Guatever!

Nothing says bratty disrespect more than ...

 

We took a trip to Mesoamerica with my older brother Jeff, his wife Poppy and their daughter Madison, as they went to pick up their sister missionary at the end of her mission in Guatemala.  Anna, Jacob and I had little idea what adventures were waiting for us . . . and Go Cougs.

Our first night was spent at the temple visitor housing in Guatemala City.  We were told not to walk on any floors with bare feet.  Guatever.  Somehow we made it without any worms... that I know of...at least not yet.  Not the first Temple to be dedicated in Guatemala City (2 Nephi 5:16).

Anna, always the charmer, had these little wood-wittlers eating out of her hand, or was it the other way around?  For 10 quetzales (~$1.25) each she made quick friends with them, and my brother Jeff took and developed instant pictures for them.  They were delighted with the technology and with their pictures.  Anna and Jake played a game of soccer with them and one boy even gave her a free wood key-chain at the end because he said she was his friend.  What a heart-breaker.

Tikal is one of the most well-known and spectacular of the Mayan ruins in Mesoamerica.  Deep in the jungle we climbed temples hundreds of feet high, thousands of years old and were awestruck at their architectual and astrological knowledge and ability. It would have been cool enough just to have seen the angry howler monkeys scream at each other, colorful toucans fly overhead and crocodiles swim just feet away.  At one point directly between two temples in the main plaza a hand clap would produce an echo that sounded just like the call of a Quetzal bird (a revered animal to them back then and today).  How did they do that?

 The flintstones had nothing on these folks.  Here the
Allen family is enjoying a couch in an aristocratic home. Yabadabadoo!

Some fruit slushies hit the spot after a day in the jungle.

Anna accentuating her very fine facial features outside because of the better lighting.  She thinks she needs makeup: Guatever. 

I still don't understand how this works better than slinging something over your back, but it has worked for these folks for centuries, so Guat.... just kidding.  Pretty impressive.

What's not to love about walking through a local market: the sights, the smells, and sounds.  Ancient Mayans did not use coinage for currency, rather they had a system of weights whereby they measured to trade things with, much as described in Alma.  Here they still measure their goods even though they now use currency.

The pineapple was oh so tasty...

 ...and Jorge was glad that we enjoyed it so much.

Traditional dress, and yes, there is a little sleeping toddler on her back.

The views were spectacular.  A large part of our travels were on and around mountains.  For the record Jacob did not say "Guatever" once, although he is once en espanol.  Guatever.

One of the "prettiest spots" in Guatemala is a land bridge called Semuc Champey.  Here the raging river dives underground for a couple miles and over the top of it is a bridge of land covered by serene and tropical pools and small falls.  It was beautiful and we enjoyed the water.  Of course there is spiritual symbolism to be seen everywhere: 

Isaiah provides such imagery when referring to the Savior as the peaceful life-giving waters of Shiloah,

versus the raging waters of Assyria (or the world) that bring death and destruction. (Isaiah 8:6-7) If you fall in here, we'll see you in the next life.  The guard has a whistle he blows at you if you get too close...trust me, I know.

This active volcano, Volcan Pacaya, which had errupted and caused considerable damage in May, was a fun climb. Literally skiing down the loose pummice may have been the best part.

Jacob made a friend on a boat ride across Lago Atitlan (thought to be the waters of Mormon by many LDS archeologists).  But I digress.  This traditionally dressed gentleman, Fidel Mendoza Perez, was friendly and commented on what a handsome boy Jacob was, he then petted his fuzzy blonde dome as if to punctuate his compliment.  Jacob, not quite knowing what to do and not knowing very many words to do it with, smiled sweetly and said "Gracias."  Classic.  It still makes me chuckle everytime I think about it.

Jake and I had to get in and swim the Waters of Mormon with the Vulcan de Agua in the background.  Anna was good to watch our stuff and just wade and take pictures.  Easy to see why Alma said that this place was beautiful, made even more so by the beautiful experience that was had here thousands of years ago.

Mi bonita esposa. 

Lots of good teaching, and bonding moments.

 A very cool kid at Lake Atitlan.

Jacob preparing the next human sacrifice on an alter at Iximche--the relatively young ruins of the City of Corn, who were able to keep the Spanish at bay for a few years before being defeated.



Eating with Olga and her familia.  Pass the pepto and the frioles negro, por favor.

or, pollo y tortillas in the home of amigos in Panzos.

