The house is warm while outside is chilly with a layer of snow on the ground. My snowman dishes have been carefully unpacked and are being used for everything from "Holiday Crunch" to peppermint ice-cream. The tradition of arguing with the youngsters concerning the white lights or colored lights has been waged--and won. The Annual Holiday Bells have been polished and now adorn the beautiful evergreen standing in my front room (with white lights glowing I might add). The Nativity has been arranged and rearranged many times. Fragile decorations have been broken in excitement and super-glued back together to look as if new. Gingerbread Houses have been decorated and massive amounts of sugar has been consumed with close friends. The lines of "Santa Claus is coming to town" is being sung by everyone in the house in hopes of getting the 3 year old to behave--so much that the said 3 year old is now singing the song himself. And this list seems never ending, the Christmas Blankets are out, the Grinch, Frosty and Rudolph have been viewed,lists have been made, Holiday parties have been attended, the 12 Days of Christmas has arrived............

So where is my Holiday Spirit? I am afraid it will not be making an appearance this Holiday Season. I realize that this is a common dilemma, I have seen enough Hallmark Channel Movies to know, but still it festers inside me.

I worry it has died along with the other loves in my life.

While growing up (well into my late 20's and early 30's), I was surrounded by the people who made Christmas "Christmas"! My Grandparents would spend Christmas Eve at my childhood house so they could be there for the quiet reading of the nativity as well as the chaos of gift receiving the next morning. They would bring a cooler of goods with them for our feast--my Mom would complain that they would even bring butter. We would eat, sing Christmas Carols, visit the lights, some years my Granddad would lead us in calisthenics in hopes to get us to bed earlier. My Dad always threatened to catch Santa and tie him up so that we would not receive any gifts.

Christmas morning I would wake and go to my parents room to count down the minutes until we could get up with my Dad. He always seemed just as excited about Christmas Morning as I was--but would try and pretend he was a Grinch. "Bah Humbug" was a phrase he used often. He always had batteries, his pocket knife (for stubborn packaging and little screws), and a garbage bag (to keep the garbage under control) at his disposal. Christmas Morning was a smooth operation under his management.

Needless to say, traditions have changed. Some have fallen away completly. Some have just been altered.

Today, Christmas 2009, I have found Christmas Spirit in some unlikely places. It is this that I will cling.

While "decking the halls" a decoration was broken. It truly did not upset me all that much, I was not attatched to it--not until my son spent well over 6 hours painstakenly super-gluing it back together. He carefully picked every shard up off the floor and fit them back together. You can hardly see the deformity. I now LOVE the decoration. A spark of 'Spirit'. Everytime I look at that decoration it grows.

Our trip to see Santa was typical--magical. The youngest was overcome with excitement about seeing the big guy while the older ones did their traditional protests of being too old. All of this while I knew that the younger would not actually like Santa and that the older group was excited about this annual ritual. Here is where the sweet feeling of Christmas was once again felt. We battled the crowds, waited in line for over an hour, but we also ate yummy cookies and enjoyed each others company. We joked about what the kids would ask santa for and if he would actually bring it. The excitement sparked in the kids. They BELIEVE in Santa, or the idea of Santa. To this I cling.

(As I read this, I too am thinking what you are thinking: Form traditions within your family now, be grateful for what you had and NOW HAVE, stop whimpering! I am very grateful for the goodness in my life--I just want it ALL.)

What's in a Name?

Mom: What are you doing William?

Will: Thank-you Mama.

Mom: For what?

Will: Thank-you for saying William--that is my NAME, not Will. Why people say Will?


I was not able to explain that Will was a shortened version of his name--at least so that he was satisfied.

I still catch myself using Will as opposed to his given name. But now I know. Since this conversation with my young master, I have noticed that when he refers to himself he uses his given name, William.

Hmmm..

William Cole Turner.
He was named after my Granddad. William was his Father's name (William Austin), Cole was his Mother's maiden name (Ida Kaziah Cole Austin).

Obviously this name means a great deal to me. I loved my Granddad--I was his "fav-o-rite granddaughter" none the less.

I should use his name more often and not keep it locked up for those special times--like when he is in trouble.

Priceless......

3 gallons of Lemonade

One gigantic Veggie Salad

4 pans of Lasagna

3 loaves of Garlic Bread

One large bowl of Steamed Veggies

1 oven heated ALL day + the awesome neighbor's oven

4 pans of Brownies

28 hungry Highland High X-Country Runners

=

1 Team Dinner before the STATE CROSS COUNTRY MEET








RUN RAMS RUN!!!!





