Cap On.

If you are wondering why I'm not overloading you with Eli photos, there is a reason. Eli has learned to stack, to put a shape in a hole, to put a lid on something. And that transfers to my camera lens cap:

Sort of hard to get a photo when the kid just keeps putting my lens cap back on! Also, it's hard to have Eli cooperate when he's hungry. Here he is signing "eat". This happens often:

And still no full-on walking but we are sure making "steps" in that direction. He can now stand by himself for a fairly long time IF he wants to (if he doesn't, well, he will make his legs like jello and refuse to stand). He also only stands if he is near something he can grab onto... furniture, person, walker. Yesterday Eli took his first two normal looking steps to his beloved walker. It was special. Now we try to play that game of having him stand and putting his walker just out of reach. Sometimes we get a step, sometimes a cry, sometimes a crawl. Our doctor said she wouldn't really worry about him not walking until he was 18 months. Three months = plenty of time!

Here he is with said walker and signing "more" which I believe was him wanting me to clap and say "good job" more. Apparently one can never have too much encouragement.

-Heather

Full Lap.

Today I had my lap full. I was helping in the nursery. And this little girl, born a month before Maelee, sat in my lap. And then Eli came and sat in my lap. And it took every effort in my being to not break down and dwell on (and weep for) what could have been. To have Eli's sister on one knee, Eli on the other.

I know that we probably wouldn't have Eli if we had brought Maelee home. We probably wouldn't have tried to get pregnant that quickly. I know. But I can still dream of what life would be like if both of our babies were born alive.

And I can tell you it would be eventful. Eli was pretty jealous of this little girl. When she had all of my lap, he put his hand on her head and looked at me unhappily. "What is this girl doing on your lap, Mom? I don't like it." Whine. Pout. And then he smooshed his little bum on my lap. Jealous much?

Praise God for gracing us with Eli. Having him to fill my lap is full on joy.

-Heather

Southwest Lasagna.

After my food woes rant, I guess I am on a food kick. Bear with me.

This week I made Southwest Lasagna. My great cook of a mother-in-law makes this often and it's definitely a favorite. In my head, it's a tried and true Kasowski recipe but I think she got it from the Petersons, who are not of Spanish decent from what I can tell (they have a couple cute red heads). But this recipe is my favorite southwesty dish. Southwesty - that's a word, right?

I'm going to type out the recipe verbatim from my K family cookbook:

Directions
Boil 9 lasagna noodles according to package directions.

Brown and drain 1½ pounds ground beef. Add 1 16oz can refried beans, 1 package taco seasoning and 1 teaspoon crushed red pepper.

Coat a 9 x 13 glass baking dish with non-stick spray. Line pan with 3 noodles and spoon half meat/bean mixture over noodles. Top with 3 more noodles and remaining meat/bean mixture. Top with the last 3 noodles.

Pour 1 16oz can Pace salsa over all. Cover tightly and bake at 350 for 45-60 minutes. Remove from oven.

Spread 1½ cup sour cream, ½ cup sliced green onions, 1 cup sliced black olives and 1½ cup shredded monterrey jack cheese over all. Place under heated broiler until cheese is bubbly and slightly browned. Cool 10 minutes and serve. 

And enjoy!

I didn't think to take a photo until after we started eating this deliciousness so it may not look that tasty. I assure you it still is, bad photo aside. I would like it noted that I am wearing my southwesty t-shirt I bought at Target for $2 this week. I didn't even plan that. Awesome. Maybe I should always dress and cook in themes.

I added some corn to this batch and you could probably tweak it to add other things (Rotel, black beans, other healthy additives?!). It also freezes well if you just skip that last step.

One of the best parts about this recipe is that the leftovers are still very, very good. Your family will fight over these leftovers. Lactose intolerant people will take a dairy pill so they can finish it. I've seen it happen.

Here's an ingredient list for those of you that need to see it this way, too:

Ingredients
9 lasagna noodles
1½ pounds ground beef
1 16oz can refried beans
1 package taco seasoning
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper
1 16oz can Pace salsa  (I use a black bean/white corn salsa, still tastes great)
1½ cup sour cream
½ cup sliced green onions
1 cup sliced black olives (I never add these... ewww)
1½ cup shredded monterrey jack cheese (I use a Mexican blend)

Now go, make someone happy and cook Southwest Lasagna this week. 

-Heather

Food Woes.

Overwhelmed is a good descriptor for me. I'm overwhelmed. God knows that, I tell him often. He's working on that with me. I can name a handful of things in life that overwhelm me.

