Miriam and I are in Idaho Falls visiting the Palmer grandparents. It was quite a trip to get here: a 2-hour flight from Tucson to Salt Lake City, and then a 4-hour bus ride to Idaho Falls.
Travel. I'm always amused when fellow travelers tell me, after a long flight or bus ride, how lucky I am that my child was so well behaved. I usually just smile and nod, but what they don't know is that I have exhausted my personal stores of patience, ingenuity, and candy-as-bribery to ensure Miriam's well-behavedness. Perhaps I should take it as a compliment that I'm doing it in what appears to be an effortless manner.
What I wasn't doing effortlessly was transporting all of our hud to and from the airport. When I was dropped off at the Tucson airport, I was dealing with my purse, my laptop bag, a bag of snacks, a huge suitcase, the stroller, Miriam's carseat, Miriam's backpack, and of course, Miriam herself. I must have looked so awkward because after a minute of me trying to get everything together by myself, an airport policeman came over and helped me to the check-in counter. Thank goodness for nice people!
Utah/Idaho. It's been a while since we lived in American Fork, so I had forgotten what it's like to be in a place that is predominantly Mormon. Or at least, a place where Mormon-ness is common enough that it's well understood. As we walked from our gate to the baggage claim area, I stopped at a fast-food restaurant to get some lunch. The cashier was obviously Russian, with an accent and the Russian name and everything. I was almost going to start talking to her in Russian until I remembered that this is the land of returned missionaries, and she probably gets talked to in her native language by us Americans several times a day. Sigh.
Also, the shuttle bus driver played catchy arrangements of primary songs over the bus stereo on the way from Salt Lake City to Idaho Falls.
Indecent Exposure. We came all the way from 18th-most-dangerous-city Tucson to safe little Idaho Falls and yet managed to be victimized in our first 24 hours. My mother- and sister-in-law, Miriam, and I were walking out of the Idaho Falls Public Library last night. As I was buckling Miriam into her carseat, my brain registered a very out-of-place sound coming from right behind me in the dark parking lot. It was a zipper unzipping. I'm sure you can guess what the man standing there was doing when I turned around long enough to slam the door shut, lock the door, and tell Grandma Palmer to get the heck out of there.
Welcome to Idaho!