diet coke and me

1.  Sometimes, I really wish I had witch powers like Samantha had in Bewitched so I could wiggle my nose and watch as my diet coke moves the six feet from the dining room table to my outstretched hand on the sofa so I don't have to get up to go fetch it.  Because six feet is too far sometimes.

2.  A few days ago, I noticed what seems to be a callous that has developed on the inside of my thumb, curiously right where the lid of my diet coke bottle sits when I uncap it.  Is a callous from opening 16.9 oz diet coke bottles an indication I may be drinking too many of them?  Who can say, really?

and then jessie had a great birthday

A few months ago when Jack and Stu decided to go for a run at Bryce for my birthday, I had hoped to get the whole family together for the weekend, but then I checked mapquest and realized it is nearly as far to Bryce from San Jose as it is to Salt Lake.  And since we'd all just recently been together for the first big 5K run, I suspected the Californians wouldn't be joining us at Bryce.

And I was right.

But as soon as we realized they couldn't join us, Jack pointed out that we needed to get plane tickets so we could fly to San Jose for Jessie's birthday in September. 

So I did.  And possibly because we fly on or around 9/11, once again, we got a pretty good deal on plane tickets.  And also reserved a room at the nearby Marriott that has a great indoor pool so Jessie's fam could come over every day for a swim.

Last Friday, Jack and I headed to the airport for the quick hop over to San Jose.  Almost as soon as we got there, Jack asked Jessie what was new and her response--oh, nothing and everything--was the start of the best news.  Not only did she confirm my suspicions that she is expecting another baby (late April), but she was scheduled for an ultrasound on her birthday, which meant we could join her if we wanted.  (IF?)  And then she threw in a bit of other hopeful news--Cory is interviewing for a position at a company in Utah County, and it is likely they will be back home soon.

Fingers crossed.

We ate pancakes and went to the beach and the girls planned a party for their mom.  And we went swimming in the hotel pool.  And who knows, this might have been our last visit to their house in San Jose.

 this one is growing up so fast

 she thought this was too close up.  I disagree.

 chillin' by the pool

 I have about ten versions of this same shot.  Tongue out, foot up.

 More chillin' by the pool.

 Clearly some directions being given to someone...

 Adorable.  Obviously.

 post shopping...they did a fine job on the gift front.

denim and me reunited

 please disregard the spots on the mirror...my sweater does not have little bits of lint on it.

Several years ago, I told myself I didn't think I'd ever buy another denim dress.

But then a few months ago, I found the softest denim dress at Banana Republic.  And it was on sale.  And I loved it.  So I bought it.

It hung in my closet until today.  I really do love it.

they just do what they do

Even though I've been gone a lot this summer, my gardens, as always, just keep doing what they do.

*pop*

Last Friday, Jack and I went to the farmer's market and bought boxes of peaches, pears, and raspberries.  And corn.  Of course, corn on the cob.

On Saturday afternoon, together, we made raspberry jam and bottled peaches.

This was a first for Jack and he was an excellent coworker.

Finally, tonight, enough of the pears were ripe, so we bottled them.  Maybe the rest will be ready tomorrow or Saturday. 

See, the bottles are ready and waiting to be filled.

Maybe it's weird, but after all of the years of bottling fruit (and the many more recent years when I didn't have the time or energy to bottle fruit)--even after all of those years, I still get a kick out of hearing the *pop* of sealing bottles.  Totally makes it worth the effort.  Well, that and knowing that when there is snow outside, we have bottles of goodness in the basement just waiting to be opened. 

Because I don't know if there is anything better than homemade raspberry jam on toast.