So, Today

was actually a lovely, quiet day.

-Took the kids to a "new" park, meaning a park with pretty much the same equipment as every other park in Salt Lake County, but in a different location.   This was Kids Off Track Idea #2.  Already did Kids Off Track Idea #1 when I took them to see Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel at the dollar movie last Friday.  We sat in the back and I read bloggernacle blogs and articles on Slate and EW.com on my phone the whole time.  Four dollars well spent!  Anyway, today was sunny, but a little chillier than I thought it would be--yet the birds were tweeting and the clouds were puffy and I'm continually amazed at how such things affect my mood for the better.  And we had a nice time at the park.

-Went on a run/walk instead of going to the gym.  First, because the big kids are home and it's so much quicker to go on a run/walk.  Second, because of the aforementioned bird tweetiness and cloud puffiness, I wanted to be outside.  Third, because as much as I'm still wanting to exercise, every time I think about going to a Lifetime class and pushing myself to the limit and waking up sore in the morning I get all lazy inside and before I know it, I've talked myself into believing that my run/walks are just as efficacious as 75 minutes of hot yoga taught by Kasey the Scary Wonder Trainer.  Ummm . . . 35 minutes of random jogging interspersed with brisk walking is NOT the same thing, self.  Oh, but the other reason I wanted to run/walk is because then I get to listen to . . .

-My new audio book.  Game Change: Obama and the Clintons, McCain and Palin, and the Race of a Lifetime.  Sooooo interesting.  Yes, yes, I realize this is coming from a girl who still mourns Tim Russert as the host of Meet the Press, and that some of you might find such topics as interesting as I find a quartet of washed-up athletes yelling at each other about some basketball player whose mother thought it'd be a great idea to christen her son Carmelo, which, to me, is the name of a delicious Hershey's candy.  Anyway--not only does this book rehash some of the stories we all know about the 2008 campaign--a campaign full of so much drama that it seems like the writers of The West Wing dreamed it up--but there are all sorts of gossipy little tidbits that appeal to my weaker nature.  Like Elizabeth Edwards?  Scary shrew.  Yes, I know she has cancer, and yes, she's been completely dumped on by her dork of a husband.  But still a scary shrew.  John Edwards?  So deep in Denialville, if he'd been a fictional character he'd be completely unbelievable.  Hillary Clinton? A lot more complicated than you'd think, both surprisingly nice and surprisingly ruthless, if that makes sense.  Mitt Romney?  Nobody likes him.  Nobody!!  Bill Clinton?  Still slick, still smart, still dumb, still messing around, still reaaaaaaalllly cares what everybody thinks about him.  John McCain?  King Potty Mouth.  (Seriously: potty mouth warning once you get to the McCain part of the book.)  Also: mean to his wife.  Also: history of messing around that had the campaign all jittery, along with Cindy's history of messing around.  Which is maybe why they're mean to each other?  And my boyfriend Barack Obama?  (I say this just to get a rise out of the people I know this will get a rise out of, of course :-).  He is what everybody says he is:  smart, self-possessed, cocky, loves his wife & kids, extremely ambitious, likes to get lots of opinions before he makes a decision, and the beneficiary of some good strategy but a whole lotta luck as well.  I've just barely gotten to the part of the narrative where Sarah Palin is brought on board and I can't wait.  I keep cleaning the house and exercising just so I can keep listening to my audiobook in good conscience.

-I also wrote for an hour and a half straight today.  Doesn't sound like much, I know, but to be able to carve out an hour and a half of quiet and get a good half-dozen pages written for my new novel during an off-track day?  That's a good thing.  I'm liking this new novel, but I'm still so early on that who knows the damage I'll inflict upon the thing in the coming months.

-Gearing up for Spring semester to start tomorrow.  As of right now, I have 6 students enrolled, so looks like the class might carry.  Part of me is glad (the money always comes in handy), part of me is nervous (teaching Tuesday nights AND Thursday nights during baseball/flag football/Forrest-traveling-heavily season is going to be  quite a juggling act).  I've also never taught a condensed term schedule, which basically leaves my students with half the time to produce something half-way decent.  Should be interesting, to say the least.

