Crazy Hair Day 2014

Crazy Hair Day snuck up on us this year. I forgot about it until Sunday night and went to bed feeling a little bit of pressure. Lucy was counting on something amazing, and I'm really not that great with hair. Steve woke up at 5:30 am on Monday morning and went to the store to look for ping pong balls. He came back with ping pong balls, styrofoam balls, and even some styrofoam cones. Lucy wanted to be a unicorn. . . but instead we went with this ball creation: 

The first attempt started with a high pony tail right next to the head and then the four balls (using a total of five hair elastics), but it fell back and wouldn't stay up. So then we put the first ball under the hair next to the head and did the first pony tail holder on top of the ball, and then it stood up.

Mostly. . . sometimes it curved forward: 

But it was fairly sturdy. (And surprisingly easy. . . way easier than Lucy's regular crazy hairdo, made famous by ViralNova.)


Lucy loves Crazy Hair Day. . . can you tell?

"It's almost as good as Halloween!" she said. 

Adam requested a spike and Rachel's hair is sprayed white.


A Tribute to My Grandpa

In preparation for my Grandpa's 100th birthday celebration, I was invited to write some experiences and memories. There have been far too many to select from, so instead, I would like to share this history of my grandpa's influence in my life.

Grandpa has been there for me from the very beginning. He was the assisting doctor when I was born, and I'd like to think that he's the one who deserves the credit for my awesome belly button.

I spent most of my childhood living two states east of Grandpa, but visiting Logan was the highlight of our summers. As soon as we arrived at Grandpa's house, I would run out back, straight to the currant bush. I loved to look behind the rocks for Oscar the snake, pick raspberries, deadhead the marigolds, and sit in the one-of-a-kind, aqua-colored reclining chair on his back porch. Grandpa taught us how to properly roast a hotdog and took us fishing. There were a number of things I could always count on arriving in the mail throughout the rest of the year: typed birthday letters with fresh dollar bills, squeaky cheese, and the best jerky ever.

I spent an extended amount of time at Grandpa's house with my dad during the summer of 1993. Grandma wanted help cleaning, but Grandpa put me to work in his garden. I learned how to tie the strings for beans and that twine should always be stored in and dispensed from a box. I learned about Linseed oil and that you always clean your tools before putting them away. I learned about Four O'Clock Flowers, how to thin lettuce, and that purslane was edible. I ate lots of fresh vegetables, pocket bread, and cooked wheat cereal, but he never converted me to lovage. Grandpa took me to the county fair and bought me a letter opener with a duck on the end of it.

We wrote letters back and forth and phone calls were frequent; we called Grandpa with all of our medical questions and Grandma and Grandpa always called to sing "Happy Birthday". Grandpa paid me to give up candy for one month; it just so happened to be the month of October.

My family moved to Logan in 1994 (for one year). We were blessed to participate in numerous family activities, including Rook Sunday. We heard the stories of Grandpa's childhood in Richfield, stories about his service in the Navy, and lots and lots of fish stories.

Grandpa started the Personal Penmanship Improvement Program, encouraging his grandchildren to improve their cursive handwriting. He rewarded each of us that completed with $100.

We went on a family trip to Fish Lake and I rode in his car. Every few minutes, he pointed at something out the window and announced that they don't make them any longer. Because they're already long enough.

Grandpa got an infection in his leg and was out of commission, so during the summer of 1996, I went to Logan to help with his garden. He taught me how to pick the best watermelon, that you should always line the bottom of your trash can with newspaper, and all sorts of other things. But most importantly, he taught me about kindness and generosity. He not only shared the amazing produce from his garden, but if he got a good cantaloupe from Albertson's, he'd insist on getting three more to share.

I graduated from high school and moved away from home when I was 17. Utah State University was the only school I considered because I wanted to live in Logan; I wanted to live by my grandparents. My older brother and sister were both out of the country on LDS missions, but my grandparents were always there for me. I could count on them for food, for advice, and for a bottom-to-top ice cream cone, regardless of the hour. (I didn't know anyone else with grandparents who were up past midnight.)

Grandpa came to my apartment at Cambridge Court and helped me plant two tomato plants because you should always have access to Sweet 100 cherry tomatoes. He spoke to my ward's Relief Society about his service in the Logan Temple Presidency. He talked to me about the importance of finding a good partner. When I started working at The Skyroom, he came to the buffet on Thursdays. Before long, he was taking his friends and all of my Logan cousins to lunches at The Skyroom.

Grandpa gave me my first grape crates. Grandpa made me Cackleberry Delight. And Grandpa regularly called me (early in the morning) to come over and see how beautiful his Mr. Lincoln Rose was, how tall his zebra grass was growing, or how many new blooms were on his Christmas Cactus. Every time I pulled away from his home, he and Grandma would walk out the driveway and wave as I honked twice.

