All Aboard!

The Niles Railway operates a Holiday Train each year at Christmas time. It's an old steam-run engine, and all the cars are decorated inside and out with holiday lights.



Friday night, with our good friends the Olsen's, we boarded the train for a ride.

Grant was mesmerized by the whole evening. He loved the lights, the whistle of the steam engine, the caroling, the hot chocolate...who could blame him? Hard not to get in the holiday spirit when surrounded by so much of it!

Jack made it just over halfway before drowsiness kicked in. It didn't matter that there was no real place to lay down, or that people were talking and singing all around him. That boy can sleep anywhere!

We had a great time...and were all ready for bed by the time we arrived back at the depot!

Conversations with a 5 year old

Yesterday while driving home, I had a conversation with Jack that went like this:

Jack:  Mom, if you and dad get divorced, I want to live with daddy.

Me:  Jack, daddy and I aren't getting divorced.  And if we did, and you lived with daddy, you'd have to go to day care all day every day, because daddy works really hard and is gone all day.

Jack:  Would I go to Eagle's Nest (the after school care program at his school)?

Me:  Well, if you lived with daddy, or mommy got a job, then you would have to go to Eagle's nest after school because I wouldn't be home to take care of you.

Jack:  Well, I think you should get a job then.

Me:  Why?

Jack:  Because I want to go to Eagle's Nest.

(then I pause for a minute while trying to figure out how to answer)

Jack:  Could you get a job by Friday?  Because they have movie day and popcorn on Friday at Eagle's Nest, and I want to go.  

On The First Day of Christmas, My True Love Gave to Me...

An overpriced Noble Fir.

Growing up in Oregon, we had easy access to lush, beautiful Christmas trees, of every variety.  Each year in early December, we'd load into the family van and head out to one of several local Christmas tree farm.  We'd trek through the woods, looking for that perfect tree, which we'd then saw down, trudging back through the woods to our van to take it home.  And we usually paid under $30 for a huge tree!

After living through 13 Christmases in California, I've grown to appreciate those trees even more. When we go to our local tree lot, I always ask where the trees come from.  The answer is always the same...Oregon.  Only we pay more than double than what you'd pay to chop it down yourself!

Over the years, I've dragged Steve all over the place trying to capture that feeling of the "do-it-yourself" tree experience.  One year, when I was newly pregnant with Jack, we made the 3 hour drive to Apple Hill to a tree farm.  After over an hour of searching, we discovered that most of the trees bore more resemblance to a Charlie Brown tree than the Norman Rockwell I had in my mind.  So we settled for a halfway decent fir, tied it on the roof and headed back home.  

Olivia (4 years old) running down the aisles of a tree lot

I've finally realized that our local Home Depot or OSH Hardware store lots are the best bargains, and in the end, it doesn't really matter where we buy our tree, it's what we do with it that counts.

So after we untie it off the roof and bring it in the house, we lovingly adorn it with ornaments acquired through the years.  

Ornaments made by my mom when I was a little girl.

Made in 1979, this one is supposed to be me, with my favorite pastime...a book!

Ornaments bought commemorating a special event or occasion.  

Ornaments purchased each year for each child, which will be given to them 

as they fly the coop and start their own holiday traditions.

This is Jack's first ornament, bought when he was just a couple months old.

This year, we switched back to the retro-globe-lights of my childhood.  When they turn on, that's all you see...and it's beautiful.  

So while we may be missing out on the experience of trudging through the mud in search of the perfect tree to chop down, each year, as we add the ornaments that celebrate our lives, we watch the mediocre, overpriced tree from the hardware store transform into the Norman Rockwell of my dreams.  

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me A Match!

In June of 1996, I moved to San Bernardino, CA.  I was engaged to be married at the end of the month to a guy I met while on my mission to the Canary Islands.  We had a long distance relationship after we both got home, and based on our comfort and friendship with one another, I mistook that for something much deeper.

With just 3 weeks to go until the big day, all the preparations had been made.  I had a dress, the invitations were mailed, the reception planned completely.  Once I arrived in Southern California, my doubts began to increase exponentially.  At first, I assumed it was just normal jitters.  But it quickly became apparent that it was much more than that.  

As I was trying to figure out our relationship, I went to a temp agency to find a job.  I went on two interviews.  The first was to a Budweiser plant.  The second was to a small engineering office.  I interviewed with a man named Richard, the office leader.  Both interviews went very well.  I was qualified, personable and fit the job requirements perfectly.  Both offered me a position.  The jobs were nearly identical.  The pay was the same.  As a practicing Mormon, I felt I had a moral conflict with the beer plant.  So, I took the job with the engineering firm.

