Long run

This morning Wendy and I got up dark and early to go running. Nighttime was still lurking in the sky—the moon looked swollen, about ready to burst out of its place, fighting its own eminent setting. The moon was unnaturally large, really, because it's supermoon time—when the moon is at it's perigee and passes by the earth so closely that you feel you could reach out and grab it from the sky to see if it really is made of cheese. Tonight it's actually supposed to be at its biggest in 18 years (since 1993) but it's all overcast and dreary outside so it's completely obscured.

Lucky me, though! I got to see it this morning!

Wendy and I ran 20.25 miles today. We ran up the canyon to Vivian Park and back home. It was actually quite a nice run. Long. But nice.

When I finished I was tired but I felt that I could go the next six miles. I didn't even feel like I was going to cry (or die) this run...unlike last week...and I'm hardly sore at all. My legs feel tired and used but I think by tomorrow I'll be just fine.

I was worried the whole time about running into a bear because I am the biggest worrier in the world. But instead of a bear I ran into my friend, Steve.

It was funny because I was just telling Wendy about how stinking fast he is and then we crossed paths (he and his crew were coming out of the canyon while Wendy and I were heading in).

Steve is so much nicer than a bear.

He smiled and waved instead of eating me.

Wendy and I were a little worried when we got to Bridal Veil Falls park because it said the park was closed. Other people were running on the trail, though, so we decided we could, too. The trail was nice and clear until just past the falls and then we learned why the park was closed.

We had to jump over fallen trees, work our way past boulders that had fallen onto the path, dodge patches of deer scat (and what looked like wolf scat, but just a bit of that), slide across ice, crunch through a foot or so of snow and, at one point, even had to pick over the yet-unmelted aftermath of an avalanche. It was like an obstacle course. But we did it!

And then we turned around and did it all over again because...well, we had to get home somehow!

We are so hardcore.

Even though we walked up the big hill on the way home. 

Misadventures on the highway

Fifty years and ten days ago my mom's cousin Mary married the love of her life. Today Mary's children threw a party to celebrate that day and we were invited. At first Rachel didn't want to go because she was watching a basketball game and "jimmering" off the couch, making a lot of "goals."

Clearly the girl knows nothing about basketball—BYU wasn't even playing and one makes baskets or points or something in basketball, not goals...right?—so it was pretty easy to convince her to go to a fancy party, complete with desserts.

Me: But we're going to a party!

Rachel: Will President Obama be there?

Me: Uhhh...no.

Rachel: Aw, nuts.

Me: But there'll be dessert!

Rachel: When do we leave?

Miriam: O-ba-ma. O-ba-ma. O-ba-ma.

So, we got all loaded into the car and zipped on down to the freeway. We were just merging on when a truck just about creamed us. For some reason he was moving over into our lane—the merging lane—moments before it ended. I don't really know what he was thinking but he seemed rather annoyed that we honked at him. 

About fifteen minutes down the road there was a click and a clunk and a rattle and a bump. Andrew limped our wheezing car to the side of the road, rattling like a maraca.

A little help...

My amazing friend Kate found Mr. Charles F. O'Neil in the 1910 Census.

Question 16 asks whether the person is naturalized or alien. Charles O'Neil is the only person with anything listed in this column and even though it looks like "Na" and that stands for "not applicable," I'm going to assume that, in this case, it means that he's a naturalized citizen.

Nearly everyone else listed on the page was born in Florida. Charles O'Neil was not. Unfortunately, I can't read the name of the place that he was born. I only wish that he had specified a year of immigration. And that I could read the census-taker's handwriting.

Now, it looks to me that the first letter in the name of the place that Charles was born is an F.

F-R...

France?

Or is that an I-R...

Ireland doesn't really seem likely because there is no loopy /l/ as the handwriting suggests there would be. It looks so much more like France which doesn't even make sense with a name like O'Neil.

And then there's the little note beside each entry (for the place of birth of Charles, his father, and his mother) that's just a little too faint to make out.

Let me know if you have any luck deciphering this...

Kiss me, I'm Irish

I've been delving into my family history again—not too deeply, mind you, because what's done has been done well and what hasn't been done is left blank with good reason. My dad's middle name is Neal. He was named after his grandmother, Mary Gladys O'Neal.

This being St. Patrick's Day, I'm sure you can see where this is going.

Mary Gladys O'Neal's father was Charles F. O'Neal.

That is where the mystery begins.

No one is quite sure where he was born. Was he born somewhere in Ireland and then immigrated to the United States when he was a young boy? Or was he born in Florida (specifically Wetumpka)? No one is quite sure when he was born, though most figure he was born sometime around and between 1876 and 1878, somewhere around and between Ireland and Florida.

Chinchillas and bird feeders

Reason # 548 I will never have sextuplets: cub scouts.

