Pancakes in the morning

I love home movies.

Like this one.

Becky Breakfast In The Morning. from travispitcher on Vimeo.

Non-linear

After a recent literary conversation, followed by a similar religious conversation I have been thinking a lot about linear lives.

Because we don't really live linearly.
Chronologically, yes.
But the only time our lives are linear is the present. When we look at the past (or the future) we pick out moments.
The time I fell rollerblading down the big hill behind my house.
Sitting in hot tub on our honeymoon, watching Home Alone 2, because it is especially romantic.
Finding out my mom was pregnant with Kathryn-to-be.
Wrestling a pillow away from Travis in the middle of the night.
Playing crack the whip on the pond behind our house.

They're not all events. They're just memories.
And with some effort I could probably put them into chronological order.
But not linear order.
They're like beads on a thread. A moment. A moment. A moment.
But they're not just a thread alone.

Yesterday morning I woke up, and Travis had his arm thrown over my waist and was sharing my pillow and I thought of a moment when I was in high school.
I wasn't depressed in high school, I was usually pretty happy. But I remember being about 15 and lying in my bed, sobbing myself to sleep.
I just kept wishing and praying that my life would pass quickly and I would wake up one morning and be
exactly where I am now.

And that did not happen.

I had to live life at the normal speed for the last 7 years.
And when I look back it's not a blur. Even now, it doesn't seem to me that it "sped by," although I am amazed at how quickly time flies.
I am, of course, grateful that I had all of the experiences I did, and that they didn't happen especially quick.
But at the same time... my 15 year old self knew what was up.
Because I have never been so happy as I am now.

Mormons believe that being married is ordained of God. We're supposed to be married.
And I,
I was made to be married.

It's everything I ever hoped it would be.
It's better.

And nearly every day I slide another little bead, a moment, a happiness on to my thread.
And think, "I will remember this forever."
(even if I won't)

And my chronological, but non-linear life is perfectly perfect and ideally ideal.

The tip-top tier

I was just looking at some wedding pictures and I love how teeny-tiny our cake looks!
Especially since I've been watching Cake Boss and these people have jumbonormous cakes, and ours is just like the tiny tip-top of a cake.
But I love it.
And there was just enough to cut and eat and it was delicious.

And also, I think my dad had a piece... but no one else did.

Aaand I think my cousin Nichole took this picture.

It was on my facebook...

p.s. Look how long my hair is!

Aaand what a big dork I am in that sweater. In my defense, I was freezing.

Movies about brothers

Last night Travis and I watched a movie with Travis's sister and brother-in-law.
He grabbed a stack of movies, stuck them in his bag and said "We'll figure out what we want to watch when we get there."
On the scooter, driving to Chris and Camille's house I asked "What movies did you bring?"
"All our movies about brothers," he said.
"The Brothers Bloom? A River Runs Through it? maybe... Oh Brother, where art thou?" I guessed.

"Yes," he said. "And some others."

He began with plausible titles that might actually be movies but I know we do not own such as Blood brothers, and Brothers in arms.

And moved on to,
Time for Brother, time for tea. "A british film, very boring. Based on something dumb Jane Austen wrote."

Hermanos "a Spanish film."

Oh my Brother, Jet Li. "A kung fu movie, in Chinese it is SamYiGumJETLI!"

Brother, we're a dead man. "About siamese twins. You know, because they're two people. But one man."

Brother, I am running with two knees braces! Look at that girl with two knee braces! (I'm not sure where the title ends and commentary begins on that one.)

Pierre, Je t'aime. "A french film about the weird sexual tension and romance between two brothers who might not actually be brothers."

I used to be your brother, but now I'm your sister. "I don't actually know what that's about, I haven't seen it. But there's a very ugly woman on the front."

This continued in a stream for 15 minutes straight.
I only wish I could remember the other films he supposedly brought for us to choose from.

We ended up watching The Terminal.
Which is in no way about brothers.
But which is also very good.

Beer breath

I have recently perfected this gorgeous and delicious bread.
If pressured by my very hungry husband (boy can he eat!) I can make it several times a week.



It is almost always perfect. I am very proud.
But the thing I like most about it is the smell before you cook it.