And now Wyatt is asleep on the couch next to me, snoring away.  He's such a Bubba.  Time to wrestle him out of his pants and into his jammies, tuck him into bed, wrangle the big kids into theirs, load the dishwasher, put away the whites, finish my New Yorker article on the ordination of female bishops in the Church of England (don't ask me why it's interesting--just is), randomly open my Book of Mormon and read a dozen verses (my method of late, no judging please), put the cat in the basement so she doesn't wake me up at 3 a.m. to go out and again at 6 a.m. to come in (I put her in the storage room with food and water, no judging please), and then go to sleep.  With the window open.  Don't you love sleeping with the window open on a nice spring night?  I do.

Because Writers Don't Get Nearly as Much Attention as Jocks

. . . especially when you're 13.

So as the mother of a 13 year old writer, I'm going to post a little bit of Ethan's English homework from last night.  Ethan typed this bad boy up in about 10 minutes, and when he showed it to me, I told him it was blog-worthy.  Here goes, presented to you with absolutely no editing or tweaking by mom:

The Calamitous Chronicle of Carl the Caterpillar

               Carl the caterpillar was a very small and meek little insect.  All the other bugs at Thorax Prep were so much bigger, stronger, faster, or more all around impressive than Carl.  Every day Carl was chosen last at slime toss, even after Arty Ant, who had four broken legs.  And every day Carl sat alone at the designated pariah table in the cafeteria.  And every day Carl got picked on by Tito Tarantula, the burly, surly, naturally curly jerk of an arachnid.  And every day Carl came home to a milkweed-holic dad who was generally passed out in front of the TV with a worn out Playbug magazine on his lap.  [editor's note:  Ethan thought he might have to change this line for Grandma's sake.  He said, "I can imagine Grandma reading that and going, 'Ooooh, Ethan,' all disappointed."  So I figured, as his mother, that his worry over his grandmother's reaction cancels out any of the perceived negatives of using the term "Playbug."  Especially since it is such a perfect little joke, in context.  Anyhow, carrying on.]

            But Carl hadn’t lost all hope in life.  He knew that one day he was destined to sprout beautiful wings and flitter about, above all of the other bugs, above his house, and way over Tito.  That was the only thing that kept Carl form committing pesticide.  So every day, Carl worked through school, giving his grub money to Tito, being teased by his bigger and more impressive schoolmates.  But with his wonderful destiny in mind, Carl scooted around with his head a little higher, put up with Tito more, and even the pariah table was nicer.  His dad was even starting to pay his mortgage on their burrow and quitting milkweed.  So things were looking up for Carl.

            When Carl turned 13 (weeks old) he began to build his cocoon.  His incredibly small heart pounded with excitement as he awaited his emergence form his fleshy capsule as a wonderful creature.  Pretty soon the wait became too much to bear, and he was brimming with excitement and optimism.  After a week, the day had come.  Carl burst forth from his green womb as a majestic monarch butterfly, wing patterns the color of molten bronze and night black, and beautifully smooth antennae and a slender proboscis.  He flew all over town until it was time for school.  He came to school bright and happy, and everyone admired his new features.  After lunch at the socially accepted table with his new friend Bernie the Bumblebee, he even had the pride to stand up to Tito when pressed for money.  But Tito didn’t like that at all.  So Tito quickly wrapped up Carl in a silvery and deadly web, lowered his mandibles, and promptly sucked out graceful Carl’s juices with a loudly audible slurp.

                                                            THE END


Witty, original, and an ironic twist ending.  What more could an English teacher want?

I looked out the window . . .

and what did I see?

It's been beautiful the last couple of days.  And isn't spring in the air kind of like a shot of adrenaline? It's been lovely to open the windows, let in the freshness, wear short sleeves, take Wyatt to the park.

And there have been some other Spring Things going on.  First big Spring Thing?  The Salt Lake City Marathon!  I didn't get to go see Forrest's first full marathon down in Mesquite, but Saturday was a blue-sky 70 degree day--the perfect day to stand on the side of the road and think, "Is that him?  No.  Is that him?  Maybe?  No.  Hey!  Look!  I think . . . "

" . . . is that the guy?  White visor, long stride, sexy legs? . . ."

"It is!  Run, Forrest, run!"

