gems

Greetings. I was going to start with some sort of excuse for why it's been so long since I wrote anything but I have none and that's not really very interesting to read anyway. It's like reading the foreword to a book. You really don't care what whoever it is has to say because you just want to get to the story already.
ha. that implies that there's a story to this post. 
there's not.

Whether or not you like/actually read forewords to books is besides the point though. I personally see my lack of posts as a good, healthy thing. It just means that I'm actually interacting with people, holding conversations and enjoying their company rather than sitting around in the dark talking to myself. Because I'll let you in on a secret: that's where the majority of my posts come from. The dark.
(want to know another secret? i have no idea how to use semicolons and colons correctly. yay for the last 15 years of my education.)

And now I don't know if any of that even made sense, which is typical. I'm slightly distracted because my parents' pantry has sea salt and caramel macadamia nut chocolate clusters. Yeah, I think I'm on my 6th. Plus...cable. You better believe I'm watching pre-crazy Lindsay Lohan rock the twin roles in The Parent Trap. And I'm wondering why I never learned to fence when I was 11. I mean, by that time I totally had the ratio of Nesquik to milk down (3 generous scoops to a glass, plus a little more to dip in the milk and then eat plain), as well as the strategies and necessary hits to be queen of the court in four square (a claim I still proudly hold. am i right people?) but what am I going to do the next time I'm challenged to a fencing match?

I'll lose. And die. That's what.

Also, poker. Someone teach me how to play please. I think I'd be really good at it because I'm an excellent liar and most definitely don't start laughing or doing "shifty eyes" the second I say something less than true. Let's just say Lady Gaga would be proud of my poker face. let's go poke her face.

Well, this has been nice. I'm going to go climb a fence because that's the closest I'll ever get to sword fighting.

Until next time, here are some embarrassing pictures I found on my parents' computer.
They made me laugh.
I have no shame.

^^^ I mean...you get it, right?

^^^

 I went through a very long phase where I dressed like a boy.

Like, I remember buying those shorts from the boys section.

Literally.

^^^

My brother came home from his mission to Canada, so we covered the driveway with quotes from
"The Red Green Show."

And I'm going to try yet again to bring the pigtails back.

This will be my 7th attempt. 

also lets get a shout out to the little white truck i learned how to drive stick on.

^^^

The Weiler's are known for their...class.

^^^

Nothing's changed.

peace and chocolate covered raisins.
yep. just found those in the pantry as well.
yesssssssss

rrw

totes the best fam vacay

The Weiler family is known far and wide for the fun vacations we go on.

...Ok, so maybe not, but we should be. To throwback to just one of these vacations is an injustice to my childhood. I mean, do I choose the three day river-rafting trip down class 5 rapids when we slept on the side of the Colorado River and lost our guide's bocci ball? Or do I write about our road-trip to Mt. Rushmore when my parents totally rented a CruiseAmerica vehicle and we duck-taped a full on TV to the side of it so we could watch movies like rednecks? But then there are all the little local trips to Moab, Bear Lake, and Capitol Reef during Easter break when we had to hunt for our Easter baskets in the cliffs of the National and State Parks. And I can't forget about the trip to Virginia and our 9 hour drive to see the wild ponies of Chincoteague Island and they ended up being tied to a post.

We've hiked through Canada and biked in Colorado. We've lounged on the beach in Seaside and we've ziplined through the jungle in Puerto Vallarta. We've walked through Historical Williamsburg during a rainstorm and we've had marshmallow gun wars in the goblins of Goblin Valley. We've ventured through slot canyons in Kanab and we've para-glided in Mexico. We've boated in Montana, swum in the natural springs of South Dakota, rappelled in Southern Utah, taken in the grandeur of Glacier, stuck our feet over the side of Halfdome in Yosemite Valley, and shot guns at the Sun Valley Gun Club.

And all of these have stories and stories and stories to go with them, which make for terrible dinner conversation because you end up laughing so hard you can't even enjoy the Thai Peanut Chicken shish kabobs.

But the best? Maybe the best was when we were in Cancun and going to visit a monkey reservation in the depths of the jungle. As soon as we got out of the car, monkeys attacked. They stole Rebecca's sunglasses, climbed on our car, and teased us endlessly- much to the amusement of the other families sitting safely in their minivans. We were dealing with the situation and laughing it off, when the last straw was reached.

My little sister, about 6 or 7 at the time, came face to face with a monkey twice as big as she was. She turned and started running away as fast as she could, but the monkey was faster. It went chasing after her, arms raised above it's head like a full on ghoul-monkey and screeching at the top of its lungs. We all stared in disbelief while my brother sprang to action. Picking up a nearby log stick, Spencer went chasing after the monkey chasing after Caroline, swinging the tree he had uprooted and yelling at the monkey screeching at Caroline who was crying. we never knew spencer could be so protective.

In the end, we were all ok. Spencer was almost arrested for threatening wildlife and a monkey bit all the beads off my recently braided hair.

Good times in Mexico.

peace and vacations

rrw

Throwback: Parental Version

It's Thursday, the day for all the instagram pictures to be of little versions of ourselves and the hashtag #tbt to be tacked on the end of every post. Honestly, I love this whole Throwback Thursday thing. Think about it. Everyone with a phone smart enough is uniting in their desire to honor their heritage by looking to the days of old. It's not just some excuse for me to post a picture of when I looked like a blonde Asian child.

But really, tell me it isn't true.

editing job courtesy of me.

Anyway, back to the point. Throwback Thursday! I'm linking up with The Life of Bon again because that was fun last time and memories make me happy.