You pull the dough out of the fridge where it's been resting for a day or two, take off the Saran wrap and BAM!
The sour smell of dough and yeast, smelling exactly like beer breath hits your nostrils.

You think I am gross for saying that I love that smell.
And let me say, I do not usually like when people have beer breath.

BUT beer breath is not a smell that I get whiffs of on a regular basis here on BYU campus.
And to be frank, my high school friends were pretty much all good Lutherans who didn't really drink, or people who liked me enough not to invite me to parties they'd be drinking at.

So the only time I ever really smelled beer breath up close was when I was with my family.
The Froelich side.
And let me say, Froelichs are kissers. This is something I didn't know until Travis started meeting people and going "Ew gross, you kissed your grandpa on the mouth" or "I can't believe you've just kissed every aunt and uncle in this entire room. Do I have to?"


Yep, we're kissers. We pucker up our lips and give each other a kiss on the cheek, or in the case of grandparents, sometimes on the lips.
And I never noticed.

It was very normal to me.

But the smell of this bread, when I pull it out of the fridge to let it rise smells like tickly mustaches, and curling up in an armchair with my Grandpa Roger, and even (dare I say it?) a little like holidays.
I'm sure that my good Mormon parents are horrified to read this.
Embarrassed maybe that beer makes me think of my family.

But I have a very distinct memory of sitting in an armchair with my grandpa, asking for a sip of his pop.
He gave me a drink all right, but it was not soda. I choked while he chuckled in his red-cheeked grandfathery sort of way.
Oh, how funny they were.

There, sadly, were several other times when I fell for this trick.
Kids are just plain stupid.
But after I learned to smell the beer before drinking, I wised up.

And yet. I smell beer and I think of grandpas and uncles and Minnesota and it makes me feel nostalgic and silly.
And I like it.

This is what I think of when I smell that bread.
This is me in a night gown, snuggled up on an armchair with Grandpa Roger, who does not look as jovial as usual.
But I seem very happy, despite my terrible bowl cut.


And this is an unrelated but awesome photo that I came across while looking for the picture above.



Dad, nice mullet and mustache.
Mom, nice mullet and blue eye shadow.
Creepy.
But that cute baby is me.
(Their anniversary just came and went recently. Happy 22 years of marriage, you guys. You've only gotten better at doing your hair.)

The road to my house

is paved with good intentions.

(That was a very poor pun.)

Recently I was very lucky in that two of my best friends from home in good ol' Buffalo Minnesota came to see me!

Okay, fine, so their intentions were not exactly based around visiting me, but more around finding somewhere free to sleep in Utah on their road trip home from California.

But whatever.

I accept.

It's been over a year since I've seen anyone from home (except the three or four family members from MN who came to my wedding last October)

and it was a refreshing change to see them here instead of in Buffalo.

Hey. The rest of you Minnesotans thinking to yourselves "I wish I could see Becky," take a leaf out of Logan and Eli's book and come stay here.

I will let you sleep in my house and I will feed you.

It's not too bad a gig.

I miss all these folks.

p.s. Logan looks like a teeny tiny little person next to Eli and me.

Matt and Lana crouched under a tree

K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

I am very excited about Lana being married.
Especially because it is to Matt.

When we found out they were talking marriage Travis said, "Well, she'd be a freaking idiot not to marry him, since they're clearly awesome together."

Good thing Lana is not a freaking idiot.

Today I got to take their engagement photos, which was aaawesome! They are a really fun and super attractive couple, which made today work out, despite all the mishaps.
Mishap example: A perfect dusky cloudy day went from perfect to raining to REALLY harsh sunlight in about a half hour and remained really harsh until we were pretty much done.
It is possible that I made them huddle under a tree in the semi-shade.
I think that really annoyed poor Matthew.
Mishap example 2: We had planned on doing the photos in a canoe, but the canoe rentals were closed because it was so very windy.
Mishap example 3: I had an allergic reaction to all the plant life surrounding Utah Lake.

We seriously finished these photos less than an hour ago, but I already want to share a few of my favorites.
I can't wait any longer!
Aren't they a good-looking pair?

Hell-mates

That is what we always call helmets.
Mostly because it's slightly silly.
But also because I HATE wearing a helmet on the scooter.
It messes up my hair.
It makes it hard to hear.
It sometimes gives me a headache.

