Job Training, Anyone?

I'm afraid of offending some of my new friends, but I'll say it anyway. I am generally not a Wal-Mart fan. There I said it. My distaste stems from a number of reasons, not all of which are important to tonight's post. But I will also admit that I do shop there every now and again because it is a great one stop shop. However, once the Super Target opens across the street...well, now that place is my weakness.

Okay, for today's aggravation with Wal-Mart. I needed a few fresh veggies for the stir-fry I made tonight and some bath and haircare products. It was a quick trip, and all was going well until the checker, holding one of my items and looking confused, asked, "What do you call these?"

"Umm...green beans?"

Okay, seriously.

Wyoming Fun

It's not a big place, as you saw from yesterday, and I think some of you may be giving it a little more than its due. It is not a quaint town, more down home country than that, but there are some good things to do. Nearly everyone plays, cheers for, or attends high school sports, but beyond that a mere visitor can:

Go see the wild mustangs that live nearby:





Check out Devil's Canyon at the overlook:





You can even swim in the lake, Horseshoe Bend. I prefer boating, but as we were without a boat, swimming had to do:




My niece and nephew joined us, and he was kind enough to let the kids douse him in mud. I love 14 year old boys!

Then there's alway hiking in the sand hills:





And if you're there on the Saturday nearest July 24th, you can participate in Pioneer Day. (And Utah thought they had the market on that holiday. Hah!) Even the kids get into the action in the Kiddie Parade. I think Logan thought it was a race. Look, she's "winning":



Griff even got to pet a live animal. Yes, it was in the Kiddie Parade, too.



And for their trouble they got a golden dollar and an otter pop. C'mon people! What more could you ask?

A Tour of Cowley

"Neath the crest of Bighorn Mountains, with its glorious view,
Proudly stands the school we honor, Cowley, hail to you."
--as sung by many Cowley Pep Clubs

Some of my good friends have been curious about what my little hometown looks like and asked me to take some pictures when I visited there this summer. (If you missed my ode to Cowley go here.) Having taken the pictures, ever so long ago, I am finally giving you all a tour today. I don't know if most of you can picture how small 455 people is. Imagine this: When I moved to So. California, my entire town could have easily lived in my apartment complex. Kind of blew my mind.

So, without further ado, here is Cowley's downtown district:


A closer look at the main businesses:


The Cowtown Cafe. Now this is a big deal. It didn't exist when I was a kid. We had to go to the next town for a restaurant, and then nearest McDonald's was 45 minutes away.


This is the most recent business addition, as well as the most recent hubbub. I guess someone is going to put a salon in and they thought painting the original brick turquoise was a great idea. Many of the residents are NOT happy.


Here is the Cowley Mercantile, or The Merc as the locals call it. The original Merc was in a much older building that has since been torn down, but the general feel is about the same. It is where we would hang out at night, cutting up, talking and maybe throwing a few tomatoes at passing truckers: The average rural teenage rowdiness, I suppose. Notice there is only one gas pump which does not accept debit cards. I had to figure that whole business out when I moved to California, too. I know, I know! I'm sure other parts of the state are more technologically advanced now, but 10 years ago? Not so much.


This is a view of main street from one end to the other. Yes, it is the entire length of the town.


The LDS Church is on the other side of Main street. It's location in the center of town was no accident. Remember this town was settled by a small group of Mormons sent up from Utah by Brigham Young.


Next to the church is the old Relief Society Building. It was abandoned when I was a kid and no longer used by the church, so I don't know much about its history. Now, however, it has been restored and is used as the Town Hall and Museum. That's right, I said museum.


Here is the entrance to the Bighorn Academy which was built by the settlers in the early 1900's. It served as the local high school for the surrounding towns. My grandmother, for example, lived in Byron, just 7 miles away, and boarded in Cowley during the week to attend the Academy. Eventually, it became the town's high school until we consolidated with 3 other towns in 1983. I was the only one of my siblings not to attend here.


This is the log gym, also built by the early settlers. It was used as the high school's gymnasium until 1983 as well. It is still used by the town for some basketball practices and social functions. Some people have been married there. Here's another shot:




This view would seem to be out of town aways, but it can be seen just at the turn as you enter town on main street. Yes, it is cow and farmland here.

So there is your little tour of my little hometown. The only main buildings I forgot are the post office and the Waterhole #1 (town bar). No town in Wyoming would be complete without one of those.

Anyway, it isn't much I know, but I still love many things about it. Just like these hollyhocks in a neighbors yard, life there is simple and beautiful in so many ways.



Come back tomorrow and I'll give you a peek at at some of the things to do around them there parts.

Kindergarten Lesson #1: Life is Tough

Logan started all-day Kindergarten a couple of weeks ago. Letting your first child enter the real world is tough stuff! I wasn't sure either of us was ready, but she's doing great, and I'm adjusting. Here she is, backpack and all, ready to begin her life as a scholar:



And here she is waving goodbye as she heads into class:



Wow! Tough moments for a mom. But I found out the tough moments just keep on coming. Like Friday for instance:

I pull up through the parent pickup after school, and the first thing I notice is that the teacher is approaching my car instead of the usual aid.

"I just wanted to let you know that Logan was punched in the stomach by a little boy in parent pickup this afternoon," she says.

I look at Logan who seems no worse for wear. "Okay..."

"I mean it hurt. She was in tears. And I talked to the boy and his parents. I mean he was just being silly, but like I told him, that is not right."

"Well, thank you. You okay, Lohgs? Yeah, those boys are like that sometimes."

