Mrs. Olsen, I Presume?

If there's some lovin' on the offspring, reminiscing on the childhood, and growin' into some country air...then just presume, it's Mrs. Olsen.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Milk Burst Dash

Last week was a full party blast when all my Apache Avenue blood descended upon Bear Lake for a 3 day reunion in the woods, at the lake, with the sun and each other. Each couple had a bedroom, and cousins were tucked in throughout floors and couches. That meant that Buddha Baby, my adorable 20 month old "baby" had to sleep in my room. So the 2 a.m. sleepy-time stir turned into a groggy, frothing-at-the-mouth, can't-believe-my-mealticket-is-in-my-room screamfest.


The outcome was this: Mrs. Olsen felt like she had a newborn again with her kid at the teet all night so as to not wake up all the cousins.

Also: Mrs. Olsen needs sleep or she gets ornery.

Lastly: Mrs. Olsen cast the last and final vote over whether Buddha Baby is a little boy or a baby. Because breasts are for lovers and babies, but not little boys.

Something extra: a picture taken by Heathernan Photography at the cabin. Consider this a memorial to the last remaining hours of babyhood (i.e. getting momma's milk) for The Buddha Baby.


Is it just a mother talkin' or is this kid gorgeous?
p.s. my chest is killing me.

So in honor of our new freedom, our cutting of the cord, and our need to still be together (but not attached):

Please vision Mrs. Olsen on this bike with a Buddha Baby in the back. Click on it with all the love for mothers, milk, babies, and families you have in your soul....because they're giving one away July 15th, and I wanna be a contender!

Madsen Cycles Cargo Bikes

Labels: breastfeeding, Buddha Baby

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Lagoon is for Lovers

I was about Rainbow Girl's age when I went to Utah's home-fry amusement park Lagoon and beheld a teenage lovefest while waiting to ride the roller coaster. It was the blessed decade called "The 80's" and tight acid-washed jeans were everywhere. I saw a rubby-dubby couple around 16 or 17, and stared slackjawed in the roller coaster line surveying the first hickey I had ever witnessed in the flesh. It was the size of a golf ball. The mullet stud in front of me advertised it by unbuttoning his sleeveless shirt down past his single chest hair. And his ratty-hair-with-wings-lover clung to his neck like an infant.


So now it's nearly two decades later, married with kids. Hickeys are old news to me. But it's true that my recent jaunt to Utah's mini-Disneyland was a lovefest indeed.



Here I am feeling the love and wanting to be coy on camera. The Mister was having none of that. But it's not for lack of love mind you. Since he was five, he's always acted approximately two decades older than his real age. That means he's like a silver-haired fifty-ish old guy right now who worries about retirement, missionary funds, and keeping the lawn green. It works!



When we went on the swings, I hoped to catch some happy girls at play.

When Lagoon can melt a good 3 or 4 decades off The Mister of the House, I just get giddy inside.



Plus there's something about his sheer intelligence that makes me all warm & fuzzy inside. For The Mister of the House, he can observe, deduce, understand, and reenact. I watched his mind work while he observed all the whirly twirly roller coasters at Lagoon.





Be still my heart! Since The Mister is such a smartie pants, I figured I would carry on a family tradition started by my mother on family vacations....spellchecking! Look at me Mister! Look at my brain catch bad pronunciation!




It may be possible that Rainbow Girl got her heartstrings tugged as well.



As long as puberty isn't a factor, we're enjoying this innocent little tryst.


Labels: Marriage, Rainbow Girl

Friday, June 26, 2009

Apache Avenue Meets the World

I grew up in Rexburg, Idaho. Ninety-plus percent of the population are Mormons, and all my peers adhered to the same ethics code of spazzing off in lieu of drugs, and keeping the few beer-drinkers at the edge of town in the tavern aptly named "The Hideaway".


It was a sort of of homogeneous childhood that was safe, clean, and pervasive. It was understood by all, and built a sense of camaraderie with neighbors, school-mates, and peers. And it was a bubble.

That bubble was first poked when I realized that the swimming suit my mom had bought me from K-Mart, was light years forward in fashion than the publically issued swimwear from Ricks College. This was the pool I first learned to swim, and no one was stepping in that pool unless they donned the required wet-wear from the church-owned Ricks College (now BYU-Idaho). It looked something like this:

The swiming cap was issued with the suit. The swimwear cringed at the 80's french-cut phenomena and sliced straight across the fattest part of your thighs. One of the pool rules was NO PUBLIC DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION. So that woman, with her hand on her hip and eyeballing the stud creeping out of the pool? Well, I'm now the lifeguard and she is a red-flag potential threat. Keep it clean!

