What's going on now. Alternate title: Minutiae.

This happened months ago, but I have to write it down in case we forget. I was at school, and Shawn was home with the kids, so it must have been in March. Ivy and Kezie were downstairs playing, when Shawn heard the sounds of a very upset two-year-old coming up the stairs and toward him. She was crying, "Daddy, help! Help, Daddy!"
Shawn rushed to help her, and couldn't see anything wrong. She tearfully held up her hand, where two of her fingers were crossed. She couldn't uncross them. He took care of it for her, and she bounced off happily to play with a, "Thank you, Daddy!"

We were supposed to go camping with the Averetts this weekend, an annual event. The campsite they chose is a great site and we had a blast there last year. On a good day, the road is rather difficult to traverse in our little sedan. We set off at eight thirty on Friday to meet the rest of the family near ice cave peak. An hour into the trip, Ivy started throwing up. We pulled over and I spent twenty minutes trying to clean up the kiddo, the car seat, and the car. She seemed fine then, so we decided to keep on. We hit construction, stopped again to let Ivy breathe because she said she felt sick, and then hit more construction. By the time we reached the Uintah Basin, patience was a little thin, but we hoped the weekend would be worth it.
Getting to this campsite requires a windy trip up a mountain, on roads both improved unimproved. I do not mean "unimproved" in the "this road is packed gravel" sense, but in the "this road is dirt and has big chunks of rock in it, and rains have been washing it away for years, and there are huge puddles"--and that's the good part. The rain pouring down and destroying the road in front of our eyes did not help. We came to a point where there was no going further. We tried other routes, and at one point I got out and walked through the rain to see if I could figure out where we were and how close we were to the campsite. Answers: I have no idea, and definitely not.
We finally gave up, and headed home wet, tired, and in a car which smelled terrible. Sigh. No camping trip this year.

On a related note: a twinkie not roasted over a campfire is a twinkie not worth eating.

The house is still for sale. It is getting almost no interest. It's frustrating; it's such a nice little house, in a great neighborhood, and I loved it. Someone else needs to love it, too.

I'm a CNA now, so I should probably go get a job. I don't mind working jobs, it's finding jobs that bothers me. It's the filling out the application, getting references, going for the interview part that I hate. Plus, there are some terrible nursing homes in existence, and I'm afraid I'm going to end up working in one. Fingers crossed.

Homemade buttermilk scones might be my new addiction. These things are good
Buttermilk scone recipe

I'm missing my friends and neighbors in Ogden like crazy. Also: my gas stove. And Szechuan chicken from Maple Express, and not getting lost, and working in my yard, and having a play room for the kids, and large windows that look outside rather than into window wells, and being closer to my family. There are a lot of good things about Orem, but nothing replaces those things.