A Long Post Which I Kindly Peppered With Pictures

It is Sunday night and the people who make my house noisy are sleeping. For the first time this weekend (ok, this week) I can finally sit down and summarize my story. If you are reading this entry in the future and you happen to be my great-great-granddaughter, I want you to know that after this weekend I have surely secured my spot in heaven, and therefore there is no need to pray for my soul. Bless you just the same.

When Mr. Nielson arrived on Wednesday night, to take up temporary residence here along with his posterity, he said to me "Count me as your sixth child." Which is fine because he is potty-trained and completely mobile which makes things less complicated. Although he does need help opening his cereal boxes, taking on and off his back brace, and has a self-proclaimed appetite "just like Micheal Phelps." My husband was so happy today when his brother-in-law devoured two of Chup's Sunday After Church Waffles which weigh equal to a pound of gold bricks. Waffles that stick to your insides for a century--should you choose to live that long.

Everyday a family member arrives to chauffeur Mr. Nielson to see Mrs. Nielson in the hospital. We all clamor to be at her bedside. Her wit has returned with her consciousness, and she makes us all laugh. Still, there remains in her healing emotional rehabilitation that is complicated. When she is ready, the children will be at her bedside too. Until then, they diligently pray on her behalf, and in return are granted patience.

Stephanie is slightly aware of her story. True to her nature, she is embarrassed about all the fuss. I tell her it is payback for all the work she put into her blog. Any serious blogger knows that blog maintenance is a lot of work. Not only daily posting, editing photos and keeping headers current and cute, but e-mailing responses and befriending readers. I don't know about the future of Nie Nie Dialogues, either does she, but those decisions take a back seat the long, long road of recovery she has in store. Until then, she is overwhelmed by the massive generosity. And she doesn't even know the whole story. Ohboy.

This weekend Chup and I were able to steal a night away from the Piccadilly Circus of our lives for sushi at our favorite place in Sugarhouse. The couple next to us were drinking saki and getting delirious. I noticed that Chup and I were equally delirious, only soberly so and much less entertaining. Do you want to know something about my Chupa? He always leaves the last piece of sushi for me. Who needs saki when you've got true love?

Claire wore her pilgrim dress to church (thanks Katy).

We bought Jane new boots that I wanted. I wanted them so badly that I headed to the women's shoes section and asked for an adult version. Non-existent. When we showed Lucy Jane's boots this evening Lucy responded, "I want those. Do they make them in women's sizes?" To which I responded by telling my exhaustive story. "Well," she replied, "I can wear girl sizes sometimes. I'll go try them on." Lucy might be the first woman ever to have the same size feet as her newborn. And here is an other update: she is beginning to look a lot like pregnant.

We threw away Ollie's favorite footwear which he called his "cool shoes" because they were so incredibly stinky. They have now been replaced with lizard-stenciled, stench-free, styling kickers. You're welcome.

Auntie Lizzy (Christian's sister) came to town to verify our claims that Gigs is now talking. She brought her husband and one-half of all the Nielson's possessions including Christian's automobile.

The Chief continues to teethe. And drool.

And be awesome.

BYU lost a HUGE game to their heated rivals the University of Utah (or "the U") and my friend Jill sent me this photo to rub it in:
Where do you think that guy got his dress? It makes me feel funny.

There was a late night run to Target after I discovered (annoyingly) that The Chief had out grown all of his sleepers over night. I am serious, OVER NIGHT. I keep finding clothes that he didn't even get to wear before they became too small. Pants turn into unintended manpris in a few washing cycles. Onesies that pop at the snaps! Slow down Chiefo! Mommy can't keep up.

By-the-way I have decided that I'm doing all my Christmas shopping at Target. If Target doesn't stock it, don't ask me for it. And, I am going to do it all in one day. Shop from nine to noon, take an Archer Farms catered lunch and resume from one to eleven. Don't call me that day.

Also, if one more person tells me that they are done or almost done with their Christmas shopping I will ignore them for the rest of my life. I don't need friends like you. I like lazy friends like me.

Deer in our backyard.


Then, to top it all off, we made our local paper's front page again. Just us, the BYU loss, and some guy named Obama.

Oh, yes, please nevermind that shiny thing on the top of my head.

Halos are so transparent sometimes.

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