But now we have new totally awesome helmets, which I shall probably still call a hell-mate, even though I like it:
We got them from Korea.

With a little hand-written note, too.
How sweet.





Cute, right?

Hallelujah

This is where I've been sitting.
In my doorway, where I can see, smell, hear, taste, and touch the rain. And yes, that is a pot of freshly made chocolate frosting with graham crackers next to it.
Why not indulge in some comfort food while feeling so comfortable?


This is the view of the sky from my doorway. And just below the sky is the view of my wet and pretty street. This pictures aren't exactly professional-photographer-worthy, right? They are for Travis who is at work and does not have a window.
But he does have a mac.
Travis and I learned how to spell hallelujah on Sunday.
We both tried several times before looking it up in the Bible Dictionary and then we both practiced writing it in speech bubbles over the cartoon people drawn on the back of our church program.


If any type of weather deserves a hallelujah (correctly spelled), it is this gorgeous rain.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Praise ye the Lord!
Today is highly perfect.

edit: This blogpost now has a part two:
PART TWO:
My computer does amazingly well choosing rainy day music.
Yes, it even chose Hallelujah, which was in fact why I decided to title my post by that name.
Here is the mix that it created and which I am listening to currently:

Feminism in the Pitcher house: like a sci-fi stripper

Today after my hair was staticed to my forehead, I said "How do I look?"

And although I was fully dressed (and in church clothes, too!)

Travis looked me over and said,

"Hot. Like a striper.

From a sci-fi movie."

A few minutes later he said "Don't put that on your blog."

"Too late," I said.

"You've already written it?"

"No, I've already planned what to write about it."

"Ahh," he said.

Then he said "All I wanted was to make you feel sexy even though your hair was crazy and stupid. I'm just trying to empower my wife. But, it seems I have empowered her too much. Since she will not even respect my wishes."

Then when I read this aloud he said "That's a pretty good blog post."

Then he suggested my title.

Then he said not to write it, but I did.

Everything I've written here is true.

from scratch

Before Travis and I were married he believed me to be a terrible, terrible cook.
Which I am not. I'm actually quite good.

In his defense, in all the time we were dating I had only made him two dinners and one plum cake.
All of which were terrible failures.
The food tasted, looked and was terrible, so it was alright to assume I was a terrible cook.

In MY defense, I had no kitchen, no money for actual groceries, no supplies like spices, flavorings, or sauces except for soy sauce (and I used Soy Sauce for all it was worth) and I had none of the beautiful pots, pans or utensils that I got when we were married.
All I had was one scraped up and very horrible pot and a rice cooker that only half-cooked rice.

So most of the food was either frozen or just-add-water before I tried to turn it in to a meal.
Just like any unmarried college-student though.
Stop with those accusing looks.

There were some things I had down when we got married and that I could make amazingly well even before I had my own kitchen.
Chocolate cake, chocolate chip cookies, and fruit pies among them.

Okay, so mostly desserts.
But there was one dessert that I was not an expert at making and had, in fact, never even had homemade.
Snickerdoodles.
Snickerdoodles were not a homemade cookie. Snickerdoodles were bought on occasion from bookstore cafes.

If one wanted to make snickerdoodles then one would merely roll sugar cookies in cinnamon/sugar. Duh.

Travis LOVES snickerdoodles. And somehow (amazingly) he can tell whether or not I've added that one little teaspoon of powder that makes snickerdoodles different from sugar cookies. Cream of Tarter, which when we were newly married I usually just skipped and didn't notice the loss.
But Travis did.

So I persevered. And I made snickerdoodles all the time.
And now, I can announce to the world that I, Becky Pitcher, am the baker of awesome, awesome snickerdoodles.
The recipe I use is here, but I admit that it took me several times to get it down perfectly.
It probably will not take you so long if you actually use cream of tarter, actually chill the dough, actually cook it for the correct amount of time, actually roll it in LOTS of sugar and cinnamon.

But I am very proud.
It caused someone to recently exclaim "Oh wow, these are good! Are these from scratch?"

And I literally stared at her for about 30 seconds while the phrase "From Scratch" did not ring any bells.
Of course my food is from scratch.
Are there other ways to make food?
My mind went around and around and when I finally mumbled "Yes" she had moved on. It took me too long to respond.

