I've Gone Viral

Don’t anybody get excited.

This blog hasn’t gone viral.  I haven’t written any posts or posted any pictures that the online community can’t get enough of.

No, both my body and my email account are chock full of viruses doing their best to invade the world.

If I felt better, it would be kind of funny, that both my physical and online presence share the same ailment.  But I don’t feel better.  My head hurts, my back hurts, my throat really hurts. I can’t stop coughing and my nose won’t stop running. Watching me blow my nose for the umpteenth time last night (on the soft lotion tissues he got especially for me,) Mr. Man said, “You wonder after a while how there’s anything left in your head.”

I don’t think there is much left in my head.  When my husband held up the checkbook this morning before his church meetings and said, “I need you to do me a favor,” I felt vaguely glad that he had found the checkbook, but didn’t have any idea what the favor was.

He wanted me to write out the tithing check.  He was out of town for a speaking assignment last week, and I forgot to pay it because I only write the checks, not hand over the envelope. Mr. Man was nervous all week lest we get struck by lightning.

The only thing worse than being sick myself would be having a house full of sick children.  So I’m coughing down my shirt, changing my shirt when I figure it’s too germy, and washing my hands obsessively.  They’re so chapped, they  look like they belong to an 80-year-old with a skin condition.

 But nobody else is sick yet.

I have, however, been sharing a virus via my email.

So if you’ve been receiving links from me about how to make $17,000 a month by surfing the internet at home, I’m sorry.  Someone near and dear to me got the link, thought it was legitimate and that I might be interested because, hey, Steph’s a blogger and she’s into that sort of thing, right? So this near-and-dear person forwarded it to me with a message that made me think it was legit.

I opened it and knew I had done a foolish thing.

And I realized how completely my near-and-dearest doesn’t understand blogging, etc. Which is okay.

My password has been changed, and it looks like the spamming has stopped for now.

Still, I’m sorry.  Sort of sorry for my entire being right now. I am a harmful presence in my universe, a force for inconvenience, irritation, and possible pain.

Time to go back to bed?

Crystal Anniversary

So yesterday, Mr. Man and I celebrated our fifteenth wedding anniversary.  And by "celebrated," I mean that I looked up which anniversary it was - crystal - in between Girls' Camp stuff and taking care of kiddos.  Then we went to Arby's after my husband fed the kids leftovers and I woke up from an unplanned but much-needed nap.

Once in a while we crave Arby's. And it was a Wednesday night, so no dinner/movie combo.  Even though I could happily see The Avengers for a third time. Over fake roast beef and milk shakes, we mostly talked about all the people who have died since we got married. (Lots.) I think we touched on how we're still extremely fond of each other and how much we like our kids, but I'm not sure.

We came home to the offspring, and I washed dishes while my husband put Hallie and Sophia to bed and helped Kira with homework, which mostly involved watching music videos on youtube.

Finally all the wee ones went to bed and I could finally be alone with my husband - really all the celebrating I'd wanted all day long. Just to talk to him about little daily details and pie-in-the-sky aspirations. About how he used to drive his parents nuts the way Kira had with us that evening. And how we wondered if Scarlett would ever finish getting potty trained.

Today I figured out why I was so tired yesterday.  I'm sick. My throat feels like I swallowed a cactus and it has al these litttle blisters on it.

Free diagnoses, anyone?

And all I really want is to get through the day and have my husband come home so I can slump against him while we talk about our day (mostly him, because it hurts when I talk). And because we'll be together, all will feel right with the world.

Pretty good after fifteen years, I think.

Stuff and nonsense. (Mostly nonsense.)

Today’s post is brought to you courtesy of Hallie and Sophia’s pizza party.  Their class finally earned enough “Stop and Think” awards for a treat, so I don’t have to make them lunch, so I’ve got ten extra minutes this morning.  It’s T-minus seven weeks to Girls’ Camp and my free time is vanishing.  Every second counts.

Plus my house is dirty because Mr. Man was deathly ill the whole time I was in Yellowstone (he kept the kids alive, that’s all that matters).  But my floors are icky, the bathrooms frightening. And I seem to be developing a conscience regarding housekeeping in my old age.  Marilynn, you want to know why I’m not writing  much lately? Girls’ Camp and dirty floors. Plus another Relief Society dinner in June.

Confession: I don’t really know what “T-minus” means.

Five minutes left to write, except Sophia has lots of questions like, “Were you poor when you were a little child?” “Which city did you live in?” “You grew up in Grandpa’s house?  That’s weird.”

And Hallie just gave me a neck hug – you know, the sweet ones that make you feel like you’re being strangled – and said, “Mama, you’re too much.”

No, I don’t think I’m too much.  I think I’m too little, with too much to do. Unless she means “too much” in the literal sense, like I need to stop eating donuts and go for a walk. Little kids don’t care if their mothers are a little squishy, though.  I remember telling my mom when I was little that I thought mothers should be soft. Maybe that’s why my kids like to cuddle so often: generous maternal upholstery.

Time to get the twinners off to Hair & Wardrobe. The subject I wanted to write about will have to wait until tomorrow. Thanks for stopping by (in the online sense – not kidding about needing to pick up and disinfect around here).

Liz and Steph's Excellent Adventure

14 bears,

2 wolves,

and a whole lotta hot water.

Lizzy and I are back from Yellowstone, and we had an amazing time.  I had never before seen a bear before in the wild, or a great horned owl feeding its downy baby.

Black bears are much cuter than grizzlies, and baby bison are called "red dogs." Wolf packs are one big soap opera. Eleven-year-olds smell funny after seven hours on a bus.

And my scratched-up camera still takes better pictures of Kira's, which I found out only after leaving my camera home. Bummer.  Guess I'll have to go back.

Here are some pictures, Day 1:

  View of Tetons from the bus window  Obligatory photo of Old Faithful erupting

First bear we ever saw in the wild - running alongside the road

 Lizzy at Norris Geyser Basin

 

 

 

 Bear #2

 Mama bear with two-year-old cubs. And the last bear picture I'll post - didn't get any good pictures of the rest of 'em. (Although I did get a good view.)

View from the balcony at our cabin 

Cabin liviing/dining area

And one more "at the cabin" photoDay 2: 

wolf paparazzi

  Photo taken through spotting scope - he and another wolf (girlfriend) were howling to each other. He sat there until she joined him, then they trotted off together.

Bison herd

 

tour bus

 Shauna, our tour guide, showing us the bone structure beneath those huge bison humps

Wolf lichen - pretty and poisonous

Here are some trees with their "mother rocks." Every single tree had one - a large rock, deposited by a glacier, which allowed a seed that landed near its base to eventually sprout and grow. 

Mammoth Hot SpringsLiz at Mammoth - wearing one of Kira's old sweatshirts 

 Day 3:

Roaring Mountain

Upper Yellowstone FallsGrand Canyon of the Yellowstone Lower Yellowstone Falls

Mud volcano. Really stinks - loved it.

And those, dear readers, are a few (I edited - really!) photos of our trip. I LOVED spending three very long days with Lizzy, who was sweet and enthusiastic even when she got wet and cold. The cabin was fabulous, Yellowstone wowed as always.

I'm already plotting a return trip, perhaps in September of 2013.  Wanna come?

Because I think it's pretty.

I think I could devote a whole blog to flowers blooming on my kitchen table. They do my soul good.