Grandpa taught me about personal revelation. He taught me about making pros and cons charts. He taught me about prayer. Grandpa was very involved in my decision to stay in Logan during the summer of 2001, which turned out to be the summer I fell in love.

Grandpa was a fan of Steve from the very beginning. He quickly put him to work trimming the humongous Blue Spruce that was preventing his garden from getting enough sunlight. He fed us, he counseled us, he taught us by example as he showed us how to love. And then he sealed us in the Logan LDS Temple. I'm guessing there aren't too many people out there who can say that they were married by the same person who delivered them. He talked to us about our choices, opportunities, and challenges. And instead of a magic pill, he offered a magic formula spelled H A R M O N Y. We enjoyed countless delicious meals with Grandma and Grandpa. And he always saved his best jerky for Steve.

At 90 years old, Grandpa still wasn't slowing down. Every time I saw him, he asked if I knew where he could get a new clock with 28 hours in it. With the purchase of each of our homes, he came and inspected the yard and helped us draw out a garden map, advising us where to plant each and every vegetable. And he always encouraged us to plant a Moraine Honey Locust Tree.

After much deliberation, he gave up his electronic typewriter and bought a computer. He also purchased a copy of Computer Basics for Dummies and was determined to learn how to operate that machine. He called with questions, daily.

Grandpa was always prepared for visits from my kids. He would ask them to sing a song or recite a poem, encouraging them to develop public speaking skills. He kept small boxes of raisins and balloons to give them.

Grandpa encouraged our decision to open Sonora Grill, even though it would take us away from Logan, away from him. Steve told him he ordered in a special table, and the round, copper table in the private dining room was thereby named "Grandpa's Table".

Grandma passed on, and I wasn't sure Grandpa would survive without his sweetheart. He was a devoted husband who recognized and appreciated her talents. But he pushes on, determined to endure to the end.

Grandpa hasn't been so active over the last several years. Confined to a wheelchair and often tired, but still eager for our visits. (Especially if Steve is with me.) I asked him if he'd like to see a few pictures from our trip to Thailand, and he ended up looking through every single one of them. . . all 3000 photos. And then he asked if I'd come back and show them to him again without my kids talking in the background.

Every time I call Grandpa, he asks where I am and tells me I sound like I'm right next door. He still ends his all of his phone calls with, "We love you!"

The last time I saw him, Grandpa told me he wasn't sure why he was still alive.

But I am immensely grateful that he is.

I am thankful for the example that he has been to me in my life and thankful that my children have been able to learn from him as well.

This world is a better place because of my grandpa. (And his use of exclamation marks!!!)

I love you, Grandpa!

Photos by Molly Jones Photography, 2009. 


Thailand: Day 5 (Sukhothai Historical Park & Chiang Mai)

I know that I said Day 4 was my favorite day in Thailand. . . had it not been for my torture session Thai massage, Day 5 would have been a close contender. 

As usual, we woke up bright and early. The grounds of the Lengendha Sukhothai Resort were beautiful with the morning light: 

Monks in Thailand wake up at 4:00 am for one hour of meditation, followed by one hour of chanting. Then they walk around barefoot, collecting food from people in the local area: 

The hotel was all set up with rice and bags of curry to give to the monks.

Adam was still in his pajamas, but he was the only one out there ready to give food to the first set of monks, who arrived at 6:03 am. 

The lady from the hotel helped him and showed him just what to do, which was perfect because then I could take pictures. 

Such an amazing experience!

At any given time, there are between 200,000 and 300,000 monks in Thailand with and additional 100,000 novices (boys under twenty years old). Every man is expected to be a monk at some point during his life. They can remain monks for as long as they wish, even just for one day. Some choose to remain in monkhood for the rest of their lives, but three months is the average. Thai monks can be seen wearing various shades of robes, from dark brown to the familiar saffron. Female monks wear white.

The containers the monks are carrying are called alms bowls. If a woman offers something to a monk, it must pass through a third medium. When the monks don't have the alms bowls, they always carry a piece of cloth for this purpose. The monk will lay the cloth on the ground or table, holding on to one end. The woman places the offering on the cloth and then the monk draws it away. 

Rachel and Lucy came out to hear the chanting: 


There was still plenty of food left, so we knew more monks were coming: 

Maddie and Bradee came out just in time to give alms to the next monk: 

The Thai greeting, which consists of a slight bow with the palms pressed together in a prayer-like fashion is called the wai: 

Remember how our hotel stay only cost $55? It included another full breakfast: 

We set up transportation to Chiang Mai and packed up our luggage. Just as we were ready to leave, Adam fell in the pool:

It's a good thing he is cute:

There are no trains to Sukhothai, so the best options for transportation are public bus or hiring a private car. We really wanted to go into Sukhothai Historical Park to see the rest of the ruins, so we hired a van. (We assumed that they would speak English and would be able to answer all of our questions on the drive, but that was not the case.)

