Berries, BBQ, and the Beach

Although I've lived in the Bay Area my entire life, I've missed out on a lot of what we have to offer.

I told LaVor that I wanted to go to Golden Gate Park last Saturday, to ride the paddle boats, walk around the windmill, and look at the flowers. But then my co-worker reminded me that Outside Lands was happening and we might want to change our plans. LaVor suggested the beach (because it's been hot like a mutha) and I suggested picking fruit. Good thing the Bay Area has a ton to do and we could do both.

The Lime and LaVor made their weekly doughnut shop trip while I got ready. We then packed the car and headed West to the coast.

Our first "fun" thing was paying for the car behind us on the bridge. It was something we did occasionally growing up and always made us feel good to "pay it forward". The car eventually caught up to us, honked, and waved profusely. Totally warmed our hearts.

We made our first stop in Pescadero, a place I had only heard my co-worker rave about. Especially the olallieberry pie and lobster rolls, neither of which we consumed. But The Lime did buy a packet of M&Ms and LaVor bought two loaves of hot, delicious bread, which we ate half of right outside the bakery.

We wandered through a few shops and then got back in the car to continue down the coast to the berry farm.

We walked in, got our box and wagon, and were on our way.

We were picking blackberries but the farm also had kiwis growing (will be ready to pick in late Fall, early Winter).

The Lime was a big helper in picking berries but gobbled up more than he saved. His hands and face were black by the time we left, from all the juice.

We picked $12 worth and got back in the car to head up North to meet up with LaVor's family.

LaVor had done some work in Pacifica several months ago. Along the way to meet his family, he pointed out lots of good places to get a sandwich. But we decided on some pulled pork and brisket for lunch instead. I'm still convinced our food is better and we need to start a restaurant.

Although it wasn't as cold as when we first got to the coast, it was still pretty nippy. But that didn't stop The Lime and his cousin from jumping in the ocean.

He ran and ran and ran and laughed and screamed. The cold didn't seem to bother either one of the boys. And thankfully LaVor was the parent making sure The Lime didn't go too far into the water. I hate being cold so I designated myself the official photographer.

After a good while, the temperature finally set in and we wrapped the boys up and took them back to the car.

After a fun-filled day, we pulled into our driveway and walked into our 88 degree house. At that point, we wanted to turn right around and go back to where we came from.

Maybe next weekend.

Oblivious

I noticed how oblivious I was when I started training for the breast cancer walks. I walked through neighborhoods that I've been around my entire life, and finally noticed things 20+ years later. While walking around my current neighborhood, I realized there was a house tucked away between two others, that despite driving by for ten years, I never knew existed.

It's amazing what you find when you slow down a bit.

Like when I was in the drive-thru at Taco Bell today. I already knew what I wanted so I spent my waiting time just looking around. That's when I noticed a compartment in my car, which I've had for almost five years.

I've used the cruise control, adjusted my mirrors, and pulled the hood lever. So how did I miss this compartment?

I must have been driving in the fast lane all these years.

Goodbye, everyone! I'll miss you!

There was a commercial put out several years ago, that had a woman leaving someplace and she said, "Goodbye, everyone!   I'll miss you!"  Since then, that's been a joke in our family, that we say when we leave each other.

Except this time, it was true.  This time, I really would miss the person I was saying bye to.

   
We are 21 months apart and shared a room until my brothers moved out...so 17 years?  We were always at the same school for two years, which I loved.  She was there to ride the bus with me in Elementary school, there to get the boy that I liked to sign my yearbook in Middle school, and there to let me eat lunch with her and her friends in High school.

It was a joke that we were more like brothers when it came to fighting.  We could be scratching and yelling one minute and playing with our barbies the next.  We never stayed mad at each other.

I remember when LaVor went through the temple for the first time, and how sad it made me to not be there with him (I went through a month later).  I got home that night and found Amy on the computer.  I plopped in her lap and started to cry, telling her how I didn't want her to be sad when I went through, and she was the only one not able to be there.  She assured me it didn't bother her and she'd be fine.  When she got married a year and a half later, we were finally all able to be together and nobody was left out.

  
She was my source for advice.  One instance stands out to me...I believe I was in the third grade, and was having trouble relaxing enough to go to the bathroom at recess.  She told me to push on my abdomen and that should help the pee to come out and to do breathing exercises.

I practiced those breathing exercises many years later when we were coming home from our other sister's house and once again, I had to go to the bathroom.  We were at the stop light in our blue Bronco, right by our house, and I was DYING.  I was breathing like I was in labor and she was laughing hysterically, which made it worse.  Such a sisterly thing to do in your desperate times of need.

Our time together didn't end when she graduated high school.  She got a job at a local trophy shop, which later turned into both of us working there.  We also attended the Young Single Adult ward together and often got called to the same callings.  As you can see, we look nothing alike and people were often confused whether or not we were best friends or siblings.  Just so happens, we were both!

After 28 years of being no more than 25 minutes from each other, we are now an hour and a half away.  It's far but I know it could be much worse.

So goodbye, HC!  I'll miss you!

Fitting In

I think I've mentioned the reunions my dad used to put on for my Grandpa's World War II buddies. The one held during my 7th grade school year was in Troy, MI. Just down the street from our hotel was Somerset Collection (a mall). One day, my brother and I walked to the mall to check things out. Dressed in our casual shorts and t-shirts, we could see that we weren't fitting in the second we walked in the door. When we saw the janitors sporting tuxedos, we turned around and went back to the hotel. The next day, we got dressed in khaki bottoms and white button up tops, and ventured back to the mall. We no longer stood out like sore thumbs and we blended right in with everyone else.

