Though definitely not the ocean, St. George has become our happy place!

Going to St. George has become a family tradition. "Why there?" you might ask. "Why not there?" is the best answer I have. A native of Western Oregon, I'm not used to living in a landlocked state. The ocean is my happy place, and ne'er do I go home to visit my family without spending at least one day on the lovely Oregon coast. But here in Utah, there is no ocean to go to, so a few years ago, we started going to St. George.

St. George has become our happy place...mine, Shulamith's, Seth's, Eli's, Amanda's. It's reached the point where we can't leave to come home until we've settled on a date for next time.

It's not because of any one thing in particular. We love the red rock, but that wouldn't be enough on its own to keep bringing us back.

Is it the crepes at The Crepery? Partly, sure. This past weekend, we ate crepes twice, once for breakfast Friday morning (savory crepe with ham, cheddar, and dill cream cheese sauce), and once Saturday afternoon (sweet crepe with cheesecake filling, bananas, and chocolate sauce). Also, please pronounce the word "crepe" correctly, with a short /e/ sound, not a long /a/. Thanks.

Is it the street tacos from El Coyote Charro? Partly, sure. We also went to Coyote twice.

Or the cupcakes at TwentyFive Main? No. It can't all be about food. I've decided the joy of our trips to St. George is pretty simple. Away from home and away from the stresses of regular life, we have time to be together, which is sometimes harder to orchestrate at home, with jobs, housework, family responsibilities. Time together is a precious commodity because not only are we family, more importantly, we are friends.

This recent trip drifted sideways for just a bit when this happened, but was quickly back on track. It was quite warm, but our Airbnb was literally 20 steps from a beautiful pool, so the heat was not a problem. We swam every day. One morning while it was still cool(ish), we went to Thunder Junction All Abilities Park, a very cool splash park. At night we played games, Phase 10 and What Do You Meme? I TIED Shulamith in Phase 10; don't let her tell you otherwise. The Meme game, though; that was all Eli.

Always an additional treat for me is getting to see my friend, Patty. Patty lives in LaVerkin, and she always makes time for me when we're in town. Sometime she brings Bryan. Sometimes she brings Lindsey. But mostly, she brings Claire, and this was one of those times. Thanks Patty and Clairy for a great visit!

Until next time, St. George. You have be come our happy place.

Because Seth claims nothing exciting ever happens in our family...

Each Monday (P-day), we get to communicate with Seth. Because of a recent policy adjustment, we oftentimes even get to video chat with him, and it's pretty perfect, not gonna lie! With my other two missionaries and for the first six months of Seth's mission, the only days we got to do that were Christmas and Mother's Day, four times in the entire two years! Now, though, unless something comes up in the mission (which it does some weeks), we get an hour or so to talk to Seth every Monday.

During that time, he tells us all about his week. He makes us laugh. He makes us cry. He makes us so grateful--grateful for this opportunity, grateful for the gospel, grateful for incredible mission presidents, grateful for Seth's daily decision to serve! It's a lovely chat, especially on those weeks that the Internet connection cooperates. About half the time, the screen freezes, or we can't hear Seth, or Seth can't hear us, or our voices cut out. It's Paraguay. Technology isn't the best. Still, this policy came in the nick of time because this missionary mama was about to lose her feeble mind.

Every week, at some point in our conversation, Seth remarks that, once again, we have nothing to tell him. That's because our lives are pretty lame, some might even say "boring," though quite honestly, I'm just fine with boring. Too much drama is bad for my health. But Seth always wants a story to tell, and I never have anything. Church members in Paraguay know he gets to talk to us on Mondays, so on Tuesday, they often ask, "How's your family, Elder Erichsen?" to which he replies, "Fine." "Anything new?" they ask. "Nope, not one thing."

Until this week. I had a story this week. For reals.

It all happened Friday night, when most of us were in St. George on a four-day getaway to sunshine, swimming, and copious amounts of fattening food. (Blog post on St. George trip coming up after this one.) We had been there just one night and were strolling around Albertson's, when my phone rang. Caller ID indicated Isaiah, which immediately sent fear pulsing through my body. Isaiah doesn't call me with good news, or even neutral news. He texts. Always. The last time he called me was five years ago when he got in a car wreck, so you can see why I panicked.

Me: "Hey!" (trying to sound calm).
Isaiah: "So your stupid dog escaped, and I can't find him."
Me: "Oh no! Are you looking for him on foot?"
Isaiah: "Yeah, I've been walking around the neighborhood, but now I'm gonna get in the car and try to find him."
Me: Thanks! And sorry.