Antigua is one of the oldest cities in Mesoamerica.  Here in the ancient community laundry each stone basin drains into the sewer system.   

More old buildings in Antigua.

In Guatemala City there is an archeological site dating back to 600 BC called Kaminal Juyu.  Most of it has been destroyed by modern construction but it is thought to be the City of Nephi.  One very important structure is curiously rectangular instead of a pyramid.  After establishing the City of Nephi, Nephi built a temple after the manner of Solomon, which was rectangular in shape.  The date is right, the shape is right and the location works.  Could it be?  We'd like to think so. 

Our accomodations with a wonderful LDS family in San Lucas.  If anyone is interested in an excellent Book of Mormon tour guide in Guatemala we can't recommend Sergio Navas highly enough.

Finally the trip comes to an end and we get to go home and be reunited with the other kiddos.  Thanks to everyone involved who allowed this trip to happen.  If this bored you to tears because of the lengthy travelog, better here than over the pulpit or....Guatever.

My Better Half

I had to borrow this quote from my sister Rivka.  Partly because it's so beautiful and partly because it describes my thoughts as I was going over our summer's activities, wishing our camera had been working when Michael and I were away celebrating our 12th anniversary.  In lieu of a pictoral recapping of a wonderful and much needed 4 day escape to Sunriver (where we snuggled, rode bikes, swam, stand-up paddle boarded on the Deschutes, read to each other, raced around on jet skiis, and refreshed ourselves and our friendship), here is my second on Kik's post as I reflect on our years of marriage:

"Walter Cotman always spoke of Mary as Elton's "better half." In spite of his sulks and silences, she would not go so far as "better." That she was his half, she had no doubt at all. He needed her. At times she knew with a joyous ache that she completed him, just as she knew with that same joy that she needed him and he completed her. How beautiful a thing it was, she thought, to be a half, to be completed by such another half! When had there ever been such a yearning of halves toward each other, such a longing, even in quarrels, to be whole? And sometimes they would be whole. Their wholeness came upon them as a rush of light, around them and within them, so that she felt they must be shining in the dark."

Wendell Berry, A Jonquil for Mary Penn

Twelve years down, forever to go!

1982

July 1982.  Oh, what a cute little family...all except that chubby, stumpish little thing on the right.  What happened to it?  I love this picture!  I have fond memories of this period of my life living on Brown Deer and sneaking guinea pigs into bed with me at night.  Okay, back to slavery in the 1600s...

By the goodness of God we mean nowadays almost exclusively His lovingness; and in this we may be right. And by Love, in this context, most of us mean kindness -- the desire to see others than the self happy; not happy in this way or in that, but just happy. What would really satisfy us would be a God who said of anything we happened to like doing, "What does it matter so long as they are contented?" We want, in fact, not so much a Father in Heaven as a grandfather in heaven -- a senile benevolence who, as they say, "liked to see young people enjoying themselves," and whose plan for the universe was simply that it might be truly said at the end of each day, "a good time was had by all."

--C.S. Lewis

(Borrowed from my Pop's blog.  Always a good read!)

Gift for Daddy

I came into my room the other evening to find a nice little taped up jar on my nightstand with a note under it saying, "A gift of love for my dad.  Love, Clara."  Below the text was a picture of someone screaming with a spider crawling on their head.  Clara, knowing Michael's intense dislike of anything in the Araneae order, left it there as a little joke.  She extracted a promise from me that I wouldn't let her spider go until Dad saw it.  Okay, fine.

However, the joke was on me when I woke up the next morning staring into an empty jar, fine sticky webs from my nightstand to my pillow and headboard (which got in my hair when I sat up), a nasty little bite on my side that itched and hurt all at once, and the unsettling feeling that I had been snuggling with someone besides my husband during the night....

Clara was sad her pet got away, but delighted that he'd had such a fun and productive night, "Can you believe he did all that while you were sleeping?"

This wasn't the spider Clara caught, thank goodness.  This one was so big and nasty we were all forced to leave the dinner table to watch her eat her dinner.  Yes, that is a full-sized grasshopper she has there!  Michael kept a safe distance.

Problem Solved

We are riddled with bed issues.  Each night is a problem of musical beds.  With so many little people all needing the same size bed, needing to change beds to make room for the next little person, rooms too small to accomodate big beds or too many beds, we were having problems.  We needed to streamline.  So we officially moved Audrey out of the nursery and in with Clara to create a girls' room.

