Goodbye, 2011. We'll miss you!

Ah, the end of another year. It seems like everyone from Dave Barry to Yahoo has an end-of-the-year recap, so here's ours.

January through March were kind of hum drum, as was the weather in Washington. We plugged on through work, school, and callings. Mike got deathly ill with influenza in February and felt so crummy he even asked to go to the doctor. He spent a week moaning on the couch and it took him a good month or so after that to bounce back to normal. However, Memory seems to be a fickle mistress and by the time flu shot season rolled around, the misery was sufficiently forgotten so that Mike was not even tempted to get a flu shot.

In April, I survived a week of being pediatric ward attending and was rewarded for my frustrations and angst with an awesome date planned by Mike, who designed and carried out a landmark "treasure hunt" that took us through historic Tacoma.

With the hope of the sun's return still far on the horizon in May and June, Mike and I took a trip to Disneyworld and learned a few lessons. #1: You never outgrow the magic of Disney. #2: The magic of Disney is hard to appreciate when you're forming new blisters with every step. #3: Break in new shoes before you go on vacation.

Mike and I celebrated our first anniversary in July. Our July 3rd anniversary allows us to take advantage of the Armed Forces tradition of the 4-day weekend around major holidays, so we took a drive up the beautiful Oregon coast, something I recommend be put on everyone's "bucket list" as something to do at least once during their lifetime.

We took another vacation in August/September to visit family in Utah, said good-bye to two siblings who are now serving missions, and welcomed my brother, Stephen, as he did a month-long ER rotation at the hospital where I work. Mike made Dean's list for Ashford University for the 2nd time in a row and I found out that my promotion to major came through but will go into effect during the first week of May 2012. Through the experience of commuting to Seattle three times a week, I discovered juggling work, church, and family life can get a bit dicey when Mike had less-than-stellar birthday festivities that were celebrated through my tears.

October through December saw a change in our blog name to "Semi-Bedrest Bulletin" since I was threatening miscarriage and had been ordered by the OB to keep activity to max of 4 hours a day. Trying to make lemonade out of some pretty big lemons, I imagined that I would use all the down time to get to all the unfinished projects and crafts that were sitting around taunting me with their incompleteness. What did I get done? Zilch. Nada. *insert spitty sound* As it turns out, when you're feeling exhausted and nauseated and bloated and crampy and light-headed all at the same time, you just want to lie down on the couch and do nothing. Even watching TV takes too much energy. Hence, the piles are bigger than ever and their friendly mockery has escalated into malicious persecution.

December 31st: I'm officially at 18 weeks and therefore I am off bedrest. It's such a relief and I know that we've been very blessed through the faith and prayers of our friends and family. Through all of our 2011 ups and down, I know more than ever that the Lord is mindful of us and continues to watch over us.

On that note, there's even more for us to look forward to in the year ahead. Over the next 5 months, we'll not only be preparing for the arrival of our as-yet-to-be-determined son or daughter, but we'll also be preparing to move. We've been told that barring any unforeseen circumstances, we're almost certainly, probably definitely going to DC after I graduate from my fellowship. This is as close to being 100% certain as you can get in the Army. DC is exactly where we want to go (except for the fact that we'll be farther away from family) and couldn't be happier with the decision.

In fact, we couldn't be happier. Period.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care...

A year after starting our Christmas stockings, I finally (FINALLY) finished them...with the invaluable help of my mom, who stitched together the fabric part of the stockings. Mike's is on the right, mine on the left.

In other news, we had another ultrasound this week and everything looks good. The baby was crossing his/her legs, though, so we still don't know whether it's a boy or a girl. Mike thinks it's a girl being modest. I think it's a boy being a stinker. Next ultrasound isn't for five weeks, so it'll be a while longer before we get another chance to find out.

Car Buying BedPost, aka I Should Have Stayed in Bed

There are many things in life that must be done that are not my favorite activities. Doing dishes might be at the top of the list. Struggling through pushups for my Army Physical Training Test, paying bills, typing up doctor notes, and switching the used-up roll of toilet paper for a new one round out my top five of Unfavorite Activities Done on a Regular Basis.

Last week, Mike and I had to do one of the things I despise most – buy a car. The last time I did this was in 2005 and I still haven't recovered from it. On the plus side, I now have Mike to run interference, which is nice. Also, the internet has made car buying so much easier than it used to be. Instead of going to lot after lot and driving car after car, we were able to do the bulk of our research online and narrow it down to the one car we wanted: the 2011 Honda CR-V. All we needed to do was test drive it...and that's where the pain, anguish, and agony came in. Because even though the internet has made car buying somewhat more palatable, it hasn't eliminated The Car Salesman; and until that happens the experience will always be torturous.

We essentially had our car picked out and we planned on paying for it in cash, so shouldn't that mean that we could get in and out somewhat quickly and (relatively) unscathed? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! No.

I hate, hate, hate that we are expected to barter for the ultimate price of the vehicle. I never to go Best Buy and offer to give them $1000 for a $1200 TV. I never haggle over the cost of eggs and apples at the grocery store as I'm standing in the check out line. Why do we have to do this with cars? Why can't the price just be the price?