Congrats to Alec and Regan on an AWESOME SEASON.

Carbon Copy

When I woke up this morning Will was already showered and dressed (Ryan is a saint!). This isn't typical. Usually Will, Austin and I wait until the other half of the Turner Family has left the house before we make an effort to get out of bed.

I dressed as usual, then continued on with the rest of my morning ritual--getting Austin out of bed and ready for school.

Austin definately has a routine. He has been getting ready for school the exact same way since he was going to school. Going to Carden makes this less of a hassle then I think it would if he was going somewhere else--due to the fact that he already knows what he is going to wear--a uniform. He has been wearing this uniform--with little to no variation, since he was in Kindergarten. Dress pants, blue socks, white button down shirt, tie and blazer.

For back-ground: Will is a keen observer. He seems to notice everything that his older sibs do and say. I am sure that comes with being so much younger than the rest of them.

As Austin was getting dressed, Will was in his room--I thought playing. Of course not! He was going through his dresser, pulling out clothes. When he couldn't find what he wanted he yelled: "Mom, where is my blanco (side note: I don't know if I will ever hear the words white, red, green, or blue voiced by Will again--he prefers the spanish version)shirt?

Me: What shirt? You have a great shirt on now--see the trucks.

Will: I need my blanco shirt! Finally he found his white, button down, collared shirt. I need this on!

I couldn't talk him out of it. I put the (blanco) dress shirt on over his other (normal) shirt. I thought that he would feel the unease of the shirt and want it off in a few minutes. Nope! He went to school like that. Just like his older, much looked up to brother, Austin.





Notice the pocket. He has his cell phone in that pocket--just like his Dad does. I couldn't talk Austin into putting his phone in that pocket--he didn't want to look "geeky". (The uniform doesn't do that already?)

Quotables from Ragnar LV

These are how I remember them--maybe not 100% accurate, but darn close.



"WTH?" Jim. In context with the mileage difference between Van 1 and Van Also.



"I want to kill myself." Eric. This was a text he sent his wife at 5:30 Saturday AM.


"Instead of counting 'roadkills', lets keep track of how many times I go to the bathroom." Catherine. We all needed to pee.


"I have popsicles!" Ryan. He left us for a short few minutes and returned with this treasure. It was heaven--never have I loved popsicles more, or Ryan for that matter.


"(slurred) I just love all you guys so much!" Jim. After he conquered his first leg--it was a killer--he was a little off to say the least. Slurred word vomit mostly. He just kept talking and talking and talking.


"Maybe you should stop talking now." Eric. Directed to Jim--see above.


"It goes so much faster when you are not the one running!" Catherine. We all thought it though.

"It is harder to watch the carnage then to be the one running." Leslie. She was lying. Although it was hard to watch Jim and Marie do their incredible legs she never would have never taken their place.


"Now that Jim is out of the car we can listen to GOOD music." Marie. Seriously--nothing more needs to be said.


"I grew CANKLES!!" Jim. In response to wondering where all his blood went after his first leg.


"We need to start thinking about......" Marie. Marie started any touchy subject like this. She knows how to communicate!


"I didn't know I was lost." Catherine. After she got lost doing a trail run in the middle of the night.


"Lets egg Van 1." Catherine. She voiced again what we were all feeling towards van
1's shorter mileage.

"(whining) Am I going to have to wear that reflective vest and butt light belt?" Leslie. She kept it in place for 2 miles then had a "clausterphobic panic" and stripped it all off--all while trying to make forward motion.

"I am He-Man and can feel NO pain!" Jim. While running.


"I am bald." Runner running by.

"And beautiful". Catherine. In response to the above runner.

"You are almost there! It is all down hill from here." Marie. She was cheering on a runner from another team--the problem was she lied. She felt so bad that she caught up with the runner and gave her some water.

"I just wanna be ok, be ok, be ok. I just wanna be ok!" Listened to and sung by Van Also. Our theme song.

Many, many more. But the best one:

"Runner 107. 107." Ragnar volunteer. As runner 12(me) came into the finish line. I was never so relieved to have finished something.

Ragnarly in LV! Hmm....Why Is It FUN?

"WHAT is FUN about this?"

I train for the Ragnar Relay experience because I know that the more prepared my body is for the abuse the less miserable it will be.