I'm always relieved when I catch my first glimpse of Forrest during a long race.  I don't know what I think might happen (dramatic collapses, pulled hammies, emotional breakdowns?) but he always comes jogging or biking past with a smile on his face and a little wave.  I met him here a little past mile 23, and for Forrest (and lots of people, I'm sure), mile 20 to 24 or so are the worst.  He told me later that he was having a little fantasy that he'd find me and say, "Hey babe, where'd you park?" and we'd just trot on over to my car and call it a day.  But when I asked him how he was doing he said, "Okay," and when I noted that he had 15 minutes to get there in under 4 hours, his original goal, I thought I'd try and be encouraging and say, "You can do it!  You can kick it!" and he looked at me with calm matter-of-factness and said, "No I can't."  (And, yeah, three miles, uphill on State Street, at the end of a 26 mile run?  Ummm, not gonna happen.)  As he tells it, he felt great up until mile 20, but then he was just out of gas: weak, and really hungry.  He ran past a Taco Time and had another fantasy that he could run into the restaurant and beg them to give him a taco even though he didn't have any money.  He'd give them his iPod for collateral.  He didn't, of course, but we did swing past the Taco Time on the way home and get a crisp meat burrito.  He came home and ate two bites. :-)

He ended up running it in 4:10, a few minutes slower than the marathon in Mesquite.  He was a little disappointed not to make it in under 4:00, but he still came in in the top 1/3 of all the marathon runners that day (300-something out of 1,000).  I thought he did awesome.  Whenever I'd look at the route, in fact, it'd make me just a little sick to my stomach at the DISTANCE involved.  Twenty-six miles is a heckuva long way to hoof it.

Anybody familiar w/ SLC can look at this map and realize how far this is. These people START running at the University of Utah, run all the way to 6200 South and I-215, run all the way down Van Winkle, then head back into Salt Lake City to the Gateway.  Anyway, I have a tremendous amount of respect for anybody who does it, and a ton of pride in my amazing better half and all he's able to accomplish.  Here he is coming in for the finish:

And now he's done marathon-ing, at least for a while, and in May, the triathlon-ing starts back up.  I wonder for how many years I'll be taking pictures of Forrest in his running clothes crossing a finish line?  (Many years, I hope.)

Another now-ubiquitous Spring Thing is baseball.  Ethan opted not to play this year (flag football instead--coming up soon!), so it's just Jonas.  Forrest is assistant coaching the team, the coach is great, and there's lots of nice kids . . . but so far they're 0 for 3, and kind of Bad News Bears-ing it.  They had a game tonight, and although they had a little rally in the middle, they still ended up getting pretty much creamed.  Last game, though, Jonas got a hit, threw a kid out at 3rd base, and scored a run, and ended up with the game ball.

I mostly like baseball cause I think he looks so dang handsome in his baseball clothes.

Here he is with his, "That was a ball, right ump?" expression:

(It was.)

And now Winter semester is wrapping up for me (grades due this week), but it looks like my Spring term class might carry, which means Tuesday AND Thursday nights.  Between teaching, Forrest's traveling, Webelos, and the kids' homework and extracurriculars, it's going to be busy nights at the Hallstrom House this Spring.

And in closing, two observations:

-Tracfone is of the devil.  I don't want to get into it (I DON'T!!!!) but, I'm not kidding, my Tracfone-related woes almost made me cry today.  Almost.  Instead I just threw a little tantrum.  I think I've spent at least 5 hours on the phone with "customer service" over the last month or so.  It's a ridiculous, terrible, horrible, no good waste of my time and sanity, and I'm thinking I might just cut my losses (about $45 worth of minutes) and WALK THE HECK AWAY.  Anyway, don't use Tracfone.  If only in solidarity with me and in remembrance of all I've suffered.

-I bought Ding Dongs at Harmons today.  They were on sale.  It was an impulse buy.  There are 12 Ding Dongs in a package.  I told the kids they could have ONE a day, but apparently they didn't "hear me say that."  Anyway, two kids (who shall remain nameless) were left home with one younger kid (you can figure out who he is) while Forrest and I went to Jonas's baseball game.  When we came home, there were FIVE Ding Dongs left in the box.  Five Dongs have been accounted for (Ethan confessed to two, Elise to two, Jonas to one) but there are two remaining Dongs unaccounted for.  We're pretty sure Wyatt didn't have any (too high up in the cupboard, hard for a 3 year old to eat w/out anybody noticing), so until the guilty parties fess up?  No more Ding Dongs at the Hallstrom House.

