Dear Boy,

You offer some amazing pain relief.  Thank you for gifting me that. I'm looking forward to a much better day than yesterday. You do that to me. Even though the bathroom flooded and our pantry is in the dining room. These things happen.  I suppose they make life interesting; they are the ingredients for a good story. Otherwise, our morning wouldn't have had much of a story and probably not any sex either. 

It's neat how we slowly figure out how to do stuff. Like consistent family nights and how to keep the house clean. Hopefully someday we'll figure out gardening. And food preservation. 

I love to have this life with you. We share something wonderful. It makes our home a good place to be. And even though we're not perfect parents and we're not completely satisfied with our current circumstance, I think our kids have a good life and a good place to call home. I don't think it would be so good if you and I didn't love each other the way we do. I look forward to you every day. I think of you when you're away. 

So, I'm not looking forward to this weekend much. We have to divide in order to meet every demand. I wish you didn't have to miss Nolan's marching band. I'm proud of him for the effort he's put into learning and playing music. He will do well with his guitar playing. I, however, am not excited about playing in the recital.  I'll be among a very few adults and I just don't like performing or speaking, which brings me to the last reason I'm not looking forward to this weekend. I have to speak in sacrament meeting.  So sad. I'll be relieved when Sunday night arrives. 

Also, I looked for the other wheelbarrow that hopefully is not broken, but I couldn't find it. Maybe it's outside the basement kitchen door?  We have a lot of wood to move. Did you get those pallets to put a stack on?

I'm sitting in the living room at my parents' and I'm listening to Mindy do strength exercises with my dad and it sounds good. She's so kind and encouraging to my dad it makes me feel like crying. I'm pregnant though, so that's a common feeling. But in all seriousness, this girl has been sent from Heaven. What a blessing for my dad and for me... It's why I'm sitting with my feet up in the living room. 

That's all for my wandering thoughts today. 

I love you. 

L

Dear Lady,

Happy Birthday! A most happy of birthdays to you!
I hope your day has been well. I am glad to hear that, as a gift, the heavens granted you a seminary test that worked. Perhaps it just wasn't available to take yesterday? In any case I'm glad it was a relief to you rather than a burden on this special day.
I hope Auburn gave you your gift. She was pretty proud about it. She even thought to do it on her own—no prodding from me. I sure am glad when these kids of ours remember to treat you as special as you are.
Don't you find that we offer each other gratitude a lot in these letters? We sure are grateful for one another.
I'm sitting at work right now and it's finally raining well and I find myself hoping that it's finally raining well at home too. Our plants need it. Especially the beans which I didn't get a chance to water. And it reminds me that I need to make another chicken feeder for the side of the pens with the chicks. They can't keep eating out of the little box out there forever. Actually, I'll add it to my to-do list right now so that I don't forget.
It's nice to be productive. I've been feeling very productive for the past week or so. It's a wonderful feeling to work and accomplish and then sit back and enjoy the fruits of your accomplishments—which reminds me! I turned on the dehumidifier downstairs. If you think of it it could probably use emptying already; it smelled pretty damp down there. Be careful on the stairs though, because the door doesn't open real well due to the dog food and it could try flopping down on you as you're going up or down the stairs.
I'm super bummed out about the broody hens. It seemed like such a perfect solution only to turn into not the perfect solution. I don't really know what the solution is. Right now I just hope we hatch something out. I really hope we hatch something out. Somethings out. It would be a real disappointment to start all over again with another three week wait. I suppose then they'd still be chicks when my parents came, but then they'd be chicks when we left on vacation.
Bytheway, have you talked to Olivia about house sitting yet? That would be ideal. I also just found out that parking costs money at the Marriott we'll be at—to the tune of about $250 for the week. Crazy, right!? The only thing I can think is that they're primarily for conferences so they expect most clients are flying in so they have limited parking and charge dearly for it. That's my only guess, because that cost is crazy!
Did you'd see the new chicken fence in the light of day? The pen looks great because it's so green in there, but I don't know how long that's going to last. It'll all be brown before too long . . .
I sure love this farming sort of work. Though I'm not sure it's farming I like so much as just the feeling of working for oneself and providing for oneself in a way that surpasses money. Not that we'd get rich in so doing, but that there's a deeper satisfaction in not leaving such tasks to others. . . . I'm not even sure that's it. I'm not sure what I'm grasping at, or thinking of. I just find a peace and an assurance in homesteading work that I don't find in other things. Travel and adventure are more thrilling, to be sure. They're tantalizing in a way that farm work isn't, but they're also flashes in the pan (there's a phrase for you—and, yes, the phrase you used in your letter is an actual phrase too) and leave me unsatisfied in the end. Or, not unsatisfied, but needing more quickly. They're like a sugar rush. They're great for a moment, but you couldn't ever love on it. Likewise I think that farm work is harder, and less exhilarating, but it is satisfying on a deeper, longer lasting, level. I can wrap my head around a life of farming and community but, as you know, it's always been hard for me to do the same for travel and adventure. I think that's okay though. I think that's as it should be. I think travel and adventure really ought to be sparing parts of our life because you can't really build much around them. They're fun, and they'll always be fun things, but in the end what I have are just my own stories. When I work a farm, and build a community I have my own stories, but I also have the lives of those I've touched and helped build to look upon with joy and satisfaction.
Does that make sense?
Anyway, happy birthday. I know you like to know what's on my mind so I thought I'd just ramble on here, rather ineloquently. These are the things I'm thinking.
Oh, and I'm thinking we should have birthday sex too.
Just sayin'.

.a Boy

Dear Boy,

I'm administering the seminary test and the online version seems to be miraculously working. Phew. That was a headache. 

Anyway, I thought I'd write you on my birthday, because I want you to know that I love my life.  I love this earth. I love people. I love my family. I appreciate all of the experiences I've had and the great teachers they have each been to me. I think of life as my good friend and I honor it. And I'm so blessed to have you as a central part of my life. You make every day special and the special days a step above. You even help me to tolerate the difficult days, like earlier this week when I was rolling around in pain and successfully vomited and peed at the same time. 

I know life isn't what you thought it would be and we aren't where we hoped we would be by now, but I think it's been pretty great anyway, even with setbacks and disappointments and frustration. We live in an amazing place.  I love our little house surrounded by green fields. We have wonderful kids. They are so patient with us and so unique. They have helped us laugh for many years now. I love all the funny projects that we've attempted together. We burned wood all winter. And we dug a big hole in the side yard. We worked really hard to make the back room livable. Remember how my dad cut down the old pantry walls with a chainsaw?  We cut down that half-dead Maple tree and it sat fallen in the front yard for almost a year. And now we have a driveway there. You marry people now. It's like a side job. We've had surreal experiences in hospitals. We go out to the woods or into the mountains when we're in Utah and there find a new lease on life (isn't that a phrase?). We go on other adventures in cities and towns. Like standing in a snowstorm on the Empire State Building. And finding fishing signs in Corning. We've been together in so many places and I've loved all of them and I've loved you in all of them. 

Thank you for helping my life to be great. I love you. 

L