My other beef: Although the dealer may take off some of the price, then they add "drive out of the lot fees" and paperwork fees and "we loaded some extras that aren't included in the sticker price but now they're part of the car so you have to pay them" costs. And then they act oh-so-annoyed when you ask why there's that particular fee to pay and why it wasn't included in the first place. They don't add extra buttons and doo-hickeys that I have to pay for to the TV at Best Buy. My eggs don't have hidden "chicken/egg separation" fees and I don't have to pay extra on my apples to say that I have the right to take them out of the store.

In the end, we spent almost a whole day playing The Car Buying Game, which the buyer never wins. I felt like the dealer fed us more than a few lines, the finance guy was a total jerk, and as we neared our sixth hour there and I was tired and lightheaded and nauseated, I realized I would have paid them twice as much as the car was worth just so that someone could land on the Game Over space. Yes, The Car Salesman won; and, here's a hint, the dealers always win because they're not afraid to play dirty.

To end on a positive note, we got a car that we love. It's fun to drive, a smooth ride, has a great sound system, and (the part that sold me on the CR-V), the safety specs are excellent. This is our family car, the first car Mike and I bought together. We purchased it with our future kids in mind and we can't wait to fill it with little voices asking if we're there yet and informing us that their sibling is touching them.

Here are our Halloween pumpkins. Mike's is on the top, mine on the bottom.

As expected, our home was inundated with hoards of little trick or treaters. We had bought five bags of candy and thought we'd be fine, but ran out around 7:15. We started off letting kids pick out their own candy, but quickly shifted tactics when two girls who were old enough to know better picked a huge handful rather than just one. As our stockpile started dwindling, we entered panic mode and started rummaging through the house looking for forgotten candy. We found some Kit Kats and Nestle Crunch left over from Easter, a few bags of cookies in the pantry, some coconut M&Ms that we didn't get around to eating yet, and packages of gum. Hooray! Back in business! We just barely made it to the last trick or treater without running out.

Our candy predicament aside, we had a great evening. Our meal turned out well (to be blogged about later). We enjoyed our last night of "13 Nights of Halloween" watching "Nightmare Before Christmas." And we filed away several lessons learned:

1- Buy one more bag than you think you'll need.

2- Hand out treats to the kids rather than letting them pick. This lesson is based not only on the greedy girls but also on numerous indecisive five-year-olds.

3- Use apple cinnamon scented candles in your pumpkins and it makes the porch smell really nice.

4- Throw pumpkins away first thing the next morning, as pumpkin fuzziness, mushiness, and bug infestation are directly proportional to time elapsed since carving. Other option is to carve closer to Halloween.

5- Use gloves and/or a shovel to throw away pumpkins.

6- Don't store refrigerated roll dough in the pantry.

Halloween BedPost

I love Halloween. Love, love, love Halloween. Mom always made October SUCH a fun holiday month and there was nobody better than Dad to liven up trick-or-treating. (Sing it with me now: "When you're all alone in the country, and the night is dark as pitch..." My Stacey siblings are finishing the song in their heads right now.)

Unfortunately, I haven't been able to do as much this Halloween because of decreased energy and increased feeling gross. Mike went out and picked out our pumpkins and cleaned them both out...alone. He decorated the front of our house...alone. He's gotten everything ready for trick-or-treaters, which is no small task, since the number of children in DuPont is roughly equal to that of the rest of Washington state put together. And he did it all...alone. I feel bad watching him because I've been so boring lately.

One tradition that we started last year that I've been able to participate fully in is our "13 Nights of Halloween," where we watch a Halloween-ish themed movie every night for the 13 nights prior to and including Halloween. We have a whole list of movies and obviously we can't get to all of them every year, so we rotate. Some of the movies on our list are "Phantom of the Opera," "The Mummy," "Scared Shrekless," "Monsters, Inc.," "Rear Window," "Blackbeard's Ghost," "The Private Eyes," "Arsenic and Old Lace," "Scooby Doo," "Harry Potter," "Ghostbusters," and "Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." I love that there's at least ONE thing I can do to celebrate the holiday with him.

Another tradition is to make a fun meal on Halloween night. Last year we had a feast, but I didn't know if I'd be able to do something this year. I'm kind of a Halloween food snob when it comes to creativity. I DON'T find it creative to put "Spooky" or "Ghoulish" on the front of a normal recipe and call it Halloween food. I think that's a creative cop-out. And I don't want my food (no matter how good it tastes) to look like gross things such as vomit or cat food. So with those stipulations, I had to find something that both Mike and I like (difficult since there are about 10 foods right now that don't make me nauseated) AND is easy to make.

I think I found some fun things... Tune in to tomorrow's entry to see how our Halloween feast turns out.

BedPost #1

So, there's been a temporary change in the title of our blog. Here's why, along with the reason I've kind of been off the grid for the last few weeks with our share of ups and downs.

The day after Mike's birthday, we found out that we're pregnant again. Yay!

But then the week after that I started bleeding...like what happened in the last pregnancy. Boo.

I rested that weekend then went to the OB, who said everything looked OK. Yay!

But then one weekend later, I bled so much that I was certain I had miscarried again. Boo.