That is my motivation--to make it "less miserable".

I ask: "WHAT is FUN about that?"

As a consequence of the passing days the miles pounded accumulate and the time of the carnage is palpable. At this time I get nervous. Sick to my stomach nervous. Can't eat, sleep, or be productive nervous. If I am not running the only thought going through my head is: "I should be running, #*@*" (yes, that last part is an expletive). And to top it off my body is constantly sore. Either a muscle, a knee, a blister, the list goes on and on.


Once again, "WHAT is FUN about that?"

During the Race I push past any limits my body has already set. I run and it is not that exhilarating, renewing type of run that I love. Somehow it is different. More of a panic--a panic "can I finish this" run. I ride in a car for a crazy amount of time. I ride in a car with 5 other runners whose bodies are like mine: sore, exhausted, stinky and sick. I drink an unusually high volume of fluid--some of which I have to choke down because of taste and texture. As a result of the previous statement I am continually looking for a bathroom so I can pee clear. I force feed myself--knowing that I need the calories for my upcoming run, but also feeling a complete tightness in my stomach that begs to be left alone. I close my eyes (this does not count for sleep) for 1-2 hours at a time as I am laying in a parking lot or on a field of a elementary school.

I Run. Drive. Sleep? REPEAT X3.

All of this last for about 30 hours. 30 straight hours. No breaks.

"What is FUN about that?"


After the race I can walk--barely. It is more of a hobble. Sitting down to eliminate all the fluid I drank is almost untolerable. All of my leg muscles are screaming and unforgiving for my past behavior. I am unable to stomach food. I am exhausted. My head is literally too heavy. I am so sleepy that it is hard to go to sleep. Once I fall asleep--I pass out. There is no reviving me--unless of course I have to pee again. Which is a huge pain! I won't even comment on how emotionally tired I am and the consequence of that. Okay--one word: Unstable!

I beg: "What is FUN about that?"

Maybe the answer is that it is NOT FUN. It is different than FUN.

It is sweet. I am unable to describe the high I get from accomplishing this goal. And to be able to do it with the 5 other members of your van makes it even more wonderful. It multiplies the experience.

I am proud of my showing at this Ragnar Relay. I ran harded and faster than I ever have. I am even more proud of my van-mates showing. They did the impossible in my eyes and they did it with great courage.

What an experience! It may not have been fun, but it was so worth it!

Mane Event

What is it about humans--I believe mostly of the female variety, that place such importance on the outward appearance? Why must the value of a woman be measured by the size of the dress, shape of the eyebrows, length of the legs, or beauty of her hair?

And, a more important question might be--do we as women do this to each other, or do we just do it to ourselves? I hear many a female complain about this or that in relation to their appearance that I too have noticed on them, but unlike them, have not seen it as an imperfection but just a difference--and this difference makes them simply different--beautiful even.

Regan has beautiful hair. It is long, thick, and blonde. She is known for this long, thick mane. She hears all the time how beautiful her hair is--it is uncommon for her to show up anywhere when someone does not comment on it. It has become an important part of her outward appearance--I dare say even her inward value. Did her peers/friends place this perception on her, did I do it as her mother, or did she do it herself?

Today Regan cried over her hair.

As she was weeping the words were muttered: "Isn't this silly, it is just hair, it will grow back!"

Yesterday Regan went to school with this hair:




Today after school she looked like this:




Then she did this:




Now her hair looks like this:



Regan was brave and cut off her beautiful mane. Brave in the fact that so much of her identity was confused with her hair.

Even with the shorter "do" Regan is still sweet and fiery, smart and innocent, loving and sassy--she is still Regan!

Wouldn't it be a great if we valued our differences--or imperfections as much as we value the optimal?

I love Regan's hair even more now, but that is how a mother is--my favorite "do" will be the one she is sporting in the present time--short or long, straight or curly--the one she has when I see her first thing in the morning, or the one she has when she is loving her brothers, or the one she has when she crosses the finish line of her races, or the one she has when she is sitting across from me at the dinner table retracing her day for me.

Why can't we all look through our Mother's eyes and value ourselves--not our appearance?

For the record, her disappointment in her hair was short lasted. She stated to me right before I dropped her off at XC practice after the cut: "Mom, this wasn't about the hair, it is all about running, that is why I did it." Then she trotted off to join her team.

To follow tradition the girls on the XC team cut their hair before Regionals that they run today. The boys shaved their legs--funny that Alec is not missing his leg hair as much as Regan is missing her blonde locks.