Let the mourning ensue . . .

Deep Breath & Jump On In

I've decided that blogging is kind of like laundry.  You stay up on it, you get in the groove, you keep things from piling up, the whole endeavor's pretty smooth.  Clean socks, clean posts.  You get the metaphor.  But wait too long and suddenly you find yourself with cute photos and pithy comments and startling observations and family anecdotes spilling out of your mental laundry basket and piling all over the floor of your memory and before you know it, you're crying Uncle.  It's all too much!  Where to begin?

All you can do is take a deep breath, buckle down, and begin at the beginning.

Over the last three weeks or so there's been a lot going on.  Birthdays (Elise, then Forrest, then Jonas).  Easter.  Trips to CA.  Terrible colds infecting every member of the family but Forrest, he of the iron constitution.  (Do you want to know how many packets of Theraflu I've used over the last two and a half weeks?  Well, I don't know exactly, but lots.  I had a wicked head cold for over a week, and I've continued to have a sore throat since Thursday, March 26th.  I keep thinking I'm better and then it keeps sneaking back up on me.  But I digress.)  Anyway, a lot has been happening, and I'm going to do my best to move through all these goings-on in a concise manner.  And this post is still going to be way too long.  But you'll bear with me, right?

First, Jonas's 9th Birthday:

Jonas invited a bunch of friends from the neighborhood over for cake and pizza, then we took the whole gang to go see How to Train Your Dragon.  (Yeah, movie-based birthday parties are easy sneeze-y, aren't they?) I really liked the movie, too.  Fun, great visuals, emotionally interesting, good script.  All around highly recommended.  Jonas and his buddies had a great time.  I'd just started getting sick the day before and barely dragged myself through the day, but I did it!  Then I collapsed.

I woke up on Saturday, glad to feel a little better so we could go to Grandma and Grandpa Sweat's Easter Egg Hunt.  It was a beautiful day, and (once again) the kiddos had a great time.

(I'm not sure what Ethan's looking for up there. The Easter Magpie?)

Sunday was good.  I stayed home from church and recuperated.  We had Forrest's family over for a combined Hallstrom b-day dinner, but Forrest headed the whole thing up and I just smiled wanly and tried not to breathe on anyone. I was absolutely certain that after spending a whole entire day resting, Therafluing, and blowing my nose, that I would be all better, just in time for Forrest's birthday.

Wrong-O!

Luckily Forrest is an understanding sort, because I was too sick on Monday to take any pictures or do anything super-special about his big 3-9.  I did give him a nice book (a collection of humor pieces from The New Yorker), a couple of new shirts (well received), and some khaki shorts (didn't fit, took 'em back). I also made chicken enchiladas.  So I wasn't completely worthless.  Just mostly worthless.

Then Tuesday was Vacation Prep Day, since we were gearing up for our big trip to Disneyland.  I felt a little better, which was encouraging, so I did my normal frantic packing and house cleaning and double checking of important items (toothbrush cases! cell phone chargers! baby wipes! travel size spray bottles!).  It was also Jonas's actual birthday, so I gave him a kiss on the head and made his birthday dinner request.

Then, on Wednesday morning, we piled into the Tahoe and off we went.  The kids did really well in the car, even Wyatt, and the 11-hour drive didn't seem too arduous.  The weather wasn't all that great--we had snow in Utah and crazy winds the whole way down, winds that made you keep your hands on the steering wheel at 10 and 2--but the time went faster than I thought it would.  Well, except for the time we spent in the Pizza Hut in Barstow.  Nothing like waiting for a pizza for 45 minutes, starving and itchy to get back on the road.  And there was this family in the booth across from us who was waiting too--a man, a woman, and a kid--and they sat there, completely silent, the whole entire time.  It was spooky.  And then my throat was too sore to swallow the pizza anyway.  Ugh!  (Are you tired of hearing about my cold yet?)

So, Thursday was Disneyland Day #1.  Here's our photographic proof:

I had to beg Ethan to be in this picture.  What, no posing with Dale when you're 13?!?!

Pure fun.

