30, flirty and thriving

Welcome to my 30ies.

These next ten years I hope to do the following:

Learn to cook and actually enjoy it.
Be a better friend.
Learn how to get stains out of laundry.
Get my home organized and keep it that way (I figure 10 years is a good goal for this one)
Be a better wife.
Learn to be a mom.
Do better at keeping in touch.
Be a better sister.
Learn how to fold a fitted sheet.
Learn how to get rid of junk and not buy any more.
Learn how to apply makeup.
Get rid of clothes that I don't ever wear - same with shoes
Be a better missionary.
Finish a very special person's personal history (hope to finish this year....not in 10)
Run a marathon
Learn to sew well
Learn how to really iron a dress shirt.
Be a better daughter.
Learn how to really lead music.
Travel to some new places.
Be a better visiting teacher.
Learn how to garden.
Become Fabulous. :)

Who do I look like?

I was looking at pictures of Rocky and I, and then James, trying to decide who he most looks like. I will have to go with me. He definitely doesn't get those chunky cheeks from Rocky. What do you think?

Passport Picture

James first Passport picture.

Don't you wish you could pull off such cuteness in all your governmental pictures?

The Day the Doughnut Died

I like to sing the title of this post.  It goes to the tune of American Pie.

You may recall from a previous post where I professed my love of the post-birth doughnut. 

I carried it with me from room to room, to the car, if we had done out to eat I would have taken it with me there too.  It was my constant companion.  One that I truly loved.  It got up with me for the early morning feedings and kept strong through the rest of the day.  If I had known how much I would love and cherish my doughnut I would have taken pictures.

Sadly enough our relationship ended.  I’m not sure if it was me.  Did I give it too much love, did it need more space?  Could I have possibly been too big for my doughnut?  These are questions that I will never have answered.  One because the doughnut has passed on and two because it is plastic. 

The doughnut death came on a cold March evening at dinner time.  Rocky’s mom Cyndi was in town and had made us a wonderful dinner.  We had just sat down to eat.  We said a prayer and then Rocky said “What is that sound?”  We stopped to listen…..a ssssssssssssssssssssss sound was coming from somewhere.  We discuss a few things that it could be.  The stove, possibly the heater.  Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.  My doughnut!?  I sadly stood up and pulled out the doughnut.   Sure enough it was much flatter.  Rocky offered to resuscitate it and fix it up, but I knew in the long run it wouldn’t last and well the truth was as much as I loved it I was beginning to not NEED it. 

I will always have fond memories of the comfort it provided, the funny imprints it left on the couch and the funny looks I received by those who had never used a doughnut.