In the Rain with Pete

To be in love Is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well.

-Gwendolyn Brooks

Pete and I had an impromptu walk in the rain today. I was supposed to be putting him down for a nap. Instead, we sloshed our flip-flop clad feet through the rivers of water in our neighborhood streets and gutters.

A man in the passenger side of a pickup truck gave me a thumb's up as he passed.

When we got home, we stood on the front porch and held our hands out to catch the water spilling from the roof. I wish I could transmit my memory of his wet skin, his hair plastered down, his laugh when he bent his head down to suck the shirt on my shoulder for a drink, how it felt to hold him on my hip in perfect health and happiness.



Also Gwendolyn Brooks : Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies. And be it gash or gold it will not come Again in this identical guise.

Mama, snap out of it!

I do not handle most stress well. I am a delightful person when it's easy. But when it's hard, and especially when surrounded by those who should be able to trust me the most, I fall to pieces. I make what's hard harder for everybody. I forget that I set the tone of our home and that I am responsible for more than just myself. So, I've been like that a lot lately.  And today after being a truly terrible mother, it dawned on me: I'm responsible for this. I can choose to get it together and be happy and not out of control. Even if...certain small boys did what they did.

So after a disastrous morning, we left the house and headed for Idalou to the Apple Orchard. It was like the scales peeled away as we passed cows and hay bales. It was sunny and you could see and see and see.

Pete had a walking stick. Oh, Pete. You are the most adorable, kissable thing in this green and blue world. You walked with your stick, avoiding fire ants and cooing at butterflies until you got tired. And then I carried your sweaty body and you were heavy and needy and it was good. And Luke. Luke, we followed you hither and yon, up and down orchard rows and on the tractor rutted road. You and I discussed the best places to build anthills (if we were ants) and how the King Ant has wings. (You corrected your own self about that one--queen ants...) We ate watermelon and cantaloupe, and apple salad, and corn chips and pinto beans. And while we ate, we watched mud martins swoop in to their nests under the eaves of the covered patio. Mr. Cal remembered you, Luke, from the last time you followed him around came home with the trophies of walking sticks made of apple tree branches. I think he remembered you because you were interested in everything he had to say. You still remembered about how he doesn't kill the ants because he likes horn toads and horn toads need the ants for food.

We brought home local honey and german apple cake. Luke and I ate most of it this afternoon, but saved some for Daddy. We might all be a little sunburnt and mosquito bitten. And I feel a little bit more like myself.

The Land Desolation-I know exactly where that is.

On our way home from visiting family, we stopped at the rest area on I-70, just before the turn off to get to Moab. This area is desolate. We were in the middle of nowhere. Anyway, through a series of unfortunate events and thanks to Pete's curiosity and handiness, we managed to lock ourselves out of the car. In the middle of nowhere. With no cell phones in our pockets. With no shoes on our child's feet. In the middle of nowhere.

Pete locked us out of the car in the middle of nowhere with the car still running and none of us--not even Petey--was inside.

Earlier, Brandon and I had had this conversation:

Brandon: "Gas here in Lehi is the cheapest I've seen in in Utah."
Carrie: "Stop and get some."
Brandon: "No, I always stop in Moab."
Carrie: "You should stop and get some."
Brandon: "No, I've worked it all out. I always stop at the same places on our trip."
Carrie: "What if something bad happens?"
Brandon: "Nothing's going to happen."
Carrie: "You don't know that. A semi could overturn and we could be waiting for hours. It happened to the Kimballs." (It didn't exactly happen to the Kimballs--their catastrophe was a blizzard.)
Brandon: "We're not going to run out of gas."
Carrie, voice rising: "You don't know everything!"
Brandon: "We're not going to run out of gas. Trust me."
Carrie, voice rising more with a tinge of hysteria: "Why can't you just stop and get gas for me?!"
Brandon: "Oh! You want me to get gas? I'd be happy to."

Back to the middle of nowhere:
A couple from Germany was stopping at the same rest area. They let us use their cell phone. I called 911. "911, where's your emergency?" "Um, normally I wouldn't consider this an emergency, but we're in the middle of nowhere..."

Eighty-five dollars for the locksmith, and 3 hours later, we stopped to fill up at our usual stop.

The above line could also be read like this: I'm such a blessing to him and I didn't hesitate to tell him so.

P.S. That couple from Germany also invited us to stay in their RV for the 2 hours spent waiting for help to arrive. They gave us cokes and cookies. And in thick accents said, "It is no trouble." They lied. I'm glad they lied.

