Crossing the Desert in a Modern Wagon

This Pioneer Day weekend I just had to look at my car and say, “I’m glad you don’t poop or smell funny.” If I had to cross the desert in a wagon pulled by horses or oxen (if I was lucky) to see our families, they’d be lucky to see me once every twenty years.

First stop for the 4-day weekend: a Stansbury Park wedding reception

With our wonderful modern wagon that can power itself faster than the 2 mph of a poor ox, Stansbury Park, Utah is but an hour drive from Provo. Stansbury is the little golfing and lake community nestled only 30 minutes from Salt Lake City. On Saturday, there in a windy backyard on the lake (the “fake lake” as Clayton’s Minnesotan family says), Clayton and I got to see a human pyramid of men in suits, topped with the little bride, all wearing fake black mustaches. All, yes. (The fake mustache on the father of the bride was gray.) We left before the couple drove away in their “Just Married” canoe, but were glad we attended.

Second stop: a Kaysville birthday party for Grandpa

After the reception we traveled in our wagon to Kaysville, a much bigger community north of Salt Lake City. Grandpa Watts’ birthday was on Sunday, and I’m pretty sure his spice cake had nowhere enough candles for the occasion. But then, cakes for the elderly can set houses on fire if they’re properly candled, so all for the best. He was sung to by his wife, us, Clayton’s sister and her hubby, another sister and her boyfriend, and an aunt and uncle. Of course, we just had to play games, being Watts and all; I’m pretty sure if you look up “games” in the dictionary, you’ll see a picture of all of the Watts. We played Funglish (a very fun word game), and Spoons (a deadly battle-for-the-spoons game). Clayton and I also played Uno with our oldest niece, and she schooled us in all her legit, almost 3-year-old glory. Then we Skyped the rest of Clayton’s family in Minnesota: his parents, 2 sisters and 2 brothers, and a rabbit. The rabbit didn’t say much, but if he did I’m sure he’d say there’s never a dull moment with the Watts.

Third and last stop: a Beaver 24^th of July

On Monday morning we crossed the desert three hours south to tiny Beaver, home of my Glenn grandparents, an uncle, and a lot of cows. I’ve been visiting this speck of Utah since I was born. My fondness for camping and fishing developed in what we call the Beaver Mountains, which I just found out actually do have a real name, the Tushar Mountain Range. My parents and I simply had to awe Clayton with its greatness, so we went for a muddy ride. “Mountains are where Utahns go to get a taste of Minnesota,” I said, even though I’ve never been to Minnesota, but I suspect when I do go there, the mountains will have saved me from going into shock at the sight of so many trees.

Doesn’t look like Utah, does it?

Mountains! Rainbow! Husband! Perfect. 

Pioneers are a big deal to Beaver citizens, and they show it on the 24^th of July. The day begins with fireworks at 6:00 in the morning: the special “boom” fireworks that fire off in various places throughout the town and wake every household who has their windows open. Then there’s a 5k race that my family does when we’re feeling in shape. (So not this year.)

Then the parade. This year my relatives were in the parade: my grandpa, his brother and wife, and my dad and two of his brothers rode in a 1947 Jeep that my uncle restored. Every grandchild remembers this Jeep, for during our day, it sat in my grandpa’s backyard by the creek, daring us to touch its old and decaying frame. Observe:

Old and decaying...

New and sizzlin'

Ah, men. 

My grandpa, dad, and three uncles checking out the sizzlin' Jeep

Go Glenns! 

They were squished. My dad couldn't feel below his right knee after this.

Oh, the price of fame. 

A totally cool thing about Beaver parades is the stuff they throw. Besides the rain of candy, which is no mild sprinkling, they toss anything from small Frisbees, plastic glasses, cheese curds, and the occasional screwdriver. At the house, my young cousin proudly showed the screwdriver to my uncle who said, “Oh look, a screw…driver! A screwdriver?” Oh yeah.

The night ended in color with fireworks, which were originally cancelled due to scorching heat and then in danger of too much rain, but survived to dazzle Beaver. 

3 cities in 4 days…not bad. Thank you to all our families, and our modern wagon.

A Blog Unleashed

Time to unleash my inner blog! …which may be more like my inner blog tiptoeing out of me than an unleashed explosion. I’m not normally one to talk about myself and my very ordinary life, but I thought heck, since a blog is a totally legit place to do such a thing, why not?

Here’s the quick bio on me and my hubby, Clayton:

• I am very short, he is very tall.
• I study English, he studies Computer Engineering.
• I eat poorly, he eats healthy (but I’m improving in a desperate effort to not doom my future kids to a near veggie-less diet).
• I freckle mercilessly in the sun, he tans beautifully.
• I’m prone to “freak-out” moments, he hasn’t freaked out in the 9 months of dating, engagement and marriage that I’ve known him.

Ours is actually not a marriage of opposites; we’re different enough to keep life fresh, random and full of opportunities to grow, but we have a lot in common and, though we may vary in degree of passion, enjoy many of the same interests.

A quick bio on just me, the blogger:

• I hairspray my bangs everyday because I prefer a style that parts my bangs over a cowlick right in the middle f my forehead, and my cowlick and I are forever locked in a battle of where those bangs should go.
• I put mustard on my scrambled eggs.
• Why mustard? Genetics—my daddy and his mother do it too. I don’t blame genetics for my actions, but I do blame them for my taste buds.
• I don’t fear heights, but I fear tight spaces and the creeping things of the earth, like spiders. Once upon a time as a wee child, I used my hand as a playground for Daddy Long-Legs. But over the years, spiders snuck up on me just too many times, and now they approach me at their own peril.
• I’m too scared to get close enough to kill spiders. What a problem! I foresee myself asking a 5-year-old son someday, “Can you kill that spider for Mommy?” Of course, he probably wouldn’t mind.

Can I sew, cut or style hair, or cook delicious meals that my husband can smell a mile away? No. I probably couldn’t have gotten a husband in the olden days. I’m not the girliest of my gender, but I am distracted by girly things like lights and colorful and shiny things. I was probably a cat in another lifetime.

I find my interests in a plethora of activities: I like to read, write, play the piano, play video games-card games-any games, watch movies or TV, listen to music, camp, hike, fish, snowmobile, 4-wheel, go-kart, drive fast cars, ride fast rides, exercise, play sports, and visit friends and family.

There’s never enough time or money for me to do these activities often, but I still enjoy them all. Of course, most activities are quadrupled in awesomeness when I do them with Clayton.

Last of all, biggety-boom, I’m an active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—the Mormons. My religion has helped shape my beliefs and values, so my comments throughout this blog of life may include thanks for blessings or a prayer for help from time to time.

Okay blog, I unleash you. No idea what’ll happen. Except that maybe Clayton and I will actually start taking pictures of our adventures from here on out.

Here we are as snazzy newlyweds

Also one of my favorite activities