Happy Father's Day Dad!

If I could, I'd show off my Dad by creating a collage of pictures of him. The collage would show him talking on the phone at his office, on a plane flying across the country for work, happily laboring in the garden, happily mowing the lawns, happily working in the orchard, riding his horse, wearing his uniform over the decades he's been involved in scouting, wrestling with all four of his kids at the same time (when we were smaller), wrestling the boys who came over to visit us (when I got older) and pinning everyone, getting out of bed before his alarm at 5:30 AM on a regular basis, on his knees praying, reading a fatty book about economics or history, executing his 'daddy suspender school' on the ski slopes, playing the piano, strumming his guitar, heading out the door to Church 3-4 times a week, opening his wallet, hiking or camping--usually with a pack of crazy teenagers, "watching" TV while fast asleep, flying in his airplane over the Carson Valley, making his crazy list of tasks to be completed on the few Saturdays he's at home, and being pretty much the best dad a girl could ever hope for.

As it is, I have only a few pictures that would do my collage justice. I love you Dad. Happy Father's Day! (And welcome home from China!)

Dad at the top of Frog Lake, with 3 of his crazy teenagers on the way to Lake Margarette, at the park with Grace, strumming his guitar with Grace, and the last is a picture I took from Dad's plane as we flew over the Carson Valley.

Meet Walter and Terrible

So, I've really been missing the Turbo Kickboxing class at my gym. At my first doctor's appointment with this pregnancy, the Doctor told me it was good to exercise, but that I needed to keep my heart rate at or below 140 beats per minute (140 ='s not very much work. You should be able to hold a conversation without loosing your breath). So I tried to tailor the workout down. I monitored my bpm, and after a few tries, finally relinquished myself to an exercise regime outside of the aerobics room. Weights, aerobic aparati, and old men. Ahhh, the old stomping ground.

Seriously, 60% of the members that go to the gym the mornings I'm there are old men. At first it was a little alarming to me. But now I find it charming. For example, there's the man who comes in silk Hawaiian print shirts and lifts wearing gardening gloves. Leather gardening gloves! It is so cute. Most of them are very social, and I've been able to get to know a few.

Walter was the first. He and I hit it off during my first weeks at the gym last summer. He has been going to this gym every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for the last 15 years, and can count on 1 hand the number of days he has missed. An interesting thing to note about Walter's gym attendance is that he never touches any of the equipment. Walter comes to the gym to exercise one thing, and one thing only--his mouth. He admitted this to me early on, and has stayed true to his word. He comes, makes his social rounds, walks certain ladies out to their cars, and takes obligatory drinks from the water fountain. He is shorter than I, has the bluest eyes I've ever seen and is always smiling. Walter was a high ranking pilot in the Marines like my Grandfather. He and I usually chat about the same things.... His grandkids, his work at the Elk's Lodge, Gracie, and now my pregnancy. Charming.

This leaves Mr. Terrible. He's rather tall, younger than Walt, and a notorious flirt. I don't actually know his real name, nor does he know mine. We started a little banter via Walter's company. This was our script for the first couple of weeks:

Terrible: Hey there.
Me: Hiya, how are you this morning?
Terrible: Oh, just terrible.
Me: I can't believe that for a minute.
Terrible: Just making sure you're paying attention... How are you today?
Me: Fantastic, thank you very much.

After a while, we abbreviated our banter to a simple "Hello Terrible, how are you?" "Alright Fantastic, how about yourself?"

The other day, he approached me at the hip abductor.

"So, tell me what's going on here," he demanded, gesturing vaguely in my direction.

"What? Were you waiting for this machine? Did I cut?"

"No, I mean this." This time he gestured directly at my pregnant tummy.

Apparently, he had been assuming the wrong things regarding my age and marital status and had been working up the courage to say something about my 'situation'. After I assured him that I was almost 27, very happily married, and that this was, in fact, our second child the tension lifted. In turn, he intimated to me that he misses his own grandson, but that he and his girlfriend (so funny to hear a 60+ year old man say that word) find consolation living three months out of the year on Maui. Pretty rough. Cori, who really doesn't think very highly about all these older men, actually told me to work this angle a little.