The swimming suits were just the beginning of strict apparel requirements to study (or workout) at this private religious college. The gym was packed with modestly dressed people, all wearing Viking Blue! in shorts hitting the knees and never-sleeveless-t-shirts. It was the safehaven for soft-bodied folks wanting to avoid hard-abbed overtanned athletes in cutoffs strutting their stuff between protein drinks.

And yet, it wasn't trying to configure an elitist group of fully covered saints trapped three decades back. The school (and it's sponsoring church) were outreaching, globally minded, and adventurous. Emissaries in the name of ballroom dancers were sent throughout the world to represent what good, clean, and faith-filled young people were like from the U.S.ofA.

And so it was that some of the world came back to me in Rexburg, Idaho, when, at the age of eleven, Rexburg hosted it's first ever International Dance Festival. My homogeneous childhood popped it's bubble a second time.


Who knew that our vast planet could cultivate so many different beautiful cultures? And so diverse! The willowy grace of the Japanese team, followed by the robust athleticism of the Russian team, the festive cadence of the Swiss team with Heidi-like costumes of apron coverlets and ribboned braids. Dancers from every continent were strutting their stuff down Rexburg's Main Street, and my little world suddenly became smaller, and bigger at the same time. Tickets sold out to fill up The College's basketball auditorium where the dance teams each had their moment to steal the stage.



After sampling all the cultures through dance at that young age, I couldn't help but become aware of my own heritage. I am American! I thought. How will the U.S. team represent me? Will they have the sultry grace of the Indian Team? The strength of the Russian Team? The carnival colors of the Mexican Team?

I'm not sure why I didn't see it coming. I mean, come on! I even took clogging lessons every week when I was eleven. But I have to admit, I was a little disappointed when the American Team came out brash, double-down-rock-stepping with flexed foot, permed hair, and overabundant yee-haws.

But it remained a celebration nonetheless. With smalltown Rexburg requiring Ricks College facilities to host the event, there was bound to be cultural clashes. Like the time a group of dancers from Europe decided to workout sans Viking Blue! knee-length shorts. I'm not sure if they were given a free pass for the sake of being a good host, but it soon turned scandalous when Ricks College staff (i.e. my dad among others) discovered them working up a sweat....in the buff.

Through gritted teeth?...a hearty laugh?....they were invited back. The Rexburg International Dance Festival is now going 23 years strong.

Enjoy the 2009 party from August 1st to the 8th in good ole Rexburg, Idaho.
Scheduling info can be found here.


Labels: Apache Avenue Memories

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Birthday Wisdom

Mrs. Olsen to Rainbow Girl: Okay kid. For your birthday, would you rather have a fun birthday party with a bunch of friends? Or would you rather take one friend to Lagoon?


You know that turning 8 makes you wise when you answer correctly that you should go with your family (and one friend) to Lagoon.

Here's a snippet of our fun-filled day meeting new challenges to ride scary rides, run till we can't walk, beat the heat, and having fun all in the name of turning 8. In this video that perhaps only a grandmother could love, enjoy a full action sequence riding the Colossus in the last 1.5 minutes.


p.s. take a moment to take my survey in the sidebar por favor!


Labels: Rainbow Girl

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Papa Love

Joseph Smith, boy prophet and faithful martyr, once sat down with a bunch of friends and taught them a series of lectures on faith. One of the lectures began with this premise:

"Let us here observe, that three things are necessary, in order that any rational and intelligent being may exercise faith in God unto life and salvation."

"First, The idea that he actually exists."

"Secondly, A correct idea of his character, perfections and attributes."


"Thirdly, An actual knowledge that the course of life which he is pursuing, is according to his will."*

So it was under this premise that I began a more careful reading of scripture. I focused on 2 things: the separate titles of Deity (from "The God of Nature" to "The Stem of Jesse") left me pondering on the many roles that God plays in my life. Next, the underlining of specific attributes of God as detailed by those who knew Him best (the prophets writing scripture).

One day I found a scripture that changed my relationship with God forever. Here it is:

If a [daughter] shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give [her] a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give [her]a serpent? - Luke 11:11

All of a sudden a light switch went off! I had a lifetime of experience with a hard-working, unselfish, funny, and amazing dad that put everything in perspective. If I asked my dad for bread, he would definitely not throw me a rock. He would usually pretend to ask for a drive to the breadstore then quietly fill up my constantly-on-fumes gas tank while I stood in the bread line with the $five-spot he tucked in my hand.