(I just had to add this one because little Audrey is so peaceful.)

Then I got online to find some toddler-size bunkbeds for the little boys.  No such thing, don't know why.  It seems like such a great idea.  So I put together a pattern and made some.  Michael jumped in on his day off and helped with the precision work (you know, having things level and flush, and making joints strong and garbage like that that nobody even cares about!).  We are happy with the outcome.

Below are the little ones, loving their new bed (security rail removed at the moment for playing purposes).  Any good ideas for a finish? 

Isaac likes that it made the whole room smell like a pine forest versus... "you know, what it smelled like before."  And I like that people have a place to lay their sweet little heads with no more griping at night.  What do you think, Madre?  Problem solved!

Hall Bath

Now that our camera is back in action, here are some befores and afters from one of our many summer projects:  The Bathroom.  It is our only full bath.  Sunday mornings get a little crazy in here, but some day we'll have a master bath completed [insert wistful sigh].  Until then, I have been supremely enjoying using this one since it's been done.

 Isaac enjoyed teasing everybody when we took out the little original commode to work on the floor.  He ran up the stairs holding his pants, spotted the toilet in the hallway and exclaimed, "Oh, I need that!"  Then acted like he was going to use it as we all screamed NOOO!

First thing to go:  Carpet (capitalized because it was a living thing).  Second thing to go: weird little towel holder with swiveling prongs that I nearly poked my eye out with several times.  Third thing to go: wallpaper.  Then towel bars, knobs, fixtures and faucets, and on and on.  How satisfying it was to dismantle this bathroom after years of cringing whenever I walked in to it.  I'm especially fond of the floor: industrial cream and charcoal variegated tiles, which are totally indestructable.

Only thing left is to touch up the existing doors and woodwork, but that's nothing.  I found this vintage Colgate & Co. advertisment in an old magazine at an antique store.  It reminds us that "Beauty, of course, begins with cleanliness; and by its gentle, thorough cleansing, Cashmere Bouquet Soap will do as much for beauty as any soap can do.  But along with cleanliness, dainty women appreciate the luxury and delight of fragrance... a fragrance that seems to be the natural perfume of a clean and radiant skin.  This is what Cashmere Bouquet Soap brings to you... a purity and mildness that are unsurpassed... a perfume that is rare and infinitely alluring."

... And besides, he'll want to kiss your hand because of it.

Gift

You know when you find that dynamite gift that has real universal appeal, so you pick up a half dozen of them to give to the next six lucky friends who have a special occasion?  So, whose birthday is coming up next?  I have something YOU will love!

(Dad and Mom, you could be headed to a real fortune if you put those nags of your's to good use!)

Another Hill

Since Anna broke from her typically comical and fun blog posting to share a more thought invoking poem called Gethsemane, I thought I'd do the same.  This poem was shared over the pulpit, and it really resonated with me, partly because I really enjoy hiking whatever mountains are around, but mostly for its content. 

Another Hill

Another story to be told,
another verse to rhyme,
another truth to ponder,
another hill to climb.
Sometimes when I feel restless,
I grab my hiking pack.
I stuff inside my tent and gear
and strap it on my back.
I search my map for some new path
that leads to higher ground,
to somewhere I’ve not been before
where I can hear the sound
of water as it falls past rocks
to pools in canyon streams,
and fill my mind with images
for future poems and dreams:
a field of summer blossoms,
a sun-drenched mountain peak,
a stand of noble conifers,
fish swimming in a creek.
A feast awaits my senses
high in the alpine air,
but it requires effort;
it’s work to get them there.
Sometimes my route is level
and shaded by the trees,
but most the time the way is steep
and hurts my back and knees.
Sometimes the trail is yielding,
made soft by leaves or peat,
but often it is strewn with rocks
that pound and bruise my feet.
The toil and strain of hiking
is not the only way
to view an alpine sunrise
or canyons on display.
Roads lead to other landscapes
as wondrous, fine, and fair;
but half my source of pleasure
is the toil that gets me there.
For if my destinations
I reach without some pain,
the end without the journey
would hardly be the same.
I prize the satisfaction
from each challenge faced and met.
The feeling on each summit
is worth the price, and yet
no matter how fulfilling,
no matter how sublime,
there always looms before me
another hill to climb:
another lesson to be learned,
another one to teach;
a youngster to inspire,
another one to reach;
another error to make right,
a fault to overcome;
another chance to recommence
a labor left undone;
a weakness yet to conquer;
a talent to improve;
another sin to cast away;
a sorrow yet to sooth;
another gift to offer;
another cause for prayer;
another hour on my knees;
another cross to bear;
another glimpse of beauty;
another friend to make;
a chance to prove obedient;
a sacred vow to take.
Ascending makes me stronger.
I cherish every time
my God imparts His blessing of
another hill to climb.
Another story to be told,
another verse to rhyme,
another truth to ponder,
another hill to climb.

