The phrase "car repair" has an extremely different effect on me now that I'm an adult. I don't think it had any effect on me as a kid, and now I cringe when I hear the words. In fact, I remember when I was getting ready to take my first car out to college, and it needed a repair before I could drive it from Missouri to Utah. Around the same time, my best friend Lindsey was also getting a car repair. We were shocked at the expense. We cried. And then we laughed. We made car repair jokes that we thought were so funny, I actually repeated them to my mechanic, who just stared at me. I remember telling him that I had car insurance and that I wanted to know what my co-pay was. And then I asked him how I could apply for Medi-car. Hardy har.
People don't get me.
Another word that has different meaning: Weekend. I lived for the weekend as a child, and I still love weekends. I love a lazy morning, but Dan studies all weekend, which means I'm flying solo. My attempts at a lazy weekend with my girls always fail. A day without structure gets really old around here by around 1 p.m. So three day weekends are kinda rough sometimes.
But we had a pretty successful one this go around.
We went to our beautiful park. One half of the park is open and has a little playground, and the other half has tall trees, picnic tables and tire swings.
Thumb in mouth? Check.
Dirty blue jacket and won't look at the camera? Check.
Every time I talk to someone from the western U.S., i.e. my husband, they consistently bring up how much they miss the mountains. Mountains are fine, but elevation makes me sick and my freshman year at BYU consisted of bloody noses from the dry air (once in front of my mega-crush at the time), so mountains aren't really my most flattering look. I. Love. Trees. They make Dan feel claustrophobic. He says that he feels like you could kill someone and throw it in the vegetation out here, and no one would ever find the body. Which is exactly what every wife wants to hear. Sweet Nothings.
We went to church, and a lot of people were gone. We already have a tiny primary, but this past week there were only 4 junior primary kids. June is our ward's only Sunbeam. And you know what? I think she kind of loves it. I received my dream calling of primary pianist. Life. Is. Good.
We made V-Day treats for our neighbors so that we could meet them. Having a 3-year old really comes in handy when you need to make something cute and you are not crafty because it gives you a great excuse for your unattractive offerings. These are supposed to look like Hershey kisses.
But instead look like the Sorting Hat from Harry Potter and Gloppy from Candy Land had a baby.
June had given up by the time I was dipping them, so the fault was really mine. But I made sure to mention to each neighbor that June had been my "big helper" with a wink so that they would conclude that was why the treats turned out so ugly.
Those treats were not my only V-Day fail. I tried making a delicious meal for my family, but everyone just kind of scooted their forks around the noodles and sauce until sufficient time had passed so that we could bring dessert out.
Which we did. And it was gross. Chocolate fondue sounds dreamy, but this was a nightmare. It was so dark, that even I, Resident Dark Chocolate Fan, couldn't choke it down.
But in the end, we had fun. Dan and I watched Little Women. We watch it every year, and every year we make the same comments, and there's something so comforting about that.
June and I make waffles together once a week and put them in the fridge for June's and Gwen's breakfasts. President's Day was the perfect day to make this week's batch.
And then the girls had their hair cut. Apparently, everyone in the world had the same idea as I did to get haircuts that day. But June passed the time by demanding strangers read books to her. And they did.
This was Gwen's first real haircut, and she actually liked it! Yay!
June was the harder haircut, but we survived.