One of those things today is eating healthy. And by healthy, I mean using less processed foods and more whole foods and changing the way I know how to cook and eat.

I always thought we ate decently but do a little blog or profile stalking and BAM! I'm seriously questioning ever using cream of mushroom soup again.

Kidding, gosh, I am still a Midwesterner at heart and I'll always make tator tot hotdish. Come on.

But seriously. The way Americans eat, the way our habits are... it's not good. I really thought tator tot hotdish was pretty healthy. I mean it's a good home cooked meal, right? But then I start thinking... it's not really that good for you. Processed tator tots, "cream of" soups, ground beef that's not organic... canned beans aren't even that awesome. Of course, everything in moderation. But if most of our meals fall along these lines, then that's not really stellar, is it?

Sigh.

I don't have the energy or the money or the time to completely revamp the way we eat. I can take little steps, I know. I am. But I have a long way to go. I mean last week I bought an eggplant at our Farmer's Market and I thought I was a freaking genius for making something tasty with it. 

Seriously. Mainstay vegetables I get. Hello Mr. Broccoli! But anything eggplant-on just confounds me. And I know we need to eat more veggies and I need to get more creative with it... like pureeing cauliflower and adding it to pasta. I could do that.

Do you want to come for a week and teach me how to be awesome healthy Heather?

Because I'm just going to start a list here of things that I do not understand, that freak me out, the things that when I see them in the list of ingredients, I gaze past that recipe and move on to something more at my level.

Kale, flaxseed, weird vegetables like brussel sprouts, omega-3s, whey, quinoa, steel-cut oats, odd cheeses from odd animals, coconut oil, homemade yogurt, agave, weird cuts of meat, gluten-free whatever, and basically any fish (besides walleye which I love but don't know how to cook and can't get it here anyway).

Wait. In our defense, I do make decent meals and I do buy whatever fruits and vegetables that are on sale at Publix each week and we don't eat out too often. I felt like I needed that to be said so you'd stop judging. And we have the luxury of no food allergies or concerns at this point.

Maybe I'll learn to use a few of these foods that scare me. I want to. I would love to eat more whole foods,  buy more fresh ingredients each week. If I had loads of money, the decision to buy all organic and eat healthier would be super easy. I'd do it. Hands down. I'd hire a cook or a nutritionist, too. And let me just say here how much of a bummer it is that it's (not always, but usually) way more expensive to eat healthier. I know I could make sacrifices in other areas to eat all organic but I'm not there yet. And gardening was not our strong suit, it's too blasted hot. Lord knows how the people back in the day did this. 

This doesn't even cover the arguments about what's really in our food, genetically modified foods, eating organic, eating local and on and on...

Add this to the desire to only feed Eli the best, to teach him early about good nutrition and what an amazing gift food is, to have him crave green leafy vegetables yet still have the rare enjoyment of an oreo...

So now you see why I am overwhelmed?

-Heather

Parenting Vows.

I think most parents, at some point, look back on their childhood and appreciate their own parents in some way. And then they decide to emulate their parents or do things differently.

I know there are loads of things that I would want to do like my parents. I had good ones and I am grateful. If I can remember to do some of these things, I'll be a better for it:

1. Make an effort to have a special hug or some sort of affection.

My mom and I had a special hug. It was almost like a secret handshake. It was just ours, complete with a special name, and it helped me know how much I was loved. My dad also gave some stellar bear hugs when we were little. In fact, I have a photograph of all the neighborhood kids lined up to get a bear hug from him, it was that good. And that reminds me of another thing...

2. Be kind and intentional to friends and neighbors. 

My dad was consistently kind to all my friends, giving them the time of day and not in a weird, freaky way. He'd joke with them and be his goofy self, often mortifying me. But he and my mom took time to care about the people that I cared about and that's a good thing. You know how some of your friend's parents were weird or mean or holed up in a room where you never saw them? I don't want to be like that. I don't have to be the cool parent, but I do have to be the nice one.

3. Care about safety over my child's coolness factor. 

I remember one time (and only one time) when a station wagon full of some of the mostest popular boys pulled up to my house after being at a neighbors and I was talking to them. My dad was outside and he said something funny, of course, but without mortifying me (bonus). They asked me to come along with them. It was the year before I got my license, I believe, and I was thrilled, elated to be asked. I just assumed I could go (my parents were pretty lenient with me) but my dad said I couldn't go. I was mad and I figured I just lost my ticket to being cool. My guess is he saw the packed wagon with no seatbelts and said no way. And even though they were nice guys and not up to anything, it was still a wise decision on my dad's part to not let his daughter go off with a load of 13 & 14 year-old boys.