When I walked into the office the first morning, an incredibly handsome man was setting up a computer at what would become my desk.  I was momentarily speechless.  I quickly gathered my wits and introduced myself.  He stuck out his hand, and said "Hi, I'm Steve Whitaker."

(Steve, circa 1995)

Over the next few days, my engagement unraveled completely.  I was a wreck.  I didn't want to turn around and move back home - I was embarrassed to admit that I had called off my wedding.  But I didn't know a soul, other than my fiance and his family.  I found a girl in the single's ward who was looking for a roommate for 3 months.  I figured this would give me the chance to figure out what I wanted to do.

As I went to work each day, I found myself intrigued with this Steve guy.  I tried to listen closely to his office conversations.  Was he married?  Did he have a girlfriend?  I began to piece together an image of him in my mind.  He had a house in Huntington Beach.  He drove a Porche.  He was a surfer, and owned a 60's-era Harley.  

When I flew home to Portland for the weekend of my non-wedding, my parents asked me what my future plans were.  I had no idea.  I remember telling them "There's this guy at work that is extremely intriguing.  He's handsome, smart, successful, and I think he's a total player.  But I'd sort of like to find out more."  My parents FREAKED out...with good reason!

Over the next few weeks, another employee in the office named Wendy started befriending me.  She asked me questions about my broken relationship, and told me Steve was available.  She was persistent, and made it quite clear that she thought we'd be perfect for each other.  She quietly and subtly passed information to both Steve and me.  In mid-July, I found a folded note on my desk.  It said something like this:

"Alyson,

I'm not sure what the status is between you and your boyfriend.  But I know you're new in town, and probably don't have many friends.  I'd like to show you some of the sights, if you're interested.

Steve"

I was shocked.  I passed a note back to him in his office saying "That would be great!"

We had our first real date on July 11, 1996.  We went to El Torito for dinner.  It was the best first date of my life.  There were no lulls in conversation.  We had much in common, and many similar interests.

He brought me back to my apartment, walked me to the door, thanked me for a fun evening, and shook my hand.

I went inside, completely twitterpated.  And yet, absolutely terrified of getting into another  relationship so soon after calling off a wedding.

Over the next several weeks, we spent more and more time together.  We tried to keep things completely professional at work, which wasn't easy.  I remember one day going into his office to give him a message, and taking a couple steps backward as we smiled at each other.  I turned around to walk out of his office, and ran smack into the doorway.

About 6 weeks after we began dating, my temporary employment position was up for review to become permanent.  Steve and I had discussed the options, and both of us felt like it was in the best interest of our relationship for me to resign and look elsewhere for a job.  When I told Richard I was resigning, he smiled with a gleam in his eye that let me know he suspected the real reason behind me leaving.  He later told me that he knew what would happen from the moment he met me.

When we got married the next year, we invited both Richard (the boss) and Wendy (the matchmaker) to our reception.   

 Over the years, Steve and I have often talked about Wendy, and the influence she had on us and our early relationship.   She moved on to another company, and aside from the yearly holiday card, we lost contact. This past summer, she and Steve reconnected through work.

This past weekend while down in Southern California, we had dinner at Wendy's house. Richard and his wife were there as well. It was so much fun to see both of them, and to hear their sides of our love story. Wendy was so excited to see us happy together, and to meet our 3 little ones...a direct result of her matchmaking.


Of all the people who have influenced the course of my life, I am most grateful to Richard for offering me a job, and to Wendy, who knew before we did that Steve and I were a match made in heaven.

First Kiss

(I'm the towhead on the left)

I was an exceptionally shy girl, when it came to boys. In 8th grade, a boy asked me to slow dance during a school dance, and told me I looked beautiful. I couldn’t go to school for a week after that, for fear I’d see him in the halls. My mom finally wised up to my morning illnesses and forced me to face my fears.

In 9th grade, Rob K. asked me to go with him to the 9th grade graduation dance. I made my dress. It was white, with a dropped waist and pleated skirt.  The neckline was lower than we had anticipated, and I remember being a little self conscious.  

We went as a group to Nona Amelia’s Italian Restaurant for dinner, then parents drove us to the dance. I remember slow dancing to the song “Lady in Red”, with Rob changing the words to the "Lady in White".  Oh so romantic... When his mom drove me home, Rob walked me into the house.  As we stood awkwardly in the entryway, he gave me a hug, a tentative kiss (my first) and asked me to “go with him”. I said yes.

The next week marked the end of the school year. I was leaving before the last day of school to go spend a few weeks in Arizona with my dad. On my last day, Rob walked me home. We got to within a block of our home, and stopped to say our goodbyes. When Rob leaned in to kiss me goodbye, he was a little more passionate and probing than I was. My sensitive gag reflex kicked in, and I proceeded to throw up. On him. I ran off, completely mortified and embarrassed. I wanted to die.