On the plus side: Locks For Love will recieve a substantial donation from Regan. Maybe her hair can help some other girl feel better about herself. Hmmm....

What a DAY!

Alec turned 18! Yes, 18!

Will went to Preschool! Yes Preschool!

Killer Conversation OR Conversation Killer

William is just shy of being 3.5 years old. He started doing this right around the time he turned 3--so almost 6 months now.

Mom: "William, its time to go get something for breakfast."

Will: "Why, why, why?" (He seems to stutter when he asks why--as a matter of fact one time Austin counted up to 15 "why"s before Will actually asked the question.)

Mom: "Because you haven't had anything to eat since last night and I bet your tummy is hungry."

Will: "Why?"

Mom: "Because your body used up all the food you ate last night so it could grow strong."

Will: "Why?"

Mom: (at this point I figure I can either delve into the Kreb's Cycle with him and explore how the body uses calories....OR I can resort to the old standby, which is what I do this time--with my fingers crossed) "BECAUSE! Now lets go upstairs and eat."

Will: (This is the word I have been waiting for) "Alright." (Not only is the tone of the word priceless as well as the body language that comes with it, but it finally means that THAT conversation can end.)

Sometimes the "Why, why, why" can go on until it cycles itself around again--where the answer actually becomes the question. Sometimes the "whys" just have to end in the "Because" statement, follow up by "Arghh! BECAUSE I SAID SO!". Sometimes he NEVER--no matter how many times a answer has been given, will voice the "alright", but SOMETIMES--in a truly rare, delicious moment, after only asking "why" once will he utter the end: "ALRIGHT".

Before I hear how this is how he learns and that being curious is such a "good thing", I ask you: Have you been asked "WHY?" you do everything and anything ALL day long?

Tell me again when we hit that "girl crazy, car crashing, no homework doing" phase--the one where they don't ask "Why?" (because they already know the answer). I am READY for it!

**I am mostly just kidding, I love (no, not really love--um...find amusing) this phase. It is great to see him learn and explore everything. It is even more fun to see Alec, Regan, and Austin answer his constant questioning. They spend a lot of time and effort to satisfy his curious nature. **

(Yes Leslie, you do have it recorded--it is labled: William July 2009. You just don't want to take the time to upload it.)

While some things remain the SAME......

Bear Lake 2009 happened without pictures taken this year (our camera was lost--until we came home and Ryan remembered where he had "put it away"). In a way, it seems as if I could just use pictures from the last time we were there (2008), or even the time before that (2007), or really any other year. It seems as if not much has changed.

I (and now we) have been camping in the same little canyon for 30 years with little variation to the original camping trip.

After my little brother died (Cody, 2 years old), and we had dealt with all the tangible things you have to deal with, my Dad packed us up and took us camping. He took us to St. Charles Canyon where we would return year after year. (We would be camping on the anniversary of Cody's Birthday/day he died/my Birthday--but as a child I never put this together, I think this was a good way for my parents to deal with this day).

And now we return year after year. We still take rice krispie treats, graham cracker cookies and homemade strawberry jam. We still play hours and hours of card games. We still make a daily voyage down to the lake with blow up toys. We still wash our hair in the freezing cold mountain water. We still use the same red table cloths (that my Mom made to fit the picnic tables at the campground). We still sit around the campfire and talk for hours into the night while watching the stars. We still hike.

My Granddad would often take me for a hike. I loved hiking with him, he would sing some crazy songs and tell me some even crazier stories and we would just enjoy each others company and our surroundings. In 1981 we reached the top of the mountain that we spent so much time hiking. I don't know what Gramps reasoning was, but he gathered a bunch of rocks and started to make a big solid rock pile. Gramps had picked up an old plastic soda bottle (Coke to be exact) off the trail on our way up. He tore the wrapper off of it and on the backside wrote:
July 9-1981
Leslie Austin
Les Austin
Then he rolled it up, tied a piece of grass around it and put it in the bottle. He buried this bottle in the rock pile. Then we started down the mountain. I don't remember if I told anyone of that at the time, but the next year we returned to the same spot and dug out the bottle, as we would do year after year.

Of course the hikers would change, in 1982 Brian's (brother) and Eric's (cousin) names appeared next to mine and Gramp's. My Dad's first trek up there was in 1983. Sometime we used scraps of paper found on the trail or out of someone's pocket, once we used a comic strip, another year is a wedding invitation (Eric and Stephanie's), my favorite is a piece of paper out of the notebook that we were keeping score of a Rook game on (yes, Gramps and I won!).