My faith grew. My intimidation of a wrathful God was quelled when I realized that I am a daughter of a Father in Heaven who desires not to give a stone in His fury, but wanted me to be good, to have bread, and even catch a fish alongside a beautiful creekbed in the mountains (but not on Sunday mind you!).

For this paradigm shift, and a growth spurt in my faith department, I thank my dad.



Happy Father's Day Daddio.



In honor of all dad's everywhere, watch this amazing clip. Make sure to make it full-screen...it's that good!



*He continued: "For without an acquaintance with these three important facts, the faith of every rational being must be imperfect and unproductive; but with this understanding, it can become perfect and fruitful, abounding in righteousness unto the praise and glory of God the Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ."

Labels: Apache Avenue Memories, religious musings

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Eve's Redemption

Like Eve, I am finding myself drowning in the chore of removing all the many many weeds presented before me to inflict and torment man. But Mrs. Olsen is fighting back proud. Yes! My yard sucks right now! But it's early summer and my garden is well-nigh into growing and deliciousness is but a few weeks away.....



Okay ready? Besides spuds we're growing: peas, beans, lettuce, tomatoes, squash, & corn. The miracle of corn is waiting for us yet again. Is it waiting for you too?



There's something to be said about letting your kids "work". Like the time I gave Vanilla Wafer the job of planting a row of corn while I weeded the other rows. I ended spending twice the amount of time just pulling extra seeds out of the dirt. Aaaah.



Zeolite! The Mister of the House bought a ton of this, and half of it is still sitting in my driveway. So please, if you want to buy some, I'm selling the extras.


Why should you love this stuff? Well, remember all that big wheelbarrow full of shittake mushrooms from my chickens? We mixed zeolite in with it, which binds with the ammonium and makes it so you can fertilize your garden with it. Otherwise, chicken shnicks are too "hot" and burn plant life. Zeolite also reduces watering needs and makes the best cat litter on the market.


Labels: garden, Rainbow Girl, Vanilla Wafer

Monday, June 15, 2009

Nature Crazy Getaway

When I was a mutt growing up on Apache Avenue, I was just one kid in a litter of 5. It was easy to get lost in the crowd.


I was a bit shy around new people. I was the only light-haired daughter, was pigeon-toed, and could run faster than all the boys. Those were just surface though. If anyone spent a few days with me, my guard came down and they soon learned that I could belch like a bartender, cried if anyone got mad at me, and preferred to flex and twist for hours on the trampoline over just about anything else.

This is why you should go camping with your future spouse. Make sure all those little details come to the surface. I love that process of really getting to know people. You're always in for a surprise, and quite often it's a delightful one. Like this past week, when Rainbow Girl had a 3 day sleepover with her cousin, Grace.



There's something so endearing about a bejeweled bum little girl with fashionable flip-flops being so totally obsessed with animals and nature. Even if I did get my hostess skills on for real, this kid would have had nothing to do with it. She spent hours and hours just standing, talking, and playing with the chickens.

Plus for once Mrs. Olsen didn't have to remind Rainbow Girl to get the eggs. Cousin Grace was so in tune with the Bok Bok Ladies, she brought me their eggs twice a day.

As a bonus to all these visiting cousins, Rainbow Girl got to celebrate her birthday twice.




Can you believe she's 8 years old?


So if I spent a few days with you, what would I learn?

Labels: Apache Avenue Memories, chickens, Rainbow Girl

Thursday, June 11, 2009

The Choke and Thrill of Living Things

Nearly two weeks have passed since this wee blog was updated. And I tell you what, day after day I've been thinking and runnin' around and doing other things and all the while in the back of my head rests this thought: I'm killin' the blog. I'm killin' the blog.


Oooh, news just in. Mrs. Olsen has been killing more than her blog lately.


As the elders quorum were unloading the moving van...







it's nearly enough to make one an armchair environmentalist...

i do declare: give me a Saturday without rain, a Mister of the House, and my rototiller and I shall make you proud.


but alas, there is hope for the overgrown garden....somewhere on the edge of Grandma and Grandpa's yard in the great state of I-dee-ho.


mi beating heart *adores* Rainbow Girl's upright posture with hands in the lap, Buddha Baby in 5th position, and Vanilla Wafer just being the stud in the suit with spider-fine shoes.

These things are growing like weeds, & I dare not pluck them.

Labels: Buddha Baby, garden, Keeping it Real, Rainbow Girl, Vanilla Wafer