On road trips and fraidy cats

We're back from our weekend jaunt to Denver, and I must say, it was well worth the 12-hour car ride each way.

Not because of the last-minute victory which made the Husband absolutely ecstatic, but because we got to hang out with these people that we love:

And we got to go trick-or-treating with our cousins, which is a first for us, having always lived away from family:

Trick-or-treating was fun for everyone except Hannah. She was terrified of anything resembling a spiderweb, skeleton, or bat.

Yeah. Which apparently pretty much makes up the whole of Halloween.

So, I gently explained to her that no doors, no candy was going to be the policy of the night. Even when she begged me to go to the door FOR her, I held firm. I mean, after all, that's less candy for me to consume while she's sleeping, right?

But lucky for her, cousin Will has a soft spot for little fraidy cat girls. At every house she refused to approach, he would ask for an extra piece of candy, and bring it to her himself.

Her own mother was not so kind.

But all in all, the trip was fantastic. How would it be otherwise with the weather a balmy 75 degrees, the BYU game a success, and the company hilarious? We really hated to see it end.

If only we could click our ruby red heels and be home in an instant. Those last few hours in the car got to be a little long.

P.S. Did you vote today? I did. And it was worth waiting in line for over an hour for. Man, I love this country of ours.

What is it they say about the best laid plans?

Well, interpeeps, I had some grand ideas for posts this week that I was hoping would pull me out of my blogging slump.

I was going to find all the old Halloween photos from years gone by and post them here so you could ooh and ahh at my darling babies, you know, when they were babies.

I was going to make a really yummy soup and post pictures and directions to entice you all to make it.

I was going to let you into the world that was my frighteningly pious 19-year-old psyche and share some old journal entries I just found in the basement.

But, these good intentions have gone by the wayside. And come tomorrow morning, I will be waking at the unholy hour of four a.m. for a little spontaneous road trip with the family.

See, when your husband happily tells you he has taken Halloween off from work, don't mentally start making any plans for lunch dates, afternoon matinees, or any other afternoon delights. For, you see, about three-point-seven seconds later, he will sweetly bring up the fact that there is a BYU game in Colorado this weekend, and wouldn't it be great if we all went?

So, we're going.

I'm actually excited because it means I will get to spend time with one of my favorite sisters-in-law (sorry, she's blogless or I'd link) and I get to sit in the car for several uninterrupted hours with a large stack of books by my side.

And I get to miss church. (Which is definitely something my pious 19-year-old self would not be happy about. Please don't tell her. She'd definitely have words to say about that.)

So, Happy Halloween. And, I guess, Go Cougs.

Pretending to be what I want to be

Recently, I have decided that if I want to ever get any better at this photography thing, I'd better start taking pictures of people other than my own children.

So, I begged and borrowed, pleaded and whined, and stole a baby or two from friends. Here are some of my favorites. I know I have a long way to go, and a lot to learn, but it's very fun to take pictures of children I don't acatually have to pay to pose for me. Mine have become so sick of it, that they will not comply unless given cold, hard cash.

I know, right? Who said they could be such selfish capitalists?

Lucky for me, most of these babies and kids are too young and nice to know any better:






Got any kids I can practice on?

Send them only if they work for free. This ain't no paying gig.

Spiderweb Cookies revisited

It's that time of year again, interpeeps.

No, not the time of year where we finally pull out that naughty french maid outfit and decide to hooch it up at the PTA party.

It's the time of year where we raid our children's trick-or-treat bags and steal all the good chocolate.

Don't even pretend you don't do it.

But I just made these today, as per our annual tradition. If you want the recipe, see the post I did on it last year. You won't be sorry. They are so, so good.

Is it Monday yet?

Hi, there.

No time to chat for the following reasons:

1. The kids are home from school today.

2. I have 1,873 things to do, but will not get to any of them. See number one for questions on this.

3. High School Musical opens today and I have a six-year-old girl who cannot stop talking about Troy, Gabriella, and Sharpay. She is literally clinging to my legs, begging to see it RIGHT. NOW. (the child is clinging to my legs, not Sharpay, in case you were wondering).