A few years ago, instead of leaving the names in the bottle on top of the mountain, I carried them back. I have them in my drawer now, with the intent to return them to the bottle once I had photo copied them.

This year we took the hike up the mountain. (By the way, this is an awful hike, straight up--never a break, fallen trees over the so called trail, and lots of nasty bugs. When I was a teenager I called it a Rambo Run, NOT a hike.)

This is where the picture would have to be a new one. The rock pile no longer stands. It seems as if nature has finally triumphed over Gramp's monument. We found the fallen tree that it was built next to, we even found some of the rocks, but it was clear that the rock pile had slid down the mountain.

In the immediate years following my Father's and Grandad's deaths I was worried that I would be crushed if nature took my "bottle". But I am glad to report no such thing. It was an amazing time with amazing memories. And luckily I have the bottle and all the year's messages (except for maybe a 1 or 2 of the most recent years) tucked away safe and sound at home.

Life changes.

We have added to the fun up St. Charles Canyon. We have an all day beach day and go like crazy on the wave-runners. We hike to the "mossy place". We play hide and seek when it gets dark (and scary). We eat chili and scones and make bad jokes about eating beans. We play Hearts. We have added new people to the family (I hope Tim had fun!). We eat smores, and more smores, and more smores.

We left a new bottle this year--a plastic water bottle. Maybe next year we will add our names.

My bro THINKS he is funny

It was my birthday yesterday. And like usual this kind of event inspires my brother.

He is a bit like my mother with his dramatic writing flare and then mixed in with that is the same sense of humor that my Dad and his Dad (my gramps)had--he just doesn't have the years experience they had to fine tune it--but he is getting there--he is OLD for his age! NICE TRY BRIAN.

http://briansmisadventures.blogspot.com/

Loving This:

I love the switch frow T. Swift to Coldplay.....

Life Lessons Learned from the Wasatch Back

1.Do all you can to BE PREPARED—then realize there are just some situations that you can NEVER be fully prepared for.

2.When you have questions—refer to the BIBLE, it tells ALL. Also, it is a bonus when you or someone around you has read it a number of times and can quote it verbatim.

3.Seize The Moment: Sleep when you can, Eat when you can, Drink when it is offered and Visit a Honey Bucket when available--these opportunities may become few and far between.

4. Laugh, Cry, then Laugh some more!

5. Realize that sometimes there are just more important things than personal hygeine, although deoderant is always required.

6. You will always feel a little better about the tasks in front of you after a little food, a little rest, and a trip to the Honey Bucket. If all of that fails--try a Coke slurpee!

7. Surround yourself with the BEST people. Teamwork is REQUIRED! Include in your team: An ORGANIZATIONAL WIZARD--someone who knows where you are, where you need to be and how to get you there; a CHEERLEADER--someone who will cheer you on and tell you how great you are doing (even when you are sucking wind); a HERO--someone that makes YOU want to become better just by watching them perform; a TRASH TALKER--someone that can get you psyched to PUNISH your next trial; a COACH--someone who can navigate you through the rough spots; a BEST FRIEND--someone who knows exactly what you are feeling (most likely because they are/have been feeling it too) and knows exactly what to say/do to help you get through it (even if those words go something like: "you really don't have a choice--you have to finish" or "do you want me to give you something to cry about?") . The ABSOLUTE BEST TEAM MEMBERS rotate through ALL these roles effortlessly depending on the needs of their team.

8. Appreciate your SUPPORT SYSTEM. The race is not worth running without these people.

9. Make the best of a bad situation-- this is more than making the Honey Buckets like your HOME AWAY FROM HOME--it is also cheerfully(?) conquering the muddy, wet, muscle crushing mountain that stands in your way.

10. ENJOY your surroundings. Even if the surroundings come to you at 3:00 am.

11. PUsh yourself--you will be suprised how far/long/hard you can go.

12. Celebrate the small things--even those can be challenging.

13. Some of the VERY best "fill-ins" are right in front of your eyes.

14. Endure to the end. The finish line is SO WORTH IT!


Ragnar was an experience, one that I cannot fully give justice to. It was harder than I thought it would be--but having said that it was also so much sweeter than I thought it would be. So many details that I hope not to forget, but at the same time so impossible to write about.