4. Let younger kids feel special and smart.

As the younger child, I was left out of certain things from time to time because I was too little. But I don't remember that as much because my parents did a great job of including me. My mom would let me be with her in the kitchen to help. And she taught me the correct way to set a table before I was probably out of diapers... and that gave me a purpose at meal times. Another way to curb the age difference between my sister and I was having specific categories. We would have these backyard races. My dad would do play-by-plays, of course, and my sister would obviously win. But she would only win in the "ten-year-old division". I would come panting in to win the "five-year-old division." I don't think I ever felt less because I still heard that I won. And when friends would come, we'd add the "red-headed division" or whatever was needed so everyone got a chance to win. (Sdenote: I do love when everyone wins but there does need to be times when a kid loses... thus, we always had pinocle for that).

On the flip side, I also have a few things l am vowing to do differently from M & D and a few include:

1. I will let my kids use the slip-n-slide on our lawn and not worry about the lawn being ruined.

I'm pretty sure if you were to ask my dad now, he'd wish he would have given in to my nagging and let me run wild with joy in that much-desired banana slip-n-slide instead of worrying about the resulting yellow grass stripe in the middle of his (spotless) lawn. In my dad's defense, his yard was one of his hobbies. It was a lawn to swoon over, really. So perhaps for me, I need to carry this over to one of my hobbies and be okay with my kid marring it somehow.

2. I will follow through with a seemingly innocent promise. 

We had this awesome playhouse growing up. Loved that house. When my dad built it, he had it wired for electricity but they never took the last step in getting it completed. And I would ask every summer for that to happen so we could have really fun sleepovers in there (to be fair, we still had fun sleepovers in there but with flashlights) but I never got to plug-in my tape player (heck yes). They should have bit the bullet and did it instead of promising it'll happen one day.

Also, they once told me I could have a dog and I never got one. So um, they shouldn't have promised that to me. Though to be fair we did have pet fish and they committed suicide probably from my very quickly diminished desire to clean their tank. I didn't even know that was possible but indeed, they will jump out of your tank if they are not happy fish. My parents probably saw how I took care of fish and decided I probably shouldn't get the responsibility of a dog. Still...

Well, this has gotten a little long. Perhaps I will keep adding to each list so I can look back and remind myself. And I'll take the time to again be thankful for a great childhood.

-Heather

Carousel Win.

We went to our local zoo this weekend for a special night event. They had free carousel rides. We even saw some friends there and got to join them for the ride.

This is Ella, she has a book called "Ella the elephant" so she's sort of into elephants, too. Of course we had to have E & E ride on the elephants. Eli liked to have a friend there, as you can see.

And fun was had by all!

-Heather

Low Pain Tolerance.

I'm going to openly admit something that is a little humbling.

I'm fairly certain I have a low pain tolerance. I'm pretty sure I'm a wuss. I do not think I am able to withstand a lot of pain without drugs or at least, without a lot of whining, wincing or screaming in pain.

There. I said it. Now some of you may have already figured this out about me (yes, I hear you Amber, Mom). But I guess in my head, I always thought I was this really awesome Midwestern girl that could handle a lot. I was tough. I didn't cry when I got a little boo-boo.

You want to hear the (slightly embarrassing) story that caused my revelation?

Yesterday morning I made an appointment for that afternoon to get some antibiotics for a sinus infection I am battling. Later on I was talking on the phone with my aunt when she told me she had broken a bone in her foot. I felt so bad for her and then I started thinking "odd, my foot hurts". Later as it kept hurting I remembered I had dropped something on it the night before. I thought it was odd but I've had enough little owies to know that I'll walk on it and it should 'loosen up' and feel fine later.

Fast forward a few hours. I realized I may need the doctor to look at my foot. Who calls for an appointment for a sinus infection and ends up coming in with a banged up foot? But my left foot REALLY started to hurt. I called Greg and told him he may need to actually take me in for my appointment as I wasn't sure if I'd be able to walk. I could put pressure on my heal but my arch couldn't move up/down without crazy pain. I then put Eli down for a nap while I laid down, put my foot up to rest and type an email... by the end, I couldn't think b/c my darn foot was throbbing and no position it was in would give it any relief.

