Pride goes before the Burn

I got home last night from a fantastic Idahoan excursion that lasted almost a week at the Spaulding family Reunion in Twin Falls and few days relaxing up at my parents' cabin. I had a great time catching up with cousins, gorging myself on the best dutchoven ever, and helping the Yellow team come in third in the first ever Spaulding Olympics. (Yeah, there were only 4 teams ;) However, much like Reese's favorite bedtime book, Little Pea, there was one thing I did not like: the Raging, Burning, Relay of Death.

Granted, that's not the official name, and while the view was fantastic, it unfortunately sent my trash to the curb with the swiftest and most effective of kicks.

A little background, here. To finish off a day of olympic events- frisbee golf, karaoke competitions, and a rubix cube challenge to name a few- we were driven to the base of a mountain, and five from each team waited patiently for their turn to carry the colored baton to victory. In all fairness, I should mention here, that my cousin Josh- our team captain- gave me the option to back out, but I thought to myself- no way! I'm in shape! I go running, and a quarter mile is nothing- I do that no problem at home! So he gave me Anchor, aka, the last leg and home stretch of the race. No pressure.

As I waited for my turn, I looked ahead and felt the beginning of a knot forming in my stomach. It looked pretty steep. But I reminded myself that it wasn't too far- just up the hill, around the curve and through the finish line.

I should probably mention that I have a pride issue, and this isn't the only time it's gotten me into trouble. In the MTC I very nearly died trying to keep up with a marathon runner during workout time (for the record I found out about the marathons AS we were running), but my stubborn pride wouldn't let me beg off- even though her starting pace was pretty close to my finishing sprint. Had I not been a missionary (promised protection, you know) I'm pretty sure my number would have been up that day.

Anyway, fast-forward to when I get the baton.

I take off running and think, "Yes! See? I can totally do this- easy peasy!" Yeah, and then, brick wall. Burning like I've never known hit my chest. You see, the hill was probably about a 10% grade, and the elevation something around 7,000 feet. Great Falls is around 3,000. Slight difference there. All I could think was, "Keep moving! And whatever you do, don't be last!" Pride. It's a killer.

Right about that time I look over and see my nephew Broc on the sideline. I can see the finish line up ahead and even though it's pretty close it seems like I'll never make it. Broc sees me and yells out,

"Aunt Molly! I got stung!!!"

At the same time I hear my cousin Jeep coming up behind me, closing in to take Third and leave me where I really don't want to be: Last.

Moral delema.

Realizing that if I stopped now, I would never get up the momentum to take on the last stretch of that mountain. But, being the loving Aunt that I am, somewhere in the midst of my pain I knew the poor kid needed some love and attention. So, I did the only thing I could, I kept running and yelled out,

"Come on Broc, run with me- up to the top, come on! Just shake that one off buddy, you can do it!"

Now before you go thinking I'm a terrible person, you should know that he just touched some stinging nettle and a little hydrocortizone fixed him right up. And, being the sweet kid he is, he didn't hold it against me.

Yeah, ok, so maybe I haven't got the pride thing all worked out yet, but we did get third, and despite the death-like burning in my chest and desire to throw up once I reached the top, I felt pretty good. But that was mostly because I knew I was getting a ride back down.

Mese and I at the top of the Mountain

And here are a few pics from the rest of the reunion--

After being in camp only a few hours it was hard to distinguish Reese from the trail

Flip flop lines. Don't you love her chubby little feet?!

Posing with Grandma and Grandpa

Reese and her cousin Nathan who is a day younger. They weren't really sure what to make of each other.

Making 'burritos' with my cousin Jill's daughter, Railey

Reese, Grandpa, and Broc

The Yellow Team shooting pop cans with Nerf Guns in the Olympics

Reese persuading Grandpa to share a little more of his cobbler

To Build a Fire

Don't worry about the title. I never much cared for Jack London- in fact, I blame Call of the Wild for my first detention- so this post won't be analyzing his short story. This is the video I promised a few days ago- I actually figured it out- yay for me!

And now, here's Ryan, showing off some wilderness skills for your fire-building enjoyment.

Skinny Jeans

I took a few hours off from playing mom last night to go shopping, and while gathering a pile of possibilities I accidentally picked up a pair of 'skinny jeans'. I couldn't help bursting out laughing in the dressing room when I got them on because in a matter of seconds I was transported back to 1988 when I remembered feeling the exact same way about my reflection:


"Umm. . . I don't think I look like the girl in the picture. And I feel. . . uncomfortably exposed."


There's something wrong with a style when even the six-year-olds refuse to come out of the dressing room. Honestly! Did anyone like them the first time around? So, needless to say, I folded the pants back up and plopped them down on the discard pile- at least I got a great laugh out of it! Thank heavens now is the time of any style, and we can turn our noses up to those we never liked or understood.

I recently bought a book titled The Science of Sexy and I absolutely love it.




Bradley Bayou is a well-known celebrity designer who gives the ins and outs of body shape and size and the do's and don'ts of each. Measure yourself, find your shape and size on the chart and head over to your "dressing room" where he tells you just what cut, color, and style look best on you. There's even a glossary in the back where he explains just what a godet skirt is, the difference between stovepipe and straightleg pants, and tons of other terms that, if you're like me, you've heard before but don't have a clue what they are or what they do.