Wyatt on his Dad's lap on the Jungle Cruise.

Only Elise and Jonas wanted to go on this ride, one of those crazy contraptions that shoots you way up in the air.  As you can see from Elise's expression, she was having second thoughts once they got her all strapped in, but she bravely completed her mission.  I couldn't have done it.

Yes, this is a waiting-in-line shot.  (And they might have been hamming it up just a bit.)  Thursday was crowded, but it was NOTHING compared to Friday!

We left Disneyland a little early on Thursday and met my parents who'd just gotten in for dinner at Buca.  Mmm!  Non fast food!  Then we tucked ourselves in for a nice rest in preparation for a full (crowded) Friday at Disneyland.

This is a shot of the crazy line at the Pirates of the Caribbean ride on Friday.  It was actually a relief to get in line, because at least then you weren't being jostled everywhere and worried you might loose your 3-year-old.  And speaking of that 3-year-old--he'd done such a good job going on big boy rides on Thursday (he'd done Pirates of the Caribbean, the Matterhorn, all that--there are definite benefits to having a tall preschooler!).  But . . . I'm afraid we get the bad parenting award for pushing things a little too far and taking poor Wyatt on the Tower of Terror.  I hadn't quite remembered how scary it was and the poor kid emerged from that ride shaking in, yes, terror, so on Friday he was veeeerrry suspicious about going on any more rides.  Once we got through this line to do the Pirates ride (this time with Grandma and Grandpa and Amy and Dave), Wyatt would have nothing of it.  "No scary pirates, Mom!  No scary pirates!"  So I waited outside the ride with the Wy-man for that one.

One thing Wyatt DID really like was the Buzz Lightyear ride.  Here he is with Grandma Sweat, shooting his guns:

There's another really cool new Toy Story ride over at California Adventure that's a lot like the Buzz ride--except it's in 3-D and it's a lot easier to tell if you hit something.  That one doesn't have a fast pass, though, and the lines were always really long, so we only got to go on it once.  But Wyatt loved that one, too.

Here's Amy, Dave and kids on the Small World ride.  I would have taken a picture of my dad on the Small World ride, but he exercised his right he's earned as Patriarch of our family to bow out of any It's A Small World rides, now and in the future.  He's done his time.  He's earned the privilege.  My mom sure loves the Small World ride, though.  There's something soothing and nostalgic about it, don't you think?

Some cute cousin shots from Friday:

"And then--you're not going to believe this--my parents strapped me into this malfunctioning elevator.  Full of ghosts!  And everybody was screaming like they were going to die, and the room was pitch dark, and I started thinking it was about time I get things straightened out with my maker.  Then all of a sudden the doors opened and everybody was smiling and laughing like it was some big joke.  I mean, seriously?  Seriously."

"Dude.  I don't know what to tell you.  That's all kinds of messed-up."

The big hit of the day, at least among everybody over 42 inches, was the California Screamin' roller coaster.  We even talked Grandma into riding it.  Once.

Gotta love that picture.

We had an early entry pass for Disneyland on Saturday, and since Wyatt was waking up every morning at 5:45 anyway (ah, traveling through time zones and staying in hotels with little ones) we thought we'd use it.  And I'm so glad we did!  We were able to go early on Saturday morning and rode a lot of the rides we missed without having to wait.  We even had the presence of mind to get a family picture:

By Saturday, Wyatt had recovered from his Tower of Terror scare and really enjoyed Splash Mountain and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad.  We didn't push our luck and put him on Space Mountain though (rounding out the Disneyland Mountain Triumvirate.)  I do enjoy Space Mountain, myself.  An oldie but a goodie.

We left before lunch to meet Amy and Dave and my Mom and Dad (they'd all slept in) at Laguna Beach.  We weren't sure if it would be too cold for the kids to get near the water--it was only barely 70 degrees--but the kids decided to brave the waves anyway.  Even Wyatt!  It was a lot of fun.  And I sunburned my calves so badly that they still sting a little in the shower.  (Why am I so dumb?  I know that I'm going to burn even if the sun isn't all that hot, and yet I persist in believing that THIS time will be the exception.)  Here are some fun beach shots:

After the beach, we headed home, showered and changed and got some dinner, then headed back to Disneyland to enjoy the park at night.  I love riding roller coasters at night, don't you?