Sukhothai Historical Park was designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1991. (You might have noticed that we really like World Heritage Sites.) There are temple ruins in every direction. . . 21 within the walls of the Old City and another 70 within a three-mile radius of the park.

This is Wat Mahathat, the most important and impressive temple in Sukhothai:

Many cities have a Wat Mahathat, which translates to "temple of the great relic".

Any guesses whose idea this pose was?

We should have been up an hour or so earlier to catch the best light, but that's okay. . . it's entertaining to watch kids squint into the sun:

The Old City, which is only about one square mile, was protected by three layers of walls and two moats. There are temple ruins in every direction:

It was a lot to take in (and try to photograph) all at once. I would have liked to have had an hour or two to explore by myself, without worrying about where the kids were.

Okay, I probably could have used four or five hours by myself. The ruins deserve to be admired and  photographed from every direction:

But it was so incredibly awesome to have the kids with us and watch them admire the ruins: 

Kaleigh might actually be Buddhist (this picture was not posed): 

This picture was posed: 

Well, at least we tried: 

Sukhothai Historical Park would be the ultimate place for a game of hide-and-go-seek. It was kind of surprising that there weren't any guards around. . .

It wasn't even nine, and we were already dripping with sweat. Everyone naturally gravitated towards the shade: 

The kids climbed on this massive tree for a while, until they got grossed out by all of the bugs: 

We posed for this picture: 

And then we walked back through the park again. So incredible!

The dog wasn't impressed: 

It was at that moment that Adam announced that he had lost his iPod. We were in a hurry to get on the road and that iPod could have been anywhere. Steve took Adam running back to find it; I didn't mind because that gave me more time to take pictures: 

Within two minutes they passed a local Thai man who held it up and said, "This is for the boy." He insisted on handing it directly to Adam. It was kind of amazing. 

We drove over to the other side of Traphang Trakuan Lake, northwest of Wat Mahathat, to see Wat Sa Si. We crossed this wooden bridge to a small island:

We passed some workers who were busy reconstructing some damaged ruins:

When we approached Wat Sa Si, there was a woman there, worshiping. She was kind of like a ninja. . . there one second:

And then gone the next: 

The circular stupa behind the seated Buddha is called a chedi. Because of this temple's location on the water, it is one of the most beautiful in Sukhothai. 

We really could have spent the whole day exploring the ruins in Sukhothai, but we needed to get on the road to Chiang Mai.

We stopped just outside of Sukhothai at some rice fields and checked our this san phra phum (spirit house):

Then it was back in the van for more driving:

It wasn't too much further that we stopped for a bathroom break:

I hadn't eaten breakfast at the hotel, so I went inside the gas station and got some yogurt drinks and this mung bean filled roll: 

The private van was definitely more expensive than taking the public bus, but it worked out to be the best way for us to see the historical park. Just under four hours after we left the historical park, we arrived in Chiang Mai. Our transit time was a solid hour or two less than a bus ride would have been and we didn't have to pay for a ride to and from the bus station. . . or wait for the bus to be an hour late. 

We actually passed on the first hotel we had found online, so then our driver took us to the Aruntara Riverside Hotel

Checking is was a big fiasco. We found significantly better prices online than they were offering at the registration desk and finally negotiated $76 dollars per night, no breakfast. (We later regretted not paying extra for the breakfast, but I was being stingy.) Then they told us three people maximum per room. We were okay booking two rooms for our family of six, but the Thompsons weren't going to book two rooms for their family of four. The lady at the front desk insisted, so I asked to talk to the manager. It was ridiculous. . . they finally agreed to let us put ten people in three rooms after I explained (for the eighth time) that our kids were young and couldn't be in a room by themselves. Then they requested everyone's passports. And then they needed to see who was sleeping in each room. It was maddening. (Especially because we felt so bad about our drivers, who were still parked outside with all of our luggage.) 

We finally got everything squared away with the hotel manager, paid our driver (with a generous tip), and checked in. The rooms were awesome: 

So was the pool: 

And so was this complimentary plate of fruit:

As soon as we unloaded our luggage into our rooms, we hopped in the back of this truck for a ride to town: 

This is Wat Pra Singh Voramahavihara (I took pictures of the signs so I could remember). This is Chiang Mai's most important temple and the largest within the Old City:

We were wishing we had remembered our sun umbrellas like these monks:

Because it was hot

Our first official stop in Chiang Mai was at the Beary Bear Fish Spa. For 99 baht ($3), you can put your feet into a water tank filled with toothless Garra rufa fish:

The nibble fish, also known as "doctor fish", bite and devour loose bits of dead skin right off your feet, providing aquatic exfoliation.

