And he’s a boy. I think he thought I was encroaching on his manhood. Anyhow, in his typical jovial way, he scribbled this out:

Fish -

_______________________________________!

fill in the blank w/ gushy & romantic stuff.

Love,

Wyatt

And so I did.

Jared and Wyatt working on the deck (or sleeping on the job!)

Today I was in my room folding laundry when I heard a knock on the door. Then the door opens, and I hear a voice calling for me, but I don’t recognize it. When I come out it’s Jared, but he sounds funny.

He says: “Can I use your hubablaboo?” (And I understood him to mean, can I use your bathroom) And I look at him trying to decide if he’s being funny – but the humor is falling flat.

And he says again: “Can I use your hugbalkasdf?”

And I ask “what” and he says: “I need to use your habuskavoo”

And I ask him: “Wait, are you being serious?”

Then he pushes past me and starts going towards the stairs. He says: “I need to take a baloogavajoo.” (I understood him to mean, I need to take a shower. But then I could tell there was something seriously wrong. It reminded me of my neighbor Kathy)

And I grab his arm and say – “Use my bathroom, don’t go downstairs.” (I didn’t want him to go downstairs because I was afraid he would fall or pass out and I wouldn’t be able to get him back upstairs. At this point I knew he had to go to the doctors).

But now he’s kinda fighting me on this, and trying to go downstairs. So I tell him no, he can’t go downstairs, in fact he has to go with me, RIGHT NOW, to the doctors. And I start pulling him to the door. At the same time I call Wyatt – because, miraculously, my phone happened to be in my hand. I tell him he better come home RIGHT NOW and take Jared to the ER or I’m going to call the ambulance.

Jared sits down on my bench because he can’t go any further. He’s trying to talk to me, but every fourth word is just jibberish. Then he starts throwing up.

Wyatt comes home and they rush off for the ER (made a stop at the insta-care first, they told him to go on to the ER). At first I thought it might be carbon monoxide poisoning, as did Jared – between the words he could say, and what I could interpret (I think the spirit must have been with me because I was able to understand him pretty well in spite of him not talking clearly at all).

Anyway, that was a little after noon today. It’s now almost six. They determined it wasn’t carbon monoxide poisoning but a brain aneurysm instead. Wyatt took him to Alta View, and after a CT scan there, they transferred him via ambulance to the IMC hospital. There they did an angiogram? (where they put dye in the blood and then scan the brain to see where the bleed is) and as of ten minutes ago, we just got news that they are taking him in for surgery to stop the bleeding (brain surgery – I wonder what sort of scars that will leave).

Of course the doctors are covering their liabilities and told Lois and Harry that Jared might not make it through the surgery. But I had a very calm and confident feeling earlier this afternoon that Jared would be ok and everything would be all right. So I have this confidence that things will be ok.

Granted, it’s not my brother, so maybe I don’t have the initial panic, plus, I’m not a very panicky person anyways, but I just haven’t been able to feel scared today. I just feel peace that it will be fine.

Wyatt came home when they took Jared to do the angio. Right now he’s over at the neighbors, helping him put on a new roof, like he promised he would. I would get a babysitter – but alas, there are none to be found. I’ve called all of the ward and neighborhood, but everyone’s busy. I wish there was something I could do for Wyatt. It seems a little ridiculous that he’s roofing a house when his brother is in brain surgery – even if I have a confirming feeling that everything will be all right. So that’s where we are at.

Saturday – October 15th

We went back to the hospital that first night, after Jared was out of surgery. Jacob and Melinda also came down from Logan as soon as they heard, and so Jacob, Wyatt, Harry, Lois and I were all at the hospital, waiting. Jared was pretty much out for the rest of the night, but it was good to see him.

Wynn and Heidi came up on Thursday, and have been here ever since. I think it’s good for Jared to have the support of his family, even if he is pretty much asleep all the time. They kept him sedated for the first two or three days, but now don’t have him on any sedatives. He’s still kinda in a fog, but he is able to convey what he wants for the most part. When people ask him yes and no questions he seems to answer with clarity. He also is moving all his limbs, which is good.

