GoPro Adventures

Nels is awesome.

From our Mother's Day adventure at Kootenai Falls.

A Few Things I Learned Last Night

In my childhood memories, watching or helping my mom can food holds a prominent spot.

As a mother myself, I've found great satisfaction in it as well. However, the last couple of years haven't been my most productive. Almost all my jars are empty and it makes me so sad! :) Not really sad that I haven't had a bunch of food to cart around from place to place to place, but still sad.

This year I determined that I was definitely going to can some applesauce. My family loves it and we finally finished off my last bottle a couple months ago.

A list of some things I learned last night while cleaning up.

~ 40 lbs. of apples makes surprisingly less sauce than I thought it would. -- About 9+ quarts.

~ I love the smell of fresh apples. If I could bottle that up and keep it in my kitchen always, I would.

~ I don't think I'll can applesauce again unless it's with FREE apples. Not real economical.

~ Tart-er apples make better applesauce. Eating apples are for eating. The ones people let fall on the ground in their yards, those are for saucing.

~ I like tart kids.

~ Regardless of whether or not my time, money, or spent energy were economical yesterday, it was super fun to spend my time, money, AND energy with the most enthusiastic "bestest Applesauce Turner Squisher in the whole world!"

Day 10 - Childhood Memory

I started my "photo challenge" on February 7th. Today is May 7th. Three months, huh? and I'm only on day 10. :)

Oh well. I guess I'm just being true to character. It would probably shock the senses of all people close to me and cause them to start questioning the consistency of the world around them if I were to do anything different.

Taking four times longer to complete a project than normal people do. 

Story of my life.

Maybe when my kids are grown, it will only take me twice as long ------- it's something to shoot for anyway, right? {wink}

So the assignment for day 10 is "Childhood Memory". 

In the house where I grew up, my dad had an enormous shop on the back of the garage. It was nearly always a mess (which I'm sure was not entirely the fault of my dad OR entirely the fault of his children) and always filled with lots of fun things to get hurt on or with. :) (just ask Ben about the time when he lost several fingers on my dad's table saw)

I think I followed my dad around a lot. I'm sure I was totally in his way, but I loved just being with him as he changed the oil or cleaned up the garage. I have lots of fond memories of watching my dad in his shop - either building something, fixing something, welding something, or maybe just puttering around. :) It always smelled like metal and sawdust.

My dad was also really good about "letting" us use his stuff. ---- Well, he probably wasn't around most of the time when we were doing it and really would have preferred if we didn't get into his tools and then leave them out --- and I'm sure that he had other plans for most of the wood that we cut to pieces . . . but I don't actually ever remember him getting mad at us for making things. :) So I'm going to remember that he was awesome about letting us use his tools. :)

One summer, Jake and I decided that we were going to make treasure boxes. We drew up plans, measured and cut all the pieces, glued, nailed, and sanded them together. I can remember riding our bikes downtown to get hinges and locks for them from the local hardware store.

I've kept mine (and I know I've seen Jake's too) through all the years - probably close to twenty now. Every time I see it, I'm reminded of my little brother and how much I love him. How thankful I am for all the years of fighting and playing we had as children. So many of my best childhood memories are filled with him. (Recently, I've started telling the girls stories about when I was a kid - they ask for the ones featuring Jake over and over again.)

Over the years my box has truly become a treasure box, of sorts. It's become the keeping place for many of my teenage memories. It carries notes passed in class, cards attached to roses that were left on my car while I was at work, my first driver's license, concert tickets from MxPx and Gladys Knight, silly fortunes from countless cookies from Wok Lin, letters and trinkets from dear friends and missionaries that imagined I was going to wait for them while they were on their missions.

The box smells like "Tommy" cologne, from the little sample vial that I kept and sometimes sprayed on my pillow in high school to remind me of my boyfriend, Jaron. A ticket stub from our first date and under the lid remains a stick figure drawing burned into the wood, of Jaron and I holding hands (4-EVER). :) Put there, by him, on perhaps our three month anniversary? :) It holds a teacup from my grandmother's china, a Ricks College sticker that was enclosed with my acceptance letter, and tiny seashells I collected from Laguna Beach while on my Senior Trip two days after graduating from BHS.

