What Went On

I’m physically back from my social media break. I gotta say: life without facebook is decidedly happier. I’m going to set some much-needed boundaries with how I use it and WHEN I use it.

The last few weeks have been filled with yoga, vitamins, meditating, eating and crafting. Toward the end of my break, Grandpa Max passed away unexpectedly. My yoga wavered, but I carried on. At his funeral, I gave my Granddad a big hug. A few days later, Dad called at 6 am (are those calls ever good calls?) to let me know that Granddad had also passed away unexpectedly. At that point, something snapped inside of me. I haven’t been able to get my brain back. I haven’t done yoga in 8 days. And I’m eating whatever is close and easy. Hardly a recipe for health -my stomach issues aren’t loving me for it.

So I’m back. In a way. I’m sure as time goes on, my mind will slowly kick back into gear. It would help if people would quit asking hard questions like, “What’s for dinner?”

While I was away, I did a lot of reading about health. My health has been so shaky and weird… I want to get it sorted out and I want to do it wisely. I made good progress, incorporating vitamins, chia seeds, protein, and meditation to minimize stress. I also dialed down my sugar intake, though I didn’t take it away completely. I made meatless enchiladas with black beans, corn and butternut squash. I juiced a lot of green veggies. I found myself drawn more and more into the kitchen -it’s my favorite room in the house. It’s my artist’s studio, my chemist lab. It’s where I put things together and watch to see what happens.
We feasted on Eggplant Parm -my Grandma’s most-requested dish. It’s vegetarian and delicious. Though I learned that hard way that if you’re going to eat at Grandma’s do NOT let Grandpa babysit the dolly. He will fall asleep. Boy howdy, if there was a Babydoll Protective Service…
I tried sauerkraut for the first time and absolutely loved it -my Granny made it herself, and I’ve got to figure out how she does it!
We stuffed our traditional pumpkin! Lacy set the table for the pumpkin meal.
“What should I do?” She asked. This is a new thing she does where she doesn’t trust her cute little gut like she used to.
“I trust you to do whatever,” I said.
“Mom!” She lit up, “THANK YOU!”


She’s losing confidence these days because she’s been burned. I mean literally. She once pulled some cookies out of the oven and slightly burned herself and since REFUSED to get anything out of the oven. A few weeks ago, she asked to make brownies and I said, “Sure, but you have to go through the WHOLE process. You have to get them out.”
I’m happy to report that she DID. After crying for over 15 minutes (we left the oven door open during this time to prevent burning). She wasn’t the only one crying. Trent soon lost his cool and burst into tears, shouting, “DO NOT LET MY BROWNIES BURN, LACE. DON’T YOU DARE.” And then Alice joined in because she was thoroughly and completely freaked out.
I left the room to escape the bargaining going on.
What a brave girl! She doubled up on hot pads. And you know what? She’s pulled a few more things out of the oven since then. It turns out, she CAN do scary things!
Last night, I gave her a little gift I’d had lying around. I said, “I just want you to know that I notice how much you help and what a good big sister you are. I see you, and I appreciate how hard you work to help and everything you do.”
She hugged me tight and looked up at me with her big, hazel eyes, “Mom, I always thought it would just be me, you and Dad. But then those other two party-poopers came around.”
Devastation Station, people.
She SAYS that, but she also made a bow for her brother (probably because she felt bad about deliberately breaking the one Uncle Mike made for him?) and spent hours outside playing with him:
And this happened last week:

Just last night, she dressed Alice up in heels and lipstick and they danced all over the house. So she says “party poopers” but she doesn’t walk the walk.
Lacy isn’t the only one putting make-up on Alice. Alice has been putting make-up on Alice.
“I’m just a kitty now!”

For Halloween, I bought some face make-up and that was IT. We made several costumes with whatever else we had on hand. Everyone was happy. We made our traditional “carnival apples” with caramel and white chocolate. We watched movies and ate too much sugar.
And scared people.







We simplified our pumpkin carving. Last year we bought one of those fancy kits the rich people buy, so our entitled children were confused this year.
“What about pirates and Batman and princesses?”
We told them we had a new, free kind of pumpkin carving kit and handed them a spoon. Dad helped with the knife. The results were retro, am I right?

Alice doesn’t actually need a reason to dress up. Dressing up is what she does daily. Also fit throwing.
I call that one, “Diva in Distress.”

Although she dresses up, we have this very ironic problem: we can’t actually KEEP HER DRESSED. We will NEVER forget the time she undressed and crawled into the sink to bathe herself and it FLOODED the kitchen. I was down the hall, people. I was just DOWN THE HALL. But our kitchen slopes, and it only took a few minutes.

Our pantry is now clean. Very clean. My piano is also very clean now because I went to the bathroom once and Alice did her Alice-est to NEVER LET ME FORGET THAT GOING TO THE BATHROOM IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENCE.

Good thing I’m flexible. I’m only bringing that up so I can tell you how flexible I am now. After doing a few weeks of consistent yoga (minus the last 8 days where I counted “getting up” as a pretty big stretch) I found victory in this:
I can grab my foot without bending my long leg for the first time since 4th grade. Miracles.

Also? It snowed.

That -minus the beautiful funerals -brings us up to date. So I’ll see you after Thanksgiving, okay?

Forty Day Hiatus

Last week, I was unfortunate enough to click on an entire forum attacking me personally. It was public, it was harsh and it was so full of cynicism and hatred that it shocked me.
They called me manipulative, controlling and a vile mother. They ripped apart my values and even went so far as to have vulgar assumptions about my sex life (what?). They used ugly language and ugly words, and they were sure -SURE -that Danny’s life would improve exponentially as soon as he cut ties with me. Our marriage would end wonderfully for him.

This all would have been much more painful had they been nice people -meaning, I would put more stock into their opinions if they were having an intellectual discussion criticizing my personal life. But it was just cynical hatred spewing, spewing, spewing. It was so hateful it only took me 12 hours to pretty much feel the reality of the situation: it wasn’t about me at all. In fact, in their mind, our inevitable divorce was synonymous with Danny’s leaving The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
See that?

It’s THE CHURCH. It’s religion they’re upset over. I’m just a temporary punching bag.

I’m floored at the amount of hatred the world has, and I feel sadness. I feel sorrow -I feel A LOT of sorrow. There’s sorrow every time I turn my computer on, log onto my Facebook account, every time I listen to the news on the radio.

Given this last very personal attack of hatred, I immediately logged off. I haven’t logged back on, and I won’t. My immediate reaction was to never ever log back in again EVER, but as that reaction has faded into a RESPONSE and I’ve had time to process, I’ve decided to take a 40-day fast from social media.
Forty days without Facebooking, blogging, instagramming.
I’m still checking emails and using my voxer app.

Meanwhile, I’m going to be doing a 40-day yoga program by Baron Baptiste.