The doctors say he will be in the hospital a minimum of three weeks. After that Heidi thinks he will be a rehab facility, which makes sense. Wyatt is in the process of tracking down all his info – bank accounts, insurance, etc. to make sure everything is taken care of. Between that and going back and forth to the hospital, he has had a very emotional and stressful week.

I am just trying to hold down the fort here at home – keep the kids going, and the house going, and have a place for people to come during the day when they take Jared to do tests, etc.

Anyhow, he did great – blowing bubbles, floating on his back, smiling for his mamma when she wanted a picture. Mmm . . . sunshine and babies. Is there anything better?

Wyatt came home early, ready to play! We rode 4 wheelers up and down the street and around the neighborhood looking for people to play. We found Jill and Alan, who came over and had home made ice cream in the shade of the tree, and the kids ran around playing freeze tag in the sweltering heat.

Later we decided a small fishing trip was in order. We packed Calvin’s new pole, and the other gear, and decided to try our luck at the Discover Park pond – which is about a mile down the street from grandma’s house.

As it turned out we had great luck. We caught no less than four fish (maybe more, there was part where I left and took Olivia and eJo to the playground, leaving Wyatt and Cal to do their thing).

Each fish was admired for what it was: TINY.

The kids enjoying torturing each fish with pokes, and prods before throwing it victoriously back into the pond.

Wyatt enjoyed being stuck by flying fishing hooks a couple times, and mamma enjoyed keeping the kids from falling in the lake (Cal did fall in up to his knees, thus the under-roo pictures later).

Afterward we went to grandma’s house for a jump on the trampoline and Moose Tracks ice cream cones. I have a theory that the amount of crud on your face at the end of the day is in direct correlation with the awesomeness of the day. As you can see, it was an awesome day for these kiddos.

Puff - sometime in 1999 - 2000?! I remember I learned how to play "Puff the Magic Dragon" on the guitar when I lived in Russia, and I imagine this illustration has a direct coorelation to that.

-Deck

-Murray House

-Business

-Baby

-3 Children

-Summer

The other night Wyatt and I were talking about what the craziest things we’d ever done were (consolations to long boring days of work and cleaning and cooking):

There were the generic answers. You know, jumping out of planes, getting locked into Golgotha in the middle of the night, streaking a wedding, stowing away on a ship to get off the continent, or getting arrested on the Brazilian/Argentine border. All those make for good stories (sound much more exciting than they actually were). But Wyatt came up with one I had completely forgotten about.

It happened when we lived in China.

So there we were, minding our own business (as is ALWAYS the case),

at Pagoda Hill.

Pagoda Hill was our name for this funky little park in the middle of the city of Urumqi. It had a giant hill, and at the top, a giant Pagoda. The whole park was centered around this hill, and there were ponds and petting zoos and paddle boats and people everywhere. It was almost like a mini amusement park too, with an Alpine Slide type thing that cruised down the hill side, and a ferris wheel, even a small dragon roller coaster.

But after we had been there half a dozen times or so, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before. There at the top of the hill, just to the side of the Pagoda, tucked behind some trees and bushes, was a small platform, and two little chinese ladies standing about, looking bored.

We went over to see what was up. And then we saw it: Giant wires coursing over our heads, down the steep hill, out across the freeway that flanked the park, and across the way into another mass of trees and bushes. By the vests and caribeeners and straps, we figured what it was.

But did we have the guts to actually do it? To strap ourselves to those wires, and go flying across . . . an eight lane freeway?

Wyatt went first.

He zipped across, traffic cruising just feet below his body. He disappeared into the trees, safe on the other side.

Next was my turn.

I checked each strap, even after the chinese woman had checked and rechecked. And then, through the pantomimes, I was told to start running.

I ran down the small cement ramp, and soon enough my feet were pulled out from under me as the slope and momentum carried me down, down, down the hill, over the fence, and across the lanes of traffic . . .

and then I began to slow. I saw the trees (I saw what was just beyond the trees, and began to prepare for impact). But then my body stalled, momentum gone, my weight not enough to carry me quite far enough . . .

And THEN I began to slide backwards on the slack of the line . . . back out over the freeway, to where semi trucks were cruising at speeds I felt uncomfortable with.