Need I say more?

Of course I need to say more. It's me.

Having six eight-year-old boys for an hour is exhausting enough. I can't imagine having to raise six boys all at once. When the boys leave the house I literally sit down and sigh. It's just a little too wild pour moi. 

Today we learned about pets and birds, which meant that we finally got around to making that birdhouse I've been talking about. Notice I said "make" and not "build." That's because, instead of using wood and nails, we merely refashioned some milk jugs into bird feeders. It was much easier and the boys were just as excited about it as anything else and their moms probably won't feel too bad about tossing/recycling the bird feeder after it has run its course because it's technically already garbage.

I helped Rachel make a prototype this morning so that we could show the boys what they would be making. She wanted to make hers pink so I handed her a pink permanent marker and let her go to town. She coloured the entire milk jug pink—it took her close to 45 minutes. I was impressed with her dedication to the project.

Lately

It's Tuesday already!

I can't believe how fast time is going—there is only one month until the end of the semester, one month until I run a marathon, one month until Miriam goes into nursery, one month until Andrew leaves for Ghana! It's all coming up so fast!

The end of the semester is yet another cliff-hanger for us. We're rushing to our doom, full speed ahead, unsure of what we'll find when we step over the edge: will we fly, fall, or find a hidden bridge? It's yet another leap of faith for us. Nothing terrible is due to happen, except nothing (which isn't terrible at all since we have secure jobs for the summer whether we stay or go), but there are other more alluring options that might come knocking and we kind of wish they would.

For now we're ready to stay or go at a moment's notice, but to keep myself from getting my hopes up I'm developing a list of fun things to do over the summer, filling our time with "Utah adventures" just in case we don't have any other adventure to run off to.

Speaking of running, I ran 19 miles on Saturday. It was the longest run of my life. The first half went by pretty smoothly; I ran to BYU and it was beautiful outside. I did a couple of miles around the track, went back outside to run home, and was just about blown away by a nasty spring zephyr. I was running into the wind the entire nine miles home. It was hard. And, oh, so cold...especially when it started raining.

On Revolutions, success, and failure

I think it's interesting when so many events in my life blur together.

I read the first book in The Hunger Games Trilogy in January and started reading Nothing to Envy: Ordinary Lives in North Korea right after. It was amazing to see the similarities in the two books and realize that the world portrayed in The Hunger Games, a world I thought was too fictional to exist, exists. Minus the whole gaming part. But seriously, North Korea is in a bad way.

And while I was plotting in my little mind how to shout out to North Korea: Hey, you guys! There's a whole world out here! (And we have the internet!) You can be free! You all just need to join forces and pull down the regime. That's all...

(That's kind of where my message fizzled because I don't really know how to overthrow a powerful government so could offer North Korea no good advice on the matter.)

Anyway, while I was plotting in my little mind about how to overthrow North Korea, Egypt started its revolution. And I thought to myself, "If only North Korea could do this, too!" It seems that almost anyone who saw anything about the Tunisian and Egyptian revolutions, and who were fed up with being oppressed by tyrants, decided that overthrowing the government was the thing to do in 2011. If only North Korea knew about it; I'm sure they would have hopped on the band wagon, too.

A beautiful day to go to the park

Yet another gorgeous day! Perhaps spring is here to stay!

This morning I was walking Rachel to school and she said, "Today looks like a beautiful day to go to the park! I hope it never gets to be winter again! Can we go to the park after school?"

I told her that we definitely could. And so we did.

Though this time we went to a park with wood chips instead of sand. Miriam likes to put those into her mouth, too, but she usually ends up spitting them out. Wood chips apparently aren't quite as savory as sand.

One day we're going to live somewhere where the weather is perfect all year long, where snow is only a short trip away so we can play in the snow if we want to, and where all you ever need is a light jacket.

Teething any?

I don't even know how long we've been waiting for this tooth to come in. Miriam's poor gums have been swollen and uncomfortable for weeks—likely upwards of six. I'm not even kidding. This girl is the slowest teether in the universe. 

We're finally making progress, though, and the molar on her right side has ruptured her gums! Today her mouth was bleeding so much that she was drooling blood, the poor thing. 

She has picked up some serious talents while teething, though. For example, she can shove her whole fist in her mouth and still manage to talk. Or at least babble.

And if nothing else works out for her she'll at least be able to find a job removing (hopefully lead-free) paint. 

For the sake of my sanity and her crib railing, let's all hope we get a break from teething soon!

Unfortunately the same molar on the left side is still giving her plenty of grief—her gums are all swollen with no clear sign of any pending rupture. As I said before, "Poor thing!"

Mashing bananas

Mashing bananas is probably one of my least favourite tasks, so now that Rachel is old enough to do it for me making banana bread just got awesome.