felt

Instead of writing or reading (or cleaning) of late, I've been using a lot of my spare time to cut, glue, and attempt to manipulate felt.  It's been fun and hopefully will continue to be fun.  I made some finger puppets for the boy and some hair clips for our ward's youth camp fundraiser.  We'll see if they sell.  My mom made felt finger puppets once upon a time and I doubt mine are as good as hers (not fishing for compliments here because Marmee is a domestic goddess; it's true).

the luckiest

"It looks like a beautiful day.  The sun is coming up and you said you wanted to go running."

I don't remember his exact words but I'm grateful for how he said them because that's what I remember more than the words themselves.  They helped me remember I did indeed want to run this morning.  They helped me want to greet the day happily.  He said these words encouragingly, sincerely, and kindly.

So this might be what you might call a mushy post.  But let it be known, I love my Andrew Clyde.  My manly man.  My dearest dearly darling.

Our fourth anniversary is in a few days and we've been celebrating the six days of February around here.  This was something I started for our first anniversary.  Now it's something I look forward to as the holidays come to a close.  Andrew has been so creative this time around.  He gives me a clue in the morning and then a hint later in the day as to where to find a little gift.  I am spoiled.  I am blessed.  I am loved.

And now I'm going to listen to this song again.

a new hobby?

Made some hair bows/clips over the last week.  They're very elementary, but I had fun making them and look forward to making some more.

this is why I write

It's so easy for me to forget moments, conversations, and interactions.  Sometimes I like to search for and read old emails.  Some of my very favorite emails are those exchanged between my sister and me.  Boy do we make me laugh, even five years after the fact.

I was indulging in this pastime tonight, missing her, and thinking about her, when I came across a paragraph I wrote about someone.  Sadly, I can't even remember what Oleg looked like, but I do remember speaking with him, in Russian, and smiling all the while.

I share it here because all the unrest in Ukraine, and so many other parts of the world, is breaking my heart right now.

We have to keep reasons around to smile, no?

Backstory: I was helping out my dad with some Ukrainians who were visiting UVU in the summer of 2009.  This is what I wrote Natty because she was out of country (meeting the love of her life) in Mexico.

Wednesday I took the Ukrainians swimming.  One guy, Oleg, was super funny.  We were waiting for the others to get changed into their swim attire.  He lifted up his shirt to reveal his hairy chest and says (in Russian, of course) "No one in America has hair like this, do they?"  


He was pretty hairy and yet I had to say, "No, people do have hair like that.  My dad has hair like that."  

So then he pulls down the back neck of his tee shirt to expose even the hairiness of his back.  "What about this?" he asked.  

"Um, yeah, my dad has hair just like that."  

He replies, "People with hair like this are good people.  Your dad is a good guy.  I'm a good guy too.  I met your dad last night and he really is a good guy."  

I was just smiling and said, "Yeah, yeah."  It was pretty funny.  He's quite the gregarious kid.  


Oleg, wherever you are, I hope you're still smiling.  Thanks for brightening up my life at least twice now.

the Skabelund love language of food

We've been home for almost a week now, but certain items in my fridge, freezer, and pantry remind me of the home-where-I-grew-up, or at least where I did much of my growing up.  I still have a fair bit of growing up to do.  

The food I am enjoying of late:

• peach preserves from Becky
• elk, thanks to Joli's tag, Dad's harvesting, and everyone's hands to break it all down
• blue cheese dressing made by Dad
• squash grown by Dad
• jars of peaches, pears, apricots, jam, applesauce, and sauerkraut canned by my parents

I often feel like Anton Ego or Marcel Proust when I eat any of this.  A bite of canned pear takes me back to Sundays after church when our standard lunch or snack would be cheese toast with canned fruit.  The elk evokes many fond memories of time spent on both a snowy mountain and in my parents' kitchen with my cousins, aunts, and uncles.

Above all, as I partake I feel loved.  I am blessed.

first 10K

Margie drove all the way from Arizona so we could run a race together.  Sadly it was pretty junky weather.  But we managed to have a good time despite the downpour.  Andrew and the kiddos tagged along since little H bear won't take a bottle and the race was about an hour away.  I pretty much have the awesomest friend, husband, and kids.  

We got soaked.  It wasn't raining too hard at the start of the race but that didn't last for long.  We ran in Malibu state park and ran through some of the place they filmed M.A.S.H.  Andrew and I finished watching all 11 seasons of it about a month ago, so it was lots of fun to see an old M.A.S.H. jeep and other stuff from the movie set that's still out.  

I had such a nice weekend with Marge.  I'm sad we don't live closer to each other, but I'm glad she's so kind enough that I've been able to see her twice this year.  She's a lovely one.  I also went to my first movie in the theater since "Les Mis."  We went and saw "Philomena."  It was pretty good.  Not my favorite ever, but I do love me some Judi Dench, and girls' night out is always restorative.

marmee and papi

are not my parents lovely?

i'm going through pictures as i work on our photo album 

and i had to share these gems.

i love all these shots of my parents 

because all these angles show how lovely they are.  

and how SILLY my ma is 

and how CUDDLY my pa is.

i certainly inherited nostril flaring from marmee.