"Pushing Daisies" is pushing daisies!

I'm just writing this post to lament the passing of one of my favorite shows. Quirky, original, colorful, the show never ceases to entertain. It has lively banter and fabulous narration by Jim Dale (how could you not love the man's voice?), and it has everything that I love: mystery, comedy, and romance. The actors are all phenomenal, particularly Lee Pace as Ned the pie man and Kristin Chenoweth as Olive Snook.

I'm still in disbelief that ABC has canceled it, especially given the three Emmys it won and the dozen others that it was nominated for. It just needed more time to gain an audience. I keep hoping that some other network will see it for the gem it is and pick it up. In a perfect world, I suppose.

In the meantime, here's to the awesome show that almost was!

Giving Thanks

I love this time of the year so much! It's great to pause and remember all of our blessings, so here are a few of my recent favorite things: A letter from Lauren, one of my Laurels, to tell me how much she loves me, right when I needed a pick-me-up. Sofie finally toddling all over the place and learning to sign "please" and "thank you" because she cries at least 50% less now that she can get around and communicate a little bit. Ryan asking to use the potty two times in a row; it didn't last, but it gives me hope. Running with Warren and Lindsay (2 miles!!). Finding a great deal thanks to the Savvy Shopper! Finding an awesome deal on my own! The Mentalist and Pushing Daisies. Being a pirate for Halloween and finding the whole outfit in my closet. Ryan and Sofie laughing together, even when it means a big mess to clean up later. My coupon organizer. Mom helping me put together 20 tiles! The new Smith's Marketplace across from IMFT. Weekly lunches with Nate (2.3 years and haven't missed a week!). Dishing with Megan. Sanity lunches with Jenny. "It's a New Day!" And the best husband in the entire world!

Thanks to all veterans

Thank you to those who have bravely served our country, especially to Dad Burt, Uncle Bob, Uncle Dick, Don, Richard, Ben, Grandpa Daynes, and Mr. Glenn.

(Below is excerpted from an essay I wrote in high school)

The path veered to the right, and as I rounded the corner, I saw it. There, engulfed by a reverent silence, was the Wall. The black marble monument, know as the Vietnam Memorial, was set in a hillside, effectively blocking the omnipresent din of Washington traffic.It was so quiet that I thought to myself in whispers, though I was fairly sure no one else was listening.

I walked slowly down the declining trail and tried to take in everything at once: the people lining the walks, the sun gleaming off the polished black stone, the sudden cool air that brushed against my skin. At the base of the wall, I reached out to touch it. The black should have been super-heated after spending the entire day in the sun; instead, it was pleasantly cool. The columns of names were each deeply carved under the year in which they died or were declared missing in action. I traced a name in front of me with my finger. The name felt like fine sandpaper, tugging at my skin.Because I was too young to remember the war, I watched as other people reflected on it.

The crowd thinned a little, and I saw a woman in a pale pink dress approach the wall. Her chestnut hair was graying at the temples and base poorly concealed her wrinkles. She knelt at the gutter that ran the length of the wall to gently place an offering in it. Her breath stuttered as a tear escaped down her cheek, then she kissed her fingers, touched them to a name, and walked briskly away. I crept closer to see a mud-encrusted combat boot, creased and cracking at the toes and holding a crimson rose.

Further up the wall was a man in a hospital-issue wheelchair, stringy hair and beard in need of shampoo. His army fatigues were tucked neatly back under his legs at the knees. Between the stumps sat a bottle of whiskey. I fully expected him to take a few swigs from the bottle, but instead he opened it and poured it into the gutter, his piercing gaze only half in the present. A bitter tang rose into the air, and I shuddered.

A whimper broke the silence. Under the "1970" mark, a young father showed his young son and infant daughter a name, while bouncing her in his arms. "This is your grandfather, my father.""When are we gonna see him, huh?" the boy asked impatiently."We can't, Josh. He died a long time before you were born. But you would have liked him. He liked baseball, just like you, and loved to fish and wrestle." They stood there a long while after that, but it was getting late and I had to get home.

I took one last long look at the names in front of me. To my surprise, I noticed behind the neatly engraved names and numbers my faint reflection. I was on the wall too. The dead silently charged the living there that day to remember.

Happy Birthday, Ryan!

Okay, so it is a little late, but I wanted to tell my little guy how much I love him! I love his enthusiasm, his love for other people (especially his family), and his singing. He is such a good big brother, playing and sharing with his little sister. He loves to learn and asks to ride the school bus to school every other day (not for a couple of years, kiddo!). His smile is infectious, and he can always make me laugh. Thanks, Ryan, for being such a great son!!

Happy Birthday, Sofia!

A year goes by sooo fast! We are so grateful to have our little climber in our lives (she just learned how to climb up on the rocking chair on her own and goes up and down the stairs). She is so happy (is there anything better than a child's laugh?) and a bundle of independence and determination wrapped in a little package (this outfit is 3-6 months!).

To celebrate the good times, we're heading to Thanksgiving Point to play in the Corn Maze. Don't know if she'll like it, but Ryan's still free until his birthday next week, so we thought we'd take advantage of it while we can!

A Breath of Fresh Air

The kids have been sick all week, and I've been going nearly crazy cooped up in the house. Finally, today I couldn't take it any longer. Trying to put Ryan to sleep, I decided to drive up Provo Canyon (Ryan wanted to see the waterfall and the tunnel). I kept going past Sundance and up over the mountain. I was really excited that I didn't have to pay anything, just drive through all the beautiful colors and enjoy the fresh air coming through the windows. It reminded me of all the many things I love about fall: clarity of crisp air, the smell of dying leaves, yellow aspens, orange oaks, red maples . . . I highly recommend making the drive before it snows!

I'm grateful for . . .

[I haven't blogged for a while because we were on vacation and then my computer broke down--but I'll post more about that when I can get my pictures back (I hope!).]

Dad and Nate's marathon efforts to resurrect my computer. Only bouncing on the Pirate Lair dock during the earthquake (instead of being stuck in the swaying 17th floor room in downtown LA). How excited Ryan got at the character breakfast. Ryan getting to unlock and open the doors at the restaurant (and the balloons and autographed pictures to go with it). Business-class tickets to Vienna and family willing to watch the kids so we can go next spring. Finding new things I had never done at Disneyland (watching them retiring the colors, Toy Story Mania, the Zephyr rockets). Seeing Disneyland through the eyes of a child. Learning to drive in LA rush hour traffic without getting ulcers or in an accident. Kids who travel really well. Finally figuring out what I was doing wrong on my cleanup project. Riding the ski lift at Sundance and enjoying the peace and beauty of soaring over the mountains. Playing games with friends and family. Learning how to parent (thanks for all the conversations, Jen). Chocolate covered potato chips (they're a lot better than they sound). Sofia using toys to walk across the living room. Having a chance every two years to celebrate individual achievement and unity with the rest of the world (even if it's only for a few days). Having a husband who could care less that I still can't find the keys.