Why didn't I take a pain killer here? Why didn't I wrap it to apply some pressure? Why didn't I ice it for awhile? Not smart. Eli woke up, I hobbled in there in pain... even tried taking a few breaths and just sucking up the pain but it was too much. I got him and hop-carried him to our bed while yelping out in pain. Such a drama queen. I called Greg and told him he'd for sure need to help me get to the doctor's office... but that I just may be crazy b/c my foot wasn't even swollen.

Indeed my loving husband came to save the day. Got us to the doctor's office, wheeled me in (even though I did request no wheelchair) and waited with me. I told the doctor my weird foot story... saying "maybe I'm just crazy" which he said "well, foot injuries are usually quite painful". However, I must be a little crazy because after the (pointless) x-rays, we learned I did not break my foot and that I just damaged the soft tissue or tore a ligament. Nothing major. Most of me was glad for this (how would I take care of an almost 15 month old with a bum foot?) but a little part of me was disappointed because I had no justification for how painful it felt! I swear, it really did hurt.

After some pain meds, wrapping it and putting it up while I slept, it felt better already last night. And after a night of rest, I could walk with a slight limp this morning. As long as I'm not on that foot too much, it feels fine. Meds and rest. Sigh. Now I will eat my humble pie. I am not amazon woman strong.

I was so thankful last night for access to awesome medical care, drive-through pharmacy with access to good drugs, drive-through local restaurant with access to cheeseburgers... really, so blessed to live in America. We are indeed. As someone that apparently has a very low pain tolerance, I do not want to take these things for granted. I will probably need them again for possible future injuries, justified or not.

-Heather

Also, I added another 100 gold stars to Greg's lot. He never made me feel like a wuss, he took care of us well, never complained I messed up his day (even though he had an important meeting last night and ended up with no time to prepare for it). Love that man.

Three Faces.

Here's how much our boy was enjoying his lunch yesterday. Pardon his messiness, but hey, when you were his age, you were probably not the cleanest of eaters either. 

And yes, he is a little goofball. Makes me smile so much.

-Heather

Activity Ideas?

I want to be intentional with my time during the days with Eli. I don't want the day to be over and realize we didn't do much of anything. I also don't want to be activity-crazed and doing so much neither of us can take a breather. Balance.

That to say, I think lately Eli has been ready for more organized activity. I don't know what I'm doing much of the time... this stay-at-home mom thing still catches me off-guard. But I know he's developmentally ready for more than I am giving him.

So to the internet I went! And pinterest. And blog after blog. I'd read about various activities moms or teachers have done with their kids. And honestly, the majority of them are not for 14.5 month-olds. Eli still sticks most everything in his mouth. That sort of eliminates a lot of ideas.

But after a bit of searching I came up with fifteen activities plus a few things I could try with the same supplies. I figure I could try one new idea or activity per day. I was pretty happy with myself, giving myself mental pats on the back.

Day one of new activities involved putting paint inside a plastic zip-loc baggie, then taping it to the glass door so that Eli could "paint with his hands" or make the paint move inside the bag and see it b/c the light coming through. I got it all ready and grabbed my son, assuming he was as excited as I about this purple bag of paint taped on our back door... and then...

He put one finger on the bag and turned around and crawled away completely uninterested. I tried again. No luck. The kid didn't like my activity.

He's supposed to like my activities. That's how this was supposed to work. He learns, laughs, engages, and thoroughly enjoys life with his mother. Humpf.

Lots of lessons here for mom to learn, eh?

All that to say, if you have any marvelous ideas for activities for this 14-15 month-old age, I would love for your suggestions to be added to my list. And if you happen to give me an idea that Eli loves, I will give you ten gold stars.

-Heather

Cows.

This morning while skimming facebook, I saw a friend post a photo of her kid looking really cute as a cow, dressed up for Chick-fil-A's Cow Appreciation Day. If you go in wearing a cow costume today, you get a free meal. Now I like both Chick-fil-A and free food but I have never been motivated to actually do this.

Until today. Within minutes, I had whipped up this cow-poncho costume for Eli (cut a head/arm holes in some fabric, used fabric glue to add some white fabric (cut from a stained shirt) complete with an inside-out hat). Not fancy, but enough to get some free food. I then taped a few white spots (or whatever you call a typical cow pattern) on my black shirt and bam! We were ready for some free food and to go say hi to our friend Jonathan, the best Chick-fil-A employee ever.

