Christmas Letter and Photos, 2015: Quotable Quotes

Erichsen-Webster Quotable Quotes
2015

This year has been, um, I don't want to say “boring” exactly, but maybe “uneventful” is a good word. For the first time in quite a while, we didn't have any graduations, missions, weddings, babies, travel (except Isaiah), or cross-country moves. It's been quiet. So this year, with little to report, I thought I'd share some memorable quotes:

Isaiah: “Foreign girls are way cooler than American girls. Foreign girls ask me questions and show genuine interest in what I have to say; American girls just talk about themselves.” His perspective after a year of traveling for his job as an On-site IT Specialist for Lanyon, Inc. In just over a year, he's visited five continents and at least a dozen U.S. cities, and he just returned from a 10-day trip to Dubai and Sri Lanka. Yes, he works super hard when he's on site, but we're all just a bit jealous anyway.

Amanda: “Yes!” In response to Eli's proposal that they get sealed in the temple this coming year.

Eli: “Mom, I've never met anyone like her. She's the kindest, most caring person I know.” When he called me on my birthday to tell me he wanted to propose to his girlfriend, Amanda White. Now these two cuties are blissfully engaged and planning an April wedding! Somehow Eli found time to fall in love while studying at BYU-Idaho, serving as Elders' Quorum President, and singing in a wonderful choir, “From the Heart.”

Seth: “When I propose to a girl, I'll do it with a Ring Pop. If she says 'yes,' I'll know she's the one and give her a real ring.” In response to his older brother's recent engagement. In July, Seth started working as a busser at Macaroni Grill and loves the financial independence a job provides. That, along with school (10th grade), piano lessons, and church duties, keeps him plenty busy, but he still manages to sneak in a game of DotA with Isaiah here and there.

Shulamith: “Because I don't already get enough time with toddlers the other 166 hours in the week, what I most wanted to do was take care of other people's toddlers for two hours every Sunday.” In response to her recent calling as a nursery leader at church. Her background in early childhood education makes her perfect for this job, though, and the children love her. Shulamith feels blessed to be a stay-at-home mom, and she also taught an ESL reading class two nights a week last semester at Salt Lake Community College.

Luke: “I'm excited!” What he typed on his laptop and showed to Desiree while she was on the phone working through the final details of their home purchase. The Erichsen-Valentines are buying a duplex and will live in one unit and rent out the other, a great investment for their family. Luke continues to work as a school psychologist in Frederick, Maryland.

Mathew: “She's going to just keep on having babies and more babies, and pretty soon when you walk downstairs, you won't even be able to open the door because they'll be babies everywhere blocking the way!” In response to the fact that the Webster-Monsons still live downstairs in our one-bedroom, daylight-basement apartment. Oh, how we love everything about this arrangement, except for the lack of sufficient space for a growing family (though Shulamith wants me to be clear that she's not currently pregnant). When he's not at his job as a supply chain manager at Vision Solar in Provo, Matt can be found rock climbing, disc golfing, or teaching youth Sunday School.

Desiree: “We started a business!” Desiree has embarked on a new adventure, starting her own consulting business, Pearl Enterprises, named for Evelyn's middle name. Already, she has several clients lined up.

Evelyn (Luke's 8-year-older daughter): “In a sunny village in Canada, at the edge of the ocean, where the sea is most calm and the sand is smooth, there was a little cottage.” The first sentence in a story she wrote for a creative writing contest at her school. And guess what? She and her mom just called to tell me she won! Congrats, Evelyn.

Gerald: “I'm better than a GPS.” In response to him guiding me around Logan by phone, when I was there last month to see Eli's choir on tour. Gerald is also great at tracking Isaiah's airline fights. Oftentimes, Isaiah, himself, has no idea of his flight schedule, connections, etc., but Dad always knows. It helps that he practically lives online, managing his About.com Spanish-language website and preparing Gospel Doctrine lessons.

Terrianne: “I do too have a sense of humor!” Shulamith: “Have you thought of a quote for yourself for the Christmas letter yet?” Terrianne: “No.” Shulamith: “That's because you're not funny.” My not-funny life proceeds along happily as usual: being a mom, teaching English part time at LDS Business College, freelance writing for Sidelines, and teaching Gospel Essentials at church.

Swen: (Shulamith's 3½-year-old son): “We do NOT love Kennedy!” In response to his mom trying to get him to be nice to his little sister – Broken Record Mom: “Be nice to Kennedy; we love Kennedy.”

Kennedy (Shulamith's 1-½ year old daughter): “Ta-tor.” Regarding every moving object on four wheels: cars, trucks, buses, and yes, tractors.

                                               ******************************


“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.”

May we “fear not” as we reach out in love to all people, focusing on those things that unite, rather than divide, us.

Merry Christmas!

Mom and Dad

Eli and Amanda

The Erichsen-Valentines

Luke, Desiree, and Evelyn

Isaiah and Seth

The Monsters (AKA Monson-Websters)

Shulamith, Mathew, Swen, and Kennedy

"25" is just a number

Today is December 25th. But it is not Christmas Day at our house.

For us, “25” is just a number, while Christmas means family and the joy that comes from everyone celebrating together. We are blessed to have several children, some of whom are grown, so coordinating schedules on holidays can be challenging. We don't want anyone to have to leave in the middle or miss any part of our Christmas Eve or Christmas Day celebrations, so this year we decided it would be best to simply move the day.

We will celebrate Christmas Eve tonight! We will eat yummy Chinese food (yep, Asian Potato is open today). We will read the Christmas story from the Bible. We will open one gift each. We will bake cookies and leave them out for Santa. Then tomorrow, it will be Christmas!

Admittedly, not everyone loves this whole program. Seth, in particular, has been complaining about it for days, and today especially, his mood is not the finest. At this moment, he is sitting here in the family room with Isaiah, Eli, and me. About two seconds ago, he said, "I wonder how much fun every other family is having right now?" We laughed. But it didn't stop there. He pointed to our Mouse countdown calendar and said, "Notice on that calendar, there is NO NUMBER 26. That's because Christmas is supposed to be on the 25th."

Ahh, Seth. It's been a rough week already. Two days ago we lost our sweet dog, Kitty, Seth's very best friend. She passed away so suddenly and so unexpectedly, and we are all sad, but especially Seth. And now in his mind, it's Christmas, but he has to wait until tonight and tomorrow to celebrate. But honestly, Seth, nothing whatsoever is lost. If anything, it's sorta cool when everyone else's fun is over, and ours is just beginning.

So what will I do today? How will I spend my December 25th? I will send Gerald and the boys to a dollar movie, one I've already seen. I will lie back in my recliner, sip a Diet Coke, listen to Christmas music, and wander around online. When I tire of that, I'll Netflix binge just a bit (The 100, anyone?). I expect the day to be most enjoyable.

So Happy December 25th, everyone! My “Merry Christmas” will come tomorrow!

Love is in the air...and what better season than Christmas?

Love is in the air.

And what better season than Christmas?

Last evening, with tears in my eyes, I peeked round a corner to watch my adorable son get down on one knee, hold out a sparkly diamond ring, and ask his beautiful girlfriend Amanda to be his for time all eternity.

And I asked myself, "What does that really mean?"

It means that together they will navigate the changing tides of this life. It means they have chosen each other as partners, companions, best friends, and soul mates.

It means that together they will share incredible joy, the joy that comes from building a future as one, from creating and following common goals, and from crafting those goals into reality.

It means that together they will also share disappointments and struggles, and strife. They will rely on each other's strength in times of weakness. They will face hardships and adversity because, well, Heavenly Father loves them too. But in the face of trials, they will choose faith instead of fear because together, they are stronger than either one by him or herself.

