European Vacation (Ye Olde Blog Update For The Proverbial Ending of All Blog Updates)

Yes, our darling readers, we have returned. Some of you may be wondering how we found the time, among all our other impegni, to go to Europe. Well, the truth is that we thought it would be simpler if we just did a vacation in the European style, that is, took the whole month of August off. Of course, we couldn’t just not work, or not go to school, or not attend church, or ignore all our other myriad necessities. That meant, of course, that the only source of respite left open to us was the blog. I know some of you may be crying out in rage and frustration (quietly, so as to not disturb the neighbors) that you deserve notification about the events of our lives. “How dare you!” you very few people exclaim. “We deserve notification about the events of your lives!” You pound your collective head on your collective computer desk and weep bitter tears as you sob your collective self to sleep. Well, wake up and dry your eyes, America, because we are back from our long absence and once more relating to you the excitement of la vita nostra.Rather than bore you all with a purely chronological documenting of the events of the past month, we will instead describe the highlights categorically. ** WARNING: considering the length of our absence, “highlights” does not equate to brief statements. Just remember that this blog is first intended as a family journal. If the “highlights” seem too lengthy for your taste, feel free to skim or read in installments. Consider yourself amply notified.**

Washington, part A
After toying with the idea for a couple of weeks, I decided that I may very well be crazy, but Isaac and I would go to Washington with my parents.Having made this decision only two days before the scheduled departure, I was left with little time to make the necessary arrangements. My suitcase was packed and ready to go in no time. Now I was left to pack for Isaac and it proved to be a most laborious task. My brain melted at the idea of packing for a week-long vacation with a two-month old. What was I supposed to take? How many outfits would he need? How many diapers? Should I take all the diapers or worry about buying them while we were gone? Do I take the Pack-N-Play to maintain a semblance of normal sleeping arrangements or save space and let Isaac sleep in his car seat? I packed a diaper bag and a clothes bag and then unpacked everything and put it into a different bag. The stress of packing for Isaac was enough to almost make me change my mind about going. In the end, I managed to take only a small mountain of various “necessities” (and only a fraction of that mountain turned out to be over-kill).

We embarked on our journey late on Friday, August 4. Since Isaac had been routinely sleeping through the night for some time, we were able to get the majority of the twelve-hour drive behind us before he woke to eat. When we did stop the next morning, I noticed that one of my parents’ brand-new tires (less than 24-hours old) was next to flat. When we filled it with air it held pressure pretty well, so we didn’t end up getting anything done until Monday (partly because the closest mechanic on the national warranty system was closed, but that is beside the point).We arrived in Albion mid-morning where my Harston grandparents were pleasantly surprised to find that Isaac and I had joined my parents on their vacation. Prior to that morning, I hadn’t seen my grandparents since Christmas of 2003! It was great to spend time with them in one of my favorite areas of the world, the waving wheat fields of Washington (which, by the way, I would say are more of a cream color than amber). While we were there Isaac started to “talk” a lot each time I changed his diaper. He was on his best behavior and quite the charmer in general.

We stayed with my grandparents in Albion until Tuesday before driving across the state to visit more family. Driving during the day proved to be quite the ordeal. We seemed to crawl along between Isaac’s feedings, but I hadn’t expected otherwise. The highlights of the drive, for me at least, were learning a bit more about my family (who knew that Grandma Harston was divorced . . . I’d always assumed she was widowed) and a section of highway that has a label for each crop that you pass so you can tell what is being grown. Very cool.

My last two days were spent in the Seattle area visiting other family members. One of my cousins was getting married, which was part of the initial reason for the trip. I was able to attend the sealing ceremony in the Seattle Temple. It was a lot more relaxed than any Utah temple wedding I’ve been to. For example, there weren’t enough chairs for everyone in the original sealing room, so they just picked a different one. Chances of that happening in Salt Lake . . .

After the wedding and luncheon, we spent the rest of that day with my sister, Angela. We visited her Old Navy store where she insisted on buying Isaac presents before heading to her apartment. Much to Angela’s dismay, Isaac slept most of the day, but did wake long enough to have a staring contest with Shakes, the cat. We woke Chris and all went out for a fresh seafood dinner. While we were waiting to be seated, Angela, Chris, and I took Isaac’s car seat and had a seat on the nearest bench. Shortly after sitting down, a waitress came and informed us that we were in the lounge and that Washington state law prohibits anyone under the age of 18 from being in the lounge. Apparently, an infant in a car seat is in great danger of becoming prematurely alcoholic merely by sitting in the near vicinity of various liqueurs.