As we journey inward we reflect our light outward - Baron Baptiste:

He’s pretty smart. I’m hoping to absorb some of that wisdom in my meditations.

Life has handed me a lot of mental opposition these days, and I know there’s something I’m supposed to learn.
Here’s a TED talk I’m streaming now… and hoping to find that subliminal place where Christ is in my center, where hatred glides quietly by and love sets up a permanent camp.
See ya on the other side of lots of sweat.

Pain Shame and Rug Sweeping

A few days ago, I came across a post on facebook that was being shared like wildfire among mothers -particularly young mothers.  A sweet sister had lost her baby just before delivery.  She wrote out her pain on social media which I’m not against, but I began to feel my own pain when she asked the readers who were complaining about being up with their own baby at night to remember: she had no baby.

I watched in sadness as my fellow sisters shared, shared, shared the article and shamed themselves.“Such a good reminder to me to quit complaining.”
“I needed this.  I’m such a whiner, and I need to shut up and be grateful.”My heart began to burn and I closed out of facebook -my serenity vanished and my heart swelled and ached in that uncomfortable, unmanageable way.
I’m all for gratitude in trials, I am.  I AM.  As a friend so succinctly put it, “We aren’t meant to feel gratitude INSTEAD of pain, but to learn to feel gratitude in the midst of pain.”
I am NOT for using gratitude to sweep pain under the rug.  Pain does not belong under the rug, especially when the hands holding the broom are coated in shame.

“I need to shut up and be grateful,” sweep, sweep, sweep.

Using gratitude to shove pain in places where I can’t see it for awhile or feel it for awhile is simply my way of trying to deal with my own pain… the VERY pain that Christ died for.  Sometimes I feel like He shouldn’t HAVE to take it because it is so very “small” compared to other pain, but Christ doesn’t care about the size of pain.  He suffered for IT ALL.
And for what it’s worth, in this particular case, the pain of being up with a child at night while I’m sleep deprived, post-partum, nervous, confused, and trying to see straight through a blur of hormones that haven’t balanced and sit on a bottom that does NOT want to be sat upon… IS INCREDIBLY HARD.  Not small pain by any means!

So many of my sweet friends who are battling post-partum depression, sleep deprivation, exhaustion, depletion, and anxiety were in tears over their own lack of gratitude when they read her post, and I wanted to hold them tight and say, “Give me the broom.”
Because I know.  I KNOW that their own individual pain will come out from under the rug very soon and it will be bigger, more angry and probably out for revenge.

And the beautiful part about pain is what a wonderful, necessary gift it is.
Pain is the opportunity to turn fully to Christ, to have a conversation with Him about how it feels because HE HAS FELT IT.  He is the ONLY Man to know the pain of birth, hormones, sensitive emotions… He knows!

A dear friend of mine once told me, “Suffering is like gas in a chamber.  It just fills the space, no matter what.”
I reverence gratitude in it’s pure form, but I do not reverence gratitude in it’s piggy-backing shame form.  I can’t.
God doesn’t want us to shut up and be grateful when we’re up at night with a baby who won’t sleep because someone else CAN’T be up with a baby they lost.  He suffered BOTH pains, and He desires BOTH PAINS.
Not just the “bigger” pain.
I’ve had so many frustrating conversations with caring folks who just don’t GET the pain I’ve felt in my life because of my husband’s addiction -they WANT TO, but they don’t understand what it’s like to live in a marriage like mine.  But you know what?  GOD DOES, and when I talk to Him honestly and say, “THIS HURTS!”  I don’t feel God telling me to sweep anything because someone else has lost a husband or is going through a divorce.
My trial isn’t the kind I can take to social media and say, “Please remember when you’re celebrating an anniversary by posting pictures of how great things are that my anniversaries have been incredibly painful.”
Does that make seeing posts with couples appearing happy hard for me?  YES.  But that is MY PAIN, and I WANT IT.
It’s part of my journey and process.   I don’t want others to stop posting their happiness.  Even when it hurts, even when I THINK I want them to be miserable with me, I don’t.  Not really.
What I really want is to turn to God and say, “OUCH” and then learn what I need to from my own pain, because there IS SOMETHING THERE for me.
I have asked Him why.  I have asked Him if I’m not worthy of an easier marriage.  I’ve hashed out all there is to hash for now -and I’m sure I’ll find more to hash today and tomorrow!
I’ve tried to sweep my pain under the rug.  I’ve tried to numb it out with food and business.But the only truly healing thing I’ve done is taken it to God when I’ve been ready.  Sometimes I feel a release from the pain, sometimes I feel God nudge me toward work that still needs done.
Pain is a gift -a bridge in my relationship to God, and a teacher!  It isn’t the nice, sunny, posh sort of teacher who speaks softly and has twinkly eyes… but I’ll be danged it if isn’t one of the most effective teachers I’ve ever had.So many sweet women I’ve met have held back from living genuinely for fear of hurting others, and I must say: you are robbing the world.
Satan’s trademark is taking truth and warping it -here a little, there a little.  I see him taking on the compassion that so effortlessly becomes women and using it for his gain.  He takes our desire to not hurt those around us who are struggling and morphs it into self-censorship of the vulgarest kind.  We are censoring our authenticity -we are hiding our lights under a bushel.

The world needs your authenticity.  They need to hear about how hard (or wonderful!) your children can be sometimes, even if it pains those who can’t have children or who have lost children.  They need to know that your house is dirty -even though there are those who can’t afford a house or who have been turned out.  I can’t go around censoring myself under the guise of compassion because all I’m really doing is trying to manage the pain swirling around me -the pain other people are feeling. But I can’t fix that pain, and I don’t fix that pain.  Because it negates Christ’s sacrifice.
I don’t believe for ONE SECOND that we are naturally out to hurt or cause harm.  Does it happen?  Yes.  That is part of the plan, the path, and the test.   

But to try and manage another’s pain? Can this REALLY be done while being true to ourselves?  No, it cannot.  Because their pain is not ours to manage.  Our OWN pain is barely ours to manage because Christ took care of it already.

I have personally sat with a friend who has suffered infertility, loss, and pregnancy complications who told me how HARD it was to have kids who didn’t sleep and who poured syrup on the floor and then PEED ALL OVER IT.

Her pain needed validation, all of her pain needed validation.

I don’t want to invalidate the pain of the sweet sister who lost her baby -that is unimaginable. I simply want to extend an invitation to the sweet sisters who immediately and so easily set themselves to shame and self-blame because of it.

I messaged a good friend about this, wondering why it was touching me so deeply, and she talked about the problem of “Pain Shame” we have, especially among women.
We feel shame because our pain is “less than” the seen pain of someone online -someone with cancer or loss.