I was going to let Eli eat Chick-fil-A for the first time... and you know what? The little stinker didn't even like his chicken?! There is something wrong with that. At least it was free.

My camera lens was having issues but thankfully Sarah had her phone so she snapped a few for me. Here's Eli in the only shot he actually kept the hat on.... and as you can see from the next photo, he whipped that hat off lick-idly-split.
 

For those of you not blessed with Chick-fil-A near you and are thus confused about a chicken place using a cow (as I was when I first saw their advertising), it's basically them using a cow to tell you/beg you to eat more chicken (and therefore, no beef). I don't mind that now... but I do mind that the cows supposedly can't spell.


-Heather

3.2.1.

I went to the doctor this week for a normal check-up. They got a new computer system since I had been there last year. That means all my medical history needed to be inputted, verified and updated. This nice older nurse brought me into the little room and started verifying my info.

I really wish they would have just given me the laptop. She informed me that she is just learning to type. Bless Her Heart. She didn't do too badly, only a few hiccups, but it sure was a slow process.

And the worst timing for her to mess up was the screen where she said "Okay, you've had three pregnancies, two full-term, and you have one live baby." Uh, yep, I guess that about sums it up. But then she says, as she's typing it into the right boxes: "3.2.1."

She ended up having to re-do that screen because at first she couldn't find the button for ectopic, so she actually said it a few times. "3.2.1." The mom in me started to think these are just numbers to you but they are so much more to me. They are my babies. They have a story. They are part of me.

Every doctor appointment from now on will have them in my chart. And you know what? I'm glad for that. Maybe that's weird, maybe a little messed up, but it's a chance nonetheless, to acknowledge them.

I was almost glad she had to ask the follow-up questions. Entering in the dates. After inputting Eli she paused and said "hum, all three in April." Yep. And after getting 4/2010 and 6 lbs, 8ozs in there, she asked Boy or Girl? She was a girl, I say. She has no idea how loaded with memories these questions are!

Oddly enough, I wish I could have told her more. Told her of Maelee's red hair. Of how we were blindsided with her death. Of our grieving journey. Of the joy of our redemption baby.

As any good parents, I like to take joy in my kids. And I like to talk about Maelee. I'm sure many people don't understand that, would rather me not bring her up, would think "It's been over two years, get over it already" and tell me I shouldn't miss her because I have an Eli.

Well phooey on them.

Last night we went over to Jeremy and Sidni's house (see post below) to be with them as they start figuring out what this new normal is like. We wanted to join with them in their grieving, to miss Nathaniel with them, to encourage them somehow, to reassure them what they are experiencing is normal, to know they are not alone. At the same time, we were blessed to get to talk about our daughter. And like I just said, I like to talk about her, I'm glad to remember her with others. I'm not happy this family joined this "club" with us but I'm glad that some of what we learned when we lost Maelee may possibly help them on their grief road.

-Heather

TP.

Just because Eli isn't walking on his own yet, well, that doesn't mean the boy can't get into mischief. He has become very, very good at using his walker. He looks like a little old man as he pushes this thing around. I was in the living room this morning and hadn't heard him in awhile. Silence is a good indicator that something is amiss.

I have a bad headahce, a sore throat (I believe Eli shared a little cold with me) and overall I'm not feeling awesome today... but when you turn the corner and come on this scene, well, you can't help but laugh. And take a photo to share:

I remember too well wishing for these types of moments, wishing to have a child to get into mischief... so when it happens I'm grateful. Even if I'm not too happy about having to grab toilet paper from a pile on the floor instead of on a nice roll.

-Heather

House of Mourning.

A few months back, a couple from our church found out their baby had a chromosomal genetic disorder mid-way through their pregnancy. I had heard of tri-18, some of the moms in the baby loss circle had lost babies with this disorder. The couple are newer to our church so I hadn't met them yet, but when I heard their diagnosis, I emailed the mama, said a few things about Maelee and told her I'd be praying. I then quickly emailed again saying they shouldn't focus on their baby dying, they don't need to hear stories like ours, because some babies with tri-18 can live... they needed to focus on that.

A few weeks after that I picked them out of the crowd at church. I could tell who they were, this sweet mama with her starting-to-show belly, with tears as she sang those worship songs. When you are in the midst of suffering, choosing to praise God takes on a whole new meaning. It wasn't hard to spot them because I remembered what it was like to stand there, singing songs while your heart was breaking. I met her briefly afterwards but I didn't want to be this picture of doom, I'm glad we didn't see each other often since.