It means that on April 8, 2016, in the Draper, Utah Temple, they will make sacred covenants with their Father in Heaven and with each other. As a result of keeping those covenants, they will be promised eternity together and with their future children.

What does that really mean? It means they are heirs to blessings they are only just beginning to understand.

For now, they are young and happy and so deeply in love.

Their smiles show what is in their hearts.

In just two weeks, Amanda will go with her family home to California, and Eli will stay here with us. Both will work hard and save money until their wedding in April. It won't be easy. Worthwhile things rarely are. They will talk on the phone and Skype and text and maybe even write old-fashioned love letters. And they will learn that their love can withstand even physical separation.

What better season than Christmas for two so lovely and pure and hopeful to begin this amazing journey?

"A weary world rejoices."

And so did we.

Ghost-blogger Mama

So Isaiah returned Sunday afternoon from a 10-day trip to Dubai and Sri Lanka. He was in Dubai for work but decided to extend the trip by three days and fly down to Sri Lanka because who knows when he'll get back to that part of the world.

We always love hearing about his adventures whenever he return from these trips, but this particular one was so unusual and amazing that I felt it needed to be preserved in the annals of Erichsen-Webster history, and Isaiah isn't likely to do that, so I'm assuming the role of "Ghost-blogger Mama." I wasn't there, of course, so I don't have the complete story, but I'll do what I can.

Dubai is a beautiful city, according to Isaiah, with gracious, welcoming people. He thoroughly enjoyed his time there. Everything is big, and not only big, but in several cases, biggest! He went to the top of the world's tallest building and wandered through the world's largest shopping mall. Can you imagine? The world's largest shopping mall wasted on a minimalist like Isaiah.

Life in Sri Lanka was quite the opposite of the wealth he observed in Dubai; however, it was equally beautiful. Isaiah said he feared for his life, racing through the jungle on the two-lane road that weaves through the country. He saw monkeys, visited museums, and rode an elephant.

He stayed in the home of his tour guide, who prepared giant feasts and explained that in Sri Lanka, one must eat everything that is prepared in order not to offend the host. All three meals each day included rice and curry, and in their culture, they don't use utensils but rather eat with their hands. Isaiah's comment: "It's quite efficient, actually." 

Being 6'4" was a distinct disadvantage, when the average height of an adult in Sri Lanka is 5'6". Isaiah hit his head multiple times walking through doors and said his bed only reached down to his shins.

Even so, it was a fabulous experience, and he is so glad he went. I'm glad too. I'm even more glad he's home safe. Shulamith and I definitely want to go there, along with just about everywhere else Isaiah travels. For now, we'll live vicariously through him, but one day...

One day it will be our turn.

On gift wrapping, and other related musings

On gift wrapping...

I was once a member of the International Order of Rainbow for Girls, a service organization for girls ages 12 - 20.  Along with service, Rainbow Girls have to raise money in order to do all the fun things they want to do, and in my assembly (individual unit of Rainbow Girls), the primary way we did that was gift wrapping at Christmastime.

In Portland, Oregon, and in other cities though it was founded in Portland, is a chain of superstores called Fred Meyer, and every year my group of Rainbow Girls set up a gift wrapping station there. We manned our station all hours the store was open for the entire month prior to Christmas. It was there that I learned to wrap Christmas presents. It was there that I learned to love wrapping Christmas presents.

Let me just say here that I was an over-the-top zealous Rainbow Girl. To say it was practically my whole life through middle and high school would be an understatement. I participated in every activity, including this yearly gift wrapping, and I worked every possible shift I could. I remember carefully watching some of the moms who were there with us. I learned from them how to cut the exact right amount of paper, how to line the gift up perfectly so the crease would end up right down the center, how to make the corners tight and professional. This was pure heaven for an OCD girl like me.

That was years ago, but my love for gift wrapping hasn't waned; it's still one of my most favorite things to do. Because I love to wrap, I wrap for pretty much everyone in the family. I wrap all the gifts I buy and all the ones Shulamith buys. Strangely enough, I even wrap the ones she buys for me! She puts them in boxes and tapes them shut (no, I wouldn't peek, but it's better not to create temptation), and then I get to wrap them.

So this is a picture of my tree as of today, with all the wrapped gifts underneath. I really just love to sit and gaze at it.

Other related musings...

Yesterday, I took a day all to myself. I like to shop just about as much as I like to wrap presents, so a whole lot. I left at 9:00 a.m. and did not return to my house until 8:00 p.m. It was such a super fun day. I went to both malls near our home, then to Kohl's, and finished up at Old Navy, Deseret Book, and Target.

It was crazy busy everywhere, and I loved it. The crowds make me so happy! When I look at all the people and all the cars, I think to myself that all these other folks are doing exactly the same thing I am, trying to find the perfect gifts for those they love. As an example, from the time I drove into the parking lot at Fashion Place to the time I found a parking spot there and exited my car was 33 minutes. And I didn't mind a bit.

I sat in my car and enjoyed the Christmas music playing on the radio. In that 33-minute period, two of my all-time favorite classics came on. When Home for the Holidays played, I was able to shout "He wanted pie!" as loud as I could with no one making fun of me, and when Winter Wonderland came on, I tilted my head to the right and put my hand up to my ear, and all was right with the world.

Well that was yesterday. After staying up quite late wrapping all the presents I bought (so fun!), I slept soundly. Church was nice this morning; I had the opportunity to read The Gift of the Magi aloud in Relief Society. O'Henry's syntax is a bit of a challenge, but I did my very best, and it was fun. The second I finished, I raced to the airport, where Isaiah had already landed, finally home from a 10-day trip to Dubai and Sri Lanka. So, so great to see him and have him home safe.

With that I will wind up this somewhat fragmented post. If you need any presents wrapped, bring them right over.

You can't swing a dead cat...

...without hitting a mommy blogger.

Bahahhaha!

Here's the back story. As some of you know, I do some freelance writing for a site called Sidelines. I am a senior writer, and along with two other women, oversee the Parenting and Lifestyle Communities. A few months ago, the three of us were chatting with our managing editor about what kinds of contributors we would like to recruit, and someone mentioned "mommy bloggers." As soon as she said that, the other person said: "You can't swing a dead cat without hitting a mommy blogger."

As a prolific mommy blogger, myself, this statement cracked me up. So just yesterday, this stitched sign arrived in the mail. Once my Christmas decor is down, it will most definitely be framed and on display.

The statement, by the way, is absolutely true. And why wouldn't it be? As mommies, we love to talk about our kids. As writers, well, we love to write. The result: The Mommy Blogger! I am proud to be one of the many, and I'm grateful for all who read. It's such a treat when someone comes up to me, often someone I don't even really know, and tells me she enjoyed a particular post.

It's also a wonderful way to preserve family history, something I was never very good at pre-internet days. I now have six hardback books with all my posts from the past six years. Soon, I'll get to order the one for 2015.

So here's to another year of mommy blogging. Just don't swing any dead cats my way.

When will they say "He wanted pie!"?

Okay, the purpose of today's post is to record this for our family history, and this blog, for all intents and purposes, represents our family history. So if you're not interested in our little family quirks (and why would you be?), feel free to stop reading and join me again next post.

If you're still reading, remember, I warned you.

So the other day, Shulamith asked, "When you say 'He wanted pie!' in that song, did you just make that up? Because I've heard several different recordings of that song this week, and I keep waiting for them to say 'He wanted pie!' but they never do. So now I'm thinking you just made it up."

Well, yes, actually, I suppose I did. But it's very important. There are a couple traditions that go with Christmas songs that simply must be observed. Not to do so would be just wrong. One is during the song "(There's No Place Like) Home for the Holidays," right after the line that goes "I met a man who lived in Tennessee, and he was headin' for Pennsylvania and some homemade pumpkin pie," you have to shout "He wanted pie!" You just have to.