God doesn’t see our pain as “less than” and I don’t believe He sees our pain on individual little strips of paper.  I don’t believe He suffered for “sleep deprivation” and checked it off the list.
I believe He suffered for the deep pain I would feel attending church alone with two small children, little sleep, overcome with anxiety over my husband’s addiction and lack of recovery -those moments when even the slightest irritation felt like Everest.  God suffered for my BIG PICTURE, not just the lack of sleep or the slight irritations.

There is room under the rug for pain.  It’s true.  And it’s as good a place as any to put pain until we’re ready to hand it over.

(I personally have a very sturdy figurative mind-rug.  I like to think it’s the pretty kind the pioneer used to make by braiding all of their old clothes together… sturdy, lovely, and durable.  Built to last!)
I just want to share my love, ladies, and say: your pain is worthy of God’s suffering, no matter if you feel it isn’t.The pain I feel watching my dear friends so easily set to hating themselves for pain that needs validation instead is ALSO something God suffered for, and I’ve talked with Him about it!My pleading prayer for you is this: Live genuinely today, feel your individual pain without holding it up against the pain of the girl next door.  Practice gratitude for what is in front of you right now and leave shame out of the picture.

Christ died for you.
We all have a measure of divinity within us -it is our equalizer.  I am JUST as much a daughter of God as every other girl on earth, and God suffered equally for us all.
I see now -I SEE -that His precious, sacred suffering for me was going, frankly, in vain.  I was semi-pro with my shame hands and my rug-sweeping.  Learning to put my own superficial management tools aside and take up God’s atonement is hard work, but it is the best work.

Pain has gotten me there.

And for this, I reverence my own individual pain.  Today I will honor it, lean into it and learn what I need to learn from it.  I will take it to God, and we will discuss it together.

Pain is the pathway to progress.

Resta rant

Lacy created her own restaurant and let me know that reservations had been made in my and Daddy’s names.
The menu was very accommodating -gluten free bread, caffeine free herbal (the “h” is pronounced in this case) tea:
Danny and I ate by fake candlelight and enjoyed the company of all three children because, in Alice’s words, “I wanna play too!”
After dinner, we paid by putting coins (that were provided for us at the beginning of the meal) into a small minion coin egg, and then we were offered a complimentary rock. Lacy had been collecting rocks for her restaurant -she had at least 100 small rocks.
Our family has always loved food and cooking and being together in the kitchen. A few nights ago, the girls made brownies from a mix while Trenton chopped up tomatoes for dinner. I’d asked him to grab two big tomatoes from the garden and he came back with SEVEN cherry tomatoes.
So we went with that.
“I’m the fastest tomato cutter EVER, huh Mom?”
Who wanted to tell him that taking 20 minutes to cut 7 cherry tomatoes actually isn’t fast at all? Not me! He was so thorough -washing, cutting, scraping into hot saucepan:
0929151821d (1)
And by the grace of miracles, some of the brownie batter DID make it into the pan!

I had bathed the girls before they started making brownies which wasn’t the smartest decision I’ve ever made. I asked Alice to show me her hands, and she did… she also showed me JUST what she thinks of baths.

A Place Called, “What Is.”

My mom is really good at games.  She fills out crosswords in record time, answers trivia questions with ease, and loves to watch game shows when she gets a chance.  Growing up, Jeopardy! came on right around the time Mom started making dinner, and I think it helped her manage the stress that came from feeding 7 other people for the THIRD time in one day, knowing she’d be doing it again and again and again.
“What is.”
It was the way most of the “answers” to all of the Jeopardy! trivia started.

“What is existentialism, Alex.”

Except it wasn’t an answer, it was a question.  The maddening paradox of Jeopardy! is the “answer in the form of a question” rule because, of course, the questions were actually answers.

This last week, I found myself stuck in a place I like to call “What Is.” It’s a place where I find answers to questions.  Rather, it’s a place where I WAIT for answers to questions.
I LOVE research.  I think I inherited my mother’s hunger for information, but it came without the ribbons and fanfare… I am absolute bunk at games and trivia and I can only finish crosswords with a cheat sheet.

Research lights me on fire, especially when I’m researching PEOPLE.  The best pay off in research in answers.  I love getting answers.

But what happens when you don’t get them as you’re looking for them?  What happens when there’s no book to look in?  Nothing to punch into the Google search bar?  No person to call for YOUR OWN answer? What happens when you have to just… WAIT for the answer to come to you from God instead?

That’s when I go to the place, “What Is.”
Sitting in “What Is” has proven time and time again to be one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life.  I squirm because I am NOT patient.  The lack of answers becomes more painstaking than the actual question.

There’s a Zen saying -a humorous one -that goes, “Don’t just do something -sit there.”
Yes, it’s funny.  But it is also SO FREAKING SPOT ON for me.  (I’m reading about Zen-like stuff right now.  More about that soon…)

I happened to read an article in a magazine this last week that was really, really hard for me.  There was some truth in the article, but I felt (and feel) there was something off.
So what IS IT?
WHY am I feeling this?

I was triggered.  I reached out and prayed. I reached out to some trusted friends.  I processed and I still felt a painful stab in my heart -I felt OFF all around, and I couldn’t seem to burst out of the feeling of it all.

I WANTED TO BE OKAY while I waited, while I sat with What Was. Being calm in stressful situations is a personal goal of mine, and I was frustrated with myself -that I WASN’T calm while I waited for answers from God.  In short, I was impatient with myself and impatient with God’s lack of immediate answering.
The double-fold impatience became heavier than the questions I had!

I was annoying myself.

Leading up to this point, God had carefully prepared me. I had gotten back into doing my dailies, and the day I’d read the article, I was in a good place emotionally, physically and spiritually. In the days leading up to my reading the article, I’d been reading a book loaned to me by a friend -It’s a book about yoga, and as I read it, I feel like my soul is getting a massage, and sometimes I fall asleep because it just FEELS so good.

Days before reading the article, I read a passage in the book that put words to something I’d been trying to put words on for years… the place known as “What Is.”

“Through patience, you can possess your soul.  When you catch yourself speeding through life, when you feel you must meet expectations and that so much of being left undone or that you’re not succeeding as quickly as you think you should be, you must remember that real growth doesn’t come from pushing through or breaking out of anything.  Rather, it comes through a gentle melting in.  The path of patience asks you to be okay with what is, stare it straight in the eye, and open to and learn from what’s happening rather than contracting into fear, frustration, and a hidden drive to meet your expectations at any costs.  We must remember that when everything has to be right, something usually isn’t.” ~Baron Baptiste, “40 Days to Personal Revolution”

As I talked with friends and God and processed my swirling reaction, I said, “I need to MELT IN.”  The next day, I could still feel my lack of serenity.  I spoke with my husband and said, “I need to figure out how to be calm and find peace in WHAT IS.”
So many prayers were said.
Tears popped to my eyes as I tried to force open a heart that felt hard during General Conference.