Why sorry? Because it's not Isaiah's dog, nor was it ever Isaiah's decision to get a dog. The dog belongs to Seth, who is (as noted above) all the way in Paraguay. Since he left, the dog has attached himself to me (literally, if I'd let him), terrified that I'll leave him too. To say he isn't fond of Isaiah and Gerald is an understatement. He's a rescue dog from a shelter, and I'm pretty sure he was mistreated by a tall guy, leaving him terrified of males over 6 ft., though he always liked Seth, and he's also fine with Eli.

I felt so bad for Isaiah, having to deal with this all by himself in 100 degree heat, but no one else was available. Gerald was at work. Eli, Amanda, Shulamith, and I were all in St. George.

...and then a crappy situation got even worse.

First, Isaiah sent me a picture with Waffles in the backseat of his car, with the text. "I hate this dog."

Well, yes, I'm sure you do, but at least he's found! Hooray! Huge relief. All that stuff.

Then my phone rang again. Caller ID: Isaiah. Panic.

"Mom, I tried to get Waffles into the house, but he wouldn't let me near him, and he bolted into the street, and a car hit him!"

Oh my goodness, nooooo!

Now, before you get too worried, spoiler alert: Waffles is fine. Just fine. Relax.

But Isaiah didn't know that at the time, and the guy who hit Waffles was... (hmmm, how can I describe him, using language that won't offend my readers?). No idea.

Seems to me there are a couple reasonable ways you could react after hitting a dog:

#1 You might get out of your car, and say something like "Oh I'm so sorry this happened. Is he okay? How can I help?"

#2  If you're extremely busy or late for work or something, maybe you'd stop and say, "I'm so sorry, but I can't stay. I have to get to work, but I hope he's okay."

But this guy, nope, none of the above. Instead, he got out of his car and immediately launched a verbal attack on Isaiah:

Lacing the F-bomb through his diatribe, he lectured Isaiah about responsible pet ownership and how only an idiot would take a dog out for a walk without a leash in 100 degree heat.

Yeah, no shit.

He obviously knew nothing about the situation or that Isaiah was just trying to get his baby brother's dog back home because no one else was here to do it.

Finally, after standing in the street being yelled at for way too long, Isaiah said, "Dude, if you aren't gonna help me, just leave. I need to take this dog to the vet." And the guy left. And we texted Isaiah the address of a 24-hour emergency vet.

I texted Gerald, and he met Isaiah there. They waited together, not knowing if Waffles was alive or dead. We waited in St. George. Waiting is hard. Finally, a technician came out and told them Waffles was stable and doing well. Turns out he was very hot (temperature 3 degrees above normal!) and very dehydrated, you know, from running around the streets of Midvale for over an hour in the hottest afternoon we've had yet this summer. They gave him IV fluids, cleaned up his minor abrasions, and sent him home, with his two least favorite people in the world. But at least he was alive.

And we had a story to tell Seth yesterday. Now Seth and Waffles have something in common: Both have been hit by cars and come out of the experience nearly unscathed. Oh, you don't remember when Seth got hit by a car? Well, here it is, right here.

And here's a picture of him and his Waffles.

Happy Fourth of July Birthday, Kennedy!

It's hard to have your birthday the day after the Fourth of July. Everyone is already tired of celebrating, and tired in general from being up late the night before. But five years ago, in the heat of summer, when Shulamith's doctor happened to say, "Nope, nothing has changed. No way you're gonna go into labor on your own. If you want to, we can deliver by C-section July 5th," she was all in!

So now this poor girl is stuck with a post-Fourth of July birthday for life. It could be worse, I guess. It could be Christmas.

The funny part is, I think on some level Kennedy believes that people celebrate the Fourth of July in honor of her birthday. Every time she sees red, white, and blue stuff, she says they are "July colors" and that it's because of her birthday. That said, she still prefers Halloween over all other holidays, so she was determined to have a Halloween birthday party in July, complete with face painting courtesy of Amanda:

...but back to the Fourth.  Our celebration was full from start to finish. After stopping by our stake's annual Freedom Breakfast to say hi to Eli (who was there to make pancakes, though ultimately they didn't need him), I headed to meet Shulamith at a big parade on State Street. Parades are so fun, and this one really was. Floats came by one after the other. Kids scrambled to gather candy thrown by float riders. Marching bands played. It was just perfect.

