Life without stuff

We have no pictures right now because we can't find our camera. We are living at Mom's on the bare bones: diapers, wet wipes, and a few pairs of clothes each. Amazingly, we are living in style! Mom cooks us the best food, fresh from the garden, the kids enjoy running wild and jumping on the trampoline constantly, and we're enjoying our life without stuff. Truthfully, we deal constantly with our stuff as we work on remodeling the house. We have cabinets in the kitchen now and will soon put in the countertops. Things are looking great! As soon as we can find our camera, we'll post some pictures.

Capital Reef

We forgot to take our camera with us, (stupid, stupid, stupid!!!) but we had an incredible vacation. The salmon rock rising up, sun busting from behind, makes me wonder how everyone doesn't just live there. Why did Brigham Young have to say "This is the place?" I would much rather have that be the place. Then we could find work there. As it is, I think we're stuck up north if we'd like to feed our family. Not that it's not beautiful here too. It just isn't so dramatic.
Joseph drove down with Eric, so I got to drive with my parents and Chelane. I felt like a kid again. Chelane will be living with us at Mom and Dad's while we work on our new house, and I can't wait to spend more time with her.
The best part of the whole camp-out was how well our kids slept. I don't think we've ever had better camping nights. Elsie says she didn't sleep at night, but just faked it so she wouldn't wake us up. She's convinced that, since she wakes up a few times each night, she never really sleeps. I think we would know if that were happening!

They've left the nest . . .

We left the nest for a few days to enjoy Capital Reef, and when we came back, there were still five little birds in the nest, but they looked very mature. The next day when we checked on them, there were only two, and the next day, only the mom was living in the nest. How ironic- or symbolic- however you'd like to see it- that this happened on the eve of our move! No one even guessed that we had birds on the door, but my pictures make it look like the whole thing was just plastered with poop.

Now they are chirping every 15 minutes! If you ignore the poop, they're pretty cool!

After 9 long months, our home is finally under contract!

We've had our house for sale since a week or two before the sub-prime mortgage market went sour. There are hundreds of homes for sale in our neighborhood just like ours and only a few sell every month, so we feel pretty lucky to have our home under contract. I guess it isn't luck because we simply lowered the price until it was a great deal. We have loved our neighborhood and ward and had 6 awesome years here; now we're excited to move on and have fun making another house "home." I have a dirty little secret: today is the first day my house has been messy in months!

The pet birds on our front door

We have avoided using our front door so that these little chickies could hatch. The mom sings a lot, but we haven't heard them peeping yet. They are obviously pooping though.

Let's hear it for the gar-babes.

I have a soft spot for garbage men. It all started when I was eating lunch with a good friend and looking out the kitchen window. I had a widow friend living across the street, and her home was in the line of sight. Our attention was diverted from the conversation as the garbage truck approached, a large, formal affair. The mechanical hand reached out to clasp the can and hefted it into the air. After unloading the junk inside, the hand jerked as it let down the can, and a shower of garbage flipped into the air, caught on the lid. As the crud rained down on the street, I imagined my elderly friend stooping down to clean up. But the truck stopped, and a small man in a blue suit stepped out and meticulously picked up each piece of refuse. Even down to a pile of grass clippings. My friend and I were amazed and quickly pulled out the phone book to call his supervisor. I hope he heard our raving compliments.
Another great garbage man we've had is our recycling man. He comes, without fail, around 7:00 a.m. on Friday morning, and since recycling pick-up is only every other week, I frequently forget to put out the trash. At the time, we were the only family on the street with recycling, so he had to come to our street especially for us. One week, I heard him coming and quickly ran out to the yard, still in my pajamas, and he waited while I placed the garbage can on the street. Two weeks later, when I forgot again, he got out of his truck and took the can to the curb himself. He helped us a number of times. His last time was a week ago. We were sitting on the couch doing our morning reading when I heard the truck and jumped up.
The garbage man was about to go on when he saw me and stopping, rolled down his window. "Just leave it on the sidewalk. I can get it there." The huge claw reached out to grab the can, and above the roar of the truck, the man kept talking. He was nice-looking with a dark beard and jolly eyes- just as I'd imagined. Santa in reverse- he who comes in the early morning hours to take your worst nightmares away! "This is my last week here working this city," he yelled. "Now that recycling is mandatory, I'm assigned to another area. I've been working here for years!" I waved good-bye, and as I ran into the house, I remembered my last days in an area of my mission, going around trying to say good-bye to all the people I had grown to love, and whose life would go on without a change when I was gone. There will still be a garbage man to pick up my trash, but it will be another. And my Fridays will be no different. But his will. And he, just like any other person, needs to know he is appreciated and say good-bye after his years of service. So let's hear it for the Friday morning garbage man.