I had an emotionally rough weekend then went to be checked out by the OB so that I could confirm the loss...and the doctor picked up a tiny little heartbeat. I was so totally beyond shocked that I couldn't even say "yay." They also found a rather large blood clot right by the baby that bleeds off and on and puts me at a 33% chance of miscarriage. Uh, so that's a "boo."

They put me on progesterone and bed rest for a week. I'm now on semi bedrest with light duty and maximum 4 hours of work a day until I'm at least 18 weeks along. It's been tough. No lifting more than 5 pounds. Avoid stairs. Minimal exercise. And the progesterone makes me extremely nauseated and light-headed, so I spend most of my time sitting or lying down whether I'm at work or at home.

On the plus side, things are looking good. Baby's growing, progesterone levels are increasing. I get to spend a lot more time with Mike. I get to study scriptures and work on crafts and catch up on sleep. Not a bad pitcher of lemonade to make from all those lemons!

You know what they say about the best-laid plans..

I've been spending 3 days a week doing a rotation in Seattle. Because traffic is so bad, I spend a total of 4 hours in the car. I leave around 6 AM and get back between 6 and 7 PM. Last Wednesday, Mike celebrated his 30th birthday. (That's the way he puts it. It's not the first time he's celebrated his 30th birthday, and it probably won't be the last.) I really wanted to make his day special because I've been gone so much.

I asked him what cake he wanted (lemon cheesecake), and bought all the ingredients in advance so that I could make them the night before his birthday. I had all his presents (that I had been ordering/buying for weeks) hidden in my car with tape and scissors so that I could stop at the store on the way to work, get some wrapping paper, and come home and celebrate.

Tuesday night, I started the cheesecake. I made the crust first, then realized after it had baked 15 minutes that I had set the oven too high. I got it out before it was blackened, but that was one crispy crust.

Then I started on the filling. I was blending lemon peel and sugar together when I noticed it looked like a larger amount than usual. I measured it out and it came to 1 2/3 cup. It should have been 1 1/4 cup. Not sure where that extra 5/12 of a cup came from. I dumped the extra sugar out, but that also meant I dumped out the lemon peel, so it definitely wasn't going to taste as lemony as it could.

I finished the filling, poured it on the crust, and stuck it in the oven, then realized a minute later that I hadn't added the heavy cream. Mike took it out, I stirred in the cream as best I could, then put it back in the oven...at the wrong temperature. Again!! Of course, I only figured that out when I came downstairs to get it and the consistency was all eggy rather than creamy.

The next day, I left for work at 5:40 AM so that I could have time to stop at the store and get Mike a cake that didn't have the consistency of a bouncy ball. I called Mike from the store to tell him I was getting another cake because the other one was more like a thick lemon-flavored omelet. He volunteered to try it, just to make sure it was bad. He said he liked it, but I wasn't convinced he wasn't just being nice. I grabbed three mango key lime personal-sized cakes and went to pick out wrapping paper. The store had two options: pink princess sparkley wrapping paper and "You're having a baby!" wrapping paper. Urgh. They also had white butcher paper, so guess what I ended up getting.

I left work an hour and a half early with my butcher paper and little cakes so I could avoid rush hour. It was a very warm day and I came back to a hot, hot car. And then I got stuck in traffic. There were 6 accidents on the way home, and I was on the road over two hours. By the time I arrived in DuPont, the back-up cakes I had purchased were more like soup. I walked inside, looked at Mike, and instead of greeting him with a kiss, burst into tears. Mike told me that I was not allowed to cry on his birthday, but it was too late. I felt like, despite my best efforts, I'd ruined the day. Bless his heart, Mike's always such a good sport and said he was happy just to have me there, but, seriously, look at the pictures.

See? Not pretty. It looks like a jar of strawberry jam sneezed on a giant egg yolk. And this last one of Mike. His lips may be smiling, but I swear my poor husband's eyes are silently screaming.

So we ended up with the original rubbery cheesecake, part of which Mike had already eaten because he thought it wasn't going to be his birthday cake, and butcher paper-wrapped presents. I guess we can call it a Pac Man-themed party, but it wasn't exactly a high point in my career as a wife.

Last Friday was Mike's and my day for the family fast. Maybe because I was thinking of Megan’s leaving the MTC soon for “The Mission Field,” but an experience I had early in my mission kept playing itself over and over in my head. Before I left for Brazil, a former sister missionary who had gone to a foreign country told me to prepare, because on my 2nd or 3rd day in the mission field, I'd have an emotional breakdown.

Understatement.

There I was: a brand new greenie missionary in Brazil. I'd lived on my own and been outside the country several times, so I didn't think I'd have any sort of "culture shock" or "homesickness." Everything completely caught me off guard. There were orphans living on the street and dogs with leprosy running around wild. My companion had only been out four or five months and barely spoke the language more than I. As I went to bed the first night, my companion oh-by-the-way’d me with the news that the previous occupant of the bed had a scourging case of head lice.

