Exercise??

It is freezing outside. Utah winters (any snowy, colder than CA winters, actually): the BANE of my existence. I love the season changes, but then I wish they would change back. Yes, I recognize that that is fairly demanding, but well.

So with snow and freezing wind comes a new new set of challenges for me--how to exercise...?? Anyone? Usually I run--that's my torture of choice which, surprisingly, became somewhat of a euphoria this year as I moved up to 5 miles without stopping! I am a runner (Okay, Tera, and all you cross-country-ers, don't steal my thunder right now!)!! And frankly, I would continue running in the cold if it weren't for a 23-pound tagalong named Coren, Sticks, Sticky, Favorite, Most Cutest, Mi'jo, Corencito... or whatever his latest nickname happens to be.

I have a son, and he is very, very, very healthy. I would prefer that he stay that way. So sticking him in a stroller in biting cold weather for hours at a time doesn't sound like such a fabulous idea. Hence, I am housebound.

I could do my runs at night, when Chad gets home from work. But Chad has a chronic condition--he really, really likes me; and so he doesn't really, really like the idea of me running at night in the dark by myself. I am okay with this--he basically lets me do whatever I want all the time, so when he makes the occasional request, I am happy to comply; it gives him peace of mind. Really, as husbands go, I'm not sure there's an easier, more perfect one out there! No, there isn't! So this leaves me with a short two-hour window right around dinnertime to run... and Saturdays are always fine.

In the meantime, on those days when I can't get out and run, I exercise inside the apartment. I have a DVD full of great workouts (and I use great honestly, not sarcastically at all): Biggest loser workouts, cardio blasts, yoga, pilates, dance, etc). These are videos that actually leave me sweating and sore at the end, so they work!

And here drops the other shoe. Coren also loves these videos! He absolutely loves watching his mother running, hopping, lunging, boxing, and contorting all over the living room floor. He loves it so much, he simply has to be in on the fun! So three minutes into my workout, there are little hands on my legs, and there he is bouncing alongside me. When I lunge, he makes a grab for my weights--every time. And when I'm doing crunches, he lays across my stomach and cracks up. He wants to be right where I am, doing whatever I'm doing, or at least attempting it.

So even my in-house exercise routine becomes tricky. But man, it's pretty hard to be annoyed with a little dude crawling across your stomach over and over again while you're trying to finish your bicycle crunches, laughing and patting your face every time he makes another cross. Or a little bulldozer cruising toward you at top crawling speed to grab your feet and chew on your toes while your in down-dog. Oh boy. My boy! So exercise becomes quite the feat during the winter.

We all scream....!!

There is a newly discovered gene, rare and recessive. However, if you or your genetic line has it, it is quick to manifest itself, sometimes as young as just a few months old. And once manifest, this gene is in full force and functional for the rest of the genetic subject's life. And although recessive, it seems to only need to be in the genetic make-up of one member of a procreative partnership to manifest in the entire line--children, grandchildren, etc. It is an aggressive recessive gene, another reason it is so rare and unknown. The gene is unmerciful... like Turrets or OCD, it manifests itself in compulsive behavior that cannot be fought or overcome--it simply must be accepted and dealt with.

Medical scientists are currently studying it in the genetic line where it has become most prominent: The Sorensen family line.

The gene's medical name: coactum glacies crepito, or in street talk: COMPULSIVE ICE CREAM GENE!!

.... And it would seem, true to the aggressive gene's nature, it has been passed on to my son!

Richfield, Part II

Well, you just never know where you'll find a gold mine!

Eight days of Richfield living, and we suddenly discover a great thing! Chad wiki-ed Richfield, just to learn a little about the stats and such. Lo and behold! There, there on the bottom of the page, under "famous people"--Walter Frederick Morrison! The inventor of the original WaMo (standing for Walter Morrison) Frisbee Disc! You'd better believe it!

So what now? Well, what do you think?! We can't very well be minutes away from a living legend and not make the hajj to see him... So Chad looked up his address, found his double-wide trailer on Google Maps, and we headed out to his sagebrush-covered ranch to say hello...

And there he was! Ninety years old, with six heaters going at full-power in a semicircle facing his recliner. The room was stifling! And he let us walk right in... into his "cave", as he called it. And despite our dropping in unannounced and completely inconveniencing him, he was affable and kind. He signed Chad's mangled Frisbee (a black lab had given it heyday just minutes before), made small talk, and we said farewell.

And there you have it! Walter Frederick Morrison! The man behind the myth! What a fabulous way to end the week in cozy little Richfield. Viva la Frisbee!!.... It is now hanging on the wall above our bed, a trophy for Chad to cherish for the next sixty-plus years!

Welcome to Richfield!