In the afternoon, we went to a fair in Riverton, where Shulamith and I shared some chicken and rice (sorta healthy), followed by a funnel cake (not as healthy, but delicious). As it got closer to dark, I found myself missing Seth so much. He loves the Fourth of July. He and Isaiah always go together to get fireworks. This year, Swen had to take his place and go with Isaiah.

This nostalgic mom kept thinking back to Fourths of the past, especially the one I wrote about here exactly 10 years ago. I know the blessings Seth is receiving from serving his mission reach far beyond what even he can understand, but still I miss him. Next year on the Fourth of July, he will be almost home. Hold that thought.

We waited not so patiently for it to be dark enough, and finally, Isaiah began the annual fireworks display.

It was excellent, and just like that, it was over, but not before I grabbed this next picture. Here are three of the most amazing people I know. I am so proud of each of them and so grateful to call them my friends:

The following day, though tired from all this partying, it was time to celebrate Kennedy's birthday. She picked Waffle Love for breakfast, but she was mostly interested in opening her presents. Before I go any further, let me tell you that both her mother and I consider ourselves fairly fashion savvy. We love clothes and know what looks good and what doesn't. However, there's this girl named Jo Jo, who is a fashion nightmare. She is now 16 but started performing as a much younger child, singing, dancing, and making YouTube videos that encourage children to make good choices. Her only problem: her choice of clothing, which includes giant hair bows and hideous dresses, like this one:

Eeeeek! But Kennedy loves her, and has wanted one of these dresses for months now, so believing that people should get exactly what they want for their birthdays, not what anyone else thinks they should have, her mom and I got her this Jo Jo dress. And this Jo Jo jacket:

She was delighted.

Which is all that matters.

From Waffle Love, we headed to Classic Fun Center to play for a couple hours. By this point everyone was exhausted, including the birthday girl, so we took a break for some R & R. That night Shulamith's sons stayed home with their dad, and we took Kennedy for girls' night out: pedicures and dinner at Cheesecake Factory.

We all had pretty toes for Kennedy's friend party the following day, which brings us back to the top of this post, with Halloween cupcakes and face painting.

Happy Fourth of July birthday, Kennedy! This was your "golden" birthday, as you turned 5 on the 5th!

Third Annual Halfway Christmas: Best Fake Holiday Ever!

Merry Halfway Christmas, everyone!!!!! Oh wait, you don't celebrate Halfway Christmas? I'm so sorry. Really, I am because it's seriously the best fake holiday in the history of ever. It has much of the same vibe as the real Christmas, without a fraction of the stress. This was our third time; we celebrated here in 2017 and here in 2018.

This time might have been our best yet, were it not for the fact that Seth wasn't here. So as I sit here with Google Hangouts open, anxiously waiting/hoping he'll be able to call today (P-day), let me briefly report the details of this year's celebration.

After church, we all put on our Christmas jammies from this past year, and oooh, they were warm, especially for June! I think Shulamith's daughter Kennedy is the only one who kept her woolly fleece top on the whole time; the rest of us just wore our bottoms with t-shirts.

Food was the first order of business. We feasted on our favorite egg casserole with cinnamon toast, grilled lemon pepper chicken and baked potatoes, followed by a rousing game of "What Do You Meme?" By then, we were ready for dessert: banana cream pie, and brownie ice cream sundaes. Mmmm!

Then Eli used his 2018 Christmas Spotify station and played us some lovely Christmas music, while we opened presents. We had drawn names, so everyone got one gift with a $15 limit. The goal is the joy of giving to each other, as we remember the reason we celebrate Christmas, and not to break anyone's budget in the middle of summer.

Here are some pics of the festivities:

Shulamith, opening her Bath and Body Works candle 

Amanda opening her expansion pack to "What Do You Meme?"

Eli opening a fan for his new classroom

The next day, me wearing my new dress, complete with pockets so I can teach Gospel Doctrine

Now hard as this may be to believe, not everyone loves Halfway Christmas as much as we do. I know, right? But Isaiah and Matt are definitely not into it, so they didn't draw names or buy presents. Instead, Isaiah spent some bonding time with Shulamith's baby, Theodore, teaching him the correct way to play video games:

And we never celebrated Matt's birthday in May, so we took the opportunity to give him his very belated birthday present:

Merry Halfway Christmas, everyone! Oh wait, you don't celebrate Halfway Christmas?  Well, you have a whole year to remedy that. Talk to your family. Plan now for Halfway Christmas 2020. You won't regret it.