The First Prom

 This weekend was the stake prom, a church-sponsored dinner dance (with dates) for teens in the area.  I didn't have these where I grew up but here they're a big deal and, for many of the kids, the only proms they attend.

For the grandparents to see:

 There's a saga about the dress: She ordered it online but, since it was strapless, she knew she'd have to modify it for the church prom. The long story includes delays at the tailor, a frumpy result, unpicking the modifications and, a few hours before the dance, an emergency trip to the mall without her to find a cover up. Whew. 

A nice cute boy in our congregation asked Lauren back in early February by drawing his invitation on the sidewalk with colored chalk outside the church. It was his first date ever and they had a good time getting to know each other better. One prom fail: we left the boutonniere at home in the fridge. She brought it to him the next day at church but it just wasn't quite the same. Plus what 16-year-old wants to wear a boutonniere at church? 

They met up with other friends for a big photo shoot before the dance. Halfway through the group shot we realized it looked like a wedding photo, with the white dress in the middle :).

 G was one of the chaperones and drove L & her date to the dinner-dance.  He did this quick, warm-up spin with her before they left. I heart this photo.

. . .

In the meantime, Maddy met up with all of her friends (too young for prom) for an "anti-prom" party. I went on a Sam date--we ate Mexican food and watched the pilot episode of Lost. (He has started watching the current season with G and me and has been dying to see the beginning.)

All in all, a lovely evening for all and in spite of the Cinderella looking getup, Lauren came home with both slippers in tact on her feet.

. . .

Do you have memories of your first prom?

Joyous day

I love it when Easter weekend and Conference weekend coincide. It means there's a lot of this:

[Watching conference + napping. Inspiration by osmosis]

It's hyggli + inspiring. The kids used to call it "pajama church" and it's almost the sole reason we have DirectTV satellite--so we can watch conference here in the comfort of home rather than go to the church. In between sessions we go on walks and make lemon meringue pie and sit in the sun.  It's the great gateway weekend to spring.

In keeping with tradition, the Easter Bunny hid the baskets: Sam's was in the dryer, Maddy's in the bathroom closet invisible behind the bandaids and hair products, and Lauren's tied up in the shower. (Note: in our house one Easter Bunny gets the basket treasures and lovingly fills the baskets, a different Easter Bunny hides the baskets, the harder to find the better. Let's call them Beneficent Easter Bunny and Trickster Easter Bunny, shall we?)

Sam just reminded us that we haven't dyed Easter eggs yet.  We get later and later in the holiday with Easter eggs and pumpkin carving.  Before long we'll do Flag Day Easter eggs and Nativity jack-o-lanterns.  Or so I fear. Sam, faithfully upholding the role of the youngest, keeps us honest in our sticking with traditions.  We're lucky we have him around...life is a lot more fun if you do things Sam's way.

More weekend photos:

Marched

Whoops, did I say I was going to post monthly family photos and summaries of our doings?  Don't look too hard for February's entry.  But then again, that's February for you: Good intentions, dreary execution.

But here is today's March entry, with a photo taken in the two minutes before Sam ran out the door to piano lessons.  Louie came up to the camera to check things out (maybe bomb-sniffing dog potential? he can earn his retainer reimbursement money! [see below]) just as the shutter clicked.  Classic.  For the record, none of us liked this photo: Lauren didn't like her hair, Sam was goofy, my bangs never cooperate and I swear that double chin is no longer welcome here, Maddy is blurry, and G is nowhere to be seen.  Perfect, I say (except the G missing part). Real.

So what to say about us this month?

Sam got his braces off, then 6 days later Louie delighted in finding his retainer case and chomped it, snapping the retainer cleanly in half.  I think we now hold the record for fastest return to the orthodontist for a new retainer.  Go, W family pride!

I have not exercised once this month.  And I have quit eating sugar 6 times this month but the mini Cadbury eggs have gotten the better of me every single time. My house is too close to a neighborhood grocery store that stocks Cadbury for me to exercise self control.  And I don't walk there, I drive.  Still, I am inspired by all my marathon training, vegan eating friends out there. I'm living vicariously through them for now, but inspired.

After a long hiatus we have started reading a book out loud together when we can.  I just may have been inspired in part by this article about a dad and daughter who read aloud together every night until she left for college.  Fantastic.  So, what are your suggestions for read-alouds with kids (ages 11-16)? Over the years we've done Harry Potters, Under Sea Over Stone, Hunger Games, Little Women, King in the Window, The Wheel on the School, a bunch of EB Whites... How about you?

Speaking of good articles, do you use Delicious?  I have started bookmarking articles there that I find interesting and I'd love to know what you're reading, too. Drop me a comment or an email if you have a delicious account so I can check out your favorite articles, too.

Yesterday, we watched the old musical Carousel.  I had forgotten about all that talk of Billy beating and hitting Julie Jordan. Billy! It's not okay. Still, that scene at the end when he comes back to earth to make everything all right for his daughter...Sigh. I think it's ripe for a revival. I'm picturing Hugh Jackman as Billy Bigelow, maybe Katie Clark as Julie Jordan. 