The outside sports a "Semper Fi" sticker, collected from Marine recruits with my teenage BFF, Caroline, and a Toadies sticker Nels gave me when we were dating.

My box actually carries very few reminders from anything or anyone later than 2002 and in that way has become a bit of a time capsule. A place dedicated to Rachel Emily Moon. Not to wish for the past, but to remember that part of me.

Two summers ago I decided to make some boxes with my big girls. As the years pass I hope to make one for each of my little ladies. 

Everybody needs a place to keep those things that are perhaps not important to anyone else, but carry little pieces of the person you have become.

That Loving Feeling

We are no longer home owners. We signed the closing documents this morning.

My feelings are so conflicted on the subject, but overall, I'm am very relieved. Thank you to each and every one of you who have kept us in your thoughts and prayers over the past seven months. What a whirlwind it's all been. Thank you. Thank you.

Another chapter of our lives is now closed and the door swings wide open on this new one.

Eight months ago, Nels was working all night, yet again. He'd been working non-stop since the beginning of the month - getting ready for Melaleuca's Convention. He was stressed to the max. I was less than two months from having our fifth baby girl. I can remember standing in the laundry room tackling "Mt. Washmore" at half-past-way-too-late-at-night and suddenly just losing it. The years of late nights and stress caught up with me and I fell to my knees and told the Lord that I would do anything for Nels to be able to have a different job and be a part of our family again.

Three weeks later he was offered a job at Coldwater Creek.

This last weekend, we packed up our kids for a VERY quick and somewhat spontaneous trip to Idaho Falls to pack up the rest of our house and say goodbye, one last time.

Nels got off work Friday afternoon, we packed and waited for the girls to get home from school, threw everyone in the van, made it to Idaho Falls by about 2:30 in the morning. Bright and early Saturday, we hopped out of our beds on the floor and started organizing, packing, and emptying out my 55 gallon fish tank. A few friends stopped by to visit and help (Hannah Graf (+kids), Brian Carter (+new girlfriend), Ken Dudley, Mark Blethen). All too soon, the movers showed up and the real chaos began. Nels took the girls to Mark's house and I watched as our lives were slowly and efficiently packed away into box after box after box . . .

The movers left that evening with the promise of returning early the next morning to finish. As they were packing up for the night, our dear friends (the Joneses) stopped by to say hi and goodbye, before we rushed them out the door to go to dinner with some good friends from Melaleuca.

As we tucked our tired children into their floor beds for one last night in our home, I was completely overcome with emotion. Nels and I spent the next couple of hours reliving our lives in that home, laughing and crying. The children that have joined our family, happiness, injuries :), stress, loneliness, learning, jumping on the trampoline and swinging in the hammock, countless hours spent digging and planting in the yard and painting and loving every single wall. All the friendships that we've made, the people we've loved, and all the love that has been poured out upon us there. All. the. BLESSINGS.

So many blessings.

The next morning, the movers showed up at dawn, the girls and I took one last opportunity to say goodbye to some friends while Nels and Clara took one last nap in the dark basement, and then before I knew it, the huge semi was pulling away.

We quickly got dressed for church, stopped in to some neighbors' to say goodbye, and walked in (late! of course) to Sacrament Meeting one last time with those people who have been almost like family to us over the past five years. It was a sweet meeting.

I opened the hymnal to the closing hymn, took one look at the title, closed the book, and just let the tears roll. "Because I Have Been Given Much" I looked over to Nels and he, too, was teary. Because truly, we have been given so much. And even though we've not seen most of those people for half a year, they were still giving to us. We were greeted warmly and lovingly and couldn't get away without Sister Beverly Reed "gently insisting" :) upon "just running home real quick" and making us a full meal before we set out for home. :)

While Beverly was serving away in her kitchen for us, we took one last chance to say goodbye to our neighbor Bob Hart - who has been in the hospital for the last several weeks. I will never, never, never think of our lives in Idaho Falls without Bob being a large, shining part of it. Up until the last year or so when his health has given him some grief, there was hardly a single day that I was not greeted with Bob's warm smile and crazy stories. :) He and Ramona have been the best neighbors we ever could have asked for.