Fast forward to day number three on the mission...cue the breakdown. I remember walking down a street in Esteio, Rio Grande du Sul, Brazil. My companion was about 5 steps ahead of me. As I started crossing the street, I looked at my feet, which had a combined total of 28 blisters, and all of a sudden my eyes filled with tears. As I looked at my feet through my tears, I kid you not, they appeared to be the size of footballs, or maybe small torpedos. And then the weeping started and I couldn't stop. My poor companion had to half-walk, half-carry me back to what passed as our "house" but was really less livable than a van down by the river.

I could not stop crying. I cried for what I left behind. I cried because I was in pain. I cried because I felt overwhelmed with the task ahead of me. I cried because I couldn't understand anything anyone said to me. I cried because I didn't feel clean and knew I wouldn't get the dirt and grime off me until I went back to America. Most of all, I cried because I had never felt so alone in my entire life.

I can see in retrospect that all my tears were for myself. As President Hinckley counseled in a talk about his missionary experience, “Forget yourself and go to work.” I had to learn to do that with a fairly steep learning curve, given my environment. Those may have been the first mission tears I shed, but they certainly weren’t the last. As I grew as a missionary, my tears were less for myself and more for those around me. Or I cried because I felt so inadequate for the task set before me.

The story of the widow’s mite in Mark 12 has become particularly poignant to me as I look back on those days that were so difficult but filled with so much growth. The widow gave to the treasury two mites, which the scriptures say is worth a farthing. A farthing is 1/4th of a cent. It was so small, it was often overlooked and lost. The rich and the powerful never even used them because, in their eyes, it was so tiny and insignificant, both in terms of the amount it was worth and in its physical size. And yet, it was the widow’s mite that caught the Savior’s eye because of sacrifice it represented.

Oftentimes, I felt (and still feel) that the service I offer is inconsequential. I feel like my meager offering is filled with imperfection and inadequacies. It’s “just bearing my testimony” or “just smiling at someone in the street” or “just fasting for my family.” And yet, if it’s done with love in my heart, it’s in those moments that that I feel that my offering, however small and imperfect it may be, is still worth something to the Lord.

The day of my meltdown in Esteio is vividly imprinted on my mind. If I could go back to Brazil today, I could find the precise street where I stood and wept. I’m still working on the lessons from the mission: to learn how to love others, how to forget myself and serve, how to feel and recognize the Spirit. Those “widow’s mite” qualities may not be what the world values and talks about, but they will be recognized by the Savior. I was so blessed to be able to fast for my family and remember important lessons that still have an impact on me today.

Mike and I went to a church BBQ/potluck last night. Neither of us are hamburger/hotdog fans, so we were really relying on the side dishes to get us through the meal. I have to say, we were a little disappointed by the selection. (I should admit that I'm as guilty as everyone there, because Mike and I forgot about it until the last minute and only had a package of Oreos to take.)

No one passed around a sign up sheet beforehand and now I have a testimony as to their importance, because there were over 15 different variations on the theme of Potato Salad. Aside from some desserts, a tray of picked-over vegetables, and a lonely bowl of lettuce salad, that was it. I could hardly believe that this was the fare at a Mormon church potluck!!!

I drove home thinking about church potlucks back home and how sadly lacking this one was by comparison. I know I grew up complaining because they always served the same foods no matter the occasion, time of year, or what ward you went to. I realize now that without those foods, it just didn't seem right.

--Where was the frog eye salad? Can it truly be a Mormon potluck without frog eye salad?
--What about sloppy joes? Even if the main dish is provided, someone always brings sloppy joe meat. I don't even like sloppy joes, but I missed them.
--No one brought Jello?!? Are you for-realing me?? I know we joke about the green Jello salad, but be honest...if there's no Jello salad there, don't you feel just a little bit cheated?
--There was not one casserole there. I was beyond shocked! I figured at least one pan of funeral potatoes would be found, but no. Apparently, all the potatoes in the ward were used to make salads.
--Ahhhhh, crockpot spaghetti, you good Mormon standby, you. At worst, you're bland and sticky, but if your maker is generous with the sauce and even melts in some mozzarella, you are potluck goodness.
--Speaking of pasta, did no one bring a pasta salad? I can't believe it! I can almost taste it now...tricolored corkscrew pasta, oil, vinegar, green peppers, olives, and onions. Yeah, it's dull and unimaginative, but it's Potluck Pasta Salad!

It's true that there are generally few surprises when it comes to the typical ward potluck, but that's what makes it so wonderful and comfortable. Among the predictability of the food is the fellowship of the people who bring it. For example, you always knew that Sis. Hortin would bring her homemade rolls. Mom would take one of her varieties of pasta salad. The Claytons always took an amazing dessert. You looked forward to the dishes and the people you associated with them.

So now you can number me among the Potluck Believers. Pass around the sign up sheet and grab me a casserole dish! It's time for the funeral potatoes!

Today was relaxing. Marvelous, catching-up-with-your-inner-peace, relaxing. While Mike worked on a paper for one of his classes, I relished the fact that I have no lectures to write (I gave two this week), no notes to finish up, and no research project busy work to do. How I love days like this!

I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, but this week had its share of stress. On Wednesday I gave a lecture on autism to a group of school nurses from one of the school districts here. I was given the address of the junior high but not directions on how to get there. It was 45 minutes away, but I gave myself an hour and a half for traffic and for the purposes of setting up.