Earlier this month, LaVor and I were given passes to the local "club", which has a gym, swimming pools, tennis courts, etc. There have been a few extremely hot days and the passes to the pool have come in handy. The only thing is that I'm having flashbacks of Somerset Collection. There is an attitude in the air, at the club, that haunts me each time we go. I feel like we're constantly being looked at and we don't dress like everyone else or drive the same cars as everyone else and our son wears his cowboy boots instead of flip flops.

It makes me wish I was seven years old again and we had a place like "Swim Club" to go to. Summers at my club were the best! Zipping down the slide, playing ping pong, eating otter pops, frozen Twix and hot dogs, waiting 20 minutes before we could get back in the pool after eating, being brave enough to jump off the diving board, having lessons at the butt crack of dawn and being embarrassed to get too close to the teacher because I didn't brush my teeth, hearing the "buzz" of the gate that let us into this Summer paradise.

Those were the days. And I didn't have to wear khakis or a white shirt to fit in. Swim Club accepted me with my fuzzy bottom swimsuit and pink goggles. And I'm sure they'd accept The Lime with his boots.

(Just a glimpse of Somerset)

Doppelgänger

Definition of DOPPELGÄNGER

1: a ghostly counterpart of a living person

2a : double 

2a b : alter ego

 

 

I had no clue what a "Doppelgänger" was until we joined Facebook and I saw several people posting pictures of their famous "doppelgänger".

 

For probably my entire life, I've wondered if there was someone out there with my exact first, middle, and last name.  Then after being introduced to "doppelgänger", I wondered if I had one?

 

Whenever I watch "Teen Mom", and I see little Bentley, I'm reminded of The Lime.

 

 

Not just the way they look, but the way they hate to leave their moms', how they call their Grandmas' "Mimi" (that was before The Lime learned how to say Omi), their love for all things drivable.  Twins...just born over a year apart.

 

My brother, Kenny, has a doppelgänger that used to work at our local Chili's.  I never got a chance to make the connection because the doppelgänger worked at the bar but I ran into him one day at Target and completely embarrassed myself.  "I've seen you a lot at Chili's and I've gotta say...you look EXACTLY like my brother!" I said.  He did that awkward laugh and said, "That's funny."  

Do you remember the show "Weakest Link"?  Remember the host?

When my mom had red framed glasses, they were identical.  

During the most recent tryouts of American Idol, we got many phone calls and notices on Facebook that people had seen LaVor.

 

 

Nope, just Jason "Wolf" Hamlin.  But they both happen to be from the same town and are both mechanics.

 

So please, if you see my doppelgänger, take a picture!  I want to be part of the club.

Golden Ticket

Let me preface this post by saying I know the Gospel of Jesus Christ is true. The things, or perceptions, that come out of the mouths' of its members is sometimes not.

When it comes to discussions about missions, I get a little uncomfortable.

LaVor didn't serve a full-time mission and regrets that decision. Life is unique for everyone and choices are made daily that have consequences.

Few things are more awkward than when we have the Elders over for dinner and they ask where LaVor served. The dead silence after he responds with, "I didn't" is nothing new to us.

There is no need to sugarcoat this next part. I hate the idea, amongst church members, that if you serve a mission, you are granted an automatic pass to the Celestial Kingdom. By not serving a mission, you are doomed in your personal life, marital relationship, and role as a father.

During my Sophomore year of Seminary, we kept a journal on what we learned each day. Like every youth in the church does, we wrote down what characteristics we wanted in a spouse. Because it had been embedded in my mind that a return missionary was the only way to go, that was number one on my list.

Thankfully I grew a pair (figuratively) and crossed that off, as well as "owns a Harley" and "doesn't like rap".

I have no doubt in my mind that individuals are blessed when they serve a mission. Heck, if it weren't for two missionaries 38+ years ago, I would either not be here or my life would be completely different.

But I do doubt the fantasies that people have, that allow them to think (for themselves and their daughters) that a missionary is the Golden Ticket to live a happy, righteous life, and return to Heavenly Father.

I know people that go on missions because their parents want them to and come home a completely changed person. I know people who had a strong desire to serve a mission and were in the field but shortly after, came home. I know people who served an honorable mission but left the church later in life. I know people who didn't serve missions at all and people that served faithfully the entire two years or eighteen months. I only wish everyone in the above mentioned situations were viewed the same way. But unfortunately, they are not.

I've said my peace, amen.

The list...that describes LaVor perfectly

All Aboard!

We've noticed the commercials for Roaring Camp Railroad recently and decided we needed to check it out.

 It's a cute little spot near Scotts Valley, nestled between the redwoods.  We got there a little early so we roamed around.

"Wawa!"

Crying because he smashed his finger in the door.

There's a new Sheriff in town!

The dog then pooped on the grass in front of everyone.

The funny mirror.

He loved the water tower!

Climbing on the benches.

We waited a bit more and then we heard it...the horn of the train!

The previous train riders came off, we went on, they filled the train up with water and we were off!

The trees were huge and amazing and some were even growing at an angle.

This cute man and I'm assuming either his grandson or great grandson, were riding on the car in front of us.  I slyly tried to take a picture of them.

We made our way up to Bear Mountain (where we told The Lime that Mama, Papa, Brother, and Sister Bear live), hung out for a little bit, and then made our way back down.

Proof that I was there too.

He looks like he has to go to the bathroom but he still wears diaper.

 

View from the top.

Cute!

Back over the bridge.

We threw around the idea of stopping at Marianne's on the way home but decided we'd already be hitting traffic and a stop would just make things worse.

The Lime and I fell asleep on the way back but woke up just in time to find out we were in the 7-11 parking lot, where LaVor was buying us treats.

It was a great day!