I have something to say.

And I've decided to say it.

I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

On Sunday a friend of mine bore her testimony of the Savior, that He is God's son, that we are God's children, that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and that President Thomas S. Monson is the Lord's prophet on the earth today, and that the Book of Mormon is true scripture. As I sat in the congregation and listened, I felt the heavens were open.

And I bear my own testimony--born of a witness from the Holy Ghost and my own faith and obedience, that Jesus is the Christ. 

My Style

My friend (and roommate), Katri, posted this link on her blog. She wrote:

It's a quiz at Sproost.com that defines your decorating style. I like it because it uses pictures instead of descriptions to help you decide what you like.

I say, "Ditto."

I loved it! My results: 33% Cottage Chic, 33 % Classic, and 34% Nantucket.

So, basically, undecided. That's appropriate.

Upon looking at all the photos in each category, I realized I'm in love (in love!) with Cottage Chic and Nantucket.

And you?

Above Cottage Chic Below, Nantucket.

A disjointed post

Today we went to the library.  We were there to return books, to avoid accruing more late fines on Julia's Mastering the Art of French Cooking, to check out Book #3 in the Magic Treehouse series, and to get a few books for preschool. Well. I had forgotten all about the library's Easter Extravaganza even though Kaylyn sent out an announcement.

(Kaylyn heads up playgroup now. I feel blissfully happy about that.)

When we were depositing our library books, someone mentioned it to us in passing, "Are you guys going to the Easter thing? They'll have bouncers and stuff." Luke said, "Can we go?!" I couldn't say no, but I wanted to. I don't know why I'm like that. I like the mundane day to day stuff, not the crazy, this is SO fun stuff. But, I'm glad I didn't say no.

At first, Pete was afraid to try out the big blow-up slide. Right before they closed up shop, he did it though, and he loved it. The first time, I had to go in after him and help over the second hurdle (it had two different slides, one after the other.)but, then he figured it out and didn't need any help. He had the hugest grin on his face and his hair was all wild. He would still be sliding if he could.

Luke had so much fun too. After receiving plastic eggs with chocolates inside, he played, "Which egg-shell is the chocolate egg under?" with me. We just sat on the carpet and played. I love that he thought of that. I love that I wanted me to play. I love...well, you know.

So because of all the candy to be had, and bouncers to jump in and slide down, and friends to play with,

We were at the library from 10:45-ish until 2-ish.

As always, they cheered when we left.

But, I'm glad we went because Pete spent lots of time experimenting with the drinking fountain. It was very enriching for him. He learned:

Yes, it really does arc water everytime you push the button! And, you can squirt water in lots of directions!  (I didn't want the library to get sued, so I mopped up the mess.)

And, I did check out a few books for preschool. Twenty-two, to be exact. (Oh, dear.)

And, has anyone seen a stuffed frog? And, thank you to those friends who: helped me track down my stroller, find my toddler, and watched my boys while I checked out all those books. I'm a mess. But I'm a hot mess. Hey, that reminds me, the bumps on my face are pretty much cleared up. (Sonja, it's not cancer.)

Here are pictures to show how I'm feeling about the arrival of Spring.

I love baby animals! I love blossoms!

image courtesy of flickr, by thatsanotherdory

Happy, happy, happy, happy Spring. It's another most wonderful time of the year.

And, more importantly:

General Conference

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

(The Easter button above is from Shabby Blogs.)

I guess that's it.

I hope it sticks.

Lately, I've thought, okay at least twice, maybe three times, I've thought this:

I can do it.

This thought is foreign and it comes unbidden. And it's wonderful.

A sampling of my thoughts:

"The kitchen and the bathrooms really need to be cleaned. That's okay. I can do it."

"If I get pregnant again, I might have a baby girl. It'll be okay; I can do it."

"If we stay in Lubbock next year, Brandon will be looking for a job again."

Before I finish this thought, I need to interject. This is our second year looking for a job. He has a job, it's just not permanent, tenure-track, and solidly stable and therefore, we are not settled. I have repeatedly and irreverently expressed to God that we just can't do this anymore. But, maybe instead of letting me have my way right this second, Heavenly Father has given me something else. Because,

"If Brandon is looking for a job again, I'll need to smile through it and make a home anyway and anywhere. And I can do it."

I'm still praying though, but asking, not demanding.