4. I have two boys pouting in the basement, praying to be left home from the movie in which the characters sing and dance spontaneously, which, apparently, is a fate worse than death, according to them.

5. I have a child with virtually no long pants, and cold weather is now upon us.

6. I have another child who had outgrown his church pants and cannot fake button them another Sunday.

7. I have no milk in the house.

8. I am in dire need of a McDonald's diet coke. See all of the above for reasons on this one.

9. I have foolishly promised the children some pumpkin carving today. Oh, how I hate that sticky, gooey mess that lives inside the pumpkins. I can just feel it squishing in my fingers right now and I'm already grossed out.

10. I will soon have a gigantic mess of pumpkin innards to mop up off my floor.

Happy Friday, all.

Driving me crazy

Something that has always been interesting to me is the vast differences when driving in other states. Sure, we all live in the same country, we all get fat at McDonald's together, and we all cheer for the Red Sox (at least those of us with good taste, anyway). But when it comes to getting behind the wheel of our cars, we become something else entirely.

So, I thought I'd take this chilly fall day and share my thoughts on local drivers in the states we've lived in. Hopefully, it will help you, if you ever find yourself in any of these places.

Utah:

In Utah, if you want to change lanes, don't put your blinker on. For, you see, a blinker doesn't signal your desire to change lanes. It actually means the vehicle in the next lane over should immediately speed up, in order to prevent you from getting in front of him. Do not be surprised when you see lots of middle fingers pointed your direction in Utah.

But take heart, for when you arrive at your destination (likely the church Halloween party), you will discover the other driver is actually in your ward. You can thank him personally for the nice, friendly greeting he sent you on I-15.

Minnesota:

Minnesotans brag about being "Minnesota Nice." That definitely doesn't apply to driving. What you most need to be wary of is the chain smoking, coffee chugging, big haired old lady. She WILL run you down in her pink Mary Kay Cadillac. These are hearty people used to living in an inhospitable frozen tundra eight months out of the year. They know how to drive on a sheet of ice without fear. There is no mercy on the road in Minnesota.

Boston:

Boston is a scary place to drive. The drivers there have decided that the vehicle trying to make a left-hand turn onto a busy street actually has the right of way. There's no law that says this, but they have declared it so, and everyone does it.

And if have the gall to NOT stop your vehicle in the middle of the street to let them turn left (you know, because that seems like the safest thing to do when going 40 mph), they will pull out anyway. They will ram your car, yell at YOU, and miraculously not pronounce the letter "R" once.

Washington:

Seattle drivers were a wee bit obsessed with the carpool lane. So much so, that it was a pretty frequent occurrence to see a single driver in that lane, with a blow-up doll in the front seat. I was actually pulled over once for driving in that lane, but not given a ticket because I had my two small children with me, who were not visible in their car seats. When driving in Seattle, beware any old clunker plastered with Kurt Cobain stickers. The driver is undoubtedly hopped up on Starbucks, has not showered in a week, and would probably ram your car if he saw you using a styrofoam cup.

California:

Oy. California. Your best bet is to go 40 miles per hour OVER the speed limit, and drive defensively to avoid any accidents. Because chances are, you'll be the one to hit the Bentley, and they've definitely got more money to sue you with. Trust me when I tell you, the last place you want to be is between a giant pimped out Hummer, driven by a hungry anorexic woman, and her Botox appointment. She will crush you. And she will not care.

Missouri:

Missouri drivers are unlike ANY I have seen anywhere else. They don't actually go the speed limit here, they go S-L-O-W-E-R. It is SO ANNOYING. I am no speeder, but when I'm the fastest one on the freeway, you know something is wrong. The people here drive like every day is a leisurely Sunday drive. They look, this way and that, slow their car down to check out the homes, trees, dogs, and sky. I am doomed to be forever behind a slow car here.

So, internets, what are the drivers like where you live?