Happy Halloween!

So this autumn season has been a little different than I'm used to. No chilly weather, no autumn leaves. No need for cocoa or cider. To be honest, we're enjoying that it's finally out of the 90s and nice enough weather to play outside!

(We're also laughing at how poorly we packed for Dallas weather. I'm still not breaking into long-sleeve shirts, let alone all the sweaters I packed. I've worn long jeans a few times.)

Regardless, the Browns have been enjoying pre-Halloween.

from the arboretum:

They had this darling little petting zoo. And Greta, well, tried very hard not to touch any animals, thanks. She wanted to keep a good distance from the bunny and goats. She touched the sheep once. She was most intrigued by the horse--but perhaps because he was behind a gate.

Jason's pretty horrified that I gave into the free face painting. I figure she's only a kid once.

(While we enjoyed these picturesque and fine holiday venues, we went home and bought a not-so-extravagantly priced pumpkin from the grocery store.)

Also, because I have no willpower, here's some pictures of baby girl in her costume. I took this little cow out to pasture yesterday and took some photos. I got eaten alive by bugs (like I have four bug bites on my face and a few others on arms and legs), and Greta was a crack-up as a cow.

 

Happy Halloween!

Galveston Island

The city is my adrenaline.
The mountains are my hideaway.
The beach? It's straight up therapy.

Nothing simultaneously soothes my nerves, stills my soul, and leaves me as intoxicated and deliriously happy as the beach. Something about that ocean. Gratefully, my husband indulged and took me on a quick 24-hour trip to Galveston Island from Friday-Saturday night.

Views on the way out of town.

Oh hey, Galveston!

So the truth of the matter is that we spent more hours driving than on the beach.
(Hey Jason? Thanks for being willing to spend late nights driving up and down Texas in quick succession.)
BUT we couldn't pass up an opportunity to go to the beach in October and still have killer weather. (Seriously? This is real life?!) Also, my husband was very understanding that perhaps with all the time we had spent cooped up inside I could use a little mental health break.

I also have the world's most perfect beach baby, which makes for an even better day at the beach.

This was her first beach trip as a walking individual and she LOVED the independence. She marched around on the sand, chased the birds, and walked into the water whenever she pleased.

She spent a lot of the day like this. She'd park herself on the shore in an inch of water, play with toys and scoop up sand. The water was delightfully warm and with every little surge and wave she would giggle in delight.

I was also so delighted with HOW far out in the water she'd go. She didn't mind standing in waist deep water with waves crashing up on her chest. When she'd finally start shivering we'd bring her back in -- but she had big grins and was pretty pleased with herself! (And I was probably even more proud than she was.)

It turns out we weren't as good at applying sunscreen to OURSELVES as we were to our daughter. About 2pm we had to go buy Jason a hat to cover his scorched face. I may also have come home with the worst sunburn I've had in several years.

It wasn't exactly a California beach. Not even close to a Florida or Hawaii beach. But when you've got the ocean next to you and 80 degree weather, you just don't mind the brown water very much.

Here's the other thing. I really do feel like it's this tender mercy that in the past six months we've been able to get to the beach as much as we have. With so many transitions and temporary moves, internships, and bouncing around the country chasing the next opportunity, we've been saying a lot, "So where do you think we'll be living in 2 months?" It's definitely been our most stressful year, but at least God made sure I could get to the ocean more than usual to recoup. You know what I'm saying?

The beach is my happy place.

Ebola Survivors 2014

As many of you may have seen on facebook, we are at Ebola ground zero! Our house is only 3 miles away from the infamous Texas Health Presbyterian Hospital. The latest nurse to become infected does in fact live in our apartment complex, in a building just around the corner and across the street-ish.

At first on Wednesday as we woke up to helicopters and cop cars, we were nervous. Not panicked or hysterical, but I think pretty understandably on edge a little.
I couldn't quite pin down where exactly and what building she lived in, and I was concerned about what common areas we might have shared. Although ebola isn't transmitted super easily, we did stand at risk more than most because we could have shared a pool, a fitness center, and a laundry room (all places where sweat could easily be transferred, not to mention other bodily fluids).

To be honest, the most concerning thing was the lack of information. Unlike what the internet or news may have told you last Wednesday, information was NOT distributed by police to everyone within a four block radius and the apartment complex management did NOT inform all residents of what was going on. We live very close and  had continued helicopters circling and cops and Hazmat trucks -- and yet had no idea what the impact on us would be. So I wanted to keep my toddler safe and stayed pretty isolated. Thursday we finally got first contact with a generic flyer from the City of Dallas about a healthcare worker near us contracting Ebola. Friday we finally got word from apartment management that her apartment was finished being cleaned by Hazmat and that they had cleaned the gym.

