Just need to design a super suit

We have been having a lovely rain storm in Malad this morning.

The thundering kind of lovely. There are few natural things that I love better than thunder. It is so powerful in such a comforting way. I am not sure when piddle-causing childhood terror turned into comfort, but somewhere in my tween years it (thankfully) made that transition.

M and I are the only ones in the house. Well, Tanner is in the basement somewhere, but he is sleeping which means he basically doesn't exist. A few minutes ago M started playing with something he probably shouldn't get into, so I gave him a mom look, and told him to "be careful".

As if to back up my mothering wisdom, a wave of booming thunder followed immediately after I finished speaking.  I held my mom expression on M as if that follow up had actually been part of my plan. I wish he was six, and could think I actually had powers. He did back away, so....that could mean something.

Don't you mom's wish that the Heavens and nature backed up your authority all of the time in such a commanding and obvious way?

I guess I know my new dream super power.

aaaaand here is a picture of my child playing naked on the stairs with a bottle of Tylenol....because that's how we roll.

Why I know I could be a world champion Latin Dancer or Soap Opera star

This diddy has been stuck in my head for about 6 years. I think Doris Day is bomb, and I consider this song to be one of her best vocals.

You just can't help but pretend that you are a very serious and sexy dancer as you listen to it while carrying your computer up the stairs. You may or may not whip your head back dramatically, and throw your arms into the air in slow motion Paso Doble style.

Your baby will probably find it hilarious and laugh at you.

Just close your eyes, and tell that flaky man to get his act together before you are forced to take your dark luxurious eyelashes and tiny waist elsewhere.

 

I'll be on the Discovery Channel very soon

My family has taken an annual camping trip up Logan Canyon every with some of our closest friends every summer for the last nine years. There is the perfect natural swimming hole, and that is what continues to pull us back to the same spot over and over.

The water is cold enough that it makes your bone marrow hurt, but whatever. Thats what is means to be wildernessy, so we make that sacrifice

We had a very wildernessy week.

Wildernessy: A time that is filled with being in the wilderness. Or, just being outside a lot.

Wearing chacos for at least one full day is a qualifier. Having plumbing and running water available does not disqualify.

My baby slept soundly through two nights in a tent, so I am basically going to be replacing Bear Grylls. You will be seeing machete packaging with my face on it very soon.

Do you have any fun summer traditions?

Homliness. The Good Kind. The feelingy kind.

Holy. Slackage.

I know it is cliche, and lame, but I have no idea what happened to the last five weeks.

I only feel a little sorry that blogging hasn't been high enough on my priority list to get done.  I have been too busy basking in the glorious feeling that is the home of my childhood.

I have two homes now. In Minnesota when I talk about "home" I mean Utah. In Utah when I talk about "home", I mean Minnesota. 

I'm pretty lucky. In this case, two is better than one. 

Home is a funny thing isn't it? I have seen all sorts of cutesy and over the top word arts on pinterest talking about what home is. Most of them make me throw up in my mouth a little.

Yes, the heart is there. C and M are definitely required. But, what swirly word art stenciled on to wood can't explain... is that familiar feeling that settles in all over and in you. It is an inside-out ordeal. That place in the very center of you relaxes.  You see things without having to look at them. Things can seem familiar and new simultaneously. I read those last few sentences, and they don't quite explain, but I don't think they could.

Its a matter of feelingyness, not words put in yellow vinyl on a block of wood.

* I do not judge you if you love those blocks of wood. They just aren't my style!