Lauren took the SATs this month; I think she finds out tomorrow how she did.  I'm finding myself to be in complete denial about this whole college idea. Right now she's looking into USU, BYU, Westminster, Washington University in St. Louis (hey Christie!), and Emory. But it changes weekly. Trying to strike the balance of being supportive/interested without falling into the zone of over-controlling on one side and complete denial on the other is a challenge.

Maddy delights us with her jaunty zesty fashion sense.  She puts scarves and layers and sparkly shoes and leggings together like nobody's business.  

She's been dreading violin lessons lately and we had a long tearful talk in the parking lot for 15 minutes before she went in. Oh the pressure she puts on herself, that girl.  I basically gave her a license to fail gloriously, here's your license to mess up, Maddy.  To make mistakes and slop your way through something and not be the best.  Just be the one who has fun doing it. Don't worry about the recital and measuring up. Just flail your arms around and make music for you.  My two girls could give each other lessons: one has extra doses of laidbackness, the other has conscientiousness to spare. It's too bad they can't just ladle a little into the other's cup.

Finally, it has been brought to my attention that I do not post very many pictures of myself.  Here ya go, circa today, proof that I do indeed exist: 

                      beyond here there be thighs...

Sunday dinner @ 135

Just a little love letter to my grandparents' house (fondly known as 135):

Taken from flip video I took last weekend on a whim, shaky camera work and all. It's part of my personal geography, that house.  I love everything about it and the people therein.

Music: To Build a Home by The Cinematic Orchestra

A modest proposal

 Just a little story in honor of my 20th anniversary this week. (I'm a little nervous about this whole heart-on-sleeve storytelling but here goes...) 

It was the first time I ever cried in a supermarket, unless you count the time I threw a tantrum for a lollipop when I was three.  But there I was, amidst the harsh flourescent lighting, overly friendly produce men in red polyester jackets, and tear-soaked lettuce.  I missed him, two hours away.  I missed him to distraction. 

I had been dating G for fifteen months--six of those months I was in London and three more I was away at school--so we had endured separations before.  In fact we joked about our feast-or-famine dating. No big deal. But the cold aching gnaw below my heart was telling me differently. I felt bereft and that wasn't good for my plans.  Not good at all.

Love...marriage...all of this was scheduled much later in my life plan, certainly after college graduation. We had talked about how we would wait for any serious plans, despite the increasing undercurrent of certainty about the fact that we would share a future, eventually. Some day. When we were older and had more of our career paths set. When the grad school we both planned was finished.  That was beginning to feel really very distant, the feasts too infrequent, the famines too...famine-y.

When G arrived the next Saturday night for our weekly visit we booked a table to eat at our favorite spot.  But this night the feasting failed.  Halfway through dinner, G seemed distracted, blankly nodding with a glazed look.  Finally he admitted to feeling a little sick. "Maybe the flu" he said so I took him back to my apartment for a place to recover.  An hour later he was still ill so I ran out for some medicine.  The night crawled on until I convinced him off of the sick-couch and took him home to his friend's apartment where he was crashing for the night.

I dropped him off and as he left the car he promised to see me tomorrow. "Don't forget to lock the car, okay?"  These words rang in my ears as I drove back to my place.  Don't forget to lock the avocado green 1971 Toyota Corolla station wagon? Does it even lock?  I had never seen him lock it before.

Once back in my parking lot, one glance in the back seat told me that Greg forgot his duffel bag. Poor guy, first he gets the stomach flu and now he doesn't even have his things for the night.  I grabbed the bag and hefted it up to my lap.  Expecting to find a razor or a towel or books or clothes, I unzipped the turquoise duffel bag and flailed my hand through the dark opening.

The contents clinked together and my hand brushed the velvet covering of a small box.  Curious, I clutched the box and brought it out into the field of the lone streetlight.  In my hand was a light blue jewelry box, much like one...an...engagement...  My mind choked on the thought.

Should I open it? [pause]  Yes.

Slowly I creaked open the box to reveal two gold rings nestled in the furrow, one bearing a gleaming diamond.  Frantically, my heart started beating faster and my mind protested: I thought we had already...oh no...I can't believe this...what am I going to do...does the ring even fit?

Should I try it on? [pause] Um, yeah.

I tugged the ring from the anchor and slipped it over the knuckles of my left ring finger.  A little snug but it fits.  I'll get used to it.

Then the tears started, not the muffled supermarket kind but real, solitary weeping.  It would be a long night.  Tomorrow he'll ask.  What will I say?  As I laid in bed, many things played through my mind: thoughts of expectations (my own and others'), of stories of my cousin turning several proposals down, of overheard conversations about happy relationships and other, distressed marriages.  One last thought drifted before sleep fell: I'll bet I'm the first one in history to propose to herself.

To be continued...