No, the recording artists who sing this song don't do it, but they should.

Second, whenever you hear the song "Winter Wonderland," in the very first line, when it says "Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?" you need to tilt your head slightly to the right and put your right hand up to your right ear, like you're listening. Every. Single. Time. Wherever you are.

So now you know. The next time you hear these songs, I'm counting on you.

Shout it loud: "He wanted pie!"

Head tilted to the right, hand to ear.

You've totally got this.

Vacations are temporal. But I'm still thankful for them.

Today in my Gospel Essentials class, we talked about the difference between eternal and temporal perspectives. My friend Lorraine mentioned that temporal things end. They are time sensitive, and eventually, no matter how much we like them, they end.

Vacations are like that. They're temporal. They always end. For many of us Erichsen-Websters, this past week has been full-on vacation mode. Gerald and Mathew still had to work, but for those of us involved in education, in the past five or six days, we have given little thought to school. And it's been lovely.

Eli and Amanda arrived Tuesday evening on break from BYU-Idaho in Rexburg. It was so great to have them both with us much of the week. Here they are at Temple Square:

Shulamith and I cooked most of Wednesday, in prep for Thursday's feast, so Thursday, itself, was mostly chill, filled with some Netflix binging (How much Survivor can you watch in one day, Eli and Amanda?), relaxing, and lots and lots of eating!

About twice a year, we actually all sit around the table and eat together, and Thanksgiving is one of those rare occasions. Here are some pics of my cute kids:

The Webster-Monsons

Isaiah and Seth, post-dinner Dominion game

These two, though. They don't look at all happy together, do they?

And then it happened. The cooking was over. The feast was finished. It was time. Time for an annual event that defines and culminates Thanksgiving weekend for Shulamith and me: Black Friday shopping! No judging allowed here. If you don't go to stores on Thanksgiving, that is totally great. But we do, and that is okay too. And this year, it wasn't even crowded. Did all the boycotts work? I don't know, but do you see the lack of humans in Target? We were in and out of three stores in just two hours, and we got exactly what we needed. Score!

Friday, we went to the mall to cross off a few more items from our list; all in all it was a productive and (most importantly) super fun Black Friday for the history books. That afternoon, I got to begin wrapping. On my list of very favorite things to do in the whole world, only a few trump wrapping Christmas gifts while listening to Christmas music and sipping a Diet Coke. 

Yesterday was tree trimming and house decorating, another favorite! I had plenty of wonderful help, whose names are Seth and Eli and Amanda. What about Isaiah, you might ask? Nope, he spent pretty much all of Friday and Saturday playing a videogame using his own Black Friday purchase: a Playstation 4. I don't know much about this game, but every time I took a minute or two to watch, he was chasing after people and shooting them, over and over. For a pacifist family like ours, who dislike just about everything gun related, he sure picks weird games.

Whatever. We didn't need him anyway. Look! We produced this thing of beauty:

Vacations, however wonderful, are temporal. All week, we joked about not returning to school. Eli and Amanda would just stay here and not go back to Rexburg. I would stay home with them, rather than going to class tomorrow. Shulamith, who teaches a college reading course two evenings a week, would not return either. But, of course, it was all pretend, a pleasant dream, because like all temporal things, vacations come to an end.

That is what happened today. Shortly after church, Eli and Amanda and her sweet brother braved the cold and the potentially icy roads and headed back to Rexburg. They are traveling right this second, and I will be a happy mom once I hear they arrived safely. Tomorrow they will return to school, as will I. 

As we enter into the grace of this miraculous season, may we be thankful for the temporal pleasures like vacations, while remembering the more important eternal blessings of One who came long ago to bring joy to the weary (which is all of us, really) and to make what seems impossible, possible.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Weekend of "Mom" moments: I cried. But you already guessed that.

It was a weekend of mom moments. For the past three months, Seth has been rehearsing for his part in the ensemble in his high school's production of the musical Carousel. He did not choose to participate; it's a requirement for students in Concert Choir. In the beginning, no one was more disgruntled about this situation than Seth. Not in a million years would he voluntarily spend that many hours of his free time at school singing and dancing. He complained a lot. A whole lot. He talked about how joyous November 23rd would be when the thing would finally be over.

Today is November 23rd. As I write, he is performing in this production for the last time. And he feels anything but joy about that. I can't say exactly when it happened, but at some point, a change occurred. Maybe it was gradual? I'm not sure. All I know is the rhetoric today was, "I'm so sad it's almost over. I've made so many friends; we are all gonna be sad. It's been so much fun!" Performing is like that, isn't it? The work is hard--the repeated rehearsals, the same thing over and over and over. But it's all so worth it when the curtain opens and the lights come up.

Probably no surprise to anyone, but I loved watching Seth perform. Shulamith and I had tickets for Thursday night, and I enjoyed it so much that I volunteered to usher Friday night, just so I could go again for free. My baby was absolutely adorable! Really, you should have seen him. I cried. But you already guessed that.

 Gerald went Saturday night. I was in Logan. Saturday was one of those days when I wished humans could be in multiple places at one time. Seth was performing in the musical, Shulamith was playing soccer, and Eli's choir "From the Heart" was touring up in Logan. Gerald went to the musical, his only opportunity to see it, and I went to Logan. I left first thing in the morning and got there in time to meet Eli for lunch. I love it when my kids are all together, but I also cherish the one-on-one time with each of them.

After lunch, I attended the choir's performance at a local nursing home. I can't say enough about this choir; it is consistently inspiring. When it was over, I left Eli and went to the Logan Temple, while the choir sang at another nursing home. That evening, I attended their fireside performance at the Logan Tabernacle, where I had the sweet surprise of Eli singing a solo, a beautiful arrangement of "There is a Balm in Gilead." I cried. But you already guessed that.

I drove home late that night, singing aloud to the Christmas music playing in the car. It was a weekend of "Mom" moments.

Too dependent?

Today, my cell phone broke. Well, more accurately, my touch screen broke. The phone still turns on and receives calls and text messages. I just can't access them. It's dang frustrating; I'm not gonna lie. Since this happened, I've received three texts from who knows whom? Gerald graciously gave me his phone to use. “You need it more than I do.” Yep, he's awesome like that. I immediately contacted my kids who text me regularly: “This is Mom. Until further notice, if you need me, text Dad. I have his phone.”

Okay, I breathe easier, knowing the most important people know how to get in touch with me. Gerald, though. He's running around phoneless, and I'm receiving all his notifications, so so many! He receives alerts from CNN for every last news event, large or small. Then he gets a bunch of other political stuff from various places along with weather notifications. The phone is constantly sounding, and I really hate his ring tone, and I don't know how to change it.

I know. I shouldn't be complaining. I should just be grateful he gave it to me. And I am. But it's caused me to ask myself, “Am I too dependent on this little device?” At least a dozen times in just this afternoon, I've tried to glance at Facebook, but couldn't because he doesn't have the app. Then I wanted to check my bank account. Nope, he doesn't have that one either. But if I wanted to know about the weather or the latest news or politics, ….okay, I'm complaining again.

Then it occurred to me that my calendar is in that phone, and no, I haven't backed it up anywhere. My calendar! I can't even imagine all the stuff I'm going to miss. My list of contacts, with addresses, is also there. I have a working draft of my annual Christmas letter that I'm liking more and more as I revise it each day, but I won't be able to send it out because I won't have anyone's address. Ugh.

There are worse things I could lose, and as I said, my kids know how to reach me, but this is still awfully inconvenient. What do you think? Are we too dependent on our cell phones?

And just like that, everything changed. So have some hot chocolate.

And just like that, everything changed. It's darker. It's colder. It's definitely fall with winter just around the corner. 