All of the excitement of our vacation, as great as it was, paled in comparison to the adventure that was Isaac and my last day in Washington. In an effort to get home sooner than my parents’ planned vacation allowed, it was decided before we left that Isaac and I would drive up to Washington and then fly home. This idea of flying was one of the major points that made me question whether I was in fact crazy for going on vacation with a two-month old. It turns out that I wasn’t crazy for flying alone with an infant, but for picking the 10^th of August to be the day of said flight. Yes, my dear friends, Isaac and I were two in the countless masses of travelers on the day of the foiled terrorist plot. We’d caught the “no liquid” warning on the news. What the reporters failed to mention was that airports like SeaTac are not equipped to deal efficiently with said countless masses and that it would likely take several hours to get through security. After a lovely breakfast, we took our jolly sweet time getting to the airport for check-in an hour and a half before my scheduled flight. Armed with an overly heavy diaper bag, my camera bag, and sleeping son, I bade farewell to my family at the curb and headed for a reportedly long security check line. I soon found out that “long” was an extreme understatement. Airport personnel were stationed with large signs to direct travelers to the end of the security line which stretched out of the airport, across the skywalk, and all the way to the outermost edge of the parking terminals. As I made my way to the end of the line, I kept wishing I had an extra hand to get the camcorder out and film the ordeal. Isaac and I settled into the queue of people near parking row “U”. An hour later we had made it as far as “N” and still could not see the skywalk that led back into the building. Then the line split. I chose the right, partly because that is just what you do, but mostly because the lady with the thick Indian accent who insisted on talking to me even though I couldn’t understand what she was trying to say chose the left. Now I was left to stand in line with an elderly lady and her daughter, which turned out to be the most fortunate situation of the day. By my scheduled departure time, I was a stone’s throw away from entering the airport, but still not half-way to security. Isaac was beginning to stir and I was contemplating what I might do when he woke up and decided he was ready to eat. I somehow managed to get his binky out of the diaper bag hanging across my back and pop it into his mouth, hoping to induce sleep long enough to get inside.After silently pleading for some sort of divine assistance (which was being counter-acted by my sister's silent hope that I wouldn’t make it home and would have to stay and play with her some more), an airport worker showed up to talk to the elderly passenger in front of me. She asked if they had been waiting in line long and told them that she would take them to the front of the line. The woman’s daughter signaled for me to go with them and I graciously followed. So, bypassing two-thirds of the wait, I made it into the airport in time to see that my flight was “boarding”. And so I ran, well, quickly hobbled through the terminals to reach my gate which, of course, was the farthest possible gate from where I was. It should not be a shock to anyone to know that I didn’t make it. The plane was still there, but boarding had long since ended and my seat had undoubtedly been given to one of the passengers who had missed their own flight earlier in the day. So, I was back to waiting. Only this time, I moved all of three feet in the two hours between my flight's departure and the next flight's arrival. They were loading the 3:15 before I was given a stand-by ticket and told that they would do what they could. I had just enough time to sit down and feed my starving child, who had been kind enough to sleep throughout the ordeal, before my name was called and I was given a seat on the flight. Now, my poor son was fed, but as wet as could be with no time or space to change his soggy bottom. But we were finally on our way home! And to add a happy ending to an otherwise exhausting day, Jordan had arranged to get off work so that he could pick Isaac and me up at the airport. My joy at seeing him as I came down the stairs toward the baggage claim is beyond words. We all loaded into the car and drove toward home with a mission to now find food for a famished mommy. By this time, my brain was fried. I would begin a sentence, but only get as far as “why don’t we . . .” before my neurological breaker would trip and be reset to the beginning of the same sentence. I can not tell you how welcome sleep was that night.

Washington, part J
I seriously thought about trying to go to Washington with my wife and was considering trying to switch some work shifts around, but realized in the end that I had a final to take that I couldn’t miss. So, I reluctantly parted ways with my wife and son. They left for Washington while I was at work, and since I didn’t have any real reason to go home I worked quite late (no generalizations, please, from that comment; I am aware that I frequently work late even when I do have a real reason to go home). Thus began several days of frequent text-messaging and occasional phone calls when cell phone service was available. It was the first time we had spent so much time apart since our marriage, and I found myself missing the two of them quite a bit, especially (no offense, Alison) Isaac, who I knew was missing my hugs as much as I missed hugging him. I made the wise decision not to spend much time at home, but instead spent the weekend at my parents' house and at Michael-and-Shannon's, where I eased my troubles by making a reasonably tasty lasagna with a pesto cream sauce.

