I don't care. I love it.

I dread laundry day. Who doesn't? Laundry day at our house means Mc's favorite outfit of choice is clean and ready for the wearing. There is no convincing, no deterring. She would wear this every day if I would let her. The shorts are my favorite. Too small, rocking the Britney Spears exposed pockets. The shirt is one of those classy "burn out" shirts- Costco special. It kind of matches but not quite. Sometimes, she even goes so far as to dig it from the bottom of the laundry basket to wear it again. Mark is the "wear whatever you want" parent so on the weekends, hair untethered and options open you never know what you are going to get. We all have our favorites. And on that note, have you ever noticed when you get new clothes, say Christmas and you begin to rotate in the new stuff, what did you wear before? How did you ever look presentable in public before you got new stuff? Life's conundrum.

Hot Rods

Mark and I made a quick trip to pick up the newest member of our family this weekend. We made the drive all the way to Kingman, Arizona to pick up this little gem, a 1959 PV544 Volvo. We left Friday afternoon and broke up the drive by staying with Opa and Geri in St. George. We had delicious omelets for dinner, Opa shared stories of his immigration to Utah from Germany and we chatted until late.

Saturday morning we made the drive into Kingman. Man, what a dumpy little town! I was told it was the hot rod capital of the world but let's not forget, the Unabomber also hailed from Kingman. Mr. Alan Frost was waiting for our arrival and there she was, begging us to take her away from the 6 dogs, hourly screeching of  trains and 115 degree weather that was threatening to permanently ruin her already fading paint.  

She should be a fun little project and Mark is already scheming what she will look like when she is done. We both always wanted a Sunday Driver and cool car to take on dates. Miss Luy Frost should fit the bill perfectly.

The last time she was registered was in January 1980, California. Her namesake, Luy after her plates and Frost after the dude we bought the car from.



Mark and Alan Frost. I appreciated his loose fitting, half buttoned plaid shirt and that he lovingly tucked his greasy pony tail into his hat. He told some off colored stories and shared his political views all free of charge while I waited for Mark to load the car.



Her little smile was rather heart warming.

I had originally not planned on coming on this trip however; Mark knows me too well and with the lure of Rod Stewart, I was in 100%. So after getting Luy on the trailer, we drove back to Vegas to get ready for Rod. We decided to eat at the Caesar's Palace buffet (since Rod was playing in the Colloseum) and it was delish. I ALMOST tried my first oyster on the half shell- rather put off by the smell. I made up for it by eating a plate stuffed full of jumbo shrimp and King Crab. Another plate full of sushi and spring rolls. Another plate with truffled gratin potatoes and Kobe beef sliders. And finally, a plate of dessert. Now, the rest of the buffet was memorable but the dessert- off the chain. The crème brulee, all the fancy little samplers of custards, cobblers, gourmet cupcakes, cookies and pies. There was a station making fresh crepes, a serve yourself candy bar, gelato and these amazing little treats on sticks. It was worth every penny.

On to my highlight of the trip- Hot Rod,  who put on an excellent show! There was a whole section of seating not full so the usher told us we could move about 10 rows closer so that we did. Rod was classy and well dressed (even down to his snazzy socks). He did however forget the words in "Young Turks" and had to take a break about every other song- I said to fix his hair, Mark said he was taking a nap. All in all, a good show and one I was happy to check off the list.

I would say they were too pretty to eat but I would be lying.

Horrible picture taken by a dude that had never used a Smartphone.

Rod (we're now on a first name basis) kicked soccer balls into the crowd and had quite the foot- this one came to the 2nd Mezzanine but, so unluckily landed with a guy who was drunk, kept taking off his clothes and pelvic thrusting everything. He was nice enough to let me take a picture.

Rod & his saxophone player.

The Gorge that's Flaming

I have some pretty fond memories of going to Flaming Gorge in my youth- Ashlee cutting a giant "F" into her arm jumping out of Grandpa's truck, Ben falling in the creek 12 times in one day, no teeth brushing for 3 days and a travesty of a hair do because let's face it, the "claw" bang was never meant to survive camping.

This year, with a rental tent trailer as an enticement (Thanks, Bree), we headed up to make some memories with our own kids. We had a blast! The weather was awesome and the day on the pontoon was unforgettable. We visited Vernal, rode in canoes at the lodge, played Phase 10 and stayed up late listening to the rain and thunder.

The kids were in heaven. Kingston could be found throwing things in the creek close to camp, hiding under the trailer or using some piece of wood he found as a "hammer". Mc was content to carry a fishing pole, shoot the BB gun with uncle Ty Ty or to color, make up songs or dance with her BFF Brynlee.

Although I prefer a night in the Marriott, Troop Beverly Hills style, I found the camp fire smell, filthy raga-muffin children and bang-free easiness of camping enjoyable and something we would sign up to do again.

The Three Amigos

Uncle Ty Ty introducing the children to firearms.

Listening for the thunder and watching the lightning.

A nice comfy spot in the dirt.



The only thing I have ever caught with a fishing pole in my life is a muddy sock. I was very pleased to have the first catch of the day (illegally). Small, thrown back, but a triumph nonetheless.

The Crew on the Pontoon.

The world's largest marshmallow. Mc was rather disappointed with the mallow to chocolate ratio.

Hiding under the trailer.

Dueces.

Kingston is two. As I was stuck in the woods for a week for Girl's Camp, this post is coming a little late.
Our baby is a toddler. Terrible two's are in full swing. The obsession with motorcycles, "copters" and Chicka Chicka Boom Boom  proves we are dealing with a full blown little boy.

As a 2 year old, what we love about you:
- that you call owls "Who Whos"
- all books have to be removed from your room or else they will be torn to shreds.
- you have to sleep with a "cycle" and a "copter" at both nap and bedtime.
- we are binkie free! Once you started biting them in half, we knew it was time to go.
- you LOVE being outside, playing in the dirt and picking up bugs
- Flip flops are "foo fops"
- You love "Wreck It Ralph", "Kai-Lan", and "Bubble Guppies"
- We are pretty sure you hate bread, with the exception of Texas Roadhouse rolls (who can resist?).You won't eat the sacrament bread, don't like pizza and sandwiches are out of the question.
- You are still a great snuggler and constantly ask for hugs
- You love your Papa.
- You can count to 10 and can say almost all your ABC's
- Everyone comments on how well you talk. You bust out new full sentences ("I want to watch weck it walph", "I don't want to take a nap", "Where is Sissy?") all the time.

Doodoo, you bring more mischief, more snacks (only the beginning of the "bottomless pit" that awaits), more manliness and more laughs to our house. We love you!

Where did this little baby go?!

Kingston at one.



Blowing out the candles.



The first (of many) motorcycles.



Our sweet, loving little boy.