I rarely put recipes on this blog because I cook like crap, and I wouldn't want your families to be subjected to what my family has to eat. So you know if I do post a recipe, it must be really good. And easy. Incredibly easy.

Last Christmas morning, I woke up early, too excited to sleep, and the first thing I did was put this stuff in the crock pot. Then I went downstairs to the living room and sat on my couch. Outside, snow fell (yes, it really did!) gently. Inside, the lights from my tree glistened. I sat there listening to Josh Groban sing my favorite Christmas songs. 

Two hours-ish later, my family woke up to rich, yummy hot chocolate to sip as we opened our gifts. And now you, too, can have this same experience. I can't guarantee snow. I would if I could. But I can promise the most delicious hot chocolate ever: 

1 ½ C. heavy cream
1 C. sweetened condensed milk
6 C. whole milk
1 tsp. vanilla
2 C. chocolate chips
Put this all in the crock pot and stir. Turn crock pot to “low” for two hours. Stir once or twice as chips melt. Serve with marshmallows or whipped cream.

It really is that good. Enjoy!

Teens and post-teens and Halloween fun!

I've often said that if you decide to have a capstone child a few years younger than all the others, make sure you have one as wonderful as Seth. He is now 15, and that advice couldn't be any truer than it was when he was younger. Teenagers sometimes get a bad rap, but I am here to tell you that the teen years are some of my favorite in the parenting journey. Seth knew he'd be working on Halloween, so last Monday night he suggested we do a Halloween FHE: carve pumpkins, and watch "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." He and I share this tradition of watching all the Charlie Brown holiday specials together throughout the year. Two years ago for Christmas, he gave me a boxed set that includes three of these: Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

So Monday I bought pumpkins, and after his piano lesson, we settled in to watch poor Charlie Brown try to kick that fateful football and Linus wait so patiently and hopefully in that sincere pumpkin patch for the arrival of the Great Pumpkin. A post-Millennial (Generation Z?), Seth is always amused by the simplicity of older animation, but he is equally captivated by the brilliance of Charles M. Schulz. It was a delight!

Then we attacked the pumpkins! If you know me at all, you know that things like pumpkin carving (you know, anything that requires visual creativity or manual dexterity) will likely be a full-on disaster. So I don't aim high. I go with your standard triangles. Seth, on the other hand, is far more skilled and carved a Legend of Zelda design!

It was a lovely evening, made even better when some of my older kids started sending me pics of their respective Halloween excitement:

The Webster-Monsons at the ward Trunk-or-Treat party.

And here is Eli and his adorable girlfriend Amanda at their ward's party in Rexburg:

And here is Isaiah, who spent Halloween at an all-inclusive resort in Cancun, Mexico. He tells me he works hard when he's onsite at these events. Lounging in a hammock with a juice box. Hmmmm.

Happy Halloween 2015 from the Erichsen-Websters!

How early is too early?

This morning, I got into my car, buckled my seat belt, and pulled out of my driveway headed for school. And then it happened. My car radio began to play something wonderful: Christmas music.

And I loved it.

Really, I did. I know it's still three days before Halloween, and I realize many people like to wait until after Thanksgiving to do anything Christmas (including music), and I fully respect and even understand that perspective.

But today. Today I was tired. Today I was unsettled. Today I was a little grumpy, and nothing else in the universe could have lifted my spirit or calmed my soul like some “Silent Night” and “Jingle Bell Rock.” It transformed my crappy mood into one of joy, one of hope, one of gratitude.

I used to wait until Thanksgiving to listen to Christmas music. I guess I thought it was some sort of unwritten rule. A few years ago, I asked myself why I imposed such a restriction, and I couldn't think of a single reason. Some of the best music ever written is Christmas music, so it seems a shame only to allow oneself four weeks out of the year to appreciate it. Consequently, I've decided once it's November, anything is fair, and I generally break out the holiday music soon after Halloween.

Or even three days earlier, if it happens to play on my car radio on a day when I really, really need it.

Happy Birthweek!

Is a single day sufficient to celebrate something as significant as one's birth? It's quite an accomplishment getting oneself born after all; perhaps it warrants more than just one 24-hour day each year. In April, Shulamith's birthday fell during a very busy week, so we tried to celebrate a bit each day. After about four days of Gerald asking, “What are you doing today?” and us responding “celebrating Shulamith's birthday,” he declared: “Again?! How many days do you two plan to celebrate her birthday?” At that point we decided that a “birthweek” makes much more sense.

Fast forward six months to my “birthweek,” and here we are right in the midst of the partying. On my birthday eve, Isaiah came over, and the two of us went to dinner. He was exhausted from the craziness at his work, and throughout dinner his phone never stopped ringing with co-workers needing his help; still, it was lovely to be with him. It's the busiest season at Lanyon, and he's been traveling almost all the time.

The day of my actual birthday, we went to Leatherby's, where I ate a hot fudge raspberry brownie sundae. Yep, it's every bit as incredible as you are imagining, so go ahead and be jealous. While we were there, Eli called to wish me happy birthday. As always, it was delightful to talk to him.

Throughout the day, various people stopped by delivering cards and even some goodies. Thanks especially to Amy for the yummy Rice Krispies treats and to Katie for a cool new cup for my Diet Coke! As I gathered all the cards on the kitchen counter that night, Seth made an insightful observation: “Wow, on my birthday, I get one card from Grandma and one from Grandma Vi. That's it. You should feel blessed to have so many friends.” I often complain about my inability to figure out a social life here in Utah, but Seth is right; I am blessed to have friends who were so kind to me on my birthday.

That evening, I texted back and forth with a friend from Mt. Vernon. We have an unusual relationship. We are good friends, yet we connect only once a year, always on my birthday, October 20th. We have done this every year since I left Mt. Vernon in 2004. She texts me "Happy Birthday," and we text back and forth for about two hours. We send pictures and catch up on all the details of each other's life: our kids, our jobs (she is also a college writing instructor), our travels, our everything. Then we say how we should really do this more than once a year. And then we never do. Still, it was so good to "talk" to her.

The next day I had to teach, but I came home to freshly baked cream cheese pie, courtesy of Shulamith. The following evening we celebrated with a few women from our ward, a girls' night out eating yummy Thai cuisine. Friday we used a gift card I received from my mom and took Seth out to Longhorn Steak House.

But all that was only warm-up. Saturday was the real deal. Saturday, Shulamith and I left everyone at home, including children, and went to see the movie The Martian and then to dinner at Cheesecake Factory. Movie was great, and food was so yum. Truly, a glorious afternoon!

Today will be our family dinner and celebration at home, a perfect way to end the week.
It has involved a great deal of food, way more than I normally eat, and I'll have to return with added diligence to my diet plan tomorrow. But it's worth it. Birthdays are kind of important, I've decided.

A gullible gal from way down south

When I was 10, I was in a school play. I don't remember its name, but I played a gullible, Southern girl, who sang, “I'm a gullible gal from way down south; what pops in my head pops out of my mouth.” Honestly, that is all I remember about the whole thing, though I can still sing the song, tune and all.

All these years later, I don't consider myself to be very gullible. I'm reasonably intelligent. I can distinguish fantasy from reality. I am well aware that when something seems too good to be true, it almost always is. I “get” life. I'm an adult.

But perhaps in some ways, I'm still that gullible gal from my school play in fifth grade.

Earlier today, Isaiah was due to land at the airport at 1:04. He travels all over the place for his job, and today he was coming on a direct flight from Paris after spending a week in Barcelona. I was still in class when he was scheduled to land, and Gerald was already headed to work, so I texted Isaiah and told him to wait at the airport, probably about an hour, until I was out of class and could come get him.

Soon after he landed, I received this text, “I found a ride home, so you don't need to come.”

“With a co-worker?” I asked.

“No, I just met a guy at the airport, and he offered to take me home in his van.”

