone with my dad very often, so roaming around the echoing halls of West Lake Junior High with my DAD made me feel incredibly grown-up and poised on the precipice of something monumental and scary and exciting. I also remember my friend Karen, one year older than me, telling me how important it was to 1. never, under ANY circumstances, pick up anything you drop on the ground, lest someone call you a scrounge and, 2. ALWAYS give upperclassmen the right of way in the halls. Not a good idea to mess with eighth graders.

In seventh grade I had a really cool English teacher named Ms. Shea who had long black hair past her butt and was a belly dancer on the weekends. We read Ishi, the Last of His Tribe and played word games like Boggle on Fridays. I had another really cool choir teacher, Miss Straussberg, who asked a terrified me to accompany the 7th Grade choir when we sang "Saturday's Warrior" for our concert. (Only in Utah. In the mid-80s. Never in a million years could a public school get away with singing that song now.) I remember practicing and practicing that song, pounding away--those opening chords are etched into my reptilian brain.

I ran for (and won, somehow--I wasn't particularly popular that year) the position of 7th Grade Class Secretary. Don't remember what that office entailed, just that I got my picture in the front of the yearbook. I was just on the cusp of puberty and hadn't quite figured out yet how to do my hair right, or wear mascara, and in my individual yearbook picture I have a smudge of Covergirl Greatlash under my right eye and my eighties bangs are curled but not sufficiently ratted or sprayed. I wore a purple sweater vest, I think.

I was afraid I smelled after gym. I was afraid I would forget my homework. I was afraid I'd make my elementary school friends mad if I didn't hang out with them, even if I was SO intrigued by the seemingly-coooler, more mature and worldy-wise friends from the more easterly region of West Valley City that I met in my classes. I still remember one girl named Jennifer who was so cool and smart and I wanted to be JUST LIKE HER. I even went so far as to buy a pair of Jordache jeans almost exactly like hers (but not quite exactly--didn't want her to think I was creepy or anything.) My first girl-emulation crush.

I tried out for the Junior High production of Annie and was crushed--CRUSHED, I tell you--to be relegated to the chorus. No speaking lines to, well, speak of. In the sixth grade, I'd played Nellie, Annie's little sister in Annie Get Your Gun at Cyprus HIGH SCHOOL, no less, and I figured with my wealth of experience, and obvious facility with the plaintive tune "Maybe" (" . . . their one mistake, was giving up meeeeeee . . ." oh, the pathos) that I'd be assured at least one of the sidekick orphan roles. But nope. No dice. Heartbreaking. I sighed and calumphed my way through the Annie experience as a member of the chorus, though, and in the end it was fun.

Seventh grade is a big dang deal. I think Ethan is ready, and I think he'll do great, but it's such a transition in a person's life. I'm looking forward to it for him (and keeping my fingers crossed!). What do YOU remember about 7th grade??

My Husband Looks Really Cool on a Wakeboard

We've been boating twice in the last 5 days. On Saturday, we went with some good friends, the Youngs, and their four boys to Rockport. Great company, lots of fun, choppy water. Then yesterday we went to East Canyon with Mindy and Peter. Great company, lots of fun, and smooth water.

Both times, it was fun to watch my better half out their jumping the wake, tooling around looking studly with his newly chiseled biceps and beefed-up quads. He's always been an impressive wakeboarder, but he's taking things to another level this year with his increased overall fitness. It will be fun to cheer him on as he crosses the finish line for his triathlons (shouldn't there be an "a" in that word, somewhere??).

One of the things I've always loved about Forrest (and admired, because I don't necessarily have this quality) is when he's interested in something, he goes after it wholeheartedly. He jumps in and does all he can to figure it out, learn the ropes, and eventually, usually, excel. I'm more of a dabbler, myself. I dip my toe, and sometimes my whole entire foot, into lots of different pools. So I end up doing lots of stuff kinda well. Whereas Forrest is usually pretty focused and does the one or two things he's focused on *really* well. As spontaneous as Forrest seems, he's actually pretty methodical, circling around a problem or a challenge for a while and sizing it up before he tackles it. I, on the other hand, tend to jump in and hope I figure things out as I go along. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't.

We're good for each other, though. Complimentary. Which is a nice thing to be able to say about one's spouse. The other night we were driving to West Jordan to pick up some crafts for my upcoming Fabulous Friday (yes, it's the newest permutation of Super Saturday. And how do you like that word? Permutation? It's a good one, no?). Anyhow, Wyatt was asleep and we left him with the kids, drove to West Jordan with the windows down on a pretty summer night, went and got a shake at Ab's, and I thought how lucky I am to be married to the person that I most want to drive around with and share a shake with and tell a joke to (even though his jokes are usually better). We've been driving around together for the better part of 20 years (minus that whole mission thing)--in a beat-up Honda Civic, a 1976 Plymouth Volare, a little red Civic (yet another) with no air conditioning, a turquoise Ford, a really cool little Mitsubishi Eclipse (thanks, Dad, for helping us not get taken by the car salesman on that one), two Jeeps (a Wrangler, then a Cherokee), a Dodge Grand Caravan (once new, now stinky), and a Tahoe with seat warmers. The Tahoe's nice, but that Wrangler was really fun. Lots of driving we've shared, and we're still not bored.

Anyway, enough stream of consciousness rambling. Just thankful for my husband, that's all. Love ya, babe.