P.S. My children's cheeks KILL me. Tonight, I kissed and kissed and kissed my baby's face before letting him doze off.  He's so precious to me.

P.S.S. A glass lid shattered in the dishwasher and so now the dishwasher doesn't drain completely. Today I realized that it's really stupid to continue using a dishwasher that's not draining completely, so I did all the dishes by hand. It took a long time. But it smelled good. And I scoured the kitchen sink first, which made me feel successful.

I washed all the dishes except for the oatmeal pot.  It's soaking. I didn't dry the dishes and they are leaning hodgepodge against one another across two countertops.

And I only cleaned one bathroom. But, Luke worked alongside me. Which is so great! And I'm an amazing mother for not bribing him and for trusting him with ajax and windex. It was rather fun to kneel side by side and scrub the tub.

And the point is, I thought I could do it. And I couldn't, not exactly. The oatmeal pot is still dirty. The dishes are not put away. The upstairs bathroom is still filthy. But, really, what does it matter when one baby was kissed and kissed and the other was read to and scrubbed a sink all by himself?

I'd love to hear about how you were...enough. But, I'll understand if you don't follow suit and blog all about it. I hope you'll at least go and be successful quietly and then think, "Oh my! I did pretty well today. I wasn't perfect and it doesn't even matter!"

"I'm a workhorse, Baby."

That's what he told me while shovelling sod when everyone else was taking a break (including myself.) We were dating, maybe engaged. I don't remember. But I do remember sitting on the grass looking up at him framed by the blue sky with the Bountiful Temple in the background.

And it's true: That boy's never gonna let us starve.

My husband. He helped Luke clean his room. He let Luke help him do the dishes. He cleaned all the countertops and even the stove. (That right there is cause for a big, slobbery french kiss.) (Ew, gross, Carrie!) (Sorry, too much information.) Then he cleared away the dumping place (the "high countertop." It's higher than the other countertops.) He put the slipcover back on the junked-loveseat. He straightened the family room. He cleaned our room. He fixed the broken chair. He fixed the broken bed. He took the boys outside to play. He set the table. He cleaned up the baby. He gathered us together for family prayer. He put the baby to bed. He did dinner dishes. He would have vacuumed, but I had 6 piles of laundry on the floor, equalling 9+ loads of laundry.

I did laundry. I ran a couple of errands. I didn't finish either job completely. He's going to the grocery store for me tonight and I'm still working on the laundry.

He just came in to see what I was up to. He said, "I was going to take the garbage out before I go."

Thirsty

image: flickr, by manyfires

When you go looking for trouble, you will find it. (I found it.) A photo shouldn't make you cry. (typed with tears streaming down my face.) The above picture is of somewhere in the Redwoods.

All the places I love are too far away to renew me.

The photo below made me think about standing in front of my parents' home on clear nights and looking up at the star-filled sky. In the winter with the snow-silenced air between me and the universe, I can always find Orion.

This photo also made me think about the bridge over the Elizabeth River at Yorktown Virginia. The air is not snow-silenced, but warm and muggy. And waves calmly lap the beach. We've seen dolphins out there, a stingray, and one night we watched a crab swimming beside the boat dock. It's a great place. Below, I've written a snapshot of my memory.

image courtesy of flickr, by manyfires

Tidewater Virginia.

Under the bridge in Yorktown, right across the street from where Nick's used to be. If I'm very still, I can feel the warm, damp air and the feeling that we'll be on the Colonial Parkway soon, whipping past dark, dense woods on our way home. I peer out the passenger window.   

photo: flickr

Nick's Seafood Restaurant. Oooooh, man. Nick's had greek statues and silvery-blue ceilings.
Lobster, anyone?

Another snapshot of a different place I love, the one I've been really, really missing lately:

Oregon Coast.
Ecola State Park. The road through the moss drenched rain forest twists and turns. Up in the tall branches, an owl: silent, still, majestic. On a coastal trail, and the path through the woods is spongey with moss and the mulch of a thousand years' making. Ferns line the path. Old, giant trees protect from the elements. Thick December fog obscures the view of the seemingly-sheer dropoff to the Pacific and the migrating whales.

When you reach the end of that road through Ecola State Park, this is what you'll see.

image: flickr, by Major Clangor

Lately, I've been feeling parched and brittle and vulnerable. To the Universe: Whisk me away to someplace green!

Do you ever yearn for somewhere else, and if so, where?

