Operation: Home Means Nevada

I don't think it's been a mystery to anyone exactly how I have felt about moving back to Las Vegas. I am much too refined to kick and scream, but I definitely have done the lady-like equivalent (sigh and complain). As opposed as I've been to Nevada generally and Las Vegas specifically, it has started to seep into me...(I think of it kind of like the way your clothes smell after an evening at the bowling alley). I have fought this sick, oozing, osmosis every moment. Everyone thought it was so cute when Abigail could sing the state song "Home means Nevada" when she wasn't even quite 2 years of age. They would laugh and say she knows where she's really from, where her roots are...and then I would go home (on the way driving by a Starbucks), feed her smoked salmon, make her watch episodes of House Hunters in Portland and Seattle, and try to describe to her what the color green looks like. I have put up a good fight. I didn't go quietly into the night. I haven't been gracefully resigned...but I'm still losing. Looking for a house, having a good steady job, and the Nevada bar exam over has made me realize that the battle is lost today and I need to save my efforts, regroup and live to fight another day....so in the mean time, I present Operation: Home Means Nevada. I will try to be a good Nevadan. I don't exactly know what that means yet, but I'm pretty sure it involves SPF 90, responsible water usage, and a love of stucco! I'm phasing myself in slowly. Today, Abby and I went to see Hoover Dam...and I've got to say, it is something to see. I'm posting pictures. Oh, and can you believe they expect us to drive on that bridge?!?! that picture is taken from the TOP of Hoover dam, which is extremely tall...and that bridge is even higher in the air over the Colorado river canyon. Oh, and Las Vegas is also spending a million dollars on bringing back restored, vintage neon signs. Death trap bridges and a million-dollar-let's-make-it-tackier project. God Bless Nevada!

My baby is all grown up and off to pre-school! Given her normally shy and timid nature, I had some serious reservations about my decision to feed her to the wolves...but to my great surprise she ran with the pack!

All dressed up and ready for the day! Thanks for the first-day-of-school dress, Grandma Susan! She loved it!

Abby took this picture of me before we left for school. She asked me to hold her microphone just like Sid the Science Kid. If you haven't had the pleasure of Sid the Science Kid on PBS kids, let me explain. Sid is a bi-racial, perfectly behaved, bright young lad of pre-school age. He goes to a school that manages to provide some incredible educational experiences with only 4 students attending. Each day, he brings his microphone to school along with his back pack. The microphone is for adding dramatic emphasis to his insightful and pointed questions...it is easily our favorite show. (I did say OUR...I love Sid!) It was all I could do to talk her into leaving the microphone in the car...

She's preparing to flex her golden pipes in singing time....and can I tell you that little kid in the yellow shirt is just a gem?

Abby and her good friend Emma. We even put Abby on the taller portion of the grass and she's still dwarfed by her beautiful giant of a friend (they're only 2 months apart). Becky and Rich have some AWESOME genetics.

I know that I could have picked a more charming location for a photo shoot then the school's cinder block wall, but trust me when I say it's a lovely school...though my pictures make it seem like I sent her to school in post-communist Eastern Europe. Way to go Abby! We're so proud of you! (And great idea Miss Marsha's mini school to feed the kids Oreos on day one. Abby's been begging to go back and get some more of that sweet action!)

Congratulations Brandon! Congrats for finishing the bar exam (I know you took it out behind the tool shed and taught it who was boss)! Congrats for being a kick-booty attorney! Congrats for having such an awesome wife who went with you on an awesome San Diego trip and took wicked awesome pictures of you! Love you!

I think I officially bit off more purple-frosted birthday cake than I can chew this week. Abby turned 3 this week...and I do mean this week. It was party after party and I officially want to poop any more parties. I'm tired! As you will see, I started out the week fresh as a daisy...I made her a bunny cake, expertly wrapped her presents, and took pictures of her opening each gift at her extended family party....

