Christmas Day 2010

Christmas Eve

~wearing the new pajamas~

~a family photo~

~reading The Night Before Christmas~

~that sneaky Santa left a book at the end of Jack's bed crib!~

Don't Take My Word For It

One of our favorite things to do in Boise is have breakfast at Goldy's. If you are ever in Boise and get the opportunity, you must try it! They have the best breakfast! And you don't have to take my word for it. Bon Appetite magazine named Goldy's as one of America's top ten breakfasts.

Last summer when we went to Goldy's, we got more than just a great breakfast. Sitting downstairs at a table with Nathan and a 2-month-old Jackson, I noticed a person enter the restaurant who looked vaguely familiar. The hostess seated the man at the table right next to us. After that, I didn't think much about it.

I continued to chatter on and on to Nathan about this and that, but after a while I noticed that Nathan seemed a bit distracted. His eyes kept darting to the next table- the one where the familiar-looking guy had been seated. Still, I didn't think too much about it.

Soon enough, our waitress arrived with the check and we began to gather our things. Nathan grabbed the car seat with Jack in it and then, instead of heading to the front door as I expected, he stepped over to the table next to us.

"Excuse me. Are you who I think you are?" Nathan asked.

The man wiped his hands on his napkin. "I'm Lyle, and this is April," he confirmed (although I didn't quite catch what he said his name was at the time).

"I'm Nathan," Nathan introduced himself. I still wasn't quite sure who I was looking at so I just smiled politely.

Lyle and April politely admired our adorable child and Nathan mentioned that he was a songwriter so he had wanted to say hello.

As we left, Lyle said, "Good luck with your music, Nathan."

Turns out I had just met Lyle Lovett!

Nathan went home and looked up Lyle to find out why he might be in Boise. Later that night, Nathan and my dad went to a Lyle Lovett concert where Lyle mentioned that one of his favorite things to do in Boise is take his wife, April, to Goldy's for breakfast.

He didn't mention Nathan, though, or our cute baby.

This time, our breakfast at Goldy's was much less eventful. Although we kept our eyes peeled for a famous person, we didn't have any luck. This time, instead of sitting next to a well-known musician, we sat across from a cute couple who had just gotten married the night before. I guess that will have to do.

This time.

Zach was on the floor playing with Legos. First, he built a robot. A few alterations later and the robot became a cross.

"This is Jesus on the cross," he said.

Zach suddenly lifts Lego Jesus high up into the air and exclaims, "Luckily, Jesus has a jet pack!"

Garden Aglow

12-23-10

Botanical Gardens

Boise, Idaho

Good Enough

"Is Santa going to bring you presents on Christmas this year?"

(This was my less-than-subtle attempt to find out if Zach still believes in Santa Claus.)

"Yes," Zach replied confidently.

"How do you know he's bringing you presents?" I asked. "Were you good this year?"

"Good enough," Zach replies. "I was better this year than I was last year and I got lots of presents last year!"

Eight Months Old

Yesterday, Jack turned eight months old. To celebrate, he ransacked Papa's CDs looking for the perfect music.

For awhile, we thought he'd chosen Coldplay... but it turns out, that CD was only his choice for 'best tasting'.

He finally settled on The Wall by Pink Floyd. He chased that one all around the room.

Two-and-a-half days after arriving in Boise, cousin Zach looks over at Jack while we are eating and, suddenly very concerned, asks, "Where are all his teeth?!"

Boise Bound

As a girl who has traveled the 13+ hours between Colorado Springs and Boise too many times to count, I have learned a few things. For example, it is important to get your gas at a well-lit gas station, to always keep certain supplies-like a flashlight, blanket, and extra water- in the car with you, have a well-charged cell phone within reach, and always- always!- stay at a hotel you trust.

Now, traveling with Nathan has rendered some of these guidelines less necessary. I no longer get quite so nervous at an unlit gas station and I don't worry as much if we're on the road and my cell phone is down to a single bar. However, last summer I was reminded just how important staying in a hotel you trust really is.