..................................................

My parents are superb people who I highly enjoy being around. So much so that I'm desperately trying to finagle a trip to Logan with them this weekend, but that's a story for another day. Or not, because now that I think about it it's not really a story at all so moving on.

My parents have excellent senses of humor. No but really, they might be the funniest people I know. My dad always makes little puns that are terrible and we all roll our eyes at, but secretly we all think they're hilarious. My mom is the biggest prankster I have ever known and I am proud to be her daughter. I think this sense of humor is what makes me love being with my family so much. 

So the memory isn't very specific, which might seem like a cop out, but the memories we've had and continue to laugh about just can't be listed or told on a blog. You wouldn't understand the frustration and relief felt the first time my mom and I pulled the pony trailer by ourselves, the delight my dad and I had when the snow was so pristine and up to our waists and skiing felt like magic, the uncontrollable laughter my mom and I had while hiking Halfdome, the thrill of being on my dad's shoulders while on the very top of the tallest ladder from the church building in order to change a burned out Christmas light at the tippy top of the eave on our house. did you follow that?

Usually my favorite memories of my parents are just when we're around, joking and laughing and teasing and resolving to not tease so much but then following that resolution up with a joke. I love them a lot and if you haven't met them that's really just a shame.

On the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park, Montana

Outside the Prince of Wales Hotel in Waterton National Park, Canada 

On the beach in Seaside, Florida

Outside the Salt Lake City Public Library

i have to continue with the captions otherwise it's not uniform and i fail.

 Inside my Weiler Grandparent's old home when I just a baby and looked fabulous in that long white dress.

it'll happen again. 

like, when i dress up as ghost for halloween i mean.

During our river-rafting vacation in Moab in which we dominated Cataract Canyon.

Class 5 people. Class 5.

What's your favorite memory of your parents? Catch the throwback and consider it for a minute. that....is such a stretch i don't even want to talk about it.

peace and parents

rrw

throwback: elementary love version

Let me start this love saga off with the announcement that I was, in fact, the second most popular girl in elementary school. This status was legitimate because I didn't come up with it by myself. (even though it's totally something elementary-school-me would say about herself. i was a very pompous little girl. but now i'm super humble so it's not a problem) One of my friends told me that she had calculated it out and while Paige was the most popular (agreed. she was also my best friend, for what it's worth), I was the close second. I don't think I've ever been that close to the top of the social food chain since, so I bring it up whenever possible. Like...right now. Cool.

Being such a popular girl, boy drama was inevitable. With my crimped hair, huge bangs, buckteeth, and beanpole legs (which made me taller than all the boys) I was a catch. But this throwback isn't about how all the boys liked me because I was the SECOND MOST POPULAR GIRL IN SCHOOL (ok. i'll stop with that. especially since, as i think about it, it's not really something to brag about anyway. #sheesh). This is about the boys that I liked. So let's begin.

His name was Anders. We were in the same first grade class and would play "superbabies" at recess. All the boys would tuck their knees up into their shirts and hop around me, the superbaby mom. The boys would swarm, yelling "mommy! mommy!" while I pretended to be annoyed and not completely giddy at all the attention I was getting from all the coolest boys in first grade. But I really only had eyes for one. Anders.

All the girls did. From first grade to fifth grade, which was when he moved away, he was the boy all the girls wanted to dance with at the Valentine's Day dance, the one everyone wanted to sit next to at lunch, and play soccer with at recess. Your life ended if you weren't on the same Capture the Flag team as Anders during night games.

He was everything my elementary heart was looking for. Smart, athletic, neighborhood boy, pooka shell wearer, and had perfectly gelled hair that all the other boys tried to imitate. I was in love.

Nothing ever came of this love, however. My popularity must have intimidated him because he always chose to "date" the other girls. Whatever man. Your loss. i swear i'm not still bitter about this. maybe.

Then everything changed when Dylan came into the picture. We were in the same fourth/fifth split. I was a fifth, he was a fourth. (i'm telling you, i go for the younger guys). He was beautiful. We played soccer together. And walked home from school together. And would glance at each other and then quickly look away. It was the things songs are made of.

The fourth/fifth split went on a field trip that year to Classic Skating. I don't know what the educational value of this field trip was, but I am certainly glad it happened. The used skates, confetti pattern carpet, Avril Lavigne music, and disco lights and lasers were the perfect setting for the next (and final) step of Dylan and mine's relationship.

I had my favorite jean overalls on over my favorite pink plaid shirt. My bangs looked not so poofy and my braces matched my outfit. I was a bombshell. I remember standing with my friends in a crowd as the DJ announced that the "snowball" skate was about to happen (i still don't understand that name). This snowball dance was boys choice and I knew who I wanted to ask me to skate. I could see him standing over with his friends, could see him looking over at me, watched as his friends pushed him out of the circle, laughing. I stared as he came across the floor to our group. Everyone froze as he asked me to snowball skate with him (no eye contact was made during the making of this snowball couple). I agreed, took his hand, and spent the next 3 minutes of my life skating in circles without speaking a word. The song ended, we dropped each other's hand, actually looked at each other for the first time, said "see ya" and then skated away as fast as we could.

And that was the end.


I wish I could say that my strategy with boys has changed since then, but it really hasn't. The whole "no eye contact, no speaking, and running away" thing continues to reel them in. I can't help it.


peace and snowball skating

rrw

ps. this post is inspired by the linkup with The Life of Bon at www.thelifeofbon.com. Go look her up. She's hilarious. I just can't get the button thing to work for me, which, you know, is typical.