What? My anxiety-filled mommy mind goes straight to murder. Yep, I'm thinking body parts piled up in that van, and my baby trapped inside, never to be seen again!

“No, Isaiah, noooo, do NOT get into that van!” I text (while I'm trying to teach college students the difference between ethos, pathos, and logos in rhetorical analysis).

No reply. Ugh. Later I text, “Are you still okay and ALIVE? Didn't I ever teach you not to get into cars with strangers?”

Finally, as I'm leaving my school, he writes back, “Man, you are so hard to joke around with because you're so gullible. Of course I didn't go with a stranger. A co-worked offered me a ride home.”

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Shulamith thinks the entire story is hilarious. Really? Well, I just hope one day her Swen pulls the same stunt, so she can see just how hilarious it is.

Feelin' "the feels" today

I'm sitting here at my computer crying. Did something bad happen? No. Something especially good? No, not that either. It's just a regular day, in which I did regular things. Then I came home, sat down to relax, opened my computer, and saw this.

And now I'm a puddle. Over an advertisement. For gum.

I have no excuses. I'm not pregnant. I'm not in the middle of some huge life crisis. I'm not especially sad or happy or anything. It's just a regular day, for heaven's sake.

But these two adorable high school kids meet and fall in love. It's so innocent and wholesome and dear. They date. They go to prom. They Skype each other when one is away at college. The seasons change. The love grows. Throughout all this, they give each other sticks of gum. Then, near the end of the commercial, the girl finds on the wall, in a row, a series of framed gum wrappers (nope, I'm not kidding), on which the guy has drawn stick pictures of all these experiences they've shared. The last one is new, though, a picture of a guy down on one knee holding out a tiny box. She turns around, and there he is in real life doing the same thing.

Alright, admittedly, I am a romantic at heart, but I'm not generally quite this squishy. I am legit crying right here!

I guess it's just a day to feel.

Conference Reflections

Another General Conference is now part of history. I know I say it every time, but this one was especially..... Sweet? Touching? Heartfelt? I struggle to find the right adjective. Talk after talk brought forth pure emotion, truth, and testimony; a whole day later, I find myself still actively engaged in the messages, invested in an attempt to internalize them and make them part of me.

May I share just a few personal reflections.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland taught of the divine calling of motherhood. Nothing, he explained, more closely compares to the love our Heavenly Parents have for us than the love of a mother for her children.  Indeed. I have so often felt that motherhood was my true destiny, and though I'm hardly perfect in the role, it brings me more joy than anything else I've ever done. A mother's love for her children transcends mortal understanding.

Along with Elder Holland, newly-sustained Apostle Elder Dale G. Renlund testified of that same love. He explained that the only way to love our neighbors is to see them as God sees them, through His eyes. It is through the eyes of parents, both earthly and heavenly, that we come to understand the worth of our fellow beings.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf reminded us that as we simplify our discipleship and focus on the basics, the Gospel will work in our lives. It works! As always, after listening to him, I felt uplifted, encouraged, and strengthened.  His message of hope was reinforced by Sister Neill F. Marriott, as she declared with confidence, even through unimaginable tragedy, that “It will all work out.” These words reminded me of something President Hinckley used to say: “Everything will work out in the end. If it hasn't worked out yet, that's because it isn't the end.”

Both Sister Marriott and Elder Larry R. Lawrence stressed the need to ask specifically what is standing in the way of our progression: “Father, is there more?” and “What lack I yet?” When we ask sincerely, our answers will come.

As Elder David A. Bednar, one by one, expressed his love and gratitude for the six apostles who have passed away since he's been in the Quorum, I thought of President Monson's talk earlier that day. He taught us to be examples of light as we follow the Savior, a poignant and timely message delivered with such conviction from a Prophet of God. Toward the end, though, I ached for him, as it seemed a physical struggle just to stand at the podium, yet nothing could dissuade him from delivering the message he came to deliver. Not so long ago, he lost his beloved wife, and then more recently three of his best friends and closest associates right in a row. It can't help to have all that grief, along with the challenges of a failing body. But to his very last breath, he will keep testifying of the Savior's love. And for that, I am so grateful.

I should probably just give up and write a check

Like many people, I have a love/hate relationship with technology. I celebrate all the advances; really I do. Honestly, I'm not sure how we ever functioned without the Internet or how I ever taught writing without a computerized classroom. I have only vague memories of using the Readers' Guide to Periodical Literature to  research college essays. How utterly laborious that must have been! And then typing those essays on an electric typewriter, praying fervently not to make an error because correcting was so tedious. It's amazing how something so simple as basic word processing has evolved.

So yeah, I'm grateful. I'm grateful. I'm grateful! True story.

But wonderful as it is, oh how I struggle with technology. For me, the learning curve is steep, and it seems like as soon as I figure something out, that "something" changes. Can they leave well enough alone, already?

Case in point: Comcast. Last week, I was on the phone with a rep, getting my bill corrected, and she informed me that we had "old equipment." She would immediately ship me all new stuff, which I should have within three days. Okay, whatever. The new stuff did, indeed, arrive, but now I have no idea how to use my TV remote control. It's completely different from the old setup, and even worse, we seem to be missing some channels we really want.

And then there's this. Our church recently made it possible to pay tithing online, really excellent news. No more filling out forms by hand and writing checks. No more searching the building to find the bishop. No more waiting for the check to clear your account. "This will change my life," I thought.

Until I tried to do it.

I logged on to  my church account. First they asked me to indicte what country I'm from. Then they told me I live in a country that does not accept online donations. Really? Because I'm pretty sure the U.S. would be one of the very first countries to accept them. Then I entered my membership number and some other information, and I was informed that my record does not exist. There is no one with that number and birth date. Great! Now I live in the wrong country AND I do not exist.

I should probably just give up and write a check. But I was determined.

Finally, after spending nearly an hour on this with zero success, I decided to try a different route. I logged on under Gerald's name and membership number. It worked flawlessly. I will just pay our tithing using his account because technology kind of hates me. And I hate it back. At least sometimes.

You might cry a little

The other day a friend of mine became a father. He and his wife welcomed a perfect baby boy into their family and into their lives, and began a journey like no other.

Parenthood transforms us. It lifts us from our naturally selfish states to something better. Something higher. We learn the true meaning of altruism as suddenly, another's needs matter more than our own, way more. We learn that we have the capacity to care in a way we never before thought possible.

The next morning, my own “baby,” the last child of five, who stands 6 feet tall and is a sophomore in high school, rose early and prepared to leave for school. As he grabbed a granola bar and headed out the door at 7:00 a.m., he managed only a few words: “I have choir sectionals before school and rehearsal for the musical after school. Pick me up at 5:00? I love you!”

“Yes, yes, I'll be there at 5:00. I love you too. So much,” I echoed back, as he jumped into his dad's car. I wouldn't see him for another 10 hours. It felt like a long time. In just three short years, if his plans don't change, he will leave me again, this time not for just 10 hours. He will leave me for two full years to serve a full-time mission for our church.

I might have cried a little.

I won't be one of those people to tell this new father, or any of you with tiny ones, to "enjoy every second because the years pass quickly." I won't tell you that. Because I've been there. I've been right where you are, five different times. I know full well that not every second with small children is enjoyable. But the years do pass quickly.

You will blink, and all the sleepless nights and zombie days will be long in the past. Your 15-year-old “baby” will be running out the door to get to choir sectionals, granola bar in hand, saying, “Pick me up at 5:00? I love you!”

And you might cry a little.

The "Perfect Pigeon Pair": Is it really that perfect?

The term "pigeon pair" was new to me until recently. It apparently refers to a boy and a girl as either twins or as the only children in a family. And it's apparently the ideal situation, at least in the opinion of many.