Turned out it was a good thing I did, because Google Map and MapQuest decided to mess with my mind and sent me to the middle of a corn field. Literally. I called Mike, who got online and couldn't get directions, either. He finally found a satellite picture of where the school was. The next part was trying to decipher where I was so that he could tell me how to get there.

Mike: What buildings are close to you?

Me: Nothing except some houses in the distance.

[After driving for a couple minutes.]

Mike: OK, now are any landmarks around you?

Me: I'm in the middle of a farm. The only landmarks here are corn and animals.

Mike: Sounds like junior high to me.

He didn't really say that last part.

My wonderful husband stayed on the line with me for about 20 minutes until he successfully navigated me to the junior high, which was 4 or 5 miles away around windy roads. I made it with about 10 minutes to spare. It would have been impossible to find without his help. Talk about stress. It doesn't matter who you are or how old you get, it's never fun being lost.

I Heart Mike!

The most beautiful place you could never want to live...

Last week, I traveled to Alaska on TDY (Temporary Duty). I saw the same type of patients as I do at home.

Four times a year they send people from our department, because technically Alaska is under Madigan's medical jurisdiction. As you can see from the pictures I took from the plane, Alaska is one of the prettiest places you could ever hope to visit.

Living there, though...
One women who works at the hospital where I was said that in winter you have to drive in snowpants and gloves and make sure you always have food and heating supplies in the car because if your car stalls you'll get frostbite within 10-15 minutes and it might be twice that long before another car comes along.

Now, I know I'm more intolerant to cold than 99% of the population, but Anchorage, temperature wise, was in the low 50's during the day in the middle of August. It dropped down to the low 40's/high 30's at night. I got to the inn on base and my room was seriously freezing. I turned up the thermostat and crawled under the two cardboard-thin covers. After a couple hours of not warming up, I went to the front desk to tell them something was wrong with my thermostat. They told me, "Oh, we turn off the heat in the summer."

What?!???!!?

I asked for blankets and they looked at me like I was a candidate for a double lobotomy and a room with padded wallpaper. I finally got some and at least I was warm as long as I stayed in bed. They didn't even have a portable heater in the room! (Though they kindly provided a fan in case I got too warm.)

I guess when you have to let your mail thaw after you get it or it'll break when you try to open it in the middle of winter, 40 degrees on the positive side of zero looks like the tropics.

Good News!

My Army promotion came through! Not that it means much for right now. (See blog entry from Feb 2, 2011.) Some time next spring/summer, I'll be Major, but for the next year I get to wear the tedious title of Captain (Promotable) Clark.

Mike continues to excel in his classes. He just made the Dean's List for winter semester! He has a 4.0 GPA and works very hard to maintain that. He's taking a statistics class right now that can only be described as "brutal." I took statistics in college as part of my major and I remember I really enjoyed it. When I look over Mike's textbook and see the work he's doing, I'm now wondering if I was sniffing glue back then because WOW this stuff is painful.

I have to hand it to Mike, though. It's been frustrating, but he's kept plugging along. He worked for two full days on one half of one assignment to make sure he got it right. He's had to figure out the answer to stuff like whether or not a study showing better hearing after big meals is statistically significant and other, you know, really pressing issues. My feeling is, if you're going to force someone to do statistics, make it something relevant. Make us care about the answer! Case in point:

As promised earlier, here are a few pictures from our first anniversary weekend. I'm sorry for the poor quality of the pictures. We remembered our camera, but forgot our battery charger. It's a total rookie mistake and I can't believe we did that. I know my father will shake his head in disgust when he reads this.

Oh well. Our photo recording may not have been ideal, but we sure had a fun time. Friday, we went to Enchanted Forest, a small, family-run fairy-tale-themed amusement park. Mike had me pose like I was being eaten by the witch.

From there, we drove along the Umpqua River to the Oregon Coast. It was a beautiful drive. Mike had arranged for us to stay in a suite at a beautiful hotel called the Mill Casino. (We ignored the casino part.) Because of a snafu with scheduling our room, we got the suite for about half off!

Saturday, we went to a walking safari. If you'll remember from last year on our honeymoon, we got to pet a baby lion in New Zealand. I like the symmetry, because this year we got to pet both a leopard cub and a tiger cub.

As usual, Mike found a 100 things every day to make me laugh. This was on Saturday, as we drove up the coast. We bought a kite to fly on the beach but then the wind died down, so I think the best we got was about 15 feet in the air for 20 or so seconds.

We had originally planned to stay until Monday, July 4. On Sunday, I wasn't feeling well, so we ended up driving home on Sunday, instead. We drove up the spectacular Oregon coast. Trust me, the picture doesn't even begin to do it justice!

We even stopped along the way to feed the squirrels. There's a place where the squirrels are so tame they come up and eat right out of your hand. Or lap. They're cute, but they've definitely been overfed. I wish I could remember the name of the place. I may be able to find it if I Google "squirrel obesity," which reached epidemic proportions at this park. We put a piece of a pretzel on Mike's leg and the fattest squirrel I've ever seen in my life waddled up and stuffed its face within 15 seconds. One squirrel had its cheeks so full of crackers and pretzels that they were falling out faster than he could put them back in. We snatched this photo of someone else feeding the squirrel. Kind of reminds me of a dog I've seen somewhere...

