hike to the hollywood sign

We actually got much closer. This is on our way up. WELL worth it. The view of LA is spectacular!

reality check

Why is it that, after being gone for TEN GLORIOUS DAYS to Southern California, I am not happy to be home again? As we drove the looong drive home yesterday, I asked the family if they felt ready to go home. They all unanimously exclaimed that, although they had a fabulous time, they were all ready to be home. I followed this up with, "What is wrong with ME?! Why am I the only one who is so NOT ready for this vacation to be over?" John's reply, "Because, honey, you want to live in a fantasy world and you now have to leave your little fantasy world and you don't like it."

Sometimes the truth hurts.

Well, my "little fantasy world," which is now left behind in the dust, includes the following:

*Palm trees

*85 degree weather

*No snow

*No inversion

*Finding a secluded lagoon on the beach in Corona Del Mar and having the whole thing to ourselves (which, by the way, included an entire army of pelicans).

*Eating my morning Cherrios on the balcony of our Marriott in Newport Beach whilst gazing out at the whales swimming up the Pacific.  (Well, I didn't actually see the whales but I'm positive they were there.  Somewhere.)

*Hiking up to the Hollywood sign.

*Feasting on the most delectable frozen yogurt at "PinkBerry" in Hollywood.

*Disneyland/California Adventure for 2 days. (Okay, I know, I know, more days would have been even better, but I can only do so much, people!)

*No lines for Space Mountain (walk on, ride, walk off, walk on, ride, walk off....).

*The Tower of Terror. Possibly the best ride EVER invented.

*The Enchanted Tiki Room. Need I say more about this beloved Disney icon?!

*Being on the Indiana Jones ride and having it STOP in the middle of our ride, having all the lights in the building go ON, sitting there in our jeep for 20 minutes while they try to fix the problem, then the ride starting up again but the lights staying ON and NO sound for the rest of the ride. The BOMB!

*Eating out every single night (except one). No prep. No clean-up. Does life really get any better than that?!

*Legoland (but withOUT the rain. Please.)

* Eating the BIG muffins from Costco and not feeling One. Ounce. Of. Guilt.


As I type this, I reluctantly look out my window at the snow, blanketing my lawn, with the current temperature at 21 degrees.

Good-bye fantasy world, hello reality.

my baby is T.W.E.N.T.Y.

How can it be?! I now have a child who is beyond her teens. Today Brooke is 20-years-old. Twenty. Do you hear me? TWENTY!!

I reminded her last night that when I was her age I had been married for almost a year and was only 3 months away from being pregnant with her! The reality of those facts, well, let's just say........ *whispers* it freaks her out.

Brooke is an amazing child, er, I mean woman! (Sigh...) She is so full of compassion. She is patient with her siblings (well, not necessarily with Raegan but that's a whole different story). She is a hard worker and as her dad describes her, "Brooke is a machine." She plays the flute and piano like nobody's business. Brooke is not afraid of adventure, and is doing a great job of seeing the world while she can. I also must mention that one of the best things about her is she doesn't even mind when people think that she and I (her mother) are sisters!! It happens ALL the time! *tee hee* You are such a good sport, Brooke :o)

And.......she ran a marathon. Can you get any better than that?! A mar-a-thon, people.

She has certainly picked the right profession to go into - elementary education. She will be the teacher that all the moms want their child to have! She is a natural - patient, loves children, and is pretty dang smart! (Did I get all of my quotation marks and periods and in the right places Brooke?) She just loves to correct me.

6-months-old

20-years-old

Birthday dinner of "Bang Bang Chicken and
Shrimp" (divine!) at The Cheesecake Factory.

(THANK YOU Cheesecake Factory people for finally responding to my many emails and phone calls and finally giving us a long-overdue, well-deserved Cheesecake Factory in the glorious state of Utah! I am sure that you are thinking....."We should have listened to that woman years ago!"  I know, I know, who would have known that a Cheesecake Factory in Utah would garnish a 4-hour-wait for its customers?! Yes, you should have listened to me years ago.)

The birthday cake made by dad.

(And no, we were not confused thinking that Brooke was actually 137-years-old. See, we are birthday-candle unprepared at our house on a regular basis but, being the creative people that we are, we can always come up with something. 13 + 7 = 20. It works, trust me.)

Happy birthday Brooke. We love you to pieces!

have you ever wondered (#4)......

......what it would be like to go to a New Year's Eve David Archuleta concert? And what it would be like to have the best spot in the house - standing right against the stage front and center? And what it would be like to have at least two-thousand screaming tween and teenage girls behind you pushing, pushing, PUSHING you against the stage until you knew that, at any moment, your pelvis was going to crush into a million pieces? All this while you are forced to listen, for 2 1/2 hours, to the most obnoxiously insane LOUD rap music (and watching annoying break dancers) while waiting for David to come out and grace you with his glorious voice, and the whole time thinking to yourself, "I hate this. I hate this. I hate this!", but knowing that you are doing this for your daughter and that she will forever be indebted to you for your willingness to sacrifice your pelvis (and any hope to ever bear another child).

Have you ever really wondered?

Well, I don't wonder anymore. Now I know.

Ashley Tisdale (with some guy's tie and 2 unknown girls) was supposed to be the "host" of the concert. She came out after David was gone and was there for about 30 seconds. Literally. She introduced the next band and POOF! she was gone.

I have hope that my ears will stop ringing within the next week. Or two.