I was reminded of another passage in the book that absolutely fascinated me.

“Each year, I conduct a weeklong bootcamp in the mountains of Montana.  A Lakota elder medicine man takes us through a sweat lodge ceremony, in which up to ten of us sit close together in a pitch-dark tent around a blazing fire, praying and chanting.  I always notice an interesting phenomenon: certain people insist on sitting right by the little exit flap of the tent.  They are adamant, claiming they must be near the door.  I have witnessed these same people break down into intense emotions, fear, and often racking sobs.  You later hear them say that as the steam and heat increased and filled the space with full intensity, they were sure that something terrible was going to happen.  They convinced themselves to stay by saying that if they were near the door, they would be able to make it through to the end.  The truth is that even if they didn’t sit by the door, they would make it through.
In our total commitment to inner revolution and growth, we don’t get to sit near the door.  We don’t get to duck out if the process becomes uncomfortable.  We learn to stay with ourselves, no matter what.” ~Baron Baptiste, “40 Days to Personal Revolution”

On Sunday, some solid answers came.  Mercifully short timing.

How can I learn to be okay while I sit in “What Is”?
There’s no trivia answers, no outside answer, nothing I can read or study or outline or memorize… the answer is deeply personal to me and found deep within myself.

I can only access it by delving inside -by STAYING WITH MYSELF, no matter what.

I hope I’ll get better at it, and I know it will take a great deal of practice.  My impatience is truly one of my grandest stepping stones to God (that’s just a nice way of saying it’s my biggest thorn in my side).

Yesterday morning, I walked outside into the fresh, crisp morning and let my toes enjoy the wet grass -it rained last night… the heavy, gorgeous kind of rain where the sheets fall so fast it looks like mythical creatures are dancing in mid-air. Yesterday morning, everything was new.  I let my bare feet soak up the wet green grass.
How much longer will our grass be green?
I don’t think about it.  I can’t live in the future.  It’s just a shadow of the present, as my pretend-friend James Allen says.
I keep quiet.  I had purposefully NOT checked social media before heading outside.  I pay attention to my breath, and it feels like I’m oxygenating anew my entire being -the stale air from my bedroom was exiting through my mouth as I breathed in the brand new air from the after-storm.
My mind begins to wander and I practice being gentle about pulling it back.  I’m mildly successful.  I begin my prayers, and find that as I pray and give thanks for what it around me and with me, I want to drop my hands down to my side, palms facing forward.
With my mind still and calm, my eyes closed, my palms open, mirroring my heart, I tell God I am ready.
At that exact moment, the sun burst forth from behind a dark rain cloud.  Though my eyes remained closed, I could feel the light.  I could “see” the light changing, everything brightened up behind my eyelids, and I felt God’s warm love wash over me completely.

In that moment, I found that What Is was in my front yard, and that God lives forever in What Is.
What Is isn’t always painful, but it always has the potential to be peaceful and it always is a place where I can learn, grow and increase in wisdom and humility.

What Is.
It’s elusive and also?  The only place we really have.
The past can’t be be fully lived in.
The future can’t be fully lived in.
Trying to live from from either of them produces only pain, regret, and a shallow kind of life.

The present is What Is.

So often I’ve said, “It is what it is,” and shrugged… admitting that I can’t change something, but today I say it with intent.
“Right now IS what it is,” and I let go of the past -the struggles and regrets. I let go of the future -the anxiety and unknowns.
And I AM HERE now in WHAT IS. This is the best way. It keeps me from missing out on listening peacefully to thunder so booming and echoing that I can only describe it as delicious. It keeps me from missing out on the kids -their smiles and tears, their worries and fears. It keep me safe from the sicknesses and stress that come from the anxiety that plagues me. It keeps me calm -it makes what I have enough, and gratitude abounds. I am more open to loving relationships, more prepared to hear God, and more whole in every way.

It is REALLY hard to stay present when things are hard, when I’m waiting for answers or when something has thrown my serenity out the door.

Will “What Is” ever be my constant home?
I hope so, but it feels impossible. But then again -I can’t worry about the future…

(I feel like I need to add a disclaimer: I took the pictures AFTER being present.  I didn’t snap them in the moment because snapping pictures has the potential to sometimes take me OUT of the moment. Amen.)

To Bounce or Not To Bounce?

It’s taking a really long time to bounce back from August and the first half of September. The past two days, I’ve felt some natural return to normalcy which is thrilling in it’s own right. Normalcy gets a bad rap.

The kids had picture day, and Trenton didn’t give the money to his teacher. He paid for his book order but kept the check for his pictures tucked safely in his back pack.
When we walked through the door, I asked how his pictures went, “Show me how you smiled,” I said.
He did.
“But mom,” his smile immediately dropped and he spoke VERY seriously to me, “Did you know you can’t have the pictures unless you PAY for them?”
Head drop. Heart drop. Mom just knew in that moment that the check never made it into the proper hands.


They’re growing rapidly. Sometimes it feels exponential.
Alice, I’m happy to report, isn’t in school. She’s at home and she’s very ALICEY.
She’s also very ELSA-Y. Not to be mistaken with CINDERELLA-Y. Because she’s NOT. She’s ELSA.
She’s been very attached to me these days, and it’s been really funny. When she was born, I told Danny, “I’m just going to go with her gut… let her dictate things in the beginning. When she wants to eat, we’ll do that.”
It was an experiment for me -I was a stay at home full time at that point, and I had the freedom to see what the gut of an infant felt like. It relaxed and calmed everything in our house
set us all up for boundary-lacking chaos a few years later. Because she’s still dictating things around here.

I realized how bad it had gotten the other day when I exerted all of my parenting moxy into a trashy situation. It all started when I was hit with a beautiful wave of gratitude for my children -they are really good kids! Sometimes I get so busy task-mastering that I forget to just ENJOY the fact that the people growing up in my house are big blessings.
I just so happened that pay day was that day, so I resolved to surprise the kids with a fun sushi dinner and a redbox rental. They were overjoyed.
“So you guys get sushi and a movie and you get to stay up a little later, that’s a given,” I said, “But if you would like that AND a doughnut, here’s a list of stuff that needs done before we can go into town to buy the dinner stuff and rent the movie.”
Oh, they got to WORK. They FOUGHT over the work.
“Mom, I DID IT but he put his initials by it and HE DIDN’T!”
“I NEVER!!!!!!!”
That’s when the tears joined the party and I listened to the THINKING part of my brain that said, “BREATHE THROUGH THIS” and not the FEELING part of my brain that longed for something numbing like chocolate or ear plugs or alcohol.
While cleaning up, Trenton found his long lost magnet set. He began tossing them around and one ended up in the trash.
“Mom, can you get it?” he asked.