I dangled there, traffic below me, hung in mid air over the lane, bouncing now on the line, looking at Wyatt, whose eyes were big with -what – fear, amusement, disbelief?

And then another little Chinese lady came out with a long long bamboo stick. She stretched it out to me. I grabbed hold, and was pulled to the safety of the cement pad.

And that was the only time we ever rode the zip line at Pagoda Hill.

*At the end of the line, just out of view from the top of the hill, was a cement pad . . . and a cement wall, with a mattress placed vertically on it, with (sick Chinese sense of humor) a bullseye painted on it. After your death-defying ride across the highway, you were stopped by slamming into it and bouncing back onto the cement pad. Wyatt said that was not fun. I didn’t have the momentum to actually do this, but I believe him.

And bedtime stories by the fire

And the company of a trusty ol’ pal

And a brother

If you want to sleep in a bag right on the ground . . . but the spring weather just won’t cooperate . . .

Try camping in the living room.

This camp out brought to you by fire-maker-tent-setter-upper (and-taker-downer) Extrodinaire : Super Dad.

And we giggled as we sat at our table and remembered the time . . .

We were in Phuket, and we rented a little 90cc scooter.

And we decided to go to the other side of the island.

Which meant riding up this really tall, long, steep hill.

And there were cars and buses behind us. But the 90cc scooter was really only 30 cc’s, so we were barely moving at a crawl.

And finally I hopped off the back (while it was still going) and we both pushed the thing the rest of the way up the hill.

But then we decided to turn around and go back to the hotel.

So there I was, minding my own business . . .

Literally. I was in my apartment at BYU, doing homework in my living room. I heard the voices of a couple guys and girl come in the door. They were looking for my room-mate Chisoma.  I heard Stephanie (my other roomie) explain that Chiz wasn’t home. Apparently they weren’t deterred.

Next thing I know, Wyatt comes in, sits himself down on my couch, and tries to strike up a conversation.*

But I wasn’t down.

I was on an anti-boy strike that semester, which meant simply that I accepted dates, but I didn’t go on second dates, and I definitely did not flirt.

So I sat on my floor, homework spread out before me, and gave one word answers waiting for this guy to go away.

But Wyatt was on one that day, and didn’t let it go. He kept talking and talking and asking inconsequential questions, and making inconsequential remarks.

Until finally he made a comment about his “time at BYU Jerusalem.”

And that was it. I finally looked up at him, gave him my best smile, climbed up on the other couch, and asked him to tell me all about BYU Jeru. I had just finished my application for the fall program you see, and was thoroughly interested in all the adventures there were to be had!

And we talked for about two hours about Jerusalem, and Russia, and the Indian Reservation, and South America and all the other adventures we had both had in our college years.

Until he had to go to class.

But he came back as soon as his afternoon classes were over, and we talked for maybe another hour, before he had to go again (I think to play basketball with his buddies).

And that was ten years ago today.

Now . . . do you want to hear more of our dating story?

The next night he showed up – I had just gotten out of the shower, and I remember standing there in sweats with dripping hair and no make-up. He invited me down to a barbeque he and his buddies were having in the courtyard of our apartment complex (turns out Wyatt lived just three doors down from me, but was in a different ward, so I didn’t know who he was).

And we played.

And we played every day in a very platonic way until one day, maybe a week or ten days later a really fabulous Spring thunder storm had rolled in. We had already hung out that day, and said our goodbyes promising more fun tomorrow. But then, a spring storm – really?

So at midnight I knocked on his door. His room-mate answered and went to get Wyatt, who was already in bed. He came to the door in his jammies (so cute). I said “The way I figure it, we can either be responsible and go to bed so we can get up for class in the morning, or we can go have fun now.”

And Wyatt said “Let me go get my shoes.”**

So we went up to campus – the only place not closed and locked up for the night. We ran all over campus, playing in the rain. And then under a big pine tree, where some branches had broken off making a little hollow, he kissed me for the first time.

Oooh, romantic, right?

Not!

Well, okay, it was romantic, but it was also lame, because Wyatt had a bet going with his buddies that he wouldn’t kiss a girl the whole semester, and Jimmy and Kris would each kiss one.

Apparently Wyatt had quite the reputation.

So I was trying to not let him kiss me – I didn’t want to be another mark on the belt, so to speak.

