I got a phone call early this afternoon.

     It was Kristi, and I could hear her grin through the phone.

     “Guess what?!?!”  she (practically) shrieked.  “They found my backpack!  They have my backpack!  It’s at the police station and I can go get it!”

     I instantly broke into my version of the happy dance, which, if you saw it would remind you more of the potty dance, but whatever.  There was dancing.  There was celebrating.  There were even tears.

     Someone found it next to the canal that runs behind the elementary school that is across the street from our neighborhood.  Everything inside was wet (most things were soaked, thanks to the solid week of rain we’ve gotten), but most of it is salvageable. They had gone through everything and dumped it into one huge (extremely soggy) pile, but aside from a few credit cards, three DVDs, some cash and a little change (okay, about 2 pounds of change) and her laptop, it was all there… plus some snails.  Being the heroic sister that I am, I picked them off and threw them into the street.  (Okay, one.  I picked one off.)  I know that there weren’t snails in her bag when it was stolen, so wasn’t it nice of Mother Nature to leave her a little something to make up for what was taken?

     Even the zip drive was there, completely dry and unaffected.

     A lot of people prayed for her during the last week, and just the other day I told her that if you went by  my kids’ prayers alone, her backpack should sprout wings and fly through her bedroom window. 

     Of course, this way was good, too.  It was a happy, happy day.

     We were sitting in Sacrament Meeting this afternoon when the clouds rolled in and it started to pour.  Anthony was sleepily cradled in my arms, and at the quietest part of the meeting, we saw a flash of light through the windows and heard a loud clap of thunder.

     Because we’re idiots  Because it’s a habit we started ten years ago, we sit on the very front row in the chapel.  Imagine the delight of the rest of the ward sitting behind us when Alex and Kendra heard the thunder, giggled gleefully and Alex jumped to his feet and pumped his fist in victory.  Hannah shrieked in mock terror, and Anthony opened his eyes wide for a minute, before smiling a drowsy grin and saying, “Awesome.”  Loudly.

     That was pretty much how my kids spent the remainder of the meeting– listening for thunder, watching for lightning (or “strips of bacon”) (yeah, don’t ask), giving the occasional high-five when the rumbling was particularly noisy, and giggling –loudly– about how cool it was. 

     It was cool, even I have to admit.  (I don’t remember ever being in church during a thunderstorm, so it was a new experience for all of us.)

     It was also embarrassing. 

     My kids are heathens. 

     We just got back from our anniversary dinner date (Goodwood BBQ and Star Trek).

     Yum and yuh-huh-huh-huh-mmm.

     Never having been much of a fan of ANY of the Star Trek realms (except for Generations…  for some reason, I LOVED that movie!), I have to admit that my interest was peaked way back in January when I saw him in a Star Trek commercial:

(Oh, Sylar, you bad, bad man.)(Also, the casting director was PURE GENIUS.)

     Then I saw the trailer in April, and I told Kenny that I actually might consider seeing it.  Maybe even for our anniversary.

     I have seen a lot of really unpleasant movies in the name of our anniversary.  (Gladiator, anyone?)  Thank you, J.J. Abrams, for giving me a movie I could enjoy, even if my reasons were completely different from my husband’s.

(You’re welcome.)

     I have jumped into the cult of Trek with both feet. 

     Live long and prosper.       l\/l

I love this video.  I think I’ve watched it ten times, and I am still giggling about it.

Hers is the sort of experience that would happen to me.  I am famous for getting excited about something and having it blow up in my face.  (Or fold…  hee.)

Enjoy.

When you burn a girl a CD, she will listen to it every single moment she is awake.

After she has listened to it approximately 25 times, she will ask you to print off the lyrics for each song.

After you print off the lyrics, she will sing along.

As she sings along, you begin to pick up the lyrics as well.

After you can sing every song on the CD, some phrases begin to stick out.

As you ponder those phrases, you begin to apply them to certain life experiences.

Those life experiences remind you of other songs, which makes you go to i-Tunes and download them.

After you’ve downloaded those other songs, your daughter hears them and asks you to burn her a new CD.

And, when you burn a girl a CD, she will listen to it every single moment she is awake.

     Currently, I am stuck on a small phrase from Jason Mraz’s song “I’m Yours” that goes

I reckon it’s again my turn to win some or learn some.

     Now, I really love this song.  Love, love love love looooove…  Besides its cute island vibe and catchy tune, I love the message that you have to step forward to meet life with arms wide open, letting go of your rigid expectations and making the best of what you’re given.