I've been recovering from a miscarriage over the last few days. I worried about a lot of things during the 10 weeks I was pregnant, but I never thought I would go through a miscarriage. It hasn't been easy. Of the many emotions that I've gone through--guilt, peace, disappointment, grief, gratitude--I can honestly say that anger and bitterness are not among them. I've tried very hard not to ask "Why?" but "What can I learn from this?" One thing about our "trial-by-fire" moments, there is no end to the lessons to be learned. I'm pretty invested in learning these lessons the first time around, because this is an experience I'd rather not repeat. Even so, I'm grateful for a Heavenly Father who loves me enough to give me experiences to stretch me, help me grow, and hopefully turn me into a more Christlike daughter.

I pray often for compassion as a doctor and just charity in general. I suppose I would have preferred to refine those traits by other methods, but I will certainly approach others differently who are going through difficult circumstances. Heavenly Father blessed me with some wonderful, compassionate doctors during one of the hardest days I've gone through. One ER doctor in particular came in several times to check on me, just to chat and see how I was doing rather than sending in a nurse. Another doctor sat down and the only thing he said was that things happen for a reason, but that it wasn't my fault, Mike's fault, or the baby's fault. It was just one of "those things." I've been trained to say those very words to families of patients. I've said them more times than I can count to parents of children with autism, Down syndrome, prematurity, cerebral palsy, etc. I never realized how comforting and reassuring those words are and how much you need to hear them in times like that. When I say it now, I can mean it even more.

The day after my D&C was a rough day. I woke up and before I could wipe the sleep away or stretch or anything, my throat constricted and my eyes filled with tears. I thought, "Oh no, this is a terrible way to start my day." I knew that if I allowed myself to wallow, the day would just go from bad to worse. A conversation I'd had with my mom earlier about gratitude came into my head. Maybe it sounds stupid and a little trite, I started a prayer of gratitude for everything I laid my eyes on. I started with the window, which was bringing in the daylight. I was grateful for the fan keeping us cool, because we don't have air conditioning. I was grateful for the ceiling because it meant I had a roof over my head. That went on for several minutes and then I looked at Mike sleeping next to me. My heart swelled with such gratitude for him--for his unfailing support, his quiet reassuring presence during a difficult couple of weeks, his worthiness to hold the priesthood, and his desires to do what is right and what is good for our family. There is so much more in my life that brings me joy rather than sorrow!

One of the best things to come out of this is to be able to feel the love of friends and family in ways that I never would have otherwise. Thank you so much to those who have emailed, called, and sent cards. I've also had some of the most wonderful conversations I've ever had with my parents and siblings as they called to offer their sympathy and support. They may not have known what to say, but the fact they called means more to me than they will ever, ever know.

Through trials, there is peace and comfort to be felt. There is happiness to be found. Overall, this feels more like a postponement in our lives rather than a loss. I hope that, if I've learned anything from the years and years and years of being single, it's to trust in the Lord's timetable and His plan for me.

This weekend, Mike and I celebrated our first anniversary. We drove to Oregon and visited Mike's family the first night. On Friday, we went to Enchanted Forest (pictures will be forthcoming). Saturday and Sunday we drove up and down the gorgeous Oregon coast (again, pictures will follow in the days ahead).

At one point when we were driving, I was exhausted and I laid back in my chair to take a snooze. Mike kept enthusiastically pointing out sights along the road, then saying, "OK, now I'll let you sleep." I had almost drifted off for the fifth time when Mike blurted out, "Look, SHEEP!" I suppose that some people may have been frustrated, but I just started laughing and sat up. Why? Because I was filled with overwhelming gratitude that I have a husband who loves to talk with me and loves to share things with me and is so excited to be with me that he can't contain his enthusiasm. It's more than I ever could have asked for. We enjoyed the rest of the drive, pointing out fun, silly, and beautiful things to each other.

It was an incredible anniversary weekend, but more so, it has been an incredible first year of marriage to an incredible, amazing man that I love with all my heart.

I love Mike and his goofy sense of humor.

Mike made sure we never got lost. He helpfully pointed out our location when we stopped to take pictures. Whether it was at Epcot...

...or the Magic Kingdom...

...or Hogsmeade...

...or the Animal Kingdom...

...every moment with Mike was fun and enjoyable. What a great vacation!

Once upon a time...

Question: At what age do you stop getting excited about princesses?

Well, I don't know about you.

But I will never stop getting excited. Never!!

'Twas an eve of gilt-edge swords and fair maidens

One night, we decided to harness our inner geeks and went to a Medieval dinner. I'd seen different ones advertised before, but I think I only felt a mild curiosity about them. Growing up, I think we kids may have brought up the idea to go in Vegas or Anaheim, but it was shot down by a disinterested overruling party (aka Mom and Dad).

I didn't really know what to expect. I guess I thought I'd see a bunch of Renaissance festival rejects using the dinner as an excuse to wear a codpiece. And here I'm talking about the dinees, not the members of the show.