Our first two children created a “pigeon pair.” We had Luke first, then 16 months later, Shulamith. While I was not familiar with this term at the time, I soon learned how “perfect” this arrangement was thought to be. “Oh, a boy and a girl! Excellent! Now you can be done.” It was as if we had done something incredible, brilliant even, by producing two children of different sexes.

But truly, all we did was have two babies. The first time around, I thought I was having a girl. Why did I think that? No idea. In those days, parents did not find out the gender of their baby until he or she was born. We had a boy. He was wonderful. Obviously. The second time, I assumed we would have another boy. Most people I knew with two children had either two boys or two girls, and well, by then I was familiar with having a boy, so that's what I expected.

I was wrong. We had a girl. She was wonderful. Obviously. That's when the comments began. I guess it makes sense that since there are a few experiences parents will miss if they have only girls or only boys, well-meaning folks will celebrate if you happen to have both. But I honestly can't think of all that many. In fact, the one that comes to mind is actually a blessing. If you have only girls, you will never have to attend a Cub Scout pack meeting or Pinewood Derby, both of which are the pure definition "headache." Trust me. I've been to dozens.

Regardless, what I don't understand is the assumption that “now you can be done.” It's as if couples should aim for the fewest number of children possible, as long as there is at least one boy and one girl. If you mange to achieve that with only two, you're a hero!

Not really. I loved both of those first two little babies dearly, but I knew I wasn't done, any more than I would have been had they both been boys. Or girls. I wanted several children, and gender had not a single thing to do with it. Did we ever surprise all those people when we went ahead and had three more wonderful sons after our “perfect pigeon pair.” Ha!

Thoughts?

The three top reasons I love Oregon. Wait, make that four!

Yesterday, on the first of our two-day journey home to Utah, Shulamith, Eli, and I stopped for lunch in Pendleton, Oregon. We pulled into a service station for gas, and instantly, a nice guy in a bright orange vest came up to my car window and asked how he could help me. Before I could answer, another orange-vested guy proceeded to clean my windshield. I asked the first guy to “fill it with medium grade, please” which he promptly did before wishing me a good day as I paid and drove off.

Next, we pulled into a convenience store to grab Diet Cokes and candy bars for the road. The total cost of those items was $7.59, and that is exactly how much I paid, not a penny more. I returned to my car, and as I merged onto the freeway to continue on to Boise, our destination for the night, drops of rain began to fall onto my freshly cleaned windshield.

And I remembered three of the many reasons I love my home state of Oregon.

Though not unique, Oregon is unusual in that it is one of only two states in the country (the other is New Jersey) where self-service gas is not allowed. It is also one of only five states that does not have a sales tax, Montana, Delaware, Alaska, and New Hampshire being the others. Granted, it isn't the only state that has rain, but it's one of the very few states that has enough rain to make a Pluviophile like me happy.

No standing out in the freezing cold in a skirt and high-heels pumping gas, only to have your hands smell like gasoline for the rest of the day. No stopping to figure in your head how much something will really cost after adding in the sales tax. And on the Western side of the state, enough rain that you usually don't have to go more than a few days without it. Then if you add in the beautifully progressive political climate, it's pretty much heaven, if you ask me.

I love Oregon. What is special about your home state that makes you love it?

Politics on social media: Just scroll down

With still more than a year to go before the next Presidential election, already I'm beginning to see posts, memes, and comments on social media regarding the possible candidates. My memories are stirred of the last election (2012) and how weary I became of the constant political dribble streaming down my Facebook wall. Roughly 85% of my “friends” on social media embrace an opposite political perspective from mine, so yes, as the election grew nearer, it became increasingly annoying to see all the negative posts and comments about the candidate I respected, supported, and admired.

For the most part, I simply scrolled down and rode out the storm, though I will admit to “blocking” (not deleting) a handful of folks whose daily posts were too scathingly vicious to tolerate. So the question is, what crosses the line of acceptability? Is there a line? How much politics on social media is too much? On the other hand, I saw a post yesterday that said, “You say you're tired of my political posts. Okay, I'll go back to sharing important stuff like what I had for dinner and when I went to the grocery store.”

I can see that side too. If we want to engage in meaningful dialog, we have to be willing to listen to opposing viewpoints on controversial issues. The key, I think, is respect. It's absolutely possible to support a political position or candidate respectfully, even on social media. It's just that not everyone does that. Social media seems to be the perfect forum to spread hatred. Time will tell how I'll respond to the hoopla as the 2016 Presidential election season gains momentum.

What about you? How do you feel about political posts/memes on social media. Do you participate? Do you block those friends who disagree with you or just scroll down?

First day jitters, and waiting not so patiently at home

At 2:30 a.m. I awoke to noise coming from the bathroom. Was it water running? In a state of confused semi-consciousness, I got up to investigate and found that, indeed, someone was in the bathroom showering. By process of elimination, it would have to be Seth. I knocked and shouted, “Are you okay?” Affirmative. “What are you doing in there?” Taking a shower. “Do you realize it's 2:30 a.m.?” Somehow, he thought it was 6:30 already, and he was supposed to be up getting ready for school.

First day jitters. On the surface, he was all meh about it yesterday when I asked him if he was nervous for the first day of his sophomore year. “What would I be nervous about?” Obviously, though, there were some subconscious jitters going on, enough that he woke up and hopped in the shower at 2:30 a.m. I remember my older kids doing this same thing a couple of times the night before important events. Whether we are headed to kindergarten or our senior year of college, there is just something about that first day of school that elicits an emotional response in all of us.

That includes us moms waiting not so patiently at home. It's now 2:15 p.m., and I've been thinking about him all day. Will he like his classes? Will he find his friends in that giant school? Will his teachers be nice? I'm just about to go pick him up, and the excitement is waxing strong. I'll take him for an after-the-first-day snack and listen to a play-by-play report of his day.

Hopefully tonight the jitters will be gone, and he'll sleep peacefully, with no 2:30 a.m. showers.

The tradition continues: All roads lead to Macaroni Grill

About 10 years ago, Shulamith came to Salt Lake City to attend Westminster College. I suggested she apply for a job on campus, but no, she decided to apply to be a host at an Italian restaurant called Romano's Macaroni Grill. It was far away from campus and required long, late hours, and I didn't think it was such a good idea. As my children will tell you, I am very rarely wrong (ha ha), but in this case, well, let's just say the whole Mac Grill thing turned out better than I expected.

Shulamith worked as a host until she was 21 and old enough to serve. Serving, she made tons of money, enough to pay for her entire senior year at Westminster without our help. About the time she graduated, Isaiah also headed to SLC to attend Shulamith's alma mater. And where did he decide to work? You guessed it. Mac Grill hired him before even meeting him, on Shulamith's recommendation, and he worked there all through college.

When we moved here in 2011, Eli was with us for a few months before his mission, and yep, Mac Grill was happy to hire him as well. After his mission, he returned to work there to save money for college at BYU-Idaho, and now he works there during his semester breaks. And they all return for the giant days each year, Valentine's Day and Mother's day.

We used to joke about Seth working there one day, but "one day" seemed far in the future. When my friend Lindsey saw this picture on Instagram, she commented, "How's that even possible?" My thoughts exactly. That "one day" so far in the future came more quickly than I could have imagined. He is my baby, barely 15, and this whole working deal is pretty much ridiculous.

He has grown up in a world where everyone, it seemed to him, had money to spend. You should hear him dream of all the things he will be able to buy:

"Mom, I'll get you hundreds of Diet Cokes, any time you want one."

"And I'll be able to buy everyone Christmas presents!"

"And video games on their release dates!"

"And I'll save my money so next year, I can go to the DotA tournament with Isaiah."

That last one, though. Uh, not likely I'll let him do that.

An $18,000,000 prize pool? For real?