Fun Memories: "Hey Janet, YOu are doing AWESOME.", Jollie Ranchers, Immodium, Spaghetti, sleeping bags on trimmed lawn, "Dig Deep and when you find it--dig deeper", "I have to go to the Honey Bucket", "I made that mountain my *itch!", "Ride that donkey", "Runner 571....571....where are you 571?!" "I am soo over this!" Pancakes, changing sports bra in gas station parking lot, 3 freakin hours AHEAD of our schedule, "Water or Gaterade?", heave/hurl then run, never catching that girl, makin whoopy.....

Would I do it again?..........OF COURSE!!!

SO? What would YOU do?

What would you do if your "best friend" aka Alec was pacing around the house...preparing HIS sacrament meeting talk?

What would you do if your "fav-o-rite sister" had locked herself away in her bedroom preparing HER sacrament meeting talk?

What would you do if your "most rough-n-tumble friend" aka Austin was made to sit on the couch and not move until he had read HIS sacrament meeting talk over 10 times without interruption?

What would you do if your momma was uptight and kept shouting..."just let me have a few minutes peace to write MY sacrament meeting talk"?

What would you do if your dad was sitting in front of the computer ignoring you while he wrote HIS sacrament meeting talk?

Well this is what I did:




I got MYSELF ready for sacrament meeting....using my blue marker.



My family had 20 minutes to clean me up before we had to go to sacrament meeting.

SO?!?

Baby Steps (or runs)

Not since before Dad died have I donned a bib and ran in a race. I will tomorrow. I am feeling the empty space he left behind. I can imagine I will feel it along the route tomorrow as well.

When I ran before I could always count on seeing him along the route in at least 8-10different places and then of course at the finish line. He was an expert at finding a spot, cheering me on as I ran by, then jumping in his truck to get to the next spot before I got there.

I am excited to do this! Funny how time changes things. I never thought I would do this again...but here I am, drinking my fluids and making sure I eat a good CHO filled dinner. All thanks to friends.

Whoo who!

The things I miss most:

1. Always having to say goodnight and give him a hug--even if I was a grow-up with kids of my own and just visiting.

2. The strong silent--seemingly unemotional--demeanor, unless I looked closer and saw the tears well up in his eyes. This was especially true when he thought/spoke of grand kids.

3. The unconditional support--whether I was dancing, in colorguard, going back to school, or running, he was there. He watched hours of dance reviews, marching band competitions, he oversaw homework sessions with Mom, and he even mapped out running routes (making sure to tell me where every hill would be and the best strategy for conquering them). He was never interested in these things until I became interested in them--then he made himself an avid fan.

4. The howling laughter of my kids as he was tickling/torturing them. The reference to "Grandpa Tickle".

5. The warm, heavy hand on mine in Sacrament Meeting or riding in the car, or walking down the street.

6. H@ll, D#mn, Sh$t, as normal everyday language. Not cuss words. Just verbage. I knew I was in trouble when he DIDN'T swear.

7. The look in my children's eyes when I told them we were going to Gramps' house.

8. Reassuring my kids that indeed cows are cows and horses are horses--that it does not matter that cowboys ride horses--they are still not cows, no matter what Gramps told them.

9. The missing corner from my baked goods before they were served. (He had to make sure they were not poisonous.)

10. The ability to wish him a Happy Birthday with a crazy card referencing his advanced age then to see him laugh, that silent deep laugh that would bring tears to his eyes. Then later find these same stupid cards tucked away in his sock drawer.

Today is my Dad's birthday. He is still very missed here.

Thinkin' and a Wonderin'

Disclaimer: There are no cute tales or pics of the Turner Fab 4 in this post, so feel free to discontinue reading it. (Mom this applies to you since I know the only reason you check this blog is to see if you can show off pictures of your grand kids.)

As is well know (I voice it to everyone I talk to, every time I talk to them), I am in training to run the SLC 1/2 and then the Wasatch Back Relay. Obviously, this training includes running on the treadmill for long stretches at a time (it is still too cold and wet to run outside for me--as my Dad always told me: "You can't get wet, you might melt!" You see I am made of sugar--sugar melts when it gets wet. I promise that is what he told me!?!)

Anyway, I am getting extremely bored of staring at the same gym rat who is lifting the same weight and pulling the same face, and then smelling the same bad air--I had to put that part in for little bro. (Once you have seen one of them, you have seen them all--come on you know what I am talking about!).