I still miss TKB. I can see the class as I toil on the stationary bikes and elliptical machines (all the time carefully watching my heart rate). They got a new routine last week. I really miss it. But there's good company to be had on the floor.

Happy Birthday Jessica

Meet my life long friend, Jessica G*. She and I have palled around since we were in playschool (actually and arguably since the premortal life). Jessica is family to me. She is Aunt Jessica to Gracie. She knows me better than most people. Jessica is thoughtful, and selfless to a fault. She takes care of everyone around her. She is hard working and fun loving. I love this girl. Our life paths have kept us in different places. We were roommates in college for only two brief semesters. Her family is now in Oregon, and mine in Nevada. She was a missionary in Germany, while I was in D.C.. She is working and living in UT right now, as I'm in Cali. But no matter the distance of time or location, our relationship has always been a constant. Spending this week with her has been a total luxury for me. This has been made even better by the fact that Jess celebrated her birthday on Friday, and I got to be a part of it. Here's a peek at what we've been up to this week.

A day trip to the San Diego Zoo

Jessica and the reclusive Panda

A chilly afternoon at the beach. We couldn't keep Gracie out the water this time.

Not one, but two days at Disneyland and California Adventure park. One day on Jessica's birthday, so she got to wear a special birthday button and all the people at Disneyland kept saying, "Happy Birthday Princess." I love it.

Remember this parade? They do at at Cali. Adv. now on the weekends.

I've got one more day with Jessica before she heads home. Happy birthday Jess, and thanks for spending it with us.

Meet George Rester

Life confirmed to me, once again, that one should always put on a little makeup before leaving the house. You never know who you are going to meet.

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Take for example, Mr. George Rester, who Gracie and I met over the orange stand at our grocery store. Gracie was helping me pick oranges and put them into the sack when she and Mr. Rester first caught one another's eye. Grace is extremely flirty with older gentlemen (older ='s 65-80's). He was immediately drawn to our cart and after some interaction with Grace, turned his attention to the oranges we had picked. He shook his head and preceded to instruct me in the finer ways of produce selection. We ended up replacing every orange in my bag. I thanked him for the little tutorial, wished him a lovely day, and Gracie blew him about 15 kisses.

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About 90 seconds later, we found ourselves together again in front of the apples. "I'd like to give you another lesson." said he. Four perfect Fuji's and a whole lot of Gracie flirts later, he turned to me and in a very serious fatherly tone said, "You know, you have a very special opportunity to teach your little girl to seek after excellence in everything." He gestured at the produce. "Even apples and oranges." I smiled and nodded, though I'm ashamed to admit that in my mind, I was thinking, "she isn't crying yet, she's learning to help me, and we just finished our list. Today was an excellent shopping day, Sir."

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"Let me tell you a little bit about myself" he continued. This is the part where I knew to get comfy, and take quick inventory of what frozen foods I had waiting in the cart. I soon forgot about all of this as he unfolded his life story. Mr. Rester was born and raised in the swamps of Louisiana. He began working as a logger at the age of 12. It was hard work. He asked a special mentor if she knew of anyone who was able to rise out of their life situation and make more of themselves. She replied that this was the quest of the Renaissance men. So at the age of 15, Mr. Rester decided he would be a Renaissance man. He educated himself in everything, always maintaining his quest for excellence, and found that he was good at drawing. He studied architecture and design. Later in the 60's, he found himself at the World Fair where one Walt Disney also had a few exhibitions. After some interaction with Walt (as Mr. Rester called him) he was invited to join the Disney team. Mr. Rester would work with Disney as the chief architect and designer for several projects including Space Mountain, parts of the Epcot center and Disneyland Tokyo. (You can look him up online. This stuff checks out)

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"Teach her at a young age," he concluded, "a quest for excellence in everything she does." He pointed again at my oranges. "Who could have thought that a poor logger from the swamps would do what I have done."

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Later, I had to smile as I unpacked the groceries. 4 perfect oranges laid alongside 4 perfect apples. But I had come home with more than perfect produce.