P.S. I've begun the Book of Mormon again and I'm positive I should be listening to those verses about not murmuring and complaining. The verse that really struck me: 1 Nephi 18:16

P.S.S. This post was written in parts. The crying was only momentary. It's now Monday, a new week.

P.S.S. I will write about what's going on with us someday and even include anecdotes about my darling children.

My Heavenly Father Loves Me

Our primary children will be singing this song in Sacrament Meeting on February 28th. It will be a secret gift from me to our ward, but they don't know that. Our Bishop said it was his favorite, and it is one of mine. Here is a link to my very favorite, Jesus Is My Shepherd. (sheet music)

And a Happy New Year!

We had a New Year's Eve party. We invited some friends, had a potluck, played games. Luke had the best time playing with the other children. Sometime after 10, we put the children to bed upstairs. They actually went to sleep! We forgot to get out the sparklers before the kiddos went to bed, so our family lit them on the night of New Year's Day.   FYI: Brandon's favorite holiday is the Fourth of July. But his second-favorite is New Year's Eve.

Merry Christmas!

Luke and his preschool buddies singing "Jingle Bells" at their Christmas Program.

Our Christmas Tree. Our first year with a star on top because I finally found one I like.

Christmas Eve, after the boys were in bed, after all the wrapping and stacking. I love this moment just before Brandon and the boys unwrap their gifts. And I care only a little if you judge me for rampant consumerism. (Thank you family for the bounty!)

In the wee hours of Christmas morning, Luke came downstairs. We surveyed the presents and full stockings together and then Luke went back to sleep. Here he is sleeping under the Christmas tree.

Later, Luke was still sleeping soundly under the tree when Pete woke up. Petey was giving Luke loves in this picture to wake him up. For Brandon and I, it was a magical moment.

I don't have a picture of my favorite part of our Christmas morning.
The night before, we had been out and both boys fell asleep in the car. So, in the morning, we all climbed into our bed and read the Christmas Nativity story from the New Testament.
Then we opened our Thankful Box and read our lists we had been keeping through the month.
I think we're going to postpone the Christmas story from now on.
It was lovely to read it to fresh-cheeked little boys.

Pajama-striped Petey and his stocking on Christmas morning:

Brandon and I made wooden blocks for the boys. Here is Luke with a creation.

Our front door. Back at the beginning of December, I wanted Brandon to put the lights up and he did.

At one o'clock in the morning.

I hope our neighbors didn't mind the hammering! (Or, wouldn't you love to live next door to us?!)

Our Thankful Box.

Merry Christmas.

The Sweet Life

So, I'm eating less sugary junk food. Again. Yes, I already fell off the wagon and I started two days ago. But I'm taking a big yoga breath, and being gentle with myself. Therefore I write, "less," not "none."

In conjunction with my sweet-consciousness, I'm writing at least one post about the sweetness of my life.

Tonight, I walked out of my bedroom and into the family room to find Luke watching "This Old House" and Brandon on his hands and knees with Pete slung over his shoulder. They were wrestling.

Tonight before bedtime I held Pete in the doorway of Luke's bedroom. He switched the light off, he switched the light on. Off. And on. Over and over again with a very contented smile on his face, which was upturned towards the light, and then dark...

Luke answered the phone today and said, "No." And then eventually hung up. I asked him who it was and he said, "Somefin' about the Texas Tech police, maybe?"

We are writing lists of things we're thankful for and then storing them in our "Thankful Box" to be read Christmas morning before presents. (I encourage you to STEAL THIS IDEA. I found it in the Ensign or Friend.) Anyway, Luke is thankful for many things, but last night he was thankful for all of his "aminals...especially my puppy and Baby Bear."

I am thankful for the women who have gone before me and made sacrifices that I sincerely hope never to make. But I hope my sacrifices will still be meaningful to myself and my God.

I am thankful for my Grandma Petersen and the time we had together in May. She knew me for 40 minutes to an hour on our last visit together in this earth life. I'm thankful for the freedom, and time, and peace and quiet of her home and for the radio she put in my room and the BubbleYum she left on my pillow.

Libraries.
Bookstores.
But mostly, libraries.

Progress: When I "fell off the wagon," I did not eat a whole piece of carrot cake (yes, my favorite kind, a first-place slot sometimes tied with chocolate). Brandon brought it home just for me, but I shared it with him and Luke and I even left one bite for Pete. And he never would have known if I hadn't...

I can't help myself.