To alleviate this monotony the masses turn to music. Well here is my dilemma. I can vomit up the words of the U2 and Bon Jovi songs that I have been rocking out to, dating back to the beginning of my running experience--back before Will, back before I worked, back before I went to RN school, heck back before I was OLD. Most of the songs I listen to are from the 80s. (Gulp, I said it.) They no longer "do it" for me.

Here is where I am now a beggin' and a pleadin'. PLease tell what motivates you. You don't have to listen to these songs when running. Any songs that motivate you, whether it be when you are kicking butt on the eliptical, or chasing down your preschoolers, or doing the dishes and scrubbing the toilet, or meeting that deadline at the office, I want a list of those songs. Please give them up.

My SIL (who BTW is a kick butt runner) gave up the Killers. So I have gotten to work downloading them. I don't do country music (sh@t kickin' music--as dad used to say), but anything else I am open to--I say that but I do have a song from Taylor Swift that gets me going, so I guess I could possibly do country too.

So look through your Ipod and give me the list, PLEASE.

William and the Whale

Well okay, not a whale, but fish, octopus, sharks, jellyfish, stingrays and spiders.

I took Will to the Living Planet Aquarium today. We had a good time even though Will was constantly just looking for Nemo or Nemo's Daddy (I don't think he has even watched the movie--he just has the toys.)

Will was more than a little scared of the different tanks, but I think it was that good kind of scared--that thrilling scared--where you just hang on tight to your Mom and go for it.

I was pleased with the outing. We even stayed and had lunch.

Who would have thought....

I get a whole afternoon/evening/night to myself. All myself. I don't have the boys--they went to scout camp (I so wanted to go on this trip). I don't have Will (my Mom thought it would be fun if he stayed with her, instead of her coming to stay with us--I have to work tomorrow and needed a babysitter). I do however, technically have Regan, but she is more interested in her friends than she is me--I seriously can't figure out why. I am ALONE.

So what do I do? The options are endless. Movie, dinner, spa, shopping (I could spend hours in Barnes & Noble), sleeping, reading, hanging with some friends, shaving my Legs (by myself--something I haven't done since Will was a babe), and the list could go on and on.

Uh, but no. I think I will go workout and then watch the tube. Yee Haw! I am an exciting, happening gal!

CAN"T WAIT UNTIL THEY ARE BACK! (At least then I can complain that I can't get a minute to myself.)

Utah's Winters

Feeling a bit cramped (seems like we have been inside for years--although I know it has not been that long since we were romping in the glow of an Indian Summer that compares to my childhood years), Will and I decided to go outside and take a walk.

As we started off the sun was out--and yes we could see it. We had blue sky above us. Salt Lake City is amazing when you can see the sky and the white capped mountains. All of that was great, but the big kicker was that we could actually feel the sun's warmth. We were DEFROSTING. Needless to say, it was wonderful.

Then....it snowed! Within minutes of our walk, it SNOWED! Light, fluffy snowflakes. Not too wet, but cold. Will was confused. I was confused!

WILL: "What is it?"
When I said snow--he got so angry.
WILL: "NO mama, what is it" (as he is pointing to the still blue sky).
Again I repeat: "It is snow."

What a sad, sad, day for a kid that loves to play outside, but who HATES the snow.
Weird that he does not like it, my others loved (still do) the snow. Maybe when he is older!

As for now, we will try to catch every minute (or even second as the case may be) to soak up the sun.

Waiting for Spring, when I can complain how HOT it is outside.

Happy Birthday Austin!

So he did it....he went and turned the big 12!

What is a 12 year old Austin like?

Well, he was named after both of his parents (Austin being my maiden name, and then of course Ryan being his Dad's name) and it seems as if he is a perfect mix of us both:
He is fearless when it comes to stunts (anything with wheels or on the snow).
He does get a little nervous of the dark.
He has a smile that lights up a room.
He is brillantly smart....he can fix anything mechanical.
He hates to read--unless it is "The Diary of a Wimpy Kid".
He is the best big brother ever, and always spoils his little bro.
He is the best at "pushing his sister's buttons".
He has such a tender heart, he always cheers for the underdog, and has been know to stand up for the kid getting picked on.
He is very popular and has a bunch of friends.
He is a little shy.
He always seems to need a haircut.
He is very particular about the way he looks.
He loves to watch Myth Busters.
He is AWESOME!

All in All he is a GREAT KID--OLD KID!

HAPPY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

I Have A Dream...

