Monkey Wrenching

BD is working hard and fast on the Landy these days. He's so excited about all the progress he's made = it's starting to look like an actual car again. I usually have no idea what "working on the Landy" really means so when he sent me this picture tonight I burst into smile. It makes me so happy to see him doing his thing. In coveralls.

His dad's garage turns into a typical boys club on nights like this. Hammer this. Weld that. Pound chest. You know how it goes.

Relating to spring

otice anything different about this tree? It grows on the east side of our church. I pass it almost daily, but didn't see it's uniqueness until someone pointed it out. Typical. I wonder what else I miss when I'm not really looking. Look again. It's blooming on only one side. Split right down the middle, perfectly. Only halfway embracing the inevitable change of spring. Halfway ready to accept the next phase which requires more work. More water. More sunlight. There is a bright side to everything. I can relate.

Sleeping with the windows open is one of the best things about spring. But it comes with a trade off which is the 5:00 am serenading of one hundred and fourteen thousand eager, twitterpated birds. Every morning I wake up to their happy little over-achieving chirping and for a fraction of a second I wish I owned a bb gun. I'm getting used to them now, and actually enjoy being sung out of bed by their glee club.
Except for this one bird.
There is one bird who is throwing the whole choir off. He only know two notes, which he holds for exactly two counts each, and repeats endlessly and louder than all the other birds. As we laid in bed the other morning and listened to him whine, BD tried to coach the young hopeful. Listen buddy, you've got to change it up a bit. The ladies aren't going to respond to that. I've decided not to take pity on this poor bird. Nobody needs that.
Last night I learned that this same bird has been noticed by other neighbors who have the same complaints as we do. He's clearly not the most well liked. He's probably a little awkward, maybe a late bloomer, flawed in some inconsequential way. He's doing his very best and no one seems to quite understand or appreciate his plight. Can't we all relate?
Happy Friday! This weekend we are looking forward to a dinner date with BD's father, a Saturday hike, saying goodbye to a dear friend who is moving away, and Sunday dessert night with my family, which we'd be absolute fools to miss.

Happy Mother's Day and Some Heaven Help Me's

n a day like today, we couldn't resist packing up a blanket and our favorite café take-out for a quiet picnic in the park. It felt amazing to doze off with the warm sun on my very white arms. Today, as I helped the primary kids with a cutesy craft to present their mothers, I couldn't resist feeling nostalgic about being that small and perfect and using my chubby little hands to cut, paste, and color something imperfect for my mom who would blush and brighten and love it so. I still love that when I give my mother a gift she fusses and fidgets with the wrapping for several minutes as if it were too precious to piece apart. Then she nearly faints when she finally peers inside. Every time. It doesn't matter what it is. I could give my mom socks and she would cry with appreciation as if she were the luckiest mom in the world, to have just received socks from her baby. I've never given her socks, but I know if I did she would love them just as much. She's pretty amazing that way. Recently she's been engaged to a certain Mr. Ed whom we love and who, more importantly, loves my mom. It's so very sweet to see her twitterpated. Almost as sweet as her golden ringlets in this 2nd grade photo. Heaven help me.

Mother's Day is the perfect occasion to remember the life of BD's late mother Judy. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her in some capacity. Nearly 7 years later I'm still very much conscious of her presence in our lives. I often crave a good chat with Judy, wherein she sits and listens with a perfect ear as I ramble about all the ups and downs of my very insignificant day. She always knew what to say to make me feel validated and loved. Today, I feel especially grateful that she knows exactly what it's like to be me. I just wish she were here to tell me that all of this will be worth it someday. And you know what? No one ever grows out of needing their mother. Even if you're the oldest, even if you're a son. Even if she's not here to recount the day they brought you home and how it changed their lives forever. Heaven help me.

It would also be fitting to introduce the newest member of the Duncan family, our nephew, baby Cody. He was sure anxious to arrive, coming 3.5 weeks early, and we couldn't have been more surprised or more elated. He's perfect. You should see his little dimpled chin. His parents are so proud, and rightly so. After he was born, BD wouldn't stop talking about him for days. And his aunt (maybe me?) can't stop smelling his head. Heaven help me.

Also, last week our niece Ellie was given a blessing by her Grandpa Duncan who said one of the most tender baby blessings I've ever heard. Although, Ellie was far more concerned with getting. that. dang. mic. into her mouth than she was about Grandpa and the circle of Priesthood crowded around her. Precious.

Ellie has our family completely wrapped around her plump little finger. It's not uncommon to find all of us adults gathered around her making the most ridiculous fools of ourselves cooing, clucking, chirping, barking, snapping, and waving just to get a wee little smile. Luckily for our pride, she generously dishes smiles out freely. She's quite possibly the cutest baby I've ever seen. No, seriously. She twists her tongue inside her mouth, like this. Ohhhhhhh, heaven help me.