Well, here we are, living out of a hotel room in Richfield, Utah. For those of you that aren't familiar with the town (like me), it's a tiny little town just two and a half hours south of Utah Valley, off the I-70. A tiny town. There is a main street, maybe a half-mile long. Along this street you can find The Ideal Dairy, Walmart, Reel Theaters (playing one movie: Surrogates), The Dollar Tree, Lotsa Motsa Pizza, Bella Moon antiques and curiosities, and other quaint shops one finds in a one-street town. The rest is desert: mesas, sagebrush and tons of sky. We're here for a week--Chad is covering for the manager down here; then it's back to Draper.

While Chad's at the plant in the mornings, I take Coren on walks and... Holy smokes! Does it take me back! I am suddenly walking down one-lane roads in Warden, with Sister O walking next to me, nearly unrecognizable as my companion because of the layers and layers of clothing to keep us warm in the biting wind. Two sisters plodding along, thinking of all the songs we can come up with that have the word rain in them. Two sisters in Warden, population 2,500 (really?! that many?!), where the typical conversation between us during our walks went something like this:

Sister O: Did we pass these cows already?

Me: No, I think those were Holsteins.

(Silent trudging)

Me: hey, there's still some onions left in this field. Should we grab some?

Sister O: Nah. We still have half a box left at home.

Me: Right.

(more silent trudging)

Sister O: I'm hungry.

(Sister O trips and falls on her face)

So great! And then all the other memories come back... Warm Hispanic faces welcoming us in and feeding us till we need to throw up. Tiny Spanish branches where everyone wants to help in the work... and they do! Where they sing the hymns with gusto, whether or not they can sing at all. Quiet platicas and companions bearing powerful testimonies of Christ in broken Spanish. Teaching children and playing in the snow and wide empty skies with indescribable sunsets. A year and a half in the middle of nowhere, and it meant everything to me.

So I love this tiny town. Truly, the beauty is breathtaking. And Coren and I get to spend the week with Chad, which makes it even sweeter. So could I live here? No, no, no, no, no. Not this city girl. But it's a beautiful place to be this week--just as the middle of the Washington desert was the most beautiful place to be for a mission! Funny how when the situation is right--serving the Lord, spending the week with your hubby--anywhere can be heaven!

To Have It All

So here's the thought I was having this week... My son just started throwing tantrums this week. Not unusual for children, I've been told. But Coren has been the ideal infant since the beginning--as mellow as potato soup, a perfect sleeper, happy to be left with anyone, and an all-around 9 month-old gentleman. Not so as of Wednesday. He will be heard! And so it is that he has discovered tantrums and that he LOVES them! Grant me serenity, right?

But then I made a discovery of my own... My squalling son is the new version of himself--the Coren 2.0, if you will. And this latest version, like all progressing models, is more fantastic than the previous version. Now, I heartily concede that I do not enjoy his tantrums; I imagine I never will. But my son is evolving... he is becoming dynamic! And seeing the dynamic transformation is one of the breathtaking heights of parenting that I have discovered thus far!

My son is dynamic. He will laugh. He will cry. And yes, he will rage! And he is fantastic! What care I for a flat landscape of a child, when I can have a flowing, mountainous, glacier-carving boy? People like Galileo and Magellan studied and explored to show us that we do not live on a flat plane of existence. We are round; we have depth and height, peaks and valleys; we are full.

In ignorance (understandable ignorance, but nonetheless), we say, "If only he was a tamer two year-old." "If you weren't so dramatic all the time." "If only my life was calmer." "Why do things have to be so hard?" Etc... Unconsciously we wish for a flatter existence. And achieving it, we discover there is nothing to discover. It is in getting angry that I understand that I must feel fairly strongly about this issue. It is in sleeping alone that I realize the warmth of my bed comes from my husband. It is in sitting, heartbroken, near my mother's grave that I understand that love is heavier than I ever imagined--and that truth makes it precious! If it were lighter, I could throw it off me and never miss it. I can't. And that makes it central to my existence.

We are dynamic beings because only there can we plumb our true depths and become ourselves. We are dynamic because, for heaven's sake, it's infinitely better than the alternative! So give me tantrums! Give me the occasional sorrow mixed with the inexhaustible joy!

And please, give me a room where I can hide till the tantrum is over.

Hello World, this is my YAWP!

So here it is--yes, a blog by an anti-blogger. A few influences conspired together to create the new oxymoron: Charity the Blogger:

First, Ever since my personal Waterloo in the struggle against Facebook, I have been contemplating the next all-too-natural, masochistic step--blogging.

Second, I visit the blogs of my loved ones (yes, Tera, Shawna, Emily, I read your blogs), and I love them. Despite my rage against joining the technological world, I secretly love it. So.

Third, I read an article in the Ensign about it this month--that basically sealed the deal.

And finally, this is the only, only, only way I will EVER get any personal journaling done. So here we go....