Oh! How quickly the mind forgets.
Just a year ago, I ate nothing "from scratch" and if I did I would lay afterward in a food coma, thinking about delicious it was and how much I missed my mother with her full kitchen and food-stained cookbook and excellent baking abilities.

Now I am trying to be that. A woman with a full kitchen, dozens of well-used and food stained cookbooks and excellent baking abilities.
And I'm already forgetting I was ever anything else.

Chilly

Chilly is my favorite weather.

Chilly is fall. Chilly is sweaters. Chilly is new pencils. Chilly is Halloween Costumes. Chilly is ginger tea on the couch with Travis while watching a movie.

Chilly weather.

It is August, and they (the nameless masses) say the end of August is the hottest part of summer. They claim that summer is not yet over.
They hold on, planning days at the lake, eating numerous hot dogs, saying "we've got a few more months; plant some seeds in your brand new and very beautiful planter box."

I claim summer is ending.
I comfortably wore a cardigan to church on Sunday.
I saw Halloween things on sale on Monday and nearly wet myself with excitement, and have starting using a blanket at night again, and have been wanting to knit and wanting to bake warm bean soup and wear my pretty new scarf.

Maybe it's all the rain that's confusing me. It's making it cold outside.
And maybe its the love of all things summery that's confusing everyone else.

But chilly is my favorite weather, and cold is just after it in the list. Warm is next but HOT is dead last.
I hate the heat.
I abhor it.

And I don't mind if summer's ending early as long as it means we've got a nice long fall ahead of us.
Mmmmm, fall.
I do love fall.





p.s.
This is unrelated. But check out the funny video of my five-year old sister in Yellowstone.
So cute. Oh, AND she's wearing a sweatshirt. Must be chilly. :)

The Prairie

Yesterday I spent the day slumping around and being grouchy.
As the day continued, I became more and more defensive.

I was home alone.
But I was sure that when Travis got home he would be angry with me and I would have to defend myself, since I was also sure that I was right.
And I spent the whole day preparing my defenses.

You see, about a week ago Travis gave me 50 dollars and said "Don't use the debit card this week, just use the cash."

And I was probably supposed to spend it on groceries and things (which I did) but I was also not supposed to go shopping.
Or so one must assume.

But I went to the DI, (that doesn't count as shopping, right?) to look for a frame so I could finally hang up our blasted Proclamation to the World.
I am on a beautifying-my-home kick after going to my friend Suzanne's and finding it to be the most darling house I've ever been in (She is an interior designer -check out what she did in Nie Nie's house - SO cute, right?)
And as I was already at the DI i decided to wander through the other sections in case there was something I absolutely needed.

And there was something.
It was a 6 dollar box-set.
Of books that I already owned beautiful copies of.

But I bought it.
And then I felt guilty.

And then I was mad that Travis was mad (which he wasn't, because he wasn't home)and I might have hidden the box set so he wouldn't go "Where'd that come from?" and then I would have to say "The DI."
And then he'd say "But you already own those books."
and I'd say "But mine are antiques! Mine are too old for children to read, and they're kids books!"
And then we'd both be angry.


But when Travis got home he said "Did you go to DI?"
and I freaked out a little.
"How did you know that?"
"I just know things," he teased.
"How did you know I went to the DI?"

And then I remembered that I had looked up the address online and left the page up, and he had seen it.
"What did you buy?" he asked.(Conversationally, but to me it seemed hostile)
"A frame and ...mumble mumble..."
and I left the room quickly.

And he said, "Hey, what did you buy?"
"A box set of books," I said.
"How much was that?" he asked.
"Six dollars."
"That's not bad at all," he said. "What books?"
"Well, they're books I already own, but they're my favorite books so..."
"What books are they?" he repeated.
"The Little House books."

"That's awesome!" said Travis, "all the books for 6 dollars is not too shabby."


Oh, I love him.

Why am I so crazy and paranoid?


p.s. Look how cute, my grandpa signed his name in half these books as a little kid.

happy

This blurry, light, happy picture is exactly how I feel today.

Homemaking

I have decided that a homemaker is one of two people:

1. Someone who makes a home outta a house or
2. Someone who makes things homemade.

Travis and I are both homemakers.