This was prime. PRIME. A teaching moment! And I was being A GOOD, PATIENT PARENT.
“Trenton,” said, pulling him nearby just like they do in the Hallmark promos, “Sometimes in life things get messy and hard and they stink. They REALLY stink. You won’t WANT to do them, so you get to make a choice. You can DO THEM and show yourself how capable you are, or you can choose not to and live with the consequences which can be okay too. If you find your magnet in the trash, you will have it back and then we’ll get doughnuts. If you don’t get it, you don’t get it and you’ll just not have your magnet anymore. You get to choose.”
“Yes, things that stink really do stink.”
It was getting deep in SO many ways.
“It feels that way right now, but YOU ARE SO CAPABLE.”
“I’ll be happy to help when I see that you’re working hard on it and not just waiting for me to do it for you.”

Being a good parent is a very hard thing to do. I turned back to what I was doing (dishes) and I used the thinking part of my brain to rehearse my own words. I sent them to God and my feeling brain only interrupted sometimes.
Pause. Breathe.
“I am capable of being patient. I can let natural consequences take their place. IF HE DOESN’T GET HIS ACT TOGETHER AND GET OFF THE FLOOR I’M GOING TO LOSE MY BRAIN!”
Pause. Breathe.

“Trenton,” I grit my teeth but kept my tone under control, “You can make a choice. Magnet or no magnet. You are capable of doing hard things. If you get it now, you can still get that doughnut. If you don’t, you just won’t get a doughnut because your chores won’t get done in time. It’s your choice. You’re capable, you got this.”
“I’m. not. talking. to. you. anymore.”

Five minutes later, he had the magnet in his hand and he proceeded to clean up some other gross, stinky, nasty stuff on the counter because, “I could.”
I then walked straight up to the toddler -who hadn’t done a darn thing except make a mess behind everyone who was cleaning and cooed, “You wanna doughnut?!”

That’s when I realized that I first make monsters and then punish them. Boundaries, Alicia! Boundaries! But how?! How do I deny doughnuts to Alice Michelle?!
And after taking them through the grocery store -which event was seriously crazy and I only lost one kid once, so that’s something! -we stopped off to say hello to my grandma who fed us tacos.
Sushi was second dinner, and we watched “Home.” It took me over 30 minutes to realize the movie wasn’t about creatures called “Boob.”
At the end of the day, Danny asked how my day went.
“I played good cop, bad cop, psychiatrist, cook, friend, nurse… and I don’t know. It’s pretty crazy. It was pretty funny.”
Someone please sum up a day of mothering for me in a few succinct words because I’m just too frayed in the brain to even.

I bake cookies because I’ve convinced myself it heals the fray in my brain.
“Where are the cookies? Where’s the bowl?” I asked last week when I looked up from the dining area and couldn’t see the pan and bowl I KNOW I’d JUST set down.
I walked quickly to the kitchen and found Alice’s calling card. MISCHIEF.

Our evening walks down Dad’s farm are always accompanied by a baby and a stroller. They’re something I really look forward to because they give me a chance to practice being present -to not get wrapped up in the rush of getting back home to start dinner. I work on not catching up on messages on the walks, but just taking the slow evening and letting it be slow.
It seems easier to slow down in the evening time. Maybe because everything is lit up with Arizona Sunset Gold?
Alice also takes the time on our walks to catch imaginary “KLEENERS” which are actually praying mantis (praying manti? How do I pluralize this? them?) that Lacy calls “Clingers.”
She stops her stroller and gasps at the ground next to her, “KLEENER!” She scoops up air and passes it to us all.
These walks are not for the rushed of heart.
Because once you have the imaginary insect, you have to CARE for it and not step on it, but Trent is a boy and Trent WILL step on the air JUST to get a reaction and then Mom will pick up the stroller to take the baby and Alice will have a melt down because


Sometimes I take the farm walk alone and sit on the bank of the irrigation ditch and talk to God about how my body hurts, how sick I am, how hard it is to be nauseated every day and not know why… I talk to Him about everything I can’t control, about the shame that eats at my soul when I’m not physically well. I talk, talk, talk, and sometimes I don’t talk but I know I’m still communicating. I go beyond words with God.
When I open my eyes, He goes beyond words with me. He shows me a tree I’ve stared at before but never really SEEN. It’s grown wild and strong on the banks of the ditch. It’s a Chinese Elm and I HATE CHINESE ELM. They kill everything around them, almost refusing to be cut down and killed on their own!
But I realized that day that the ditch -the place where the water was flowing -had revealed the roots of the tree.
God reminded me how much I fuss about the surface symptoms of my life without letting His living water rush over and uncover the roots.
I recenter, I reground.
I stop fussing about the leaves. I can’t control my sickness, but I can control how I respond to my sickness and how I respond to my sicknesses and EVERYTHING comes back to my “roots.” It comes back to what’s in my center… rather, WHO is in my center.
When God is in my center, life is peaceful even when it’s awful. When I’m in my center, life is chaotic, even when it’s sunny.
Roots, roots, roots.

Sometimes I have to get out of the house and away from the children who help me grow so much. I once read that Socrates married his wife because we wanted the challenge she would give him. She had a reputation for being a hard woman -someone really difficult to get along with -and he wanted to growth a woman like that would give him. He wanted to see what it would uncover in him.
That man. He was incredible.
I feel that way about my kids -they uncover so much about ME that is hard to face, and sometimes I just need a quick trip to Sonic for some Sprite. Did you know I live by a famous corner?
Because I do.
I took Lacy out to my grandma’s to watch the General Women’s Conference. I again walked the farm road, holding her hand and talking with her about things girls talk about together. I love her so much -really, Lacy is a beautiful gift to the world… with all of her gifts and all of her faults and all of her HER-NESS, she is a force!

It’s crazy how bouncing back from the past month and a half has looked A LOT like slowing DOWN. And now I wonder…
Do I really WANT to bounce back?

September 6th, 2015 -San Francisco

For our last day in San Francisco, we hit up Golden Gate State Park and the ocean! We left our luggage at the hotel and hired an uber driver to take us to the middle of the park. While waiting, we took a picture outside of the hotel while we were still fresh and ready to take on another day!
That park is HUGE… again, Danny and I had really no idea what there was in San Francisco, so when we saw the size of the park we were floored! It was so cool. There was a free bus system JUST for the park. It was a little haven in a big, busy city. We watched families walk together, BBQ together and toss around frisbees. People were running by, biking by, and laughing as they went. I felt more comfortable in the park than I did at the wharf. Probably because I could stretch out my hands without smacking someone with a camera in their hands.
Here’s a picture of our drive -the scenery is pretty amazing, nothing like what I’m used to in Arizona!
We walked along a paved path and plucked bits of greenery. I have a thing about natural souvenirs… last year when we hit up Newport Beach, I took some sand and shells home. They’re in a vase, and I love displaying it. As I walked in the park, I grabbed flowers and leaves to press. I want to frame them like I did with my sister’s bouquet. I’m pretty excited about it! The flowers are all smashed up in a book right now. My fingers are crossed that they’ll turn out beautifully!