     I have decided that from this point on, whether than saying “win or lose” at my house, we’re adopting “win or learn”.  Isn’t that a great philosophy?  Earlier today, Hannah and Anthony and I played a game of Candyland, which is what sparked this whole thought process.  (Did you hear the scream when Anthony lost?  I know it was probably muffled by thunder, but still…  that kid has LUNGS.)  The first thing that popped into my head was this song.  (Truthfully, the first thing I thought was, “Oh, honestly.”  Followed immediately by, “My EARS!!!  My HEAD!!!”)  We had the good-sport discussion, and while he’s three and completely uninterested in the whole “it’s just fun to play” thing, I still tried to teach him that his participation was more important than who got to King Candy the fastest.

     (You know, because “learn” is the hopeful outcome of “teach”.)

     The point I’m trying to make is, every day presents a new set of experiences for me to navigate through.  The days that seem to go best for me are the days I open up my mind and open up my plans and just enjoy the day’s offerings.  When something goes wrong, or something unexpected comes up, if I look at it from a “what can I learn” perspective**, rather than labeling it a disaster, then there should be more “win” days and less “learn” ones.  Either that, or I’ll just be the most learned mother alive.

     Which is also a win, right?

(View the “I’m Yours” video here.)

     Fourteen. 

     You may think it’s the age of my emotional maturity, or the number of times I start a sentence- and a paragraph!- with the word “and” in my posts.  (I DO know better.  However, in my opinion, technical writing and blog writing don’t really belong in the same space, unless you’re writing a technical blog.)  Perhaps you’re counting my parenthetical asides, but you’d be mistaken.

     Today is my fourteenth wedding anniversary.  (HOLY COW!)

     Fourteen years ago I met the love of my life in front of the Jordan River Temple, where we were sealed for time and all eternity.  Fourteen years has seen five pregnancies, four children, three moves, two cities and one heck of a lot of memories.  I wish I had pictures to post of us from fourteen years ago, when I was thin(ner) and Kenny had (more) hair.  We looked like babies, and it makes my kids giggle with delight to look through the wedding album.  (I give it about four years before they’re giggling less at how young we look and more at the style of my wedding dress, which, for the record, was AWESOME.)

     Anyway…

     Fourteen years ago we left our reception and headed to Park City, where we stayed overnight in Kenny’s brother’s boss’ condo on our way to Jackson Hole/Yellowstone, which was also AWESOME as a honeymoon destination.  (What wasn’t awesome?  Coming home from the temple ceremony to find I had started the world’s heaviest period.)  In spite of that (or because of it?) we saw live shows, explored national parks, went horseback riding, watched movies and ate pizza in our hotel room, toured museums, shopped ourselves broke and reveled in the novelty of being our own family, with no one to report to, and felt only slightly guilty about all the fun we were having.

     (I thought about putting a comment in here about what we weren’t having, but I changed my mind.  *blush*  Too much information, you know?  And after all, it’s a family blog.)

     So, we had planned to celebrate our anniversary this Saturday by begging someone to tend our little heathens kids, going out to dinner and seeing Star Trek  (*drool*).  That’s still the plan, but Kenny decided that tonight deserved some celebrating, too.  He’s getting off work an hour early, picking up take-out, and then we’ll watch a movie or SYTYCD, and one of us (me) will probably (definitely) fall asleep.

     Which is similar to how we spent our wedding night.  One of us (nervously) went to change into a pretty nightgown, and came out of the bathroom to find the other one passed out on the bed, fully dressed and completely unarousable.  (I totally made that word up, but it’s perfect.) 

     I’m so happy to have continued our anniversary tradition these fourteen years!  (I’m just considerate that way.  And not at all bitter.  Payback’s a… well, you know.)

     All kidding aside, though, Happy Anniversary, Kenny!  I’m so glad you asked!  I’m so glad I said yes!

     So, that funny post you were waiting for is not going to happen tonight.

     I have four fun guests from Ohio in my house overnight, and while three of them are asleep, the best one of all and I are going to chatter well into the night.

     Catch you tomorrow! 

(Lest you flog me verbally for suggesting such a thing, I want to defend my title choice by saying it was a comment response to my sister’s Facebook status, and it was one of the only things that made me giggle today.  I don’t actually think people should steal from ANYBODY, or anything.  Fair enough?

Carry on.)

     I had hoped to write something funny and/or charming for today’s post, but the morning got off to a rough start, and instead of cute, you get scary, gritty and sad.

     (You  may be asking yourself why you continue to read my blog, and I assure you that very soon, I will be back to my usual witty and hilarious self.  Perhaps even by tomorrow.)