I left for home on Monday in order to take my Pathophysiology final. I was delayed at Michael and Shannon’s house by a book that was calling to me most sorrowfully indeed, but I finished consoling it in time (I thought) to make it to the testing center well before it closed. Unfortunately, my efforts were once again thwarted by the Inconvenience and Nonsense Police of Weber State: it was still finals time, but because only two professors had scheduled tests on that Monday, the testing center closed three hours earlier than expected. So, I arrived an hour too late to test. I shrugged my shoulders resignedly, no longer surprised at the trials I am called on to face as a student of that institution, and emailed my professor. He called me at work on Tuesday and told me that I had to take it that day or not at all, so I arranged to have someone cover my hall at Avalon, drove from Bountiful to Syracuse, took my test, and made it back in about 80 minutes. I took it completely cold, but I got a decent score anyway, so I suppose it turned out all right in the end. I learned a great lesson from this experience, which was that Weber State really is out to get me, and it’s not just my imagination.

Skip forward to Thursday, and we find me once again at work. I had arranged for a coworker to take the last four hours of my shift so I could surprise Alison by picking her up at the airport instead of my parents picking her up, but en route to the airport my mom called and told me Alison had missed her flight because of the whole terrorist situation (those wacky terrorists…bless their hearts…). So, I detoured to grandma’s house in Bountiful and spent a while reading her paper until she got home. We had a nice chat after she arrived, but I guess she must have been really surprised by my haircut (done by myself, fixed by my mom), because the visit ended with my grandmother being taken to the emergency room. I arrived at the airport late, but Alison’s flight was delayed so it worked out fine, and the look on her face when she saw me there was worth the stress of the day. Grandma, by the way, is all right.

Farewell to Friends
It was with some melancholy that we drove to Provo to see Justin and Lia et al for the last time before their pilgrimage to the East. They have been fixtures in our lives since before we were married, but the siren song of Higher Education was not to be resisted, and they were pointed Yale-ward despite our wishes to the contrary. We spent an enjoyable evening together playing games and talking, then we reluctantly headed home. In what was surely a parting shot from the vengeful spirit of Bessie the Fickle Ford, our Trudy would not start; we discovered that the headlights had been left on, perhaps by Calypso in an attempt to once again delay the start of the Odyssey (ha ha). Luckily, a neighbor had jumper cables and we were quickly on our way, leaving Provo in our wake.

Got Shakespeare?
Mid-August, we took our semi-traditional trip to Cedar City for the Utah Shakespearean Festival. Alison and I were set to see two shows, while our sister Jessica had graciously agreed to accompany us on the journey and enjoy some quality time with her favorite nephew born in June. As most of our readers know, everything takes longer with an infant. After getting a late start, and making various stops on the way, we skidded to a halt in front of Southern Utah University’s Auditorium where Alison and I rushed inside, just missing the opening of The Merry Wives of Windsor, but still in time to be seated in the balcony. At the end of an entertaining first act (with the insertion of some suggestive actions that may or may not have been part of the original) we went outside to meet Jessica and feed Isaac. I went back inside to make sure we could get in if Alison was late, and she arrived just in time for us to be seated on the ground level, although we did not end up in our assigned seats. It ended well, the Wives as Merry as ever, the rogues punished fittingly. After the matinee ended, we journeyed to our hotel, which was inexpensive but reasonably comfortable (although the pool was quite cool). Alison and I went back to campus to see Hamlet, but we had overlooked the fact that the show started an hour later than we had planned. Many props to Melissa for her rush to the store to procure formula for the inevitable feeding emergency which ensued. Anyway, Hamlet was simply incredible, and Brian Vaughn was enchanting as always. Hamlet has long been my favorite Shakespearean play, and it earned a rare standing ovation from myself. I was inspired to begin a memorization project [i.e. the entire text, at least all of Hamlet's lines and all the interacting lines that matter], but due to a lack of proper walking/reading time I have since then only memorized the last 58 lines of Act 2 and the first several lines of Act 3 (the project is ongoing). Melissa, with her instinctive generosity, invited us to also attend a barbecue with her family and a production of "Room Service," a somewhat silly but entertaining play about the hotel and theater businesses (and also starring Brian Vaughn). As a memento, we left the festival with the adorable "Got Shakespeare?" onesie pictured above, a host of great memories, and many thanks to a couple of truly great females. Barring any unforeseen complications, we will be attending again next year; let us know if you would like to join us. Let's do lunch and discuss it. I'll even let you buy.

Odds and Ends And Other Stuff
[Alison]On the 27^th, while we were at the Johnsens’ for dinner, Jordan set Isaac down on the floor where he effortlessly rolled from his back to his stomach. Huzzah! After which he proved it to be a fluke by never doing it again. Humbug! However, we have decided that since he is only 3 months old we won’t hold it against him. Honestly, we can’t hold much of anything against him because he is just too cute. Every now and again, we think “surely we will be able to withstand Isaac’s cuteness today!” But, not unfortunately, we fail every time. Each night as our tired son is being put to bed, he will suddenly find the energy to grin and coo at his parents. We can hear his manipulative plea . . . “You don’t really want to put me to bed. You’d much rather admire my adorableness awhile longer.” Many a time we have fallen to such a request, only to be greeted with grumpy wails saying “put me to bed! Can’t you people see that I’m tired”. Apparently, our son just needs to make sure he is still in control.