I do not pretend to be educated about politics. I do not pretend to even be interested in politics. But I do feel the awesome spirit of today. We as Americans have achieved a milestone.

Let us continue on with this progress.

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only Light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only Love can do that." Dr. Martin Luther King

Tag--I'm it. Sevens.

My cute SIL tagged me with this questionaire. I thought I should be a good sport and do it, but my answers are definately not smart or interesting. Hers are.

Here I go:

7 THINGS I DO WELL:

Waste time on computer

Eat (not that I make good choices, I can just put away a lot of food.)

Bake--NOT cook, but I can make a mean batch of brownies. Okay maybe I should just say MAKE BROWNIES--I can't think of anything else I can bake either.

Give a compliment.

Read books to Kids.

My Job--most/some of the time. Under all the right conditions ie: enough sleep, enough food, right shoes, good pen, right patient, and the list goes on and on...but if all these things line up I am a DARN good RN.

Nagging. This may not be a good quality to have, but it has been the reason much has been accomplished in my life, either with my parents, kids, and husband--as well as others. I think some of you reading this have experienced my nagging. (do you want to go workout??)

7 THINGS I CAN'T DO:

Say a sincere Thank-you. Most of the time its just awkward and I sound flippant. It is not usually what is in my heart.

Diet. This is why I really truly love to workout--I would much rather take a few more laps, then to not be able to eat my delicious brownies.

Stick a child. I was the IV queen when working with adults--seriously other units would call me to come do a "hard stick", but now--no way--I haven't even tried!!

Get mad at Alec. I don't know why I reserve this just for him, but I do. I seem to be able to produce monumental anger with everyone and anyone else. (I don't usually get mad at my little bro either--even when others are ready to throw him under a truck.)

Yoga. BORING!!!

Stop watching TV. I have tried many times to go "without". My withdrawls are too intense for me and anyone that has to live with me.

Have a conversation with my Mom without talking about my kids and my Dad. Too bad for her!

7 THINGS I ALWAYS SAY:

Do your homework, pleaaaassee!!!

Whats for dinner.

Seriously, are you going to throw a tantrum over this? (Remember, I have a 2 and 14 yr. old.)

That's fine. (Not usually what I really mean.)

I need to go to the gym tonight, teamed with: Do you want to go workout tonight?

My turn for the computer.

Do you need to go potty? (I actually say this to everyone--not just my 2yr. old)

7 THINGS I LOVE TO EAT:

Spaghetti--my FIL's is the best!!

Brownies

Vanilla ice-cream with chocolate sauce

Mango Chicken salad

Fruit--any kind, in season.

Rolls, especially my Mom's.

Chocolate cake--"if it isn't chocolate, it isn't cake".

7 THINGS THAT ATTRACTED ME TO MY HUSBAND:

He had a car. (We were both at SUU and he was the only one I knew who could get me to the grocery store--remember, I am good at eating.)

He cooks.

He loved to go study in the mountains. (Again when we were at school--We would hike to a quiet spot and study for hours)

He got along good with my brothers.

He is so nice to animals--even when they are not ours.

He can talk to anyone.

He loves to make the people that he loves happy...no matter what.

TAG 7 OTHERS:

I don't really have seven other people that read this blog (she tagged some of my family already).
LUCKY YOU!

Winter's Must Haves

Mmmm....hot chocolate. No matter how cold, or how much snow falls, this keeps the Turner Family warm.


Playdough can keep Will busy for hours (great for when it is too cold/wet to go outside). Too bad I have to play with him the whole time. I get bored with my playdough abilities. I have really only been able to master: a snowman (with a hat even), a snake--but that is easy, and a turtle--really just a clump of dough, but Will says it is a turtle (that or dog poop--I rather go with the turtle.)


Send the kiddos as often as possible--how much trouble can they get into with entertainment like that.




This ice scraper is actually sold as a kitchen item (something for candy makers--I'm sure I don't know). It is awesome though, it works great on my car. Too bad I don't just have a garage. This is the inexpensive form of a garage.



We don't actually have one of these and it still snows. Oh well I enjoy the shoveling. (Most of the time anyways....but don't tell my family or they will make me do it all the time.)



We were introduced to this game by my bro and sis-in-law. It is awesome and I guarantee it will keep you and yours entertained for hours. The only thing is you need someone to play with. Ry and I don't get to play too often because our kids are too busy/cool to hang with us. Anyone else game??