I'm happy to report that the people were pretty normal. Other than the performers, no one carried fake weaponry, wore tights, or spoke in fake British accents. I was relieved. The show itself was moderately campy but majorly entertaining and extremely fun.

Surprisingly, the dinner was very good. In keeping with the times, we ate without utensils. I had roasted game hen and Mike had roasted vegetables, both of which were savory and cooked to perfection. Honestly, I'd go back just for the meal.

Our knight perished in the course of the evening, which was very sad, but it didn't detract from what was a marvelous date night--truly one of the highlights of our vacation!

I never was able to load up the pictures from our day at Sea World because of poor internet connection at the hotel where we stayed. Quick note: you know the great thing about Sea World? Once a year for active duty military and their family, they get in free. Free! That's about $175 that we saved! (Of course, we pay in other ways. $7 for a small bottle of water?!? And yet I plunk down the change for you, you pirate, because it's 95 degrees outside.)

Anyway, here are the pictures:

This is outside of a ride called "The Kraken." There's a part where you can enter the Kraken's lair, where its guarding its eggs...

In what became a fun and goofy recurring theme, Mike would indicate where we were on the map. Here we are at the crocodiles. See them? Waldo might be there somewhere, too.

Mike had never pet a sting ray, so we spent some time at the "petting zoo" part of the park.

Mike's favorite picture from the dolphin show was this one, where the guy leaps off the dolphins' noses, so I had to include it!

You've had a birthday, shout "Oy vey"

I'm finally getting around to posting our vacation to Orlando. For those of you who have been breathlessly waiting, here you go!

I haven't felt completely excited about a birthday in, oh, a decade or so. Mike always makes every holiday special, but the prospect of turning a year older is a little depressing. Once I started to get closer to 30 than 20, birthdays lost most of their luster. That's doubley true now that I'm closer to 40 than I am to 30. I woke up May 25th and I thought of a conversation I had with my cousin, Marika's, daughter (7 years old at the time) that went something like this:

Amber: Look at the Lego thing I’m making!
Me: Wow! That’s really cool! Tell me about it.
Amber: Well, it’s this vehicle with wheels.

Me: It looks great.
Amber: You remember 1983?
Me (smiling with nostalgia, thinking of Madonna, “Smurfs,” jelly shoes, and “The Christmas Story”): Yeah…those were good days.

Amber: Well, I’m making a horse that can pull this covered wagon I’m building just like they had back then.

Me (no longer smiling): Um, I think you mean 1883.

My pity party lasted only a few moments, though, because May 25th was the day that we were planning on going to see the new Harry Potter land at Universal Studios.

It was off to Hogsmeade. For those of you who aren't familiar with the Harry Potter books, I'm not going to orient you, because...shame on you. You really need to read the books.

We had butter beer (don't worry, non alcoholic), cauldron cakes (don't worry, not on fire), and pumpkin juice. We toured Hogwarts, stood on platform 9 3/4, and went in Olivander's Wand Shop. It was so much fun.

You probably can't see my earrings in the above post, but trust me, they're awesome. Mike got them for me, along with a necklace and bracelet. He's such a sweetheart and made the day very memorable--to the point that I will now look forward to birthdays because his enthusiasm is so contagious. Thanks, Hon!

I'll admit it. This Northwest winter has really gotten to me. Last year, I was riding high on a combination of sunshine saved from Hawaii and the excitement of being engaged. This year, I only had one week of summer to store up sun and warmth, and I used it all by mid-October. I can handle cold and sunshine (somewhat). I can handle warmth and overcast. Combining the two day after day for for the last nine months has slowly chipped away at my perfect sense of well-being. I've needed a vacation for awhile.

Well, I got it! Mike and I are in Florida for the next week. It's warm, it's sunny, and it's just what the doctor ordered.

On Saturday, we went to Sea World. We took a lot of pictures and I tried to load some of them up, but after two hours, these are the only two photos that worked. I finally gave up because frustration is NOT what a vacation is all about. Here are the two pictures from the dolphin show we saw.

The show involved some aerial acrobatics.

The grand finale!

Heaven-Sent Hugs

This evening, the youth from our ward drove to Seattle to do baptisms for the dead. It wasn't initially our assigned month, but earlier this year as I was getting the lesson schedule planned, I noticed a lot of temple-related lessons occurring together. I thought of making May "Temple Month" and asked if our youth could do baptisms in May rather than November. Our High Priests Group Leader arranged so that we could combine with the other ward and go twice: once in May and once in November. Turns out, it was the perfect day to go.

Last summer, one of the Mia Maids in our Young Women passed away from complications from a heart defect. She had gone in for surgery, coded in the surgery room, and died a few days later. Today would have been her 16th birthday. Two Sundays ago at Fast and Testimony meeting, her mother stood up and bore her testimony. She said that whenever she attends the temple, she prays that the sister for whom she is acting as proxy might seek Hailey out in the spirit world and give her a hug from her mother.

One sweet sister in the ward had a brilliant and truly Christlike idea. She bought a "birthday" card and gave it to the Young Men and Women at the temple. She asked the youth, as they performed their temple work, to keep in mind Hailey's mom's desire for hugs for her daughter. They were to pray for peace and comfort to be poured out upon the family and to pray that the person for whom they were doing the work to search out Hailey and give her a hug from her mother.