Isaiah is in Seattle this week but not at an event for work. He's there on vacation watching 16 teams, each with five players, play a computer game. It's called DotA (Defense of the Ancients), and in the gaming world, it must be pretty popular. I say that only because over 17,000 people are there watching along with Isaiah, each having paid $100 for a ticket, more if they had to scalp one (Isaiah was online the second tickets went on sale but was still unsuccessful and wound up scalping one for $150). The prize pool for this competition is $18,000,000. Yes, you read that right. Count those zeros. It's true.

Poor Seth, who could not afford a ticket (or airfare to Seattle, or a hotel) is stuck here at home, glued to his computer, watching a live stream of the competition, texting back and forth with Isaiah. He believes that because he started playing the game at a young age, with years still to improve, one day he will be good enough to play in this international competition and win all that money. I'm skeptical, but hey, a boy can dream.

At the start, I sort of teased Isaiah for spending a week of his vacation time, not to mention a truckload of cash, to fly to Seattle and watch other people play a computer game. But then someone reminded me: “You and Shulamith spent that much to fly to Vegas for a weekend to watch Celine Dion sing for an hour and a half.” Indeed we did. It was worth every penny, and we'll likely do it again one day.

Entertainment is that subjective. What some find appealing, others don't. Seth just told me that at this very moment, 250,000 people are watching the live stream of the DotA competition. That's just crazy! But I'm glad he can watch since he can't be there. Reports from Isaiah are that it's the "best week ever!"

Food: The evolution of Pioneer Trek

Seth is our third kid to participate in Pioneer Trek. And while the idea has remained the same, the details have evolved over time. For those who may not know, Trek is an experience where youth in our church re-enact the journey the pioneers made across the plains to the Salt Lake Valley. They dress in pioneer clothing, pull handcarts, and walk. And walk. And walk. They walk for three or four days, camping along the way in "families" with a "ma" and "pa" and several siblings.

Just how authentic the whole thing is seems to vary, depending on where the event takes place, who the stake president is, and who is in charge. Shulamith went on Trek when she was 15. She looked adorable in her pioneer dress and bonnet, but I worried she'd starve. Back then in Washington, the leaders wanted to make the experience as realistic as possible. So they let the kids get hungry. One day, other than water and a piece of fruit, they didn't get food all day. That night, each kid had to catch his or her own chicken, put a cone around its neck, chop off its head, pluck its feathers, and boil it! And they were hungry enough to do it.

Several years later, Eli went on Trek with our stake in Montana. They went to Martin's Cove in Wyoming, and this time, the stake president felt strongly that the kids be well fed. No more slaughtering their own chickens or walking all day long without food. Eli said the food was decent, and they never went hungry. Who's to say if this took away from the whole experience, but I for one was glad to know my son was fed.

And then came Seth. Two weeks ago, he went on Trek with our stake here in Utah. They traveled all the way to Martin's Cove, Wyoming, the same place Eli went. Apparently, this particular stake believes in gourmet Trek food. One meal included brisket with "amazing" barbecue sauce, corn bread with honey butter, homemade potato chips, and salad with Olive Garden dressing. Then one morning they had crepes with cinnamon and sugar and homemade jam. Seth never ate so well in his life! Coming from our family, that's not saying a lot, but still.

Trek is an incredible experience, regardless of the way food is handled, and I'm glad Seth got to go. Right up there with EFY, it has been the highlight of his summer so far.

"It's not like I'm on vacation when I'm there."

As many of your know, we now have a world traveler in our family. His name is Isaiah, and a year ago this month, he landed the first job he applied for following his graduation from Westminster College with a computer science degree. He works for a company whose amazing software brilliantly handles registration and session access control for large conventions all over the world. Isaiah is an onsite tech specialist, so he needs to be, obviously, onsite. When he was interviewing, they asked him if he would be okay traveling around 75% of the time during the busy season. "That's what is most appealing about this job," was his reply.

And that is a very good thing! In the past year, Isaiah has traveled to Las Vegas, San Francisco, Los Angeles, New Orleans, Nashville, San Diego, Orlando, Boston, Dallas (several of these multiple times), and others I'm likely forgetting. Internationally, he's gone to Milan, Quebec, Melbourne, and Toronto.

Are we jealous? No. Well, maybe a little. Mostly we are just happy for him. Not many 24-year-olds get to travel this extensively. He always reminds us, though, that "It's not like I'm on vacation when I'm there." Yep, we tend to forget that part. When he's onsite, he generally has to be in the hotel/convention center by 6:30 a.m. each day in order to prep everything before people begin to arrive. He works very long days, often not leaving the center until 7 or 8:00 p.m. Then he has four or five hours to go to dinner (seriously extravagant meals!), and see some of the city before crashing into bed, often past midnight, only to get up and do it all over again the next day.

There are some wonderful perks, though, beyond the travel opportunity. Often clients treat employees from Isaiah's company to various activities depending on the city. While in Orlando, he got to go to Walt Disney World, and in Nashville, he got to go to the Grand Ole Opry. Sadly, until he got there, he didn't even know what the Grand Ole Opry was, which speaks to my woeful lack of parenting, obviously. How could he not know that?
After his first couple of months, his boss asked him, "So how do you like all the travel," to which he responded, "I love it!" Then the boss said, "I'll ask you again a year from now and see what you say." Truth is, after a year, he would say exactly the same thing. Flying has lost all its appeal for sure, but he still loves to travel, and in fact, he feels like a "boring, I wanna die office worker" if he has to stay here in the Draper office very long.

So what wonderful trips are in store this summer and fall? I know he's going to Vegas and San Francisco in August, and then  possibly Cancun in September, Dubai in November, and (as Barney would say) ...wait for it....Berlin (!) in Janaury. Let's go back up to the question I asked above: Are we jealous? Those who know me well also know my dream of going to Germany, but in case you don't, I wrote about it once here. So if that trip comes true for him in January, I might be a tad jealous. But mostly I'll just be happy.

And proud. So proud of him.

"IRL": But what if it's weird?

Last week I went to my favorite breakfast place in Salt Lake City, Park Cafe, and enjoyed a lovely breakfast with two people I had never met before. Both were friends I knew online, but until last week, not face to face. Each time I prepare to meet an online acquaintance “In Real Life,” a tiny bit of apprehension accompanies my stomach. “What if it's weird?” I always wonder whether, “IRL,” these people will be the way I imagined them. Will they look like their online photos? Will their personalities resemble their online characters? Will it be awkward?

I don't stress too much about this anymore because I've done it so many times, but there's always a tiny bit of uncertainty. I remember the first time I met an online acquaintance face to face. It was back in the late 80s, the pre-internet days, when the only way to communicate online was through an online service as a part of a discussion group or “forum.” The one we used was called GEnie, and I was active in several forums there: parenting, religion, and politics (shocking, I know).

Gerald and I had “met” and become friends with a guy named Ike from South Dakota in a religion forum, and he was visiting the Pacific Northwest and wanted to meet up. Back then people were extremely wary of this type of thing. Online communication was new; stories circulated of face-to-face meetings with frightening consequences. I wasn't particularly worried about meeting Ike, but I was glad Gerald was going with me. It was wonderful! Ike was exactly the way I imagined him, even physically, and back then online forums were text only. He had presented himself online with total transparency. His wife was lovely as well.

Then there are Susie and Holly, women I met on GEnie parenting and religion forums, respectively, way back when. It was easy to get together with Holly because she happened to live in Seattle when we lived in Mt. Vernon. Susie was in Denver, but she actually flew to Seattle for a special event in my life, even though we had never met previously IRL. In both cases, that anxious feeling was present, but only until we laid eyes on each other, hugged tight, and continued right where our online conversations had left off.