     This morning started off the way Mondays usually do– my alarm went off at 4:30 AM, I staggered to the front door to unlock it, rubbed my eyes, got a drink and waited for Kristi to walk in with Abbie.  Right on cue, at 4:35 the door opened, Kristi carried Abbie inside, took off her sweater, kissed her, put her in the playpen and said goodbye, then walked out the door.  Abbie fussed for a minute, and I told her it would be okay, that Mommy was going to work and would be back soon, and I reached behind me to dim the lamp.

     All of this took three minutes.  Five, tops, but that’s stretching it.

     Suddenly, the front door flew open, swinging so hard it slammed into the door stop.  Kristi yelled, “Call 911!  I’ve just been robbed!”

     Sure that she was playing a joke on me, I asked, “Are you serious?”

     “Yes, I’m serious.  They broke into the Jeep.  Get on the phone and call the cops, NOW!!!”  (She used the scary evil voice, similar to the ones laboring women use when they want pain medication.) (*waving to Kristi*  I love you!!!)

     I don’t even remember getting the phone, but within seconds I had dialed 9-1-1 and was standing on my dewy front lawn with bare feet, watching my little sister chasing after the man she saw with her laptop case and yelling at him to give it back.  I talked to the dispatch officer, who took my information, her description, and assured me that police were already in the area and would be there shortly.  (My favorite question from the conversation:  “Was there a weapon?”  My answer:  “Well, my sister’s an EMT.  With her level of training, I can’t imagine she took off after someone if there was a weapon present.”  Kristi’s later response:  “Safety training FAIL.  I didn’t even stop to consider a weapon– I just wanted to body-tackle him.”  Niiiiiice.)  Almost immediately after I hung up, a police car drove around the corner, followed by three other black-and-whites with searchlights and an unmarked SUV.

     The absolute freakiest part of the whole ordeal was standing in my front yard and listening to the thieves rustle around in my backyard and my neighbor’s backyard, knowing that I was helpless to do anything to stop them or to retrieve Kristi’s belongings.  Of course, when I called out for an officer to head in my direction, the rustling stopped temporarily, and by the time the officer got over the fence, the thieves were gone.  The night just swallowed them up.  I never realized how black it is at 4:45 AM, especially in our tree-lined, bush-filled neighborhood.

     Had it not been such a devastating situation, I would have said it was pretty freaking awesome to see the patrol cars split up the way they did and search the entire neighborhood with their mounted spotlights.  Like, wake-your-kids-up-to-see-it awesome.  Instead, I woke Kenny, who stood at the wide-open front door in his– ahem– garments.  (That’s Mormon underwear for anyone not familiar with the term.)  After flashing him with their brights TWICE, for every subsequent trip around the block (and there were several), the policemen dimmed the lights past our house, and fired them up again as soon as they passed the driveway.

     (For a man who watches COPS religiously, you’d think my husband would have a little more…  um…  awareness about something like standing at the door in your underwear, but yeah…  no.)

     Finally an officer pulled up to the driveway and said that several cars in the neighborhood had been hit, and that they were doing a sweep of parked cars to figure out if one of them happened to be the dump site for all the stolen loot.  The police didn’t find anything, and I think it’s because Kristi surprised the thieves and spooked them into leaving the area.  (I believe the final count was something like 10 auto break-ins.  Probably closer to 15, but several went unreported.)

     They got away with her brand new laptop, her wallet, her backpack full of college textbooks, study materials, lecture notes, court papers, the zip drive containing the past 18 months worth of notes about her ex and the custody battle, church information and a change of clothes.  We don’t expect to see any of it again, although we’re stupidly optimistic, and Kristi spent the rest of the day changing accounts and replacing her IDs.

     She is strong, that one.  Stronger than I would have been.

     Still, you had better believe that when she pulls up tomorrow, I’ll be waiting for her on the front porch.

     You know what I love?  Cloudy, overcast days.

     You know what else I love?  Long naps after church.

     You know what makes a rainy, overcast day of church and lengthy naps even better?  Watching a family-friendly movie* together on a new couch in a dark basement.

     Aaaaah, Sunday.

*Igor.  Funny for children AND parents.

     I wanted to post pictures of the twirly skirts I made for Kendra and Hannah.  They were really easy, even for a novice like me, and my girls love them!  Kendra wore hers for Friday’s talent show, and Hannah can’t wait to wear hers to church tomorrow.

     I printed off step-by-step directions (with pictures!) from this website.  When I make these in the future (I’m even considering one for me!), I will make them just a few inches longer to compensate for the “twirl” factor and inevitable underwear flash, but other than that, the pattern was perfect.