After everyone was finished, each person wrote in the card something along the lines of "Did baptisms and confirmations for the dead--23 birthday hugs for Hailey." Of course, I didn't participate in any of the work since I was just there to supervise, but while I was in the temple I prayed for Grandpa Rowley, Grandma Stacey, and Mike's dad to give Hailey a hug. I'm sure that today people were lining up in heaven to embrace this choice young woman. The Relief Society sisters did initiatories earlier and signed their own card, so there were hundreds of hugs for Hailey. The ward is going to present the cards to Hailey's mom tomorrow.

It was such a testimony builder for me. What an example of a mother's eternal love and caring for her daughter! That the youth in our ward would be able to perform this simple act of service for a grieving family testifies of our Heavenly Father's love for each of us.

I scream, you scream...

Two weekends ago, Mike and I went to the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival in Mt. Vernon, WA. Some friends told us we needed to visit Snow Goose Produce. We Googled it and ended up at this little roadside fruit stand.

The reason people drive from miles to go to Snow Goose Produce is not the fresh vegetables or the organically produced fruits it offers. It also has ice cream...lots and lots of creamy goodness and a loooooong line. It was about 4 dollars for a single scoop and 6 for a double scoop. Here's a picture of a double scoop:

Dad's response when we sent him the picture: Where did you find such a small hand? Haha.

I'd never seen such a big ice cream cone. Mike's eyes were as big as his stomach as he walked to the counter and asked for a double. The tweenager behind the counter looked my husband's slender frame up and down and said, "Have you seen our scoops?"

Oh, he'd seen the scoops, alright, and two scoops it was. The entire ice cream cone was literally bigger than his head.

As we walked along the road back to the car, motorists were doing double takes. One guy in a pick-up looked like he wanted to give Mike an Air Five but stopped himself at the last minute. We sat in the car and I made it through about half of mine before eventually digging a hole in the dirt and burying it in the ground.

Mike ate the whole thing.

The. Whole. Thing.

And I'm pretty sure he could've eaten more.

Research? I am besmirched!

I feel terrible that I haven't updated the blog in a few weeks. Since this is essentially my journal--minus my innermost thoughts and feelings--I really should be doing a better job. Especially since we've had so many fun weekends lately.

The reason I've been off the grid for awhile is that I've been working like mad trying to get my research put together and submitted for IRB approval. IRB=Institutional Review Board and they're the hospital folk who make sure that research is ethical. At least, that's how it began. As you can imagine, once a committee gets a little bit of power, it eventually gets puffed up with its own importance and puts more and more regulations on what should be a simple process.

My research, which is required to graduate from fellowship, is a very simple mail-out survey. In order to get permission for that, I have to submit to the IRB no fewer than 15 documents. One of them is 11 pages long. With apologies to the members of my family who actually like this stuff, I have to say that I've hated this experience so much that I'd rather take out my own tonsils with a melon baller than ever have to do research again.

Yesterday, I finished up the IRB paperwork and now I'm just waiting for my mentor to OK it and I'll submit it for approval next week. Here's crossing my fingers...

The Incredible Date Part 4

Get in the game, it's only fair. That was the hint that was waiting for me on my seat when I returned to the car. It was a clue for the movie "Fair Game," which we found at the nearest Redbox. But there was even more!

RETURN AND REPORT. Get a scrapbook and document what you've seen! :)

That was the last clue, which was more of an instruction, really. We went home, armed with the pictures that we took during our photo scavenger hunt. As we walked in the door, Mike asked me if I'd get his drink for him. Thinking he meant a Gatorade or something, I looked all through the fridge. After a couple of minutes, I heard a muffled, "It's in the door."

It was a chilled bottle of Martinelli's with a note attached: Great job! You found the grail!!!!!!!!!

Mike later admitted that he was hiding behind the kitchen wall watching me around the corner and when he saw I wasn't finding it he ran over by the staircase and muffled his voice so I wouldn't know he was spying on me.

We were a little tired that night, so we didn't end up scrapbooking Friday. We printed the pictures on Monday, however, and scrapbooked our adventures for Family Home Evening. It was a wonderful, romantic night filled with fun and mystery. Best. Date. Ever.

The Incredible Date Part 3

LET ME POINT YOU IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION! Defiance of these rules is the only way!

In retrospect, this clue should have been obvious to me, but Mike had to read it thus: Let me point you in the right direction. Defiance of these rules is the only way!

Ha ha. Point Defiance in Tacoma. I've been there several times. It's the most beautiful area of Tacoma, hands down. They have a small zoo, a rocky beach, a rose garden, and other scenic areas to go. Usually, it's bustling with families and power walkers, but by the time we got there the park was closing and we were the only ones there.

We watched the ducks.

Many ducks. There were flocks of ducks walking around. (Question: Is that the right way to say it: flock of ducks? That sounds wrong, because they aren't flying. I looked it up on wikipedia but it was unhelpful. I'm going to make up my own. How about a "snorkle of ducks?")

But I digress. We had fun posing in the park.

And then it was time for the final clue...