Our ward was cautious, too--a reasonable thing as ebola had now reared its head in the complex where probably 30% of the ward lives. But with no more cases and very low risk (after all, as we know she had been on a plane and hanging out in Ohio and not at the apartment complex!) all ward activities were kept normal.

We're living life as normal. We don't think we'll get Ebola. We don't have any fevers or flu-like symptoms, and now we know that we didn't even share a pool with her. Just like we promise our mothers, we'll be very careful. But we don't think we're doomed to get it.
On the other hand, we understand if people don't really want to visit us over the next, say, 21 days to wait it out.

We have refrained from sending texts to people that say "Jason's running a bit of a fever this morning, think he's okay to still go to work?" or a "I just threw up, think I should get checked out?" If you know me well, you might have an idea of how hard this has been to resist.
But we would be more than happy to send packages with fake bodily fluids or ebola samples to any of your paranoid, hypochondriac friends!

There is justice in this world.
Sweet, sweet justice carried out at our house every night at say, 9pm.

I was a master of avoiding bedtime. I ran out of bed, perpetually. I cozied up to my mom and told her all about my life (how can a parent resist?). I got scared a lot, which worked to my advantage when I came in crying for comfort. I worked my way into my siblings' activities, or my parents bed. Somehow I got my mom to constantly come in and rub my back and try to help me fall asleep. And then I'd interrupt with one more story. I routinely resisted sleep until I claimed my parents' exhaustion.

I remember in kindergarten my teacher asking what time I went to bed. "Oh, 10 or 10:30," I told her. I remember feeling pretty calm about it and I also remember that Mrs. Jensen was a little visibly horrified. She spoke to my mother about it. I think my mother dealt with the situation politely and responsibly and said something like "We'll work on it," but she explains she was tempted to respond with "Let's see YOU get her to bed any earlier."

Last night, like many nights, we collapsed in exhaustion. We had been doing the routine to get her to bed. It wasn't going great, so we tried everything. We tried putting her in her bed, letting her rest in our bed. We had sung "Old McDonald" and primary songs and the Dixie Chicks until we were blue. We had read stories. We had let her cry. She had a baby doll to hold. We rubbed her back, kissed her face. When she suddenly became chatty, I would attentively listen and acknowledge what she was pointing at, and then tell her it was time to be quiet and go to sleep. We tried turning off every light in the house. We tried turning on just a lamp. We tried turning on the overhead lights to see if it would make her close her eyes. But she would not succumb. As her eyes would flutter and her body would still, she would literally toss and turn and say "no! no!" (A pretty solid tactic, really.) She talked and talked and talked. We could not get her to stop talking.

By now it was 11. Through persistence, she had won. We jointly agreed defeat and each rolled away from her, fell asleep, and let her jabber until she fell asleep sometime later. Who really knows when that was.

And so I face my fate. I imagine roughly the next couple decades will be spent this way, until I hand her off to her college roommates and say "you try."

The unfortunate part is the innocent victim caught in the middle. Last night, Jason cried out, "But I wasn't like you, I don't deserve this!" I'm sorry, Jason. It's true. We should've warned you. I guess justice isn't always perfectly just. (And I guess I'll owe an apology and word of warning to Greta's future husband, as well.)

Texas State Fair

State fairs are what my dreams are made of.
(I know, they're kind of a big, dirty, crowded affair. But I'm kind of a junkie for spectacle. And they feel like a sweet farewell to summer.)
So we were pretty excited to be around in Dallas to catch the Texas State Fair. Wednesday night I picked Jason up from work, we took our canned food to get $3 admission, and we had a blast!

I took an excessive amount of pictures.
And was pretty excessively happy. My husband laughed at me when I teared up at the parade. I can't help it. Carnivals, fairs, parades--they just really bring it out in me. We were also pretty sweaty for an event in October that we left at 10pm, but Dallas has been in the 90s all week.

Here's a few glimpses:

People running the games at the midway kept calling out to Jason, "Hey Dad! Come win your baby a prize!" We were tempted a few times to try and get her a stuffed animal like the ones she kept ogling, but we opted not to get a "game card" and figured she'd probably be fine anyway.

We learned a few things. If you want to see animals, you gotta do it before sunset. We mostly just caught the cows' bathtime. (Turns out this was pretty okay, since Greta is now literally afraid of every moving creature. Including flies.)

Greta ate the whole thing up. She was running and spinning in circles. Walking around big-eyed. Going up to people running games. Waving and flirting.

I can't promise we won't go again. And I can't promise we won't post more pictures.