But he got me. Mmmmm.

And then he refused to tell anyone! And he told me not to tell (grrr.)

Dave, Me & Wyatt, ready for Bon Jovi

And we didn’t tell anyone for another ten days or so. Until finally it was the last night of the semester, and there was a big party up on campus. We all went up (me, Wyatt, and all his buddies). Since it was the last night of the semester, the guys were talking about this big bet they had going all semester. I bet Eks to see who could kiss the most people that night. I was going to get Wyatt to cave if it killed me! The first thing I did was kiss Kris. I still giggle when I think about that because it could very well have been Kris’s first kiss EVER. But whatever. Then Wyatt was seriously annoyed.

And so after the party we went back to Wyatt’s apartment, and I kissed him, just as Eks came walking up. And he said “oh, were you guys kissing?” -Seriously surprised. And I just said, “Um, yeah!”

And that’s how that came out.

Eks, Wyatt, Me & Dave at the Bon Jovi concert

And then the semester ended. Wyatt was supposed to go out right away for a summer sales job. I was staying in Provo for the summer, going to school. I convinced Wyatt to stay one spring term, before he headed out. He finally agreed.

But his other buddies had to go to their summer jobs, including Eks and Dave, who were both heading to Denver for the summer. I remember it was a Sunday night, and we were sitting in my apartment at ten o’clock at night. We knew Dave and Eks were going to Denver. “You know, Bon Jovi is playing in Denver this week” Wyatt said to me.

A half hour later the four of us were on the road, driving to Denver. We went to Bon Jovi, dropped Dave and Eks off at their locations and headed home from our impromptu road trip. And that is how I was introduced to Butt Rock and the music of Bon Jovi.

We had other adventures that summer, some the stuff of legends, but mostly we just hung out at the pool, and walked two or three times a day to the Crest gas station for popsicles.

Finally it was time for Wyatt to go. He was heading to Phoenix where he and a couple of his buddies were going to try their hand at business and start their own pest control business. He drove off on his motorcycle while I stood at the Crest gas station and watched him go.

But he came back. Every week or ten days he drove ten hours north to see his hot girlfriend (me).

I think it was his first time back to Utah that we went up to my grandpa’s cabin. It was fourth of July weekend, and festivities were in full force. Barbequed burgers and potato salad and hikes and playing in the river. At one point we went on a walk by ourselves down the creek, looking at all the old (old) miners cabins along the way. We sat down on a log and started outlining what we would want in our cabin someday. How big, where, where the fireman’s pole should be, etc.

And the we decided if we were going to talk about owning real estate together, we should also talk about getting married.

And it was all down hill from there.

Wyatt proposed on the 27th of July, and were married on the last day of summer, a week shy of six months from knowing each other.

And now, here we are, ten years, eight countries, five rodeos, three and a half kids, two and a half dogs, two houses, two four wheelers, one cabin lot, and a big dream later. We’re still working on “getting there.” I think we both thought we’d have “arrived” by now. Some days are stressful. Some days are loud. Some days are boring. Some days are stinky. Some days are fun. Some days are exciting. Some days we can feel ourselves getting closer, to our goals and each other. And some days are the stuff of legends.

Happy March 28th!

*The other guy and girl who came into my apartment that day? Eks, and Julie.
**Wyatt now says that I was “false advertising” when we were dating, because I would stay up so late (two or three in the morning barely phased me), and now it’s all I can do to stay awake for the evening news.

Remember in Enchanted when Amy Adams ran through the park with Patrick Dempsy, singing about the things a guy will do just so you know he loves you?

I LOVE that scene.

And how do I know he loves me?

On Monday morning I woke up to my whole house cleaned. CLEANED! And it was a mess – like there’s not even any space to walk because the whole floor is covered with toys and laundry. But upstairs and down were all tidied up.

He didn’t want me to start of the week feeling overwhelmed he told me.

So while I slept (I put myself to bed about seven on Sunday night), he cleaned.

But before that, he managed three children all day with nary a helping hand from me. He made them lunch and dinner. He changed them from their Sunday clothes. He played with them and entertained them, all so I didn’t have to.

And that’s how I know. He takes such good care of me.

I love you.