I was going for the breezy, take-all-tragedies-in-stride kind of mom. I didn't want to seem nutty to either Logan or her teacher, but I have to admit I have thought about it at least 48 times since. My cute little baby in her sequined jeans and cowboy boots (Yes, she chooses her own clothes, and she does have a fashion sense) innocently waiting for me to pick her up, and she gets sucker-punched in the gut?!

As for the boy, all I can picture is the bully from my own grade school days. The angriest kid I ever knew: Warren Hunt. He and I traded punches on a regular basis until the fourth grade. Everyone in our class traded punches with Warren. The memory is not a comforting thought.

"Logan, who is this boy?" rat-faced, punk I add in my own head.

"I don't know."

"You've never seen him before?" Like maybe holding up a liquor store? I can't seem to stop the running commentary in my head.

"He's in my class; I just don't know his name."

"Did you do anything to him?" After all, I wouldn't put it passed her.

"No. I was just standing there. Then he said, 'You want a piece of me?'"

"What?" He is quoting DeNiro? "He actually said, 'You want a piece of me?'" That made me laugh.

"Yup, and then he punched me in the stomach."

"Well, okay...I wouldn't hang out with that kid much."

I realize she's tough enough for these tough moments, but I'm not sure about me. Letting go just ain't easy.

I'm No Gym Rat

Mesa has not been kind to my waistline. I hesitate to even write this out loud because I have made a commitment not to engage in "fat talk," which according to a recent news article is one of the first topics of conversation when women get together. I have vowed not to give into that social pressure needlessly.

However, that said, this isn't just fat talk. It is my truth right now. A sizeable portion of my day is dedicated to whittling away the waistline. That's right: I'm back at the gym after a couple of deliriously happy, exercise free, summer months. I know I should feel guilty writing that. "But what about those endorphins?" "Doesn't exercise make you feel great?" "Don't you always feel better when you're exercising?"

Maybe. But the real truth for me is that I find it a pain in the butt. It just takes a lot of time, and I've got a lot to do. The extra hour devoted to sweating gives rise to another hour devoted to clean up, hair, makeup, then add the travel time to and from the gym, and the minutes it takes to get little Griff checked in and out of child care...well, it just adds up. And I find myself thinking the whole time about the other things that need to get done.

But I'm doing it. And I have been inspired by the 78-year old woman in my body sculpting class. I LOVE her! This class kicks my butt by the way and a lot of younger, more in shape derrieres as well, so I give her all kinds of credit. I talked to her after class one day, and she said, "My friends think I'm crazy, but I told them if God's let me live a long life, I want to take care of myself." I want to be like her when I grow up.

...Crap! That's a lot of hours at the gym.

Short Memory = Larger Waistline

So if I'm spending all this time working out, I might as well watch what I eat, right? And generally I'm pretty good about that. But I live with the devil! Mr. Wicke has a sweet tooth, and now I do, too! My goal of cutting out sugar has not been going well. Thursday night might be the best, or is it worst, example.

I was invited to speak at another ward's RS Enrichment Night on Thursday: Well, you know there is always a dessert of some kind at these things. Tonight it is 3 different kinds of homemade cheesecake. I love cheesecake. The carrot cake cheesecake tasted delicious by the way. I stopped at one piece, so give me credit.

Now, I hadn't had a chance to eat an actual meal before the event, so when I get home I sit down and have a bowl of the chicken soup I had made for the fam. Also good, by the way. Then just to chill out I turn on the TV. This is an effective brain numb-er, an important point when considering the following events. An hour later Thomas is scavenging around in the kitchen looking for his evening snack. "I'm making a mint chocolate chip shake. Want one?"

Having appropriately numbed my brain and truly not remembering the carrot cake cheesecake a couple of hours before I say, "Sure." I love mint chocolate chip milkshakes. It is really good, too, by the way.

After the milkshake I feel unusually full and a little sick. That's when I remember the carrot cake cheesecake. Crap! Almost simultaneously I remember the digital display on the treadmill that morning. It said I burned off like 28 or so calories. I'm pretty sure I just ate that up. Ah, nuts! Maybe I can make up for it tomorrow in step aerobics.

I Now Pronounce You...Complete Strangers to Us

I generally enjoy wedding announcements and invitations. We have been getting a lot of them, and it's fun to see with whom some of our favorite kids ended up picking to spend the rest of their lives. Sometimes I think the layouts and photos are subtle and elegant. Sometimes they are cheesy, and sometimes, like yesterday, this happens: "Do you know who these people are?"

Thomas hands me a wedding announcement, and I give it a once over, then a twice over. "I have never seen these people before in my life."

Then we stand there, heads together, squinting at the photo, perusing the return address. None of the names are familiar, and the closest I can get to placing either of them is that the groom looks freakishly a lot like a nephew of mine.

"It must be one of your students," Thomas concludes.

"No, it isn't. I have never seen either of them before. Names I forget, but I'm great with faces."

"They were married on a beach in Malibu. Sounds like something your private school kids would do."

"I am telling you, I do not know these people. Besides, how would they know our address in Arizona? And why does it have to be someone I know? You're the one with a million cousins you've never met. Remember your cousin who called asking to stay at our house when they were in town, and you didn't know who she was? It's probably someone in your family."

More perusing, more squinting. Now we're flipping it over, double checking inside the envelope, looking for any possible clue.

"It's a girl's handwriting--"

"That doesn't mean anything. The girl always end up doing all the addressing."

"I don't know anyone with the last name of Hampton. He's definitely not related to me."

"Do you know anyone with a daughter named April?"

"I don't think so..."

"Me either...It's a shame that wedding dress doesn't fit better. And I think the bare feet was a mistake. He doesn't have great feet."

"Hmmm..."

"Yeah. No, we don't know these people."

"I guess that means we're not sending a gift?"

Interestingly this is the announcement I'm most likely to never forget.