Love it- you should definitely check it out!

Take a left at the Bison and straight on thru to the black bear.

Last week Ryan and I jetted down to my parents to drop our little munchkin off for a few days while we celebrated our anniversary hiking through Yellowstone. We had a BLAST! We feel like National Park addicts, and have pretty much decided that before we die, we will have visited all of them.

Since I was little, my family visited Yellowstone pretty much every year, but somehow I have never really seen the eastern side. So that's where we focused for the two days we were there; we camped in Canyon (by utter chance we happened to snag the last campsite in this gorgeous, secluded area) and spent our time hiking around Artist's Point and through the Lamar River Valley. This was seriously some of the most beautiful country I have ever seen. And like so many others this summer, we saw so many animals! I had pretty much decided that bears in Yellowstone were just a myth, until we saw both a black and grizzly bear. We saw antelope, moose, and buffalo by the dozens- one even parked itself in the middle of our hike, forcing us to take a wide detour off the trail. Here are some pictures to tell the story.

Artist's Point

Here's the little Black bear- unfortunately hiding his face behind some grass

It reminded me of how I used to beg my parents for a Black Bear as a pet-

"But I'll teach him to be nice. . . "

Somehow the animals seemed to enjoy their moment with the paparazzi- this deer posed for about 15 minutes while passing hikers snapped shots from only about 10 feet away.

After a long day of hiking and picture-taking, we settled into our campsite and Ryan finally showed me his mad fire-making skills. He gives demonstrations at the Lewis and Clark center on a daily basis, and he’s gotten really good at it. It was so much fun to watch him. Smart, handsome and rugged- I totally scored!

Ryan's Fire


Hot pots.


Looks superimposed, doesn't it? Well its not!

In the Lamar River Valley

Happy Anniversary to US!

Ha, I just realized that my title is a lovely little play on words. Both the good old U S of A and my awesome hubby and I celebrated our anniversaries this weekend. And they were both fantastic.

We started the Fourth with a little Stars and Stripes breakfast- yeah, the bananas look more like flowers than stars, but maybe if you squint. . .



Since Ry had to work, and Reese decided to take a monster nap (no complaints here), I spent most of the day playing Pastry Chef. As a young child (this is pathetic, I know) I fell in love with a tv show called Cooking at the Academy. The Academy was actually a Culinary Institute of America, and I remember drooling over their professional jackets and perfectly pleated tokes. In fact, I still have the little recipe cards I wrote my favorite things down on- they were things like how to make chocolate teacups with tuile cookie spoons, and spun sugar birds' nests. What can I say, I was a quirky kid (my family will back me up on that one) who knew exactly what she wanted to do for the rest of her life.

Anyway, ever since then I've been wanting to make spun sugar myself. My culinary classes barely skimmed the surface of all the fun sugar work, and so, with my husband gone, and my two-year-old terror asleep, I celebrated Independence Day by going crazy with a pot of caramel.

And I had so much fun I almost cried.

Later that night, we ran out to the backyard to enjoy a little air and within a matter of seconds, were in the middle of a torrential downpour. We toughed it out for a few minutes, but Reese has a thing with getting wet, and apparently she didn't want anyone else to suffer either because even once we were sitting up on the porch she kept sobbing, "Daddy, TOES!!!" His feet were hanging over the steps and drops of rain were pelting them all over.

We opted to stay home for the fireworks show, and I'm so glad we did. We had a PERFECT view from our front window, and the combination of these fireworks being the best we have seen yet and the fact that we didn't have to deal with crowd control on the way home made it an excellent way to ring in our own anniversary. Which was simply wonderful.

To my Ryan,

I can't believe we've been married for 3 years, the time has absolutely flown by.

I've never laughed so much,

been so crazy and spontaneous,

had so many car problems,

found so much joy in pinning or pushing someone off the bed,

or been so completely happy as I have since I met you.

You rock my world, baby. I love you.

The Lewis and Clark Festival

This last weekend was quite the tadoo (sp?) down at the Lewis and Clark Center- it was the annual L&C Festival which meant all sorts of fun and activities for kids and parents alike, live rattlesnakes (which I thought was a little strange since, normally, we avoid them at all costs) and a serious sunburn for Ryan. People with our skin weren't meant for all-day sun exposure.

To boot, we had my parents up visiting for the weekend. We had a great time, and showed off all the Great Falls hot spots. ;)

Here are some pics from the weekend!

This was the weaponry tent- they showed all the rifles, guns etc that the Expedition used, including shooting off an Air Rifle.

This was the Medicine tent- gotta say, I'm SOOOO glad we live now. The basic cure-all for the members of the expedition was something that came to be know as Rush's Thunderbolts- a mix of Mercury, Jalepeno oil, and a few other things. I think I would have kept any sickness to myself to keep from getting cleaned out like that!

Mom and Dad getting into the spirit of things.

Reesey liked the rocks.

I love a man in uniform!

Our Indian Princess