                 Kevin Krogh

Misunderstanding

We were cleaning up the house yesterday and our neighbor was over visiting so she could hold Audrey.  Isaac came out with Michael's Mexican bull whip and said, "Don't worry, Mom.  I've got everything under control," then he pretended he was going to whip anyone not doing their jobs.
"Isaac.  That's not necessary, nice try though.  Go put that away." 

"I don't know where it goes.  Jake got it out."

"It goes in my closet."

My neighbor's eyebrows flew up and she said, "Oh! Well!  That's one I'll just have to keep to myself."

We had a good laugh about it.

Gethsemane

In golden youth when seems the earth

A Summer-land of singing mirth,

When souls are glad and hearts are light,

And not a shadow lurks in sight,

We do not know it, but there lies

Somewhere veiled under evening skies

A garden which we all must see--

The garden of Gethsemane.

With joyous steps we go our ways,

Love lends a halo to our days;

Light sorrows sail like clouds afar,

We laugh, and say how strong we are.

We hurry on; and hurrying, go

Close to the border-land of woe,

That waits for you, and waits for me--

The garden of Gethsemane.

Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams,

Bridged over by our broken dreams;

Behind the misty caps of years,

Beyond the great salt fount of tears,

The garden lies.  Strive as you may,

You cannot miss it on your way.

All paths that have been, or shall be,

Pass somewhere through Gethsemane.

All those who journey, soon or late,

Must pass within the garden's gate;

Must kneel alone in darkness there,

And battle with some fierce despair.

God pity those who can not say,

"Not mine but thine," who only pray,

"Let this cup pass," and cannot see

The purpose in Gethsemane.

--Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Gifts of Love

Michael took Jacob, Isaac, Will and James on a father/son campout a couple of weeks ago.  William came bursting through the door the next morning and presented me with a lovingly taped up wad.

He beamed as I carefully opened the wad, and as soon as I got the the dingy little treasure at its core he hugged me and exclaimed, "Mom!  It's for you!  I knew you'd love it!"

Then he watched.  He wanted me to eat the unidentifiable thing, which had a suspicious resemblance to the diaper I'd just changed.  So I closed my eyes and ate it, counting on the fact that Michael, who was watching the whole thing with obvious enjoyment, would stop me if it was poisonous.

Michael told me later that William had gotten some dark chocolate from somebody at the campout.  He had eaten most of it, but saved the last morsel for me because he just knew how much I'd want it.  So he kept it in his hand for much of the evening throughout games and campfire, until someone brought him a kleenex to wrap it in.  He taped it up with electrical tape and put it in his pocket for the next 12 hours until he came home.  If that's not love, I don't know what is (except for maybe the eating of it!).

Harper's Bazaar August Cover

Here's a sneak peak for all you avid Bazaar readers.

(Photo courtesy of Kathryn Mikkelsen, entitled Fun With Parker. 

This one's for you, Kik.)

Dare

A bunch of boys were jumping on the trampoline at Gma's and Gpa's house.  Clara and some of her little girl cousins wanted to jump, and it was very much their turn.  In an effort to trick them out of it, the boys concocted a plan, "Clara, you girls can have your turn as soon as... as soon as you catch Grandma's rooster."  This bird is big, and this bird is strong and mean.  Nobody messes with this rooster.  Imagine their surprise when about three minutes later they were presented with:

They relinquished the trampoline for the rest of the afternoon, admitting that they were no match for Clara. 

Few people are.

Adam

7/10:  We had an amazing experience yesterday. We had the address of a man that seemed pretty cool but hadn't been picking up so we decided to go out and find his house. Turned out to be pretty far and we spent a lot of time going there. We asked this really nice guy for directions, just as he was coming out of his business and we realized that it was a fake address that didn't exist. But we started talking to the man we had asked directions from and he invited us into his office. We shared the first lesson with him and gave him a Book of Mormon. He kept saying as we finished the lesson that it is God's will we were led to him. He never works overtime on Sundays and is never there that late. He lives out of our area but I got him info and the missionaries there are getting a hold of him. We were led to someone that we weren't expecting and had an oppertunity share the gospel with him.