Travis built this planter box outside our door.
Gorgeous, isn't it? In comparison to dead leaves, old pumpkins (yes, I admit, there were still two old crusty, rotten jack-o-lanterns) and actual garbage next to our door.

And within two days all the seeds that fell from the bird feeder had sprouted in the good clean soil and in the spring we'll plant real flowers and herbs and maybe a tomato plant.
We're making this house a home.



And I made homemade pasta!
It was a first, but after such a success it will not be the last.
I hand rolled the dough, baked the butternut squash that filled it and then served it with homemade sourdough bread, and fresh garden green beans.

Travis made the sauce and it was awesome! It took like 4 hours. He grated up about 10 different veggies and mashed up half a dozen tomatoes and just let them boil for hours until the tastes had all soaked and blended.

It was quite the homemade meal.
We were very proud of its deliciousness.

10 Happenings

Things that have happened since my last blog post:

1. Harry Potter's birthday party was on Saturday night. As always, it was full of tasty treats and a few people in costumes and more people NOT in costumes. But it was fun, and the ability of my friends to answer HP book trivia was somewhat amazing.

2. I went berry-picking with Lana, but forgot to bring money and so I only got 2$ worth of berries. But that was still a pound of berries.
We used some (along with the apricots we picked off a big free tree) to make raspberry-apricot lemonade which I would highly recommend.

3. Oh, Lana has become engaged.

4. I have had several freak-out incidents concerning the fact that my best friend is now engaged. Many of which are highly selfish. They deal with the following facts (lettered, not numbered - to prevent confusion)
a. I now have a best friend with whom I can discuss all things martial, because she will be married and understand all my gushing and loving, and wantings and snugglings and my want to cook the best dinner for him every night because I love him, and how I love to make a schedule like Ma Ingalls like "Wash on Monday, Iron on Tuesday, Bake on Wednesday" and how I want a baby but am "being unrealistic" and how I want a garden but am lazy and allergic to plants and don't like to get dirty. And she might think I'm silly, but she's silly too and so we understand each other. Which I like.
b. Travis actually likes Matt, which means that he will not complain when I hang out with Lana and be like "I'm a boy, I need friends who are boys. I don't just want to hang out around girls all day." So now when Lana AND Matt come over and Lana and I are like "blah blah blah girl stuff."
They can be like "Cars, hunting, hiking, we are manly and discuss many manly things. Muscles, pooping, sex."
(Boys are gross.)
c. I get to go to California! For the first time in my memory, although I have apparently been there before. (Nobody in my family remembers the trip to Disneyland, but we have pictures. I think they were forged by the FBI after erasing our memories of a sensitive incident. What could have happened on that trip to California that the government SO wanted us to forget?)
Anyway, I get to go to Lana's wedding and Travis and I get to be their photographers. Huzzah!
d. I get to go through the temple with Lana. (I said before I am excited for selfish reasons and this is one especially selfish reason.) Being that Lana is a convert to the church and her Mom is not a member, she needs a best friend who can go to the temple with her the first time she goes... and that person is ME!
e. My other married best friends Cole and Suzie have left me and never ever call me or pretend to remember me. So I shall replace them.
Just kidding.
Lana and Matt have a new married place in my marriage-biased heart. They are not taking the Nielsen's place. I still have the Nielsen's in my heart.... for the time being. They should call me and secure their place more firmly, though.

(moving on)

5. I have practically become an expert at my baby photographing job which is the best job in the world. The only problems?
a. I cannot go in the patients room unless they sign the consents first.
b. The patients do not sign the consents until after the nurses give them to their patients to sign.
c. The nurses do not hand the consents to their patients until after I have harassed them for many hours.
d. I spend many hours waiting at the nurses stations saying things like "What does the mom in room 413 want?" and getting responses like "Oh, I forgot to ask her."

6. I got seriously rained upon.
Those raindrops yesterday were like little bullets!

7. We reinstated dessert-night Wednesdays. So last night Sienna and Amalia came over and I learned the best way to make pudding EVER. Do it like this:
Mix one packet of pudding mix with a can of sweetened condensed milk and 1 1/2 cups of water, and 2 cups of whipped cream.
Gah! You might have a seizure from sugary goodness. Mmmm. Then put it in a bowl and top with sliced bananas and Nilla Wafers. You will not be disappointed.