Then this week we get the email. The one that says their baby was going to be born via c-section that day. Then hours later, the email saying that Nathaniel went to be with Jesus. This is not what we had hoped for. I didn't want them to join our club. I wanted their baby to defy odds and be the miracle.

And like every baby we hear about that dies or anyone we hear struggling with infertility, we ache for the parents. Wishing it didn't have to be so. Wanting so badly to be in control, to fix everything. Sigh.

Today we went to Nathaniel's funeral, to enter into the house of mourning with his parents.

It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart. Ecclesiastes 7:2

I remember well when my mother-in-law spoke at Maelee's Day (her burial service) and she thanked all our family and friends for coming, for joining us in our house of mourning. It is better. It is better to join people in their grief, in their suffering. It's easy to join people in celebration, it's good and fun and wonderful to be happy with others. Anyone can do that. But it is better, yes better, to join with them in their pain.

Of course for us this was different. This is a type of grief that we begrudgingly understand. We had been them over two years ago, standing at the front of that church, giving desperate hugs to friends and family, no baby in hands. And as I sat there watching the scene unfold, I so badly want to fast forward for them. To protect them from these days ahead, this hard journey they have only just begun. But no, I told myself, they have to, they need to go through these tough days. The learning they have graciously experienced already, in the hard times of their baby's diagnosis and the unknown, is precious, as will be what they learn in these days of grieving with empty arms.

Even so, I wanted to shelter them from the silly things good-meaning people will say. I wanted to give them years of grief lessons in one minute. I wanted them to know the importance of this day, to know they don't get another funeral. As we watched them take the casket down the isle, I turned to Greg and bemoaned that I didn't see anyone take photographs. As we headed out of the church, I became frantic wondering if they had anyone to take photos at the burial. I know too well, they will only get a few photos "with" their boy, of these events and how treasured the images are later. I went up to the mom, got her camera. But you know me, it was just a point-and-shoot, with low battery at that. I made Greg rush home to get my camera. He made it to the burial site just in time, I was able to get a few shots for them to help remember this day.

Nathaniel's mommy had the words to I Will Carry You on the back of Nathaniel's program and the first line, the one that always, always gets me is "There were photographs I wanted to take..." oh how we grieve all the photos we will never, ever get to take with our children on earth.

 

Jeremy and Sidni, we ache with you on the loss of your sweet boy. We miss him with you. We stand firm in knowing your lives on earth will hurt more but be better because of him. And by God's grace may you be given the gift of grieving well.

If you would have told me when I stood up in front of that church on April 9, 2010 that years later, I would be the one hugging a grieving mother, and that I would be glad for Maelee's death in that it has taught me how to enter in with others in suffering, I probably would have laughed (or smacked you). Oh sweet girl, your short life has made me willing to join those in the house of mourning. I'm so glad the Lord gave us you.

-Heather (Maelee's mama)

America Day.

We've had a laid back day. I guess that's what happens when the fourth of July is on a Wednesday. It's been relaxing and enjoyable. We had some friends over for a lunch cook-out and a game of carbles. (Someday I'll explain carbles to you non-Minnesotans).

Here's our family photo for the day. On the porch where most of our photos take place it seems.

And when we realized on Monday that Eli and Caleb had the same outfit, of course we figured they must wear it at the same time!

Caleb: "I don't know why everyone is making such a big deal."

Caleb: "Eli, you're a genius!"

Eli has found a new way to style his hair. First you start with a few raspberry pieces, then some baked beans and greek yoghurt really makes a good gel. Niice.

-Heather

Hot City.

I read something today that made me do a sort of air-intake puff half-laugh. You know the one... accompanied by a look of disbelief and maybe a little snotty attitude...

The title of the online article is The 15 Hottest American Cities of the Future. Go ahead, click here, scroll to the bottom. Yes, the last city. Number 15.

Williston, ND. Our hometown. Um, what?

I know it's booming. I know it's crazy. But is it 'hot' with the likes of Austin and Seattle? Heck no.

It is hot with oil, money and oil money. It's downright bizarre the amount of people, plus everything that goes along with a fast influx of people to an area. But I don't think I'm the only one that would say my hometown has a long way to go before ever being defined as a hot city.

I'm starting to wonder about all this journalism concerning my hometown. Uff-da.

Heather

PS - Our current city is much closer to being a hot city in my opinion. I mean we are already Famously Hot, ya'll... I guarantee most of you from down here assumed this post was about the melting hot weather of late. Gotcha!