The park was a fun walk. We saw Bison and a big windmill. It was neat to find benches that were dedicated to people who’d passed on, people who had loved the park.

The walk was refreshing.

It was nice when we started to see the ocean in the distance -soon we could hear it and feel it. We couldn’t wait to sink our toes into the sand! We knew we’d end up bringing sand home in our socks, but we didn’t mind. Maybe we even liked the idea a little.
Folks were playing catch with their pets, doing yoga, building castles with their kids. It was a beautiful sight and a beautiful day. This trip was worth the cost for the PEOPLE WATCHING alone, I swear.
I did some Danny-watching too. It’s fun to snap pictures of people when they’re just enjoying joy.
We were able to enjoy the beach for a couple solid hours:
I’ve done some studying on negative ions lately, and I couldn’t wait to put into practice some of what I’d learned and am learning -I couldn’t wait to let my body soak up the healing that naturally comes from the sea, the sand, even the energy put off by the waves! I asked my husband to take pictures of me just… BEING in the sea. When I looked at them, I could see how guarded I am naturally -how scared I am, how fear takes over so many of my everyday moments. My eyes have been opened in a big way about this… anxiety is a big issue for me, and I see it in the way I eat, the decisions I make, even the way I stand:
I self-protect. I don’t stand up straight, unconsciously protecting my heart, keeping it safely tucked behind a “should cage.”
After Danny and I both looked at the pictures, after I’d spent the weekend consciously trying to physically OPEN my heart, we said, “let’s try that again.”
And I TRIED. So you can tell it isn’t totally natural, and I’m hoping for one of those, “fake it until you become it,” miracles.
The hardest work I’ve ever done is loving myself -namely: ACTING and LIVING from that place… that place where there’s lots of veggies and fresh air, peace despite storms, laughter in the moment and clothes that fit right, a made bed and peaceful surroundings, open chest, straight back!

Most times, I just can’t do it! Sometimes I can fake it! And sometimes, I get a taste of having it come naturally. And those are The Blissful Times.

After slipping dusting the sand off as best we could, we gave our mostly unused bus passes (they still had one full day on them) to a couple who looked nice and didn’t speak English much at all so they probably didn’t use them. They returned kindness by taking our picture:

There’s so many pictures of our faces, this is true. I just have the hardest time with coming home from vacations with mostly pictures of scenery. I carry scenery in my heart, but I carry pictures of faces in my hands.
So let it be written.

The sand was SO HOT. I slipped my shoes back on, but Danny tried to tough it out. He got pretty far, but we had to stop so he could put his shoes on. It took a while, so I took a picture of the view to my right with the bright, big city behind me:
I took a picture of the view to my left of a big and wild sea behind me:
And then I took a picture of the view in front of me… a boy with burning hot feet:
It made me laugh. It still makes me laugh.
I laugh easily.

We grabbed some hot wings at the airport -our first UN-SEAFOOD food all weekend -and then we headed toward our kids.
One of my favorite things (right up there with people watching) is Arizona sunsets, and we flew home in the middle of a great one.
Goodbye ocean, hello desert! You’re both beautiful in your own way.

San Francisco -September 5th, 2015 (The Second Half)

The most I knew about San Fracisco when we booked our tickets was that there were trolleys. And rice? Something like that… When we realized ALCATRAZ was there, my husband was so excited. But it was short-lived. To get a tour, we would have had to book the tickets weeks in advance. They do hold tickets for early risers, but we were so far from the north side of the city where Alcatraz is that it would have been pretty impossible to make it that early and still get a good night’s sleep/enjoy the rest of the day without crashing out.
So we decided to take a ferry out. It lasted an hour and took us under The Golden Gate Bridge and around Alcatraz. It sounds like a weird preposition jingle, doesn’t it?
AROUND the prison, UNDER the bridge.


We were handed a headset when we boarded and were able to listen to a guided tour as we cruised along. It gave some great facts and fun history.

Here’s an anti-climatic, windy video! Yay!

After we’d finished our time with the bridge, we headed toward Alcatraz and on the way we saw dolphins jumping in the drink. We couldn’t snap pictures fast enough, and really? Sometimes the memory of things like that are better than pictures. When I take the time to just be fully present without a camera in my hands, I’m never disappointed. But my sentimental personality is such that I can’t last long without feeling an undying need to CAPTURE EVERYTHING.
But the dolphins would not be captured. Rogue little things.

We were really excited about Alcatraz:

My pictures are all mostly the back side of Alcatraz -the side you can’t see from the Wharf.
I couldn’t believe how big the whole operation was… and I didn’t realize the island had to have everything, including water, ferried in. And the guards LIVED there with their families.


Before hopping on our boat, the crew snapped a picture of us. So we paid $30/ ticket for the ferry and then $15 for the picture. I mean, after you’ve spent $60, what’s another $15? And really, we didn’t regret it. I think we would have regretted it had we not bought the picture. How they got them all printed up and organized in the ONE hour we were out on the sea is beyond me. Must get paid for it, or something.


After our cruise, we walked on the wharf and looked at the fun shops. We bought a few small souvenirs (including a toy trolley for Miss Alice who loves Daniel Tiger so much! She even refers to The Lincoln Memorial on the back of pennies as trolleys and pennies are “Trolley Dollars” in her world).
Here’s another anti-climatic video of one of the street performers -most of our videos were taken with our kids in mind, things we knew they’d love to see.

We stopped at a candy shop to buy something small so we would have some pennies to take to the arcade. We wanted to smash some souvenir pennies. The candy store was SO FUN. We could have spent so much money there if we really wanted to, but we didn’t want to haul a lot of candy around.
It was one of those places where we say the Harry Potter candy and went, “The kids would LOVE THIS!”
And then go, “Oh, we shouldn’t bring the kids here…” when we see the SNL-themed candy.
Danny and I have always enjoyed window shopping together.




Just walking along the very busy wharf we ran into fun stuff:

That night, we rested our weary feet at a very packed restaurant right by the water.franciscan

The wait was SO LONG, but we used our time to gaze out at the water while the sun set and talk about all of the people who were beyond the glass -we were in the perfect spot for people watching.
Danny kept staring, mouth watering, at the fake crab on display…
“I hope we get one THIS BIG.”

0905151926I took a picture of the stairs because all of these old-style stairs are just too much for me.  The stairs were flanked by pictures of Hollywood’s Golden Age Actors.  I really felt like as I went up those stairs that Gregory Peck was not only watching me but had walked the same stairs a few or fifty years before.
0905151905 (1)

Our crab was worth the wait.  We had a blast cracking that baby to bits.