By the time the immediate family party rolled around (which included Red Robin and Build-A-Bear), I was still strong...But I met my match in the form of 11 awesome little kids at her official first friends party. Abby wanted a bunny party...so of course that means I had to make royal icing bunnies, search high and low for bunny projects and bunny decorations (by the way, may I pass on my sage advise for any future parent of a 3-year-old...they do NOT care about your Martha-Stewart-Level attempts at theme cohesion). I didn't even get any pictures of her great party because I was too busy sweating with the labor of that level of song and dance. I did, however, get pictures of the aftermath. I should have gotten a picture of what I discovered this morning while I was picking up...someone frosted my ottoman!! And they did a pretty good job. Nice even coating with sprinkles! I'll enjoy that little treat soon. Happy Birthday Abigail!

Dear Abigail,
It’s Sunday night and I’m thinking over the weekend that we shared together. You are very young and as you grow, you may not remember how delightful you have always been. I want to let you know all about it. Very early Saturday morning your dad woke you and took you to go get your very first donut and to change the brakes in our car. The report back was that you did an excellent job helping your dad change the brakes. He told me you got a screw driver and shoved it into just about every nook and cranny you can find on the underbelly of a Toyota Highlander. As for the donut, it was blueberry cake from Duncan Donuts (which happens to be your father’s favorite…you however, were less enthused…you’ve always been more of a chocolate girl).
After the brakes, you came home all covered in car grease. I washed you up, fed you some lunch, and you and I ran errands. We went to buy plastic sandwich bags. We had a lengthy debate between whether I should buy the cheapest or I should buy the environmentally friendly brand…you convinced me to go green! You always make me a better person. We went and rented a movie for you and I to watch together while dad studies for the Bar exam. You’ve been a trooper through all of his time away.
For helping me with my errands, your reward was a pack of gum. You shared a piece with the entire family and saved some for all of your cousins in Utah. We then picked up your dad to go to dinner. At the restaurant, you ate clam chowder and insisted on buttering your own bread. Outside of the restaurant, there was live music. You danced for everyone and it was beautiful. You took off your shoes and danced some more. You danced until your feet were blacker than I thought feet could be. Then, in your frenzy of fun, you picked up a rock…tossed it in the air…and it landed on a man eating an ice cream cone. You hid yourself in my lap until he was gone.
Today in church, the person giving their talk in sacrament meeting mentioned that they had gone to BYU. You did my heart proud when you then LOUDLY gave a cheer: “BYU COUGARS!” You then contented yourself to eat an apple for the rest of the talk…only to have it fall out of your hands, roll three pews in front of us, and the remainder was finished by a hungry little boy who’s mother didn’t seem to mind her son eating a foreign, unknown apple.
Dad had a headache after church. You got out your lotion and rubbed his neck with it. After, you told him that he would feel better if you danced for him. You put on a lovely concert of both dancing and singing. And sure enough…dad felt better. We went to dinner at Grandma and Grandpa’s. You picked the flowers out of their back yard and gave them to your dad. We came home, you were bathed…loved…we read you books…said our prayers…and you went to sleep with a pair of My Little Pony underpants on your head.
You told me this weekend that you wanted to live inside the television with Sid the Science Kid (which is a show you like to watch). I said that I would be sad if you left. You told me I could put a new baby in my tummy and that I would be fine…Abigail, a thousand babies could come out of this tummy and I would never be fine. I fall asleep at night remembering everything you do during a day. I warm myself with thoughts of times to come with you and your father. I love you, my little slice of pie (and yes, I actually do call you that).
Your Mother,
Jamie

This is what I get for taking too long doing my on-line banking...

A little help with the dishes...Dial Foaming Anti-Bacterial Hand Soap. My pots have never shined so!

And of course she got herself ready for the day. What a responsible child! (That lipstick was Bobby Brown, too! Curse my $20 impulse buy!)

So I've done it...I've cut off all my hair. No, I have not gone through a bad break up. No, I haven't joined any type of questionable organization...and, no, I'm not a lesbian (sorry ladies!). It actually came about as I was looking through all of our photos to use for facebook and this blog...and I realized that without fail, unless it was a staged studio shot...my hair was in a pony tail. In my mind I had Bella Swan hair...long, flowing, enviable locks...I had a constant breeze from no where flitting through my coif. Oh Blindness, Thy Name Art Jamie.

I'm posting some before and afters...I'm not sure I'm sold on the look yet, and I do feel a bit lost without my pony tail. In fact, I'm still wearing an elastic band around my wrist...what will I do with my 3,000 of them?!