Beverly made an entire meal, fed us, and still made it back in time to conduct the closing song in Relief Society. :) She is both a miracle worker and an angel.

Back home we changed our clothes, packed up the van, dug up and potted a few of my friends that I just loved too much to leave behind, and called our children to pray one last time in our empty home. It was all kicks and giggles (literally) until then. (see below)

It started with Hazel, then me, then Nels (sort of {wink, wink}), and by the time the prayer was over Lilie and Elsie were just wailing too. We had a little cry fest while Violet went around hugging everyone and telling them that she was sorry :), then Nels packed his sobbing girls into the van while I said goodbye to my home.

"Smile!" Face

Real Face.

 Six months. To the day. Since we packed up and left in September.

As we pulled away, I couldn't help but think of my prayer eight months earlier. How the Lord has answered me and opened another path before us. The road behind us had been difficult in many ways, but so overwhelmingly good, too. We didn't have to move. It was the path we chose and it will be good  as well. I know it.

Saturday, I was talking to Lilie and asked her what she would miss most about living in Idaho Falls -- fully expecting an answer like, "my friends" or "my room", but

she hit the nail on the head and astounded me with her insight when, instead, she thought for a moment and then said,

"I'll miss the feeling here at this home." 

Yes. I am.

When I was a Freshman in college I took Microbiology. I really loved that class. I thought it was fascinating. In fact, I liked it so much that I retook it the next year.

Just kidding. I retook it because the first time I spent too much time worrying about the boy I was dating that was also in the class. The second time I took it, I still didn't get the grade I wanted because I spent too much time worrying about the boy I was dating that wasn't in the class. I had a Bowling class right before Micro . . . and Nels would walk past my Bowling class just as it was letting out . . . 

It was so hard to go to class when he was asking me to have lunch with him instead. 

Actually, I never told him that I had a class during that time.

Ah. Young love.

Oh. I got sidetracked.

So. Micro. The first time. More specifically, my Microbiology Lab class. I didn't really know anyone in my Lab, which was just fine with me - except when we had to team up to use the microscopes. I don't mind being teamed up with someone I don't know, mind you, but I don't like the feeling of looking around and wondering who else is looking for a partner. Well, the girl that sat across from me turned out to be my microscope buddy and as I was walking around the lab table, in a moment of grace, I stumbled over the leg of one of the stools. I'm cool like that.

I caught myself, stood up straight, and kind of laughed, "Whoo, I'm retarded." With a smile on my face.

However, the girl I was addressing did not smile. She looked at me with a concerned look on her face, dead straight, and said, "No, you're not."

{Eyebrows go up} What? I stopped, sized her up a little more carefully, trying to assertain whether she was serious or not and said, with a smile, "Yes. I am."

If possible, she got even more concerned and said, "No you're not. Don't say that about yourself."

Ummm . . . 

I once again kind of eyed her, not knowing where we should go from here and quickly mumbled, with a smirk, "Yes I am." as I sat down.

It was an awkward moment. And one that has stuck with me for more than ten years now. What to do with a person who doesn't understand self-depricating humor? Who actually argues with you when you laugh at yourself? It was weird.

But I've also realized that sometimes people just don't get it. So. If you are one of those people who just don't get it - don't say anything. When, on my blog or in person, I laugh at myself. I point out my inadequacies. I vent about my short-comings. Don't be the person to say, "No you're not."

I like having the occasional reality check with myself. But also, I don't have any problem with the way I view ME. I'm very comfortable in my skin. I like myself plenty. I'm not fishing for compliments or validation. I'm just talking.