In You've Got Mail, when Meg Ryan asks Greg Kinnear about his new-found love, "Isn't she a Republican?" He says, "Iiii can't help myself." (Iiii did that on purpose.)

And, speaking of Greg Kinnear, have you seen the movie Ghost Town? HAH! (I always second-guess myself when I share stuff like this, because what if you don't laugh as hard as I did? I wish I could just automatically assume that there's something wrong with your sense of humor and not mine, ya know? But in an effort to improve a healthy sense of self-acceptance, I saw Little Miss Sunshine on TV in the wee hours of the morning, also with Greg Kinnear, and I laughed until I was crying and then wheezing.) So anyway, Ricky Gervaise and Greg Kinnear are greaT! in this flick:

Okay, so anyway, Iiii can't help myself. I LOVE these Blue Diamond Lime 'n Chili almonds. If I never eat chips or crunchy cheetos again, I will survive. But these, well these are like oxygen. Expensive oxygen. I think I could even forgo cake if I had a never-ending supply of these in my fork-holding hand. I will never be the same again. And I know it's just not right. Forgo cake?! That's unnatural. Thankfully, I can have my cake and eat these too.

Just to show how fully-female my brain is:

2 songs this post brought to my recollection:

Cake, Short Skirt, Long Jacket

K's Choice, I'm Not an Addict

1 more

10,000 Fireflies -Hey, who sings this? (where he says something about being an insomniac. Do you know what time it is? Let's just say it's morning and my boys have been asleep for a loooong time.)

Hey! There's another one! (see label)

Fall with the Randolph-Seng's

Fall began one wintry day--no truly, it was COLD. We trekked out to Idalou and went to the apple orchard for some hot BBQ and cool german apple cake. We ate lunch, went on a hayride, picked out our pumpkins, and watched green chiles being roasted. I bought raw honey and I really think it's made a difference to my sinuses. Here are the boys sitting across from me on the trailer bed/hayride. It was fun and freezing.

It's soup-time. I've made several different soups, but I only took a picture the night we had pizza. (sigh) But it's goooooood pizza! Roasted red & yellow bell peppers, onions, mushrooms, and grape tomatoes. Mostly whole wheat crust. Lots-a-cheese.

Chilly days are great for staying inside and building forts. Here's Pete crawling through one. Look at his hair.

And Look at HIS hair! Luke's striking a tough pose with his rad mohawk.

But then it kinda fell over.

Still tough. Don't mess with us.

I look like a cross between Bono and the mafia. That's what no shower and no sleep will do to ya.

But I did really like this one.

Seedfolks by Paul Fleischman


My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This book is so short but so FULL.


View all my reviews >>

The Harshest Review I've Ever Written

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13747.Julie_and_Julia_365_Days_524_Recipes_1_Tiny_Apartment_Kitchen">Julie and Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen by http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8546.Julie_Powell">Julie Powell

My rating: http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/71616689">1 of 5 stars

If this book had actually been about 365 days and 524 recipes, I would have liked this book. If it had actually been about themes connecting the lives of Julia Child and Julie Powell, I would have loved this book.

As it was, the only parts I really wanted to read were the very few and far between snatches of Julia Child. However, the author's views on other people (shared through the lens of her cynicism, her blame, and her hypocrisy) make me distrustful of her lens focused on Julia and Paul Child.

Everything else is littered with unfunny self-absorption, self-pity (not to be confused with self-deprecating humor--there isn't any) and characters who are not interesting and certainly not noteworthy.

On the positive side, I now want to read Julia's own words, thanks to Cody and what I've heard of the movie (that just HAS to be better than this book.)

The softie in me thinks that my critique is too harsh because:
1. She lost me in the beginning when she doesn't call for help when she sees a woman wack her own head on concrete. I don't care if you're in New York, you DO SOMETHING.
2. She's so scattered. For example, sometimes she attempts french recipes without really reading them--which is fine, but don't write a book with a pragmatic title: it's false-advertising.
3. She alienated me with her very poor handling of truly important moments. The making of omelettes-not important. Your attitude toward comforting families who lost loved ones September 11th-important.
4. She aligns her own "journey" with that of Julia Child and it felt false and forced. But I could have forgiven her that had I not wanted to stop spending time with her altogether.

http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1347027-carrie">View all my reviews >>

Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn

Luke didn't finish his dinner the other night. He ate everything except his salad. I didn't make him finish it because he said he was full. But then he wanted a treat. Our conversation went like this:

C: I think you're too full for a treat.