We made a horrible mess, but the waiter was nice enough to tie these very dignified bibs on us.0905152048

FISH silverware! Very touristy.0905151944
We split our full crab and relished each and every bite. Finding good sea food in Arizona is like trying to find a good enchilada anywhere north of Arizona.

On our walk home, we stopped to listen to the water lapping in the dark, we hit up the chocolate store one last time and left with 5 big bars (buy four get one).


We walked back to find a trolley to take us back to Union Square and we found a yarn bombed tree -something I’ve only seen in pictures.  I was so happy.



Throughout our trip, I made a point to take pictures of people trying to take selfies, or families/couples leaving one person out of a photo so they could take it… and as we waited for an uber driver to pick us up in Union Square, I snapped a picture of a sweet family standing near us, and they offered to take one of us.

So why not?  Here we are, completely and utterly worn out… happy and tired and full of seafood and chocolate and culture:


Our uber driver was a 66 year old San Franciscan who had owned a limo-driving business in the 80s.  He found out we were from Arizona and immediately turned on country music which I am still grateful for.  It helped me feel more at home in a very foreign environment… you know, the kind where there’s more than 3 cars driving in a 3 mile radius after 10 pm.

Sunday was our last day -one more post, and our San Francisco trip will be completely posted!  Whew!  What a trip.

San Francisco -September 5th, 2015 (First Half)

September 5th was our busiest day!
We woke up to calmer weather -no wind! And the bay looked so very beautiful in the morning light.
We made our way to THE Lounge for breakfast and then took an Uber to Union Square. Because it was our first ride, we got $20 off, and the ride ended up costing 7 bucks total! Our Uber driver was unfamiliar with the city -we only found this out as we got OUT of his car -and ended up taking us through some pretty scary-looking streets. He dropped us off at Macy’s, and we quickly walked very closely together to find the nearest trolley to get us AWAY from Union Square.
We weren’t interested in shopping, and we were pretty sure those scary streets we passed were going to pounce on us at any given minute.




We waited in a line to hop a trolley for a while which didn’t annoy us because we were in AWE of the people and city, but others weren’t so enraptured…
“This is IT. Honey, get the girls. We are taking a TAXI. This is RE-DICULOUS.”
I began wondering if maybe I was handling the whole thing wrong. Like, maybe I should be more fraught with indignation. But that’s just not my style, so we took a selfie instead.

0905151058bNot pictured: angry man next to us with two girls and a wife and NO TAXI.

The 3-day bus passes we’d picked up at the airport covered trolley rides, and I was pretty excited about it. I knew Alice would love to see pictures of the trolley since she is a dedicated Daniel Tiger fan and often drives around toy cars, pretending that they are a trolley.
Danny and I rode on the outside. He carried our back pack in front so it wouldn’t get whacked by passing cars.
Riding the trolley was so fun -definitely a highlight of the trip for me! As we climbed the hills and then went down, down, down the slopes, it was SO HARD (seriously, I don’t think I was given enough credit for my restraint) to not throw my hand out and break out into, “The HILLLLLLS ARE ALIVE!”
Danny, on the other hand, is a cop. And a cop is a cop even when he’s not coppering.
He spent the ride very much aware of the dangers around the people around him… every time I leaned out, he should have liked to reign me back in forever. He’s always in the business of protecting. It’s not something he can just shut off. But I’m so glad I caught it on camera.
I leaned out to take pictures of the trolley tracks and streets! So cool.



Our first glimpses of the ocean came when we hopped off the trolley and onto a Pier. We stopped to make some new, sea-faring friends and it felt kind of like “Oklahoma!” when they singing about cowboys and farmers being friends. Desert-dwellers and sea-faring folk should be friends.
We walked along a pier filled with old ships. We could take tours, but the price wasn’t right. It didn’t take long for us to realize that the price wouldn’t be right ANYWHERE except in an old arcade on the wharf where you could play some games for a dime.


From there, we could see the Ghirardelli Chocolate sign, so we walked up that way.
There were lots of shops and things in Ghirardelli Square, but we weren’t interested in BUYING stuff, we were interested in DOING stuff, so we bought two bars of chocolate to snack on while we did stuff around the great, big Pacific drink.
What I loved about the whole thing was that no matter where you were, you could almost always see the sea.
I read a plaque outside one of the chocolate stores and right behind it was the ocean!
From there, we walked out onto a long cement dock. It was crumbling and there were signs to stay off certain parts, but there were fearless fisherman who couldn’t care LESS about warnings, and they were fishing their little hearts out. Apparently, you don’t need a fishing license!
The waters were so clear!


From there we got our closest glimpse of Alcatraz… until Danny and I hopped a cruise ship later that afternoon and circled around it like hungry hawks.
After our pier walking, we made our way down to the official HEART of Fisherman’s Wharf:
By this time, we were hungry for some lunch. We looked around for something to eat, and there were A LOT of options and A LOT of people! It was Labor Day weekend, after all. We finally decided on a restaurant called, “Fisherman’s Grotto” and again split a plate. Prices, prices!
We had crab enchiladas, and they were so good! It’s safe to say that Danny and I ate exclusively chocolate and seafood while we were in California.
The view from where we sat was so fun, and we even got to watch a sea lion bobbing and swimming around. So cute!
Is it weird that I loved the OLD STAIRS? I loved the old carpets and the old creaking and the thought of HOW MANY YEARS AND PEOPLE they’d seen!
The restaurant was a brief break from the noisy masses of people, music, and birds outside. When we stepped back into it, we were refreshed and refueled.
Near the restaurant we found an old arcade filled with games from the 1880s to present day. We walked through and promised we’d come back later on, and we did! After our ferry ride, we hit up the old arcade with some change we’d picked up from a candy store. It was so fun! We smashed pennies to our heart’s content and Danny paid a quarter to find out what kind of lover he is.
He was told he was a tender lover.
Oh, the jokes. Those old games are the BEST.
Right outside the arcades, there were some restored WWII goodies. There were torpedoes, a submarine, plaques and a full-sized restored war ship! We wanted to tour the submarine and the ship so bad, but it would have cost $100 for us both to go on both. We contented ourselves with pictures instead.

From there, we decided to spend some money on an hour-long cruise under the bridge and around Alcatraz. I’m going to save the second half of our day for another post because this is just getting WAY to picture-y. I’m making a shutterfly book with the pictures from our trip and it’s over $100 right now. AH! What is with my shutter-happy finger? Also, shouldn’t I have a better camera if I’m going to be snapping so many pictures so often? Might as well make the quality worthwhile!