It was a great trip.  We headed out on Easter Sunday and were able to listen to a little bit of conference on Forrest's laptop, and it was heavenly to have all day Monday to recuperate, do laundry, and gear back up for real life.  (The kids had that day off of school.)  On Tuesday we jumped right back on the treadmill (Scouts, AML meetings, homework, baseball practice, Young Women's, work for Forrest, teaching for me, soccer practice, etc etc.), and I haven't had a spare minute until tonight to sit down and blog about it all.

And--hallelujah!!--now I have. 

Hopefully from here on out, things will be quiet enough that I can be content posting my opinions about Lost (still awesome--loved the Desmond episode!) and American Idol (getting better, digging Casey and Crystal) and Survivor: Heroes vs. Villains.  (Not Boston Rob!  Nooooooooo!). 

(Ha, you say?  Ah, well.)

But at least I'm back on the blogging train.

War in Heaven, Anyone?

So for all my fellow Lost-ies . . . wasn't last night's episode great?  Drama, emotion, ANSWERS.

And I don't know about you, but it seems to me that the whole light/dark agency-with-risk/sure-thing-but-no-progression War in Heaven theme that we Mormons know so much about is at the heart of the Jacob/Man in Black conflict.

And this is totally nerdy of me, and I'm supposed to be at the gym (sigh), but instead I'm going to do a little recapping.

First, the whole scene where MiB is giving Richard the dagger is strangely reminiscent of the serpent giving the apple to Eve in the Garden of Eden.  Richard knows that the MiB is asking him to commit a sin--murder Jacob--but the MiB is trying to convince Richard that Jacob is "the devil" and that there is "no other way" to get what he wants (his wife) unless he kills him.

MiB: The devil [Jacob] betrayed me. He took my body. My humanity. (!!!) The devil has your wife, and you are going to have to kill him if you ever want to get her back.

Richard: Murder is wrong.  That is what brought me here.

MiB: My friend, we can talk all day about what is right and what is wrong.  But the question before remains the same: do you ever want to see your wife again?

Richard: Yes. I do.

And the MiB hands him the dagger and off he goes.

Then the scene between Jacob and Richard on the beach:

Jacob: That man who sent you to kill me believes everyone is corruptible because it is in their very nature to sin.  I bring people here to prove him wrong. And when they get here, their past doesnt' matter.

Richard: Before you brought my ship, there were others?  What happened to them?

Jacob:  They're all dead.

Richard: But if you brought them here why didn't you help them?

Jacob: Because I wanted them to help themselves. To know the difference between right and wrong without me having to tell them.  It's all meaningless if I have to force them to do anything.  Why should I have to step in?

Richard: If you don't, he will!

Jacob: Do you want a job?  I don't want to step in, so maybe you can do it for me.  You can be my representative and intermediary between me and the people I bring to the island.

I also read Luke 4 last night (the chapter Richard's Bible was open to).  Was it wrong that I was searching for Lost parallels during my personal scripture study???   Anyway, some good insights there too.  The chapter is the one where Satan tempts Jesus (where they sit down and have a nice little chat, a la Jacob and MiB), and then the whole "no prophet is accepted in his own country" line and Jesus's rejection in Nazareth, along with the beginning of his miracle healings.  Also interesting  . . .

Anyway, thanks to my TiVo and my desire to avoid doing anything productive today--some juicy tidbits!  What did you think of last night's episode?

and p.s.--American Idol is outrageously horrible this year, is it not?

The Big 1-2

Last week was all about Elise. She turned 12 (I KNOW!) and had a lot of fun to show for it. It's hard for me to believe that my little girl has gone from this:

to this:

(Elise with her Grandma on the Big Day)

On her actual birthday (St. Patty's day, you know), she woke up to Harmon's doughnuts from Dad and took cookies to school to share with her class.  I told her I'd meet her at school with a special-ordered lunch (it's a new little b-day tradition that the kids are pretty excited about).  Elise chose Chick-fil-a . . . but little did I know that Chick-fil-a picked St. Patty's to do some crazy big promotion, so the lines were wrapped around the parking lot.  I had to frantically call the school to tell them to tell Elise not to fear, that I was on my way and she wouldn't go hungry on her birthday, but that I needed to swing by McDonald's instead.  I found her at her lunch table nibbling on a friend's fries, waiting patiently.  Although McDonald's "country chicken" sandwiches are a decided rip-off of Chick-fil-a's real thing, she was still pretty happy.