L: No, I'm not.

C: If you're too full for lettuce, you're too full for a treat.

L: But only the lettuce parts of my stomach are full.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Yesterday I asked Luke to watch Pete and KEEP HIM SAFE while I took a quick shower. I put the baby gate up and got ready for the day. When I came out, both boys were at the kitchen table, heads bent over in concentration. On the table, there was a full cup of milk, with straw, and a 2-Liter bottle of raspberry soda.

Luke stood up with a sharp knife in his hand, and said, "I'm sorry I got this knife out."

Turns out, he had also retrieved a sharp pair of scissors. He wanted to mix the milk and raspberry drink together to see what it would taste like. He wasn't strong enough to unscrew the top, so he had gathered tools to do the job.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Pete still wacks people on the head and pulls hair and bites and yells and he also screams and pounds on the door of the dressing room when I won't let him out to go walk around Target by himself (making another baby in the dressing room cry.)

As we walked through Target yesterday, Pete was yelling (not crying, just yelling) and everytime Luke would get close enough, Pete would try to pull his hair. Luke was a pretty good sport. He just copied me and kept telling Petey, "You're dangerous."

The other thing we say to Pete is, "Stop hittin' your money-maker!" Because he hits himself in the head to be funny.

Oh yeah, he also has a fake cry that we love. He cries and half-smiles and then looks out of the side of his eyes to see if I'm watching and if it's working. It's not, but it's entertaining.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

This is Luke at swim lessons this summer. He didn't want to jump off the diving board. I knelt down beside him and gave him a stirring peptalk. "I believe in you!" ("@%^&! I was eloquent!" Name that movie for a date with me.)

Anyway, I was eloquent and he was unmoved.

Then I said, "I'll buy you an ice cream cone if you jump off that diving board." He didn't even hesitate or have to think it over.

Me & Luke at the Silent Wings Museum.

Huck Finn--I mean--Pete. After black beans.

I am in love.

Her favorite singer was John Denver.

Last weekend, my family gathered for the funeral of my grandma.

She was the perfect grandmother. And we didn't make it easy on her, living 2000 miles away. She sent big boxes of wrapped gifts to stack under the Christmas tree. She packed tins of homemade cookies, candy, and green and pink popcorn balls and sent those cross-country as well. She sent homemade Christmas ornaments: small felt snowmen and Christmas trees, candy canes, and stockings, with our little photographed heads sticking out of the tops. She wrote letters.


When we visited for two heavenly, easy-going weeks each summer, she left packages of grape Bubble-Yum on our pillows and we watched her knuckles as she peeled onions for spaghetti sauce. In the wee hours of the morning, she brewed coffee. I still stop in the supermarket aisle and press my finger tips into the left-behind coffee grinds so I can enjoy that smell.

She poured cups of orange juice "to wake up with" and she held us in her lap outside in the cool, shadowed morning. She planted marigolds and impatiens and ivy climbed the mailbox post at every house she ever owned. She snuck cookies into our beds and told us night-time stories of little ones with shiny new cars and their adventures. "And they rode and they rode and they rode and they rode." My cousins heard the same stories. She loved us all. We each thought we were her favorite. I still think it. And so does Patrick, I'm sure.

And about Patrick. My cousin. I haven't seen him for about 7 years. That delightful guy chauffeured me around Williamsburg this past weekend. He never complained once about the baby in the backseat wailing, or the return trip to the motel to retrieve something I already had, or the fact that carseat installment became his duty. He works for the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency. Yes, that is COOL. And Pete really liked him. One night my brother, Patrick, and I walked through Colonial Williamsburg together, and I was dumbfounded by how similar we all were.

I'm really glad that I could go. Thank you, Brandon, for sending me. All three of my brothers were there. And my cousin Emily. It meant a lot me to see her. I didn't grow up around my Petersen/Ellis cousins, so this weekend was really special for us to spend some time together.

Emily and Pete.

I miss Brandon.

He's not here to tell me to come to bed. He's not in bed putting up with the lamp shining like the noon-day sun while I read to "unwind." He's not lying on his side with his back to me so I can't wrap my arm (yep, just the one--the other's always under my pillow so that I don't resent him for being the comfortable one) as I was saying...arm around him and then, in his sleep, he's not there to take my hand like he does. every night. except tonight. Because he's not here and I miss him. Very much.