never too old for nurturing

Thanks to my good and generous friend Linda (and to the great Stake Conference talk we had a couple of weeks ago about the Family Proclamation and our divinely-appointed role as nurturers) I spent last weekend in Provo with my two lovely college daughters. Sorry to my Utah friends who I didn't visit; this was a nurturing mother trip.

Linda came to see her son Dan in Provo and her daughter Karen in Cedar City. Our first night in Provo found us at the ever-popular Brick Oven where we enjoyed great pizza and iced mugs of root beer (Diet Coke with lime for some).

What BYU visit would be complete without a tour of the now-famous Giraffe Office in the Physics Department? Linda, as evidenced in this photo, had never seen it before. Words cannot describe.

Emily showed us her office, complete with official-looking nameplate.

And of course, we got to personally meet the Goose For All Seasons we had heard so much about, dressed here in her back-to-school best.

Charlotte, ever the "hideous copy editor," found this grievous sign outside the pool at Emily's apartment complex. I mean, really--are they trying to stop unauthorized swimmers or simply alleviate bad hair days?

After a trip to Charlotte's doctor on Friday we found ourselves at University Mall, where I talked Linda into buying new Dansko clogs (among other things). We shared a favorite treat of Pretzel Bites and lemonade and were sad that Emily had a class she couldn't miss.

This apron at Deseret Book seemed appropriate for the occasion. It says "Hold tight to Mom's apron strings."

I never knew that Deseret Book carried fabric! I bought these cute pieces to make an apron (one can never have too many, you know):

We next met Emily outside her classroom door, made a stop at the BYU Bookstore for a sequin "Y" tee shirt I had been pining for since last month's visit, and then stopped to snap a photo with Brigham.

What nurturing trip would be complete without a Donut Night? I brought along the donut fryer so that the girls and their friends wouldn't have to miss out on our semi-annual tradition.

Our long-awaited and highly-anticipated trip to Provo's T-shirt Bar on Saturday (Michelle had piqued our interest some time ago) turned out to be a bust. The door was unlocked, but this is all we found inside. I guess cute, customized tee shirts were not in the cards for us.

The best part of the weekend came on Saturday night. We were the lucky recipients of front-section tickets to the Relief Society broadcast at the Conference Center in Salt Lake City, courtesy of the girls' religion professor. More on that later. (And many thanks to Dan, who relinquished his car to us for the day.)

At the end of the fun-filled long weekend I was left to wonder at the goodness of the Lord, who--when He might have sent two beautiful, exceptional girls to someone who could give them lessons and instruments worthy of their talents, travel and education worthy of their intellect, and a clothing budget worthy of their good taste--instead sent them to me. I will be forever grateful for such a gift.

Superman: Part II

Remember the Ford Ranger I've been driving--A/C, but little interior cargo space for people and things? Our yearly trip to Provo finally proved just the impetus we needed to get a new car! Well, new to me--a 2004 Chevy Trailblazer. The A/C is awesome, there is LOTS of room, the sound system is great, and all four of the doors open from the inside--imagine that.

We traded Mark's trusty red Ranger in, which means that the Explorer really is "his car" now, lucky man.

Guess who volunteered to drive the girls' 1989 Toyota Corolla (with no A/C) to Provo? You guessed it, Superman, a.k.a. Mark.

And guess which car broke down just past Price on our way to Provo? Right again, the Corolla with 220,000+ miles on it. I suppose it was only a matter of time. Here's the scenic spot where the girls' car took its final, gasping breath.

And who do you suppose had to wait for another hour or so for me to come rescue him on the side of the road? The girls and I had just unloaded our car in Provo when we got the call from Mark telling us of his predicament.

And who do you suppose transferred all of the girls' belongings from the stranded, dead Corolla into the new car--right again, Mark.

And guess who my favorite guy is--you're right, Mark.

Superman: Part I

Remember my 1993 Ford Explorer--the one I've been driving for five of the past six years? Let me refresh your memory: it's the one that hasn't had working A/C for the past two years, one door that no longer opens from the inside (just so happens to be the one most frequently needed to drop off kids at school), a transmission that has been threatening to go for some time now, and a starter that needs an occasional menacing prod with a broomstick in order to function properly.

Mark, being both compassionate and smart, traded me cars once summer began. I drove his red Ford Ranger (which in reality isn't big enough for all the people and things I tote about town--but who's complaining, it has great A/C) and he drove the sweltering Jed Clampet-mobile.

And then the starter on the Explorer died in the parking lot of Mark's office. What to do now? How much money do we really want to spend fixing up this old car? Mark and Emily towed the car home with the little red truck and I began wondering how we would all fit into the Ranger to make it to church on Sunday.

The next thing I know, Mark is doing extensive online research. "Great!" I think to myself. "He's looking for a new car." Little did realize he was teaching himself how to be a mechanic. Before I knew it, Mark--who has never tinkered much with cars--had found an inexpensive replacement part and was underneath the car installing it.

I kept any doubts or misgivings to myself, and must admit that I was quite impressed by the lack of cursing I heard (perhaps I was out of earshot). In less time that I would have imagined, Mark came into the house with a jubilant request that I come outside to admire his handiwork. Lo and behold, that car starts every time now on the first try!

Mark could be the official spokesperson for Dawn dish soap: Gets Grease Out of Your Way.

Mark has since told me that he doesn't appreciate me referring to "his car" as a Jed Clampet-mobile. I think he has developed a sort of kinship with that old car; he claims it's his Therapy Car. In addition to putting in the new starter, he has replaced the brakes, put in new spark plugs, and numerous other things I know nothing about. He has taught me that I guess we can all learn to do things that we didn't think we knew how to do, and yes--I still get to drive the car with air conditioning.