That night, Elise helped me make her favorite dinner, spaghetti and garlic bread, and both grandmas and grandpas came over to have some cake and sing Happy Birthday to Lou.  (Hey!  Those lyrics would fit:  "Happy Birthday to Lou, Happy Birthday to Lou!")  

In addition to the kicky new hat from Grandma Sweat Elise is wearing below, and a beautiful figurine from Grandma Hallstrom, Elise opened her Becoming Elise book:

Many of you helped with this book, and Elise and I are so grateful.  To commemorate her 12th birthday and her symbolic entry into adolescence and then womanhood, I decided I would make a book full of pictures and memories and advice from all the women in her life.  There was so much good advice and caring and support from so many of you, and it filled my heart with gladness to know that my daughter is encircled by so much love.  The book means so much to her already, and I know she'll treasure it all her life.  So thank you.

Then, after she opened the book, she pounced on present #2.  The present she's been yearning for over the last three years.  The gift that, for Elise, also symbolically represents her entry into teenagerdom (sigh).  Yes, Elise finally received a . . . 

Cell phone!

D'ya think she looks happy?  She's been doing a good deal of fiddling and texting and whatnot since Wednesday . . . but I have reminded her that, unlike many of her friends, she has a cheap-o TracFone and it does NOT come with unlimited minutes or unlimited texting.  I have a feeling there's going to be a bridge we're crossing when we soon come to it.

And you don't even want to HEAR my story about trying to transfer the minutes from Ethan's old, ruined, washed-in-his-pants-pocket phone (the one that made Ethan decide he didn't really want a cell phone after all).  In my attempt to hold on to all of those backed-up minutes, I was thrust into the third circle of customer service hell trying to get the transfer and activation figured out.  I guess my kids having cheap-o TracFones means that Mom isn't going to get top-notch (English speaking) troubleshooting help.  But after about three hours of getting transferred and misunderstood and generally run around, hallelujah!  The phone now works.  I'm not sure if those 250 minutes were worth it though . . .

(Hmm.  Looks like I told you the story after all.)

Then, on Friday, Elise had a small-ish party with her cousin Lauren, her "half-cousin" (as Elise likes to call her) Jane, and her two best friends Tayler and Haylie.  Here they all are, looking cute in the Big Chair:

After presents, we took off for Jordan Commons for dinner at The Mayan (cliff divers! bland, mediocre food!) and to see Alice in Wonderland:

The girls in The Mayan's waiting area

 At our table, right in front of the cliff divers!  

(Notice the sign letting us know we're in the "wet zone")

A little photo shoot outside The Mayan.

I love the shot on the serpent,

but when all the girls piled on for a picture

and this random kid in an orange shirt ran up behind them

and grabbed Lauren around the middle

just as I pressed "click" on the camera?

Priceless.

Alice in Wonderland was better than I thought it would be.  Granted, my expectations weren't too high since I don't really like Alice in Wonderland (my mom tells me that there's some psychological test that asks whether or not you're an Alice fan, and your answer's supposed to have some kind of meaningful insight into your psyche).  But it was a fun movie, and Helena Bonham Carter was great as the Red Queen.  I'm getting a teensy bit weary of the Johnny-Depp-as-Weirdo-We're-Supposed-to-Like character, but the visuals of the movie were strong and the story worked.  Alice was suuuuuper pale, though.  It was distracting.  Elise even leaned over and asked me, "Why is Alice so pale?" . . . and I couldn't come up with an answer, other than the fact that Tim Burton must think Pale People are all deep and thoughtful and interesting.  All the uninteresting girls in the movie looked much less sickly.  At any rate.

It was a fun night and the girls had a ball.  Elise's "birthday week" was capped off today by her entrance into the Young Women's program.  She stood up in front of the congregation and recited the 13th Article of Faith (she says it's the easiest one :-) and was so excited to go to Young Women's for the first time.  She's ready.  She's going to love it.

So Happy Birthday, my darling Lou.  We love you, and we're so excited to see what the next 12 years will bring!