8. I slept awesomely last night and the reason why is this: It was thunderstormy and chilly. So I snuggled up in a real blanket and Travis let me curl up against his warm body and touch him with out going like this "Nnnnooooo... *moaning sound* It's too hot. Don't touch me. Stop touching me. It's too hot. Turn the fan up more and don't touch me again."
He's quite the bully at night time in the summer time past bed time, when it's so hot that we both nearly die.
But I hate sleeping when I'm hot.
And I hate sleeping without blankets (but one must, in the summer heat.)
And most of all, I hate sleeping over on my side of the bed and not being allowed to snuggle, touch, or remotely harass my husband while he sleeps.

It is my main reason for sleeping poorly.

9. I learned that we are just as broke as we ever were. Amazingly, this came as a shock to me. Here's why:
a. Travis lets me buys things like several cookbooks when I say "Hey, can I buy this cookbook?" (I have to ask for permission, not because he's really bossy or controlling. But because he's the only one who ever looks at our bank account and is the decider of what to buy and not to buy. Maybe I have learned my lesson and will look at my bank account for once.)
b. When Travis said, "Do you want to go out to eat every week for the rest of the month for Friday's date night or get 7 Peaks Passes?" and I yelled "7 Peaks! I hate date night!" (not true, of course. I LOVE date night) he just BOUGHT them. Despite the fact that they were pricey.
c. When he said "Hey can I buy a 300$ lens for my camera that I really want, which is a 28mm, so I know you also really want it?" and said "Umm, I don't know. Can we afford it?" and he said "YES!" so I said "YES!" and so we bought it, and I thought "Can we afford it?" meant "Do we have several bazillion dollars?" but he didn't know that I meant that. So I should be more specific with my questions. But I do love that lens, and it was quite an amazing deal.
d. We can still pay our bills and buy expensive groceries since I have high tastes and lots of "food morals" concerning how my food is made and where it comes from. And when we went to the store to buy me a plain black t-shirt for work and I became distracted by all of the very very many things that I want but do not need Travis said "We'll come back soon and go shopping."
So I was maybe mislead concerning our money.
I mislead myself by not totally understanding money (at all), and believing that two good, nice people like us probably had endless supplies of cash lying around. Despite the fact that we just went on a very expensive trip to Africa and were not paid to go.

10. The tenth happening. The one you've all been waiting for.
I have learned that Travis Pitcher my tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed, handsome, manly, too hot to let me touch him at night, protective, eater of lots of food, and maker of cool documentaries and slam dunker extraordinaire (although he did tell me that its embarrassing to him when I say Slam Dunk because I sound like an 8-year old boy after watching Space Jam and I should just say dunk. Like, "so last night I dunked the ball twelve times in a row.") super extra the best ever husband is... leaving.
Not permanently. But as you may know from previous evenings when he has gone off on film-related business trips (sketchy, right?) I have melt-downs and cryings and cannot fall asleep and am afraid of being home alone without him.
So I am sad because he's leaving tomorrow WAY too early in the morning, so I don't want to take him to the airport, but even if I did want to... we don't have a car. And even if we did I am needlessly afraid of driving from the city by myself.
And he'll be gone all day Friday. And all that night and all day Saturday.
But then he will be home.
So he's only gone one night but Lauren and maybe Lana will spend the night at my house in my bed and I will snuggle with them if they let me because I am a snuggler. I cannot change who I am based on whether or not we are married.
And we will go see Letters to Juliet at the theater because Travis was like "That's a girl movie. Have fun with your girl friends at that movie. I'm bored but I don' t want to see it even though it's only a dollar. I want to eat red meat because I'm a manly man and hate girl movies."

So good riddance to him.
(I am already sad and miss him and he's just at work.)

7 Peaks!

AHHH! 7 Peaks is a water park, which is full of fat white people and tan little babies and a billion teenagers trying to seduce each other AAAAND
YES! Becky and Travis who now have SEASON PASSES!

We got them for super cheap, because it's late in the season, and 7 Peaks is like a mile from our house, and now we can stop trying to break into Centennial to use their pool, and not feel guilty if we only go for an hour one day, and in fact, we can go for an hour every day and be tan and be refreshed (it is so freaking hot this summer) without having to pay 22$ EACH a day.