[Jordan]Due to a mix-up with a flaxen cord, we began our descent down the long road of apostasy this month by attending our home ward only once, between baby blessings, trips out of town, and the inevitable health-care-profession occasional Sunday work. It was perhaps for this reason that we were invited to meet with a counselor in the bishopric two Sundays ago not for the purpose of Alison receiving a calling (she should receive one soon, according to rumor), but to be asked to speak in church on the 17^th (we are not brave enough to call that an invitation to come and make us more nervous). In other news, we both received new home teaching/visiting teaching assignments, but that is most likely due to our companions moving and not an effort on the part of church leadership to keep tabs on us (although my new companion is the Elders’ Quorum president). We love our ward and are excited to finally feel like we are in a place where we are not transients. Isaac, in fact, has actually begun to grow roots, which causes us endless consternation when coupled with the high cost of garden shears these days.

In work news (since you all are dying to know), I became IV certified in August. It went just fine and was paid for by work. If anyone is willing to let me stab them for practice, I am more than willing to gain the experience, and I will buy you ice cream. I just need to get some supplies…Anyway, the class was about 14 hours long (6 of which were inconveniently on our Anniversary) and I was paid for it at my regular work wage. The problem is that almost everyone who is at our facility with IV therapy is on long-term antibiotics, and therefore has a PICC, which I am not legally allowed to flush, do dressing changes on, or give funny looks to. So, to be really useful at work, I need to attend a PICC certification class. In other news, I was surprised to discover during the last few work days that sometime in the last little while I gained confidence as a nurse. It makes all the difference in the world not to feel like I am brand-new and unable to function independently. Plus, I recently had one of those weekend shifts all the other nurses told me existed but which I had never seen: I got off after only 12 hours of work and not 14 or 15 as is my custom. We all hope it is the beginning of a trend.

[Alison]Isaac and I spent most of a weekend with extended family in various pursuits. One day was a cultural outing to Red Butte Gardens. From the pictures, you would hardly know that Isaac was there because he slept the whole time. The next day, I went to the Johnsens' for a lesson in domesticity as we bottled salsa. After their original play session, Isaac and Lauren (dressed in stereotypical gender-appropriate colors) took turns napping to ensure their audience's undivided attention during all their waking hours.

On the last Friday of August, we decided that we would follow the footsteps of the Collings clan and surprise everyone by doing something “fun.” So, we drove to Cherry Hill with the idea of playing a game of miniature golf. However, our drive for entertainment was not so great as to override our traditional “economic prudence” which told us that one hour of “fun” was not worth the established cost. Instead, we had Amelia and Keith over for pizza and games which financially speaking cost more, but the reward of food and pleasant company was far greater than our original plan would have provided. Plus, our seemingly fruitless trip lead us to return to Cherry Hill on Labor Day for a half-day of water park “fun” (lest our summer be wasted by not swimming once during the whole of it). Jordan and I were reminded of why we spent countless hours of our childhood days running back and forth between the “blue water slides” and Cardiac Canyon, because it really is fun (especially with the added bonus of it being a school night in September which made for very short lines). Isaac, as is his habit, slept through all the excitement under the watchful eye of his Gra’ma Jean. Which turned out to be in his best interest, otherwise he’d have been forced to watch his parents enviously for lack of an appropriately sized swim diaper and sun hat.

[Jordan]This last weekend we were graced by the presence of Linda and David ("Aunt Linda" and "Uncle David"), sightings of the latter in his natural habitat having been rumored but never confirmed (I swore to have had at least a few contacts with him in my distant past, but Alison, due to the lack of empirical confirmation, chose to doubt that he in fact existed). We met with them and Grandma Johnsen on Friday night at Lone Star for a pleasant evening of conversation and repast. On Saturday, there was a family dinner at the Johnsen Middle-Agers' home, which I was (for the first time in months) actually able to attend due to the aforementioned (remember? It's all the way back there in the middle somewhere) timely exit from work. A good time was had by all, and the babies were cute as always. Some cuter than others (and I am absolutely not biased).

[Alison}In parting, I thought you might like to know that scientists have recently discovered a positive correlation between the number of vacation days taken in a month and the amount of dirty laundry piled up at the end of it. As one of their test subjects, I can affirm this correlation to be a real one and attest to just how many loads of laundry one can expect to wash at the beginning of September when one has chosen to vacation away the entire month of August. However, it was a great month of vacationing and worth every newly washed sock that now needs matching.