The rain was steady and cold as we pulled into Rawlins, Wyoming on July 21, eager to find a warm, dry place to stay for the night. Jack was screaming unhappy and we wanted to get him settled. Hotel after hotel after hotel (well, there are actually only a few in Rawlins) were booked for the night- the rain driving people in early. Just as we were getting a little nervous, we secured a room and, relieved, prepared to unpack our belongings.

Maybe the first indication that we should have kept on driving was the Drive-Up Liquor store located right next door to the hotel. But, naively, we weren't concerned.

Our second clue that perhaps the hotel of choice may not been the best place to stay might have been the hotel's security system. The door at the far end of our establishment looked like it had a lock which required a hotel key to open, but, in fact, when the handle was grasped by my husband with hotel key tucked securely in the back pocket, we found that the door opened easily (and even required the muscles of Popeye to close again)!

As we climbed the stairs and headed down the hallway, treading quietly on the stained and threadbare carpet (so as not to wake the sleeping patrons), we began to hear the faint sound of Tejano music floating in our direction. As we walked on, the sound grew louder and louder until the hallway resonated with el ritmo.

Cautiously, we turned a corner at the end of the hallway as the music faded behind us. Up ahead, a gaping hole in the ceiling above us allowed rainwater to fall rhythmically into the large red bucket strategically placed in the center of the hallway.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip. Drip.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Drip.

We crept past the bucket, giving it a wide berth, lest a wet part of the ceiling lose it's tentative grasp and come tumbling down upon our heads (I don't have a good history with collapsing ceilings).

Just barely beyond the large bucket and holey ceiling, we came to Room 212. This was it. We pushed the door open and entered.

The stained pillows, leaky faucet, and layers of dirt gathered in the corners of the room were nothing compared to the flies. There may have only been three or four of them, but they were the loud, obnoxious kind of flies. You know the ones. Those flies that hover near your ears, only moving lazily about the rest of the room when you swing your hand impatiently at them. Flies that hum like a loud vacuum that just won't stop running. You can almost hear them giggle delightedly as you smack your hand against the table, trying again and again to stop the incessant buzzing. For somehow, these lazy creatures may move slow but they are elusive little suckers when it comes to getting caught.

Shaking away the sick little insects, I hesitantly pulled back the covers on the bed and began my obsessive inspection for bed bugs. Though none were found, I discovered that draped over a bare mattress- where you might expect to find a neatly fitted sheet- there was just a regular sheet, not a fitted one, and not even a regular sheet that had been tucked under the mattress. Just a sheet, draping.

I desperately searched my mind for a way out of this situation. I couldn't sleep here. Maybe it wasn't too late to get our money back.

But we had already checked all the other hotels we could find, and Jack was not about to let himself be strapped back into the car seat now that he had calmed himself to the occasional subdued hiccup. Luckily, we had brought a bed along for him or I might not have resigned myself to staying for the night. But, we had and so I did. Sighing, I rolled a few items of clothing up inside Jack's towel, tucked it under my head, and very carefully laid down- fully clothed- on the offending sheet.

That night I lay there amidst the buzzing flies until the first light of morning.

Those memories were fresh in my mind as we pulled up to a Comfort Suites this past Sunday night on our way to Boise for Christmas. Nathan was reluctantly allowing me to check the price at this, my favorite, hotel. Nathan, though often tempted, is not a big believer in spending much money just to sleep. I, however, am not a big believer in stained sheets and leaky ceilings even if they don't come with bed bugs.

To my immense delight, the hotel was hosting a Young Life ski trip and, on the condition that we agreed not to complain about the noise, we could have a room for less than the price of our last hotel experience!

Entering the tidy, crisp Comfort Suites hotel room I was thrilled with everything- the king-sized bed, the clean facilities, the intact ceiling. Everything was perfect- right down to the full breakfast buffet in the morning.

The icing on the cake? I never once heard a peep from those Young Lifers.

(You might be wondering about the name of the first hotel, especially if your planning a trip to Rawlins anytime soon... And while I don't want to say specifically, I will tell you that it rhymes with DravelRodge!)

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