But you will not get 7 Peaks pictures, because I am not bringing my camera to a water park.

But if you have not seen it, imagine in your mind a Suesical Factory, with many crazy colored, striped and bizarrely twisted pipes running every which way.
Those pipes are slides.
And they are filled with the people I described above.

We went there last night.
I think the plan is to go for an hour or two every night.

We talk like this:

(After a long conversation on whether or not a girl in our ward has masculine features)

"This makes me feel good about myself."

"You should always feel good about yourself, but not SO good that you leave me for another attractive man."

"I would never leave you for a more attractive man!"

"Did I say MORE? No. Equally attractive."

"I would never leave you for a more, less or equally attractive man."

"Less? I'm leaving you, Travis for a less attractive man. That makes no sense."

"On account of, whoever they are they probably wouldn't do the dishes because they know I hate dishes."

"Definitely not."

"Or be super cool."

"No way."

"Or taste like the ocean after basketball."

"Nope, that is a Travis-only feature."

"I believe it."

"You've heard of trophy husbands? I'm a collector's edition husband. For a limited time only, TRAVIS, who tastes like the ocean when he's sweaty."

This is us wearing Umbrella Hats on the 4th of July. Picture by Mom Pitcher.

There's no place like home

We're home.

I nearly cried when I saw our bed.

Luckily for you, this means that I will start posting pictures like crazy.

But not quite yet.

First, I am going to unpack.

And do some laundry.

And some grocery planning and shopping.

And eat some more strawberries (hallelujah!)

And open all the windows.

And catch up on blogs.

And go on a bike ride.

Mmmm... it is so good to be here.

You know how everyone's house has a smell, but you can never smell your own?

When we came in our door last night there were a few minutes where Travis and I just stood and smelled.

After a long trip, you learn what you smell like to other people.

Like old musty houses. Like sugar and honey. Like pages and pages of books.

I wish I could still smell it now, but I think the fact that I can't is okay.

This is our home.

Oh, I love it like mad.

Being Mormon

I forget what it’s like to be a Mormon.
I forget that we’re different, peculiar even, anywhere outside of Utah.
In Provo I’m just another leaf on the tree, and believing in Christ doesn’t set me apart, it helps me blend in.

But I am different.
Here I feel it.
All our friends go out and have a glass of wine at dinner, and we don’t. They ask us why.
Travis says he lived in Argentina for two years on a mission trip and they ask why.
They say, get used to a lot of handshakes in Kenya and we say, we’re very good at handshaking because of our own culture. Why?
We say, Oh, we’re mormons.

I forget that it comes up every single day outside of Utah. And that saying “We’re mormons” isn’t enough because then they want to know:

Do you eat any barley or is it just beer you don’t drink? Do you drink caffeine? Are you against birth control? What exactly makes you different from other Christian religions? Do they just send you out on missions with a Bible and a good luck?
Our Muslim friend asked about our schedule and beliefs concerning prayer.
An agnostic friend wanted to discuss the nature of God and the spirit of the law, versus the letter of the law.
And after I was feeling a little guilty, like maybe they’re all sick of hearing about our beliefs or they feel like we’re judging them for drinking one girl said “I’m glad that you came, even for just two weeks. Before you came God was just a running joke. I didn’t feel like I could keep my religion here. ”

And a line of scripture came to me. Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God.
And I thought, I cannot stop being a mormon, or toning down my mormon-ness to make people feel more comfortable. I need to remind them, even if just through my own belief that God is real, that someone out there cares about them.
It's weird to think that maybe me being more makes people feel less uncomfortable.

I guess that’s what I miss most in Utah. I miss feeling like God can use me for something.
If he needs a tool in Provo to work a miracle or save a soul or just say a kindly word, he has hundreds of people to do it. People more qualified than me.
But in Kilfi, if he wants someone to feel like maybe it’s okay to be a Christian, or be reminded that there is a greater power than them in the world, or just discuss and ponder God…
he can use me.

My bishop isn’t here, my good roommates aren’t here, my entire University isn’t here.

Only I am.

And I like when it’s only me. Or, you know, me and Travis. Because that’s when I remember that we aren’t like other people and we don’t want to be.

We want to be like Christ.

Mormon.org