It tickles. . . at first so much that it's uncomfortable, but then you get used to it. Sort of. . .

It was funny to watch everyone squirm:

It was also funny to see who attracted the most fish:

I had Rachel take a picture for me. . . as proof that I did it too: 

Health officials in the United States have closed down fish spas in 14 states because of the risk of transmitting infectious diseases. There have been no reports of any diseases transmitted by the estimated 4,000 fish spas operating throughout Thailand. Garra rufa are native to the Middle East, where they have been used as a medical treatment for people with skin diseases, like psoriasis. 

Kaleigh wasn't impressed: 

But Adam certainly was: 

We stayed way longer than twenty minutes. . . and when we finally left he excitedly announced, "Mom, that was a bargain. The fish made our feet soft and tickled them at the same time!"

Every single day for the rest of our trip, he asked if he could go back to the fish spa. It was, without a doubt, his favorite activity.

Here are some of the sights we saw in Chiang Mai:

We went in and out of the shops, trying to avoid the rain. Lucy bought her fox t-shirt for 100 baht ($3). I probably should have bought five more, but it's always so hard to decide what to buy. . . especially when you are hungry. It was 5:00 pm and we hadn't eaten lunch. Steve had a list of places he wanted to go to for dinner, so we settled on ice cream to tide us over:

I ordered Mango Sticky Rice, which turned out to be my very favorite thing I ate in Thailand. We were about halfway finished when Steve told me we needed to share it with John and Lacie. I told him there was no way I was sharing and that he would have to order them another one.

We walked by some pretty cool looking restaurants: 

But Steve had his heart set on some amazing Indian restaurant he had read about. . . 

We saw a bunch of cats: 

This one clearly didn't like me: 

We sampled some lychee: 

Which is delicious, but feels like you are eating an eyeball: 

And then we finally arrived at the Indian restaurant. Unfortunately, it was about a million degrees inside. And had inappropriate pictures on the walls. But Steve was set on Indian, so we found a different Indian restaurant:

It was only about five hundred degrees inside of the Kabab House:

Adam wasn't excited about what Steve ordered and begged for some yogurt dessert that he found on the menu. 

We finally gave in:

It was not what he expected, and it he was completely devastated. He seriously almost burst into tears. 

The owner could tell what had happened and kindly came over and offered to make it into a smoothie for him. So nice!

As we were walking back, we passed a massage parlor, and the kids all begged for massages. They went on and on about how sore they were from walking everywhere and how badly they needed massages. Just then, John somehow managed to slice his toe open. It was bleeding like crazy, and the people from the massage parlor came to help. We stayed there while Steve ran off to find bandages from a pharmacy. 

And before we knew it. . . they were washing our feet in preparation for our massages:

The price was only $6 for an hour, which was just too hard to pass up. We told them the only way we could do it was if they had ten people who could do all of our massages at the same time. So they called some friends who zoomed in on scooters.

I opted to stay downstairs with the kids for foot massages while the adults changed into scrubs and went upstairs for "real" massages. 

I wasn't actually going to write about this because these pictures look sketchy, but I guess getting a massage can be sketchy. We had heard plenty of stories, so there was definitely some concern about getting a massage in Thailand. Just so you know, you can tell what kind of a massage parlor it is by the age and dress of the people working there. Older women who are properly dressed are a safe bet. 

The foot massages were pretty intense: 


I had requested a foot massage only, but at the end, the guy took me upstairs to massage my shoulders. I cautiously took the three older girls with me. Rachel videoed part of it while Lucy repeatedly asked me if I was okay, cried for me, told me my arms were like orangutans, squealed in pain for me, cheered me on, and planned my escape. It was painful and anything but relaxing. I would have told her to be quiet, except that I was honestly afraid if I opened my mouth to say anything, it was going to come out as a scream. (The foot and leg massage was awesome. . . this part, not so much.) 


The massage therapists zoomed off with their money: 

And I took a picture of the sign to document the crazy prices. (30 baht to $1)

Our next stop was McDonald's. Because that's what is required to keep Adam and Kaleigh happy. 

Our last stop of the day was at the Chiang Mai Night Bazzar. Hundreds of vendors lined the streets selling everything from jewelry and headphones to clothes and purses. It was dark and crowded and we had to keep the kids close. Rachel and Lucy had been anticipating this the entire trip and it took all of my focus to help them select good souvenirs, so I didn't take any pictures. We ended up with some necklaces, a laser pen, some flip flops, and some gypsy pants. (They turned out to be so awesome that we went back the next night to buy more, but they were all out.) We did get a couple of iPhone videos at the end of the night. 

video video video

What a day.