I hope everyone is doing well and that you are enjoying the summer. It was extremely dry the other day with a light wind and as I rode I thought to myself "wow, it feels a lot like summer back in oregon." Then we passed a man burning brush in his yard and I got a smell of the smoke and I was reminded all the more. Ha ha . Hope you are doing a lot of burning in my honor.

Elder Boose

Memorial Day Family Reunion

I don't think a girl could ask for a better family than the one I happened into.  There's not a one of them, biological or in-laws, that I don't think is the cat's pajamas (except for maybe the weirdy in the blue shirt)!

Over Memorial Day weekend all the Mikkelsens headed out to Wamic (on the southeastern side of Mt. Hood) to enjoy the lively desert life.  We raced horses--and fell off of them a few times.  (My apologies again for making Phoenix be a bad influence on everybody else's horses!)  People fished the White River, caught more than their share of lizards, snakes and bugs, ate cases of oranges, and got really dirty--with the added bonus of a water malfunction. 

The annual Memorial Day Wamic Breakfast was a treat, especially for James, who plopped onto the floor when he was full.

After Wamic the caravan headed back to Portland, where we enjoyed and celebrated the blessings of three grandbabies: Kate, Matilda and Samuel.  One of my favorite parts was when Jake and Isaac pulled off their shirts and organized wrestling matches out on the back lawn.  Another was giggling with my siblings,

(my beautiful sisters)

...and torturing our dad...

...and Mom.

We played at the park, had mean games of kickball and spud, and took turns getting pulled by Grandma in the wagon.  (Will, Audrey and James loved it!)

We celebrated Isaac's 9th birthday

by eating ice cream cones.

We enjoyed cousins (William and Grace),

and we enjoyed Grandpa (with Maxwell).

And we enjoyed ourselves!

I say we do it again next year...!

Award-winning Nasties

My long postponed postpartum (by a year, ugh) weight loss program has just been aided by these two incidents. 

First of all, I'm working up in my room when I hear a commotion outside.  I hurry downstairs and out the door just in time to hear Jake yelling, "No James, you can't have it!" and then see him yanking a large, half-full Dunkin Donuts cup out of his hands.  James screams, "But it's mine coffee!  It's mine coffee!"  I look into the cup to see what it really is James has been snacking on and find that it is indeed cold coffee, with little bugs floating in it.  I ask James where he got it and he matter-of-factly trots down the sidewalk and points to a spot on the curb.  Coffee aside, it was the sticky straw he'd been sucking on that really got me.

To Whom It May Concern:  Please don't leave your nasty old coffee where little kids might find it and think they've won the lottery.  And if you do, please brush your teeth before you start drinking it.

Secondly, I take the kids to the river to play.  It is a lovely little spot where the North and South Umpqua join.  It's a beautiful day and we're feeling well (minus my hurt feelings from having to see myself in a swimming suit).  I'm playing in the sand with Audrey when Clara runs up with a crawdad she's caught.  She's wondering why it's not trying to pinch her (lots of experience with that), determines that it's dead, and drops it next to me to dry in the sun so she can take it home and put it on her dresser to stink up the upper level of our house.  It was very stinky.  I'm distracted

with James for a moment, then turn to find Audrey munching on the tail of the crawdad.  She has pulled off the claws (one down her suit) and has little swimmerets dribbling down her chin.  I'm horrified.  I scream.  She is totally unfazed, pulls out the crawdad to examine it.  I relax.  Then she pops it back in, this time crunching enough exoskeleton to suck out some pallid, ultra-stinky flesh.  I begin to laugh hysterically and scream again, this time having the presence of mind to pull it out of her mouth and toss it back into the river.  She cries.  Then she finds a claw and is occupied with burying it in the sand.

Moral of the story:  Don't waste time laughing, just pull out the crawdad.

Wish List

Our beloved neighbor Susie asked Michael if he could make out a small list of the things I like, for my birthday.  She brought it over later to show me because she thought it was funny.  That boy's got me pegged.

Penmanship: The Delicious Grace of Moving One's Hand

William came to me during dinner preparations to ask if he had gotten it right.  "Um, yes, Will.  You did.  All 600 times."

Failing

Do you ever wonder if you're failing as a parent?  It's things like these church time doodlings that make me ask that very question.