Rob called and wrote me at my dad’s house, I couldn’t/wouldn’t talk to him. About 2 weeks into my stay there, I finally got the nerve to write him a letter and “break up”.

When school started in September, I was terrified of seeing Rob again. I was at a big high school, starting my sophomore year. As luck would have it, Rob was in my geometry class, and sat right behind me. I couldn’t even acknowledge his existence until about midway through the second semester. We never discussed what had happened, and as far as I know, he never told a soul. I’m sure it was not his most proud moment either! Now, more than 20 years later, I just look back and laugh. I’ve come a long way…

The Start of Holiday Projects!

Two of our three nieces have birthdays the week of Thanksgiving. It's become tradition over the years for us to bring their birthday gifts (even the one with the September birthday) and celebrate when we're together over the Thanksgiving holiday.

As they've gotten older, it's become increasingly difficult to know what to get them. I don't have a clue what teenage girls are into now, at least those items that fall within the limits of birthday budgets!

The past few years, I've begun buying them Christmas pajamas as their birthday gifts. They have loved them (or at least pretended to!).

This year, I was feeling a little more creative. I decided to make Christmas pillowcases to go along with the lounge pants I found on sale at Old Navy. And it just so happens that the pants match the pillowcase fabric almost perfectly!



It's hard for me to remember what it was like to be 13, 16 or 17...my memory fades a bit more with each passing year. But I'm hoping that when they open the gift, they'll get just a glimpse of the love that went into putting them together.

Snowy Days

Mid-November marked the beginning of ski season growing up. My dad was a member of the volunteer Ski Patrol at Mt. Hood in Oregon. As such, he committed to 18 patrol days over the duration of the ski season. Since he worked a full-time job during the week, that meant that pretty much every weekend was a patrol day for him.

This had its benefits. We got free ski passes too. Since money was tight for several years after my dad finished dental school, ski passes were a luxury - not a necessity.

Early each Saturday morning, we'd load into the chilly blue van for the 2 hour drive to the mountain. It felt like the middle of the night, but it was probably more like 5:00am. I can still feel and smell the heater warming up in the van as we started the drive. My brothers and I were usually snuggled up in the back under blankets, trying to catch a few extra minutes of sleep.

Halfway up to the mountain, there is a little town called Sandy. Each week, we'd stop at Joe's Donuts in Sandy for a bathroom break and an apple fritter (I don't recall ever getting anything but an apple fritter...and it weighed about 4 pounds).

Getting to the mountain long before the lifts opened at 9, we would usually hang out in the lodge or ski patrol room, trying to stay warm.

I was never an expert skier. I probably could have been, if I had had more confidence and courage. I liked to go down the blue and green runs, just cruising along. My brothers were far more adventuresome, and surpassed my abilities very quickly. My mom would bribe my youngest brother Shepard with M&M's on the chairlift if he wouldn't give up when he fell. Before long, she couldn't keep up with him. Even now, when I eat an M&M, it reminds me of the chairlift. They were just a little warm and soft, from being in her pocket, and they melted almost immediately when we popped them in our mouth.

Lunchtime came early - we were ready for a break by 10:30 or 11:00. There was always a cafeteria in the lodge, but we rarely ate the food there. My mom almost always packed a lunch for us - all kinds of yummy foods. Typically it was some sort of cheese, salami & crackers, along with fruit, usually oranges. Even the smell of orange peel on my hands takes me back in time. I remember how badly I wanted to be able to buy a greasy hamburger or bowl of chili from the cafeteria. But with 5 people in our family, that just didn't fit the budget. I was a little embarrassed when friends came along and brought money to buy their lunch, because we would always eat our food from home.

My dad didn't get to pick the days to patrol based on weather...so there were some days that were just plain miserable. I can remember being stuck on a stalled chairlift for hours one Saturday during a sleet storm. The power went out and shut down the chairlift, while I was on it. It took about 2 hours for the ski patrol to get everyone safely off. My fingers were numb, and I cried the whole way down the mountain because I was so miserable. My dad was amazingly patient. I don't remember him telling me to toughen up or yelling at me to hurry. We just took it one turn at a time, and made it down to the lodge. And he bought me a hot chocolate from the cafeteria. I don't know if a cup of hot chocolate has ever tasted better.

My parents had a difficult marriage. There was a lot of tension in the house, and a lot of unhappiness at times. I didn't really realize what was going on until I was much older. But I can look back now and identify some of those tense moments, or months. It's funny now, looking back at these Saturday excursions. I appreciate the efforts that went into making it a family event. My dad was the one with the commitment to the ski patrol. But for most of his "on" days, it was a family adventure. And in spite of the early mornings, cold days, wet clothes and home-packed lunches, it was also a time for us to be together. And that made it all worthwhile.