San Francisco -September 4th, 2015

I keep wanting to say that Danny and I went to “San Fran” for our anniversary, but then I catch myself. Am I allowed to slang it? I mean, do I have enough ownership to San Fran it? I don’t nickname people I’ve only met once, right? And I definitely don’t nickname FAMOUS people I’ve only known once -and San Fracisco is definitely a famous city.
Example: since we ran into Larry Fitzgerald in the San Francisco Airport who I didn’t recognize or know *exactly* who he is, I haven’t started referring to him as “Larr” or “Fitzy.”
So I’ve been laboriously typing out SAN FRANCISCO each time I refer to our trip, and it has not been easy because I am a terrible speller.
But it’s been a good learning experience for me, and I’m very pro-education.

(PS: I can’t get over -even now -the fancy-ness of Larry Fitzgerald’s luggage.  It’s pretty, right?)

About 2 weeks before our anniversary, I walked up to Danny and said, “You know what we should do? We should GO SOMEWHERE for our anniversary… just find some cheap tickets and fly somewhere, stick our toes in some beach sand and then fly back home.”
I thought he’d say that yes, it would be nice but that we couldn’t afford it. But you know what he said? He said, “Let’s do it.”
We are completely inexperienced travelers, so the idea felt daring and adventurous to both of us. We ended up booking tickets to San Francisco because they were the cheapest, but we didn’t realize the rest of the trip would cost so much.
So so much.

Danny had spent the week before at a work training in Ohio, so he got off his plane from his training and less than 3 hours later, he was back ON a plane to California.  Can I Cali it?  I’ve been there 5 times now, so I think I can Cali it.  We hopped a plane to CALI.

The cost was well worth it in the end. We experienced a new city together, and we had the truly blessed experience of just BEING together. It was a huge thing for us to be in a place in our relationship where we could even get away together -that alone made the trip WORTH IT.
Everywhere we went, we were struck with that little fact.
I’m so glad we’re here,” we kept saying, and we weren’t talking about the city. We were talking about the place our relationship is in right now.  We’ve been working so hard to find healing for the past few years -last year for our anniversary we were separated, and I wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.  So to have a ring on my finger and be at ease with each other this year?  We could feel the miracle.  We’re so grateful for addiction recovery -we’re grateful we are both working our tails off in every way possible (mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally…) because for a long time our marriage was just hanging by a precious, precious thread.  And today it’s thriving!  That’s not to say, “Hey!  We MADE IT!”  Because I don’t actually believe there is a place of “MADE IT!” when it comes to healing… it’s a beautifully rewarding life-long process.  But it is to say, “Hey!  We have no mortgage or car payment or nursing babies and I feel safe with the person I love!  LET’S CELEBRATE THE CRAP OUT OF THIS WHILE WE HAVE IT!”  The serenity prayer has taught us to live in the moment, friends!  Also: our relationship now is so much better than it was last year, YES… but it’s surprisingly much better than it EVER WAS EVER.  So that’s been really, really amazing… not perfect, but I think that’s probably what I’m appreciating most about it?  I don’t know.  I don’t really actually know very much…

Although when I said, “I’m so glad we’re here,” in the Ghirardelli chocolate square, I really was just glad to be there.

Due to our inexperience, we truly had NO idea what to do in San Fracisco or what there was to do. We booked a motel for about $150 a night which was incredibly cheap compared to other hotel prices in the area (seriously, the Best Westerns were charging over $200 a night!). But we didn’t realize our hotel was on the OTHER end of the city. Meaning all the Cool Kid stuff to do was a 2-hour bus ride away! We had bus passes but only 2 days to experience the city and didn’t want to spend hours upon hours on the bus.
With my stomach issues, I was already dealing with motion sickness from the plane ride and shuttle… so we bravely downloaded the Uber app and it took us downtown in 30 short minutes!
There were perks, though, to having a hotel away from “everything.” It was far away from noise and masses of people. The view from our motel room provided a very pretty view of the bay, and we were able to watch the planes fly in and out.

We paid $20 extra a night to get exclusive access to The 15th Floor Lounge. Oh, they drew us in with their fancy words like “Lounge” and “Exclusive” and “O’dourves.”
The only problem? According to the front desk, we could go up to the 15th floor for “o’dourves” from 5-7pm, and we checked in around 4:30 pm. We were nice and hungry… but every time we tried to push the “15” on the elevator buttons, it wouldn’t work. We looked for stair cases, we tried OTHER elevators… it was frustrating.
Finally, I called the front desk and asked how the in the HECK you get to this LOUNGE place?
“Did you not see the card reader in the elevator?”

I didn’t even know that was a thing.

Danny and I hopped in the next elevator, put our card in the reader and then held our breath while we pushed the 15. It lit up gloriously, and we audibly CHEERED.
But we left from the 13th floor, so our ride to the top was pretty short lived. But I’ll be honest, that moment of victory was one of the greatest of my life.

After we ate, we took to the outdoors and explored a walking trail we’d seen from our window. That’s how we travel. We have no plans. The only reason we had plans when we went to Disneyland is because we worked with a Travel Agent. That was a very good decision for Disney, but for striking out on our own, Danny and I really love winging it.
I still remember planning our honeymoon.
“How about we rent a car?” he asked. THAT was that. After our wedding reception was over, we decided to head in the direction of San Diego. We had a blast not knowing when or where or what. We knew WHO and really, that’s all that’s ever mattered with us because we end up having a pretty great time anywhere we go without kids.

(not that we don’t have fun WITH the kids, but it’s easier to have no plans when there’s no kids.  With kids, I definitely need a travel agent!)

We came to a gorgeous dock where the sunset was brilliant and the wind was blowing… we stopped to snap a picture of ourselves when a couple standing nearby offered to take our picture for us.

With their professional wedding equipment!  Apparently, they were out testing a new lighting toy out.  How about that for luck?  He emailed the pictures he took to Danny, and I have a picture of the picture, downloaded from social media.  Translation: here’s a low resolution version of our favorite snapshot:


On our walk, we found a beautiful restaurant behind our hotel called Kincaid’s.  It sat right on the bay and offered a really cool view:

We decided to stroll in and have an official anniversary dinner -since it was September 4th, after all. LUCKILY we’d eaten in the fancy-pants lounge because the prices on the menu made our tummies feel suddenly very stuffed. We shared a lobster tail and side salad.
For SIXTY dollars.
I realize real fancy-pants people GET these kind of prices and expect them, but we were just FAKING fancy-pants for the weekend, and we are actually very used to Subway pricing.
But it really was worth $60. Oh my gosh, it was the most delicious sea food ever to hit me.
Danny’s face says it all. We ate SLOWLY and DELIBERATELY.

I don’t know if I’ll ever taste a lobster quite like that. It ruined lobster for me. How am I supposed to content myself with Red Lobster in Flagstaff, AZ when there is a lobster tail waiting for me in Kincaid’s Restaurant in San Francisco roughly $600 from now?
Life can be rough in it’s own lobstery way.

But it can also look like this:

And it makes up for all the lobster woes quite nicely.