So far, all my initial meet-ups with online friends have been extremely positive, and last week was no exception. As one of those with us remarked, “When we talk for 2 1/2 hours over breakfast, I think you can safely use it as evidence that we enjoyed ourselves.” Indeed! These two were fun and fabulous. I hope we can do it again soon.

Control your tongue, Shulamith!

So just over two years ago, I posted this article about the history of braces in the Erichsen-Webster Family. At that time, I believed Seth was our final kid to experience the fun of a mouth full of metal and the accompanying pain.

I was wrong.

Nearly a week ago, Shulamith joined the rising number of adults receiving orthodontic treatment. Her story is somewhat unusual. She actually already had braces as a kid. She had just eight on her top teeth, which at the time was all anyone thought she needed. And by all appearances, they did an excellent job of straightening her teeth and correcting her overbite, leaving her with a lovely smile.

She was faithful in wearing her retainer too, just as directed, and we thought all would be well. What no one told us, however, is that she has a condition known as a "tongue thrust." It is a  behavioral pattern in which the tongue protrudes through the teeth during speech and swallowing, and even sometimes while the tongue is at rest. She has apparently always had this, yet nobody ever told us.

This makes me just a bit upset because of course we would have done something about it had we known, but well, we can only go forward. So because of the tongue thrust, her overbite is back to the way it was pre-braces, so severe that she can't even close her bottom and top teeth together.

The solution: braces and speech therapy. Yep, Shulamith now has a mouth full of metal, and in the fall she will begin speech therapy to learn to control her out-of-control tongue.

I'm proud of her decision to move forward and get this taken care of, and I think she looks simply beautiful in her braces, though they do indeed make her look younger, especially with her summer freckles. So if you see the photo above and think "teen mom," rest assured, it is just Shulamith, who is plenty old enough to have children.

I can't wait to see the result in just a couple of very short years. Think of Eli's mission, Shulamith. Think how quickly that flew by. They'll be off in no time!

Embark in the Service of God: 2015 Young Women's Camp

Now in the full swing of summer, many families spend their weekends and holidays communing with nature by leaving the comfort of their soft beds in temperature-controlled homes in favor of a sleeping bag on the hard ground inside a tent. It's called “camping,” and it's a beloved summer tradition. Camping has many perks. Kids can get as dirty as they want with no parental shame. It is relatively inexpensive compared with the cost of hotels, especially for larger families. And there is something quite basic, quite honest about sleeping outside among the trees and animals. It brings us close together and teaches us much about ourselves, others, nature, and our relationship with all three.

These past four days I had the privilege of camping with 10 adorable young women, ages 12-16, and two other leaders, both delightful women and new friends. I think the word “awesome” is woefully overused, but in this case, I can't think of a better expression to capture the essence of our four days at Young Women's camp. The 12 of us camped alongside maybe 100 other young women from our stake and numerous leaders and helpers, cooks, nurses, fire fighters, trained challenge course specialists, and more. These many volunteers united with one common goal: Give these sweet, young daughters of God the opportunity to grow closer to Him and to their Savior.

Why camping? Lots of reasons, but one that initially comes to mind is that camping is hard. Everything about it is hard. From eating to sleeping to something as simple as going to the bathroom, everything is harder when you're camping. But we learn through the experience that we can do hard things. And that is valuable. In addition, while camping, these young women left all electronics behind, so they could be present in the moment, not texting, posting to social media, or taking selfies. They communicated with each other in person. They had conflicts, yes, but they resolved them face to face, not through an impersonal text message.

Camping also presents various physical challenges. This particular camp has a challenge experience that concludes with a ropes course followed by a zip line. Some girls are afraid of heights; others wonder if they are strong enough to climb the telephone pole or brave enough to walk across the rope so high. I wondered these things myself, truth be told. But I did it anyway, as did the majority of the 100+ girls at camp. They learned to challenge themselves even when they feel scared and to trust in their own abilities.

Most important, there is something spiritual about being out in nature, where all around you is the beauty of God's creation. Late Wednesday night, all the girls and leaders formed a giant circle called “Circle of Light” and ward by ward, broke through the darkness with flashlights, and sang a song associated with each ward's assigned Young Women's value. It was simultaneously peaceful and powerful, serene and strong. As the girls from our ward sang about virtue, you could feel their strength, their conviction, their testimonies.

And of course we can't forget the most basic element of girls' camp: FUN! From crafts to snipe hunting to tent laughter till the wee hours of the morning, “My hands are high, I'm in the groove, and this is how I bust a move!” I was blessed to be part of this Young Women's camp. I had the added burden of a crazy horrible allergic reaction that caused relentless sneezing; watery, swollen, red eyes; and decreased energy. Nevertheless, it was a joy to participate.

“Therefore, O ye that embark in the service of God, see that ye serve him with all your heart, might, mind and strength, that ye may stand blameless before God at the last day" (D&C 4:2).

Friends are friends forever

Friends are friends forever,

If the Lord's the Lord of them.

And a friend will not say never

For the welcome will not end.

Though it's hard to let you go,

In the Father's hands we know,

That a lifetime's not too long to live as friends.

The words of Michael W. Smith's song ring particularly true today for Seth and me. These past few days he and I were blessed with the opportunity to reunite with some of our closest friends, and though saying goodbye today was difficult, we are so grateful we had this time. Seth and his friend Ethan spent the week at EFY up in Logan. They have been friends since the inception of the Skyview Ward in Billings, Montana back in 2009 when they were just nine years old. We left Billings when they were eleven, but their friendship has continued strong these past four years. They were just little boys back then:

 

This was literally the day we left Billings. I'm pretty sure they both cried. And here they are today, handsome young men, still just as kind and sweet as they were as children:

Brenda and I are proud moms for sure. They had a wonderful week at EFY, even better than last year, Seth says. I wonder if they will be friends forever. I hope so.

Coincidentally, these past three days I was also blessed with the rare opportunity to hang with two of my favorite people in the world. Say what you want about Billings, but I'm convinced it's the most perfect place on earth to make lifelong friends. I met Celeste when I was called as Relief Society President. Was that 2007? Or 2008? Regardless, I needed a counselor who could handle all the party planning/cooking/crafting/decorating/etc. that goes on in relief society, and Celeste was just that person. No one does it better. We met Lindsey shortly thereafter. The three of us lived within 1/4 mile of each other in a delightful little neighborhood in Billings Heights. It was lovely.

But all too soon, Celeste moved clear to San Antonio, and about a year later, Lindsey moved to Rexburg. With both of them gone, I couldn't see any real reason to stay in Billings, so we came here to Utah. (Okay, no, that wasn't the reason we moved, but it made moving a whole lot easier.) I get to see Lindsey fairly often; Rexburg isn't too far away, and Eli is in school there. But San Antonio, not so much. It had been around five years since we had all three been together.

But that's the thing with forever friends. Time doesn't really matter. You are together for five seconds, and it's as if you were never apart. Here we are at the Soda Vine, where we may or may not have ordered one of everything on the menu: soft pretzels, peach and raspberry gelati (layers of Italian ice and custard), chocolate covered rice crispy treats, and Dirty Diet Cokes, Dirty Dr Pepper in Celeste's case. Well, just see for yourself:

They had to roll us out of there, but the next day we were at it again with lunch at McDonald's (because it's what we do), and fun pedicures with sparkly accent toes. The crowning event, however, the epic moment of our three days together, came late last night when we played a thrilling game of Phase 10. You should know the back story. These two ladies have been creaming me in this and every other game for as long as I can remember. I think Lindsey's exact words were, "Would you like to lose a game?" I never win. Never. And they don't care. They don't have one ounce of compassion or sympathy. They just laugh at my incompetence.

But that all ended last night. I am now the reigning Phase 10 champion until the next time we play. I hope it's not too long. You have no idea how much I hope that.