Baby Charlie David (is what Ivy calls him)

I was telling Chris two days ago that I'm a little jealous that Charles laughs for him and not for me. I mean, I'm funny. I'm totally funny. I make faces, I make noises, I blow raspberries on his tummy, I do everything Chris does and I get a smile at most. But he'll laugh for Chris. "It's my hair," Chris told me. I rolled my eyes.

Then today I noticed something.

IT'S THE HAIR.

Superbly Situated

you politely ask me not to die and i promise not to
right from the beginning—a relationship based on
good sense and thoughtfulness in little things

i would like to be loved for such simple attainments
as breathing regularly and not falling down too often
or because my eyes are brown or my father left-handed

and to be on the safe side i wouldn’t mind if somehow
i became entangled in your perception of admirable objects
so you might say to yourself: i have recently noticed

how superbly situated the empire state building is
how it looms up suddenly behind cemeteries and rivers
so far away you could touch it—therefore i love you

part of me fears that some moron is already plotting
to tear down the empire state building and replace it
with a block of staten island mother/daughter houses

just as part of me fears that if you love me for my cleanliness
i will grow filthy if you admire my elegant clothes
i’ll start wearing shirts with sailboats on them

but i have decided to become a public beach an opera house
a regularly scheduled flight—something that can’t help being
in the right place at the right time—come take your seat

we’ll raise the curtain fill the house start the engines
fly off into the sunrise, the spire of the empire state
the last sight on the horizon as the earth begins to curve

-- by Robert Hershon




(picture by Ashley Larsen, June 2010)

Christofer bought himself a birthday present

Christofer

I love you.
And this picture.
So far, thirty-year-old you is awesome.
(Although a little cranky when tired.)
(But that's just same as 29-year-old you, so I can live with it.)
(happy birthday.)

love

chris and I finish having a "discussion."

him: I'm sorry.

me: I'm sorry.

him: I'm sorry, too.

(pause)

me: I'm really sorry, Chris ... I know I'm impatient, and frustrating, and thoughtless. and a huge pain in the ass.

him: ...well, yes. but you're pretty, so that's okay.

me: nah. I've decided to stop being so pretty all the time. it's exhausting.

him: oh. then you're definitely going to have to work on that other stuff.

why lunch is better when Dad makes it

The kids are always like, "Mom, make me a 'W' sandwich!" or "Mom, please make me a 'Michael' sandwich!" or "Mom, my sandwich would be better if it looked like a rocket." And I'm always like, "What are you talking about? I don't care. eat your sandwich already."

because when I was little, we were lucky to have bread and spinach was an unheard of luxury and if we wanted cheese on our lunch we walked out to the dairy and curdled some milk, plus we walked uphill to school both ways, or at least one way, but it was a really big hill and we were always very tired at the end.
(that last part is true, by the way.)







































stop showing me up, Christofer.

a few more

behold my entire family:



you would not believe how difficult it was to take that picture.

the girl cousins (and please take special note of the little blond girl on the left. she posed in every single picture. in the one above also. I love it so much, I've decided to start posing like that for pictures, too):



the boy cousins:
































my mom and Ivy:
































Mags and Michael:

































our family:

(photos by Rob Higginson Photography)

play ball!

zip

last night as a family farewell to summer (and also to Maggie and Nate who are going back to Michigan, losers) we went up the canyon for some fun.




























because the family that zips together, stays together. that's my mom, by the way.

Chris is such a show-off.

why am I doing the robot in this picture? I don't know.

My dad and Ivy stayed firmly in the audience.

maggie went, of course. I just don't think she'd appreciate any of the pictures I took.

When I asked Michael if he wanted to do it, Chris was all, "Are you crazy?" But I ignored him.

I do that, somtimes.

it was exhilarating.

Here's a picture of abby (posted just to exhibit my one perfect pan of the night):

after everyone went, we found a campsite and made s'mores.

And now I want to go do this every weekend. who's in?

(pictures of me taken by Chris.)

just a few from grant's farm

I get that this really shows my Salt Lake City upbringing, but I can't help being amused by a petting zoo sponsored by a beer company.
These adorable baby goats, brought you by Anheuser-Busch!
Bring your kids, get two free beers!

I mean, come on. That's just funny, right there.





























here we are admiring the Clydesdales. You know. The ones that pull the beer wagon. or whatever it's called.


William kept telling Grandy he wanted to "soft them." That's code for pet them.






























we did a lot of walking. after all that, I'm not sure Grandy wants us to come back, ever.






























don't be fooled by the sweet picture above. Those baby goats were seriously agressive. Michael fed them for about a minute and then was all, "mama. Mama. I want to go out, now. mama. mama. I want to leave."
But I made him finish anyway so I could take a picture.
because I must capture these precious moments full of abject terror.

I'd like to thank Anheuser-Busch for having made this day possible.

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