We haven't hooked up Internet to the house yet--Jenny uses my phone for the time being. That means that I can post something about her--even something embarrassing--and she can't change it for hours.
Unfortunately, I'm not very creative.
So here are a few things about Jenn that you may or may not have known.
1. She's a glutton for pain. Undoubtedly there are aspects of childbirth I will never understand, most obvious the pain part. So I'm not sure on why Jenny insists on delivery without any pain medication. Ouch. And then, by the time she gets back home she's into her normal routine. You could only get her to rest in a bed if you drugged her (which, I understand, both doctors and the law frown upon).
2. She can't whisper. No, seriously, Jenny is physiologically incapable of whispering. It can lead to some embarrassing situations.
3. She is a voracious reader. She reads widely and often. Mostly she reads literature, but she's even open-minded on others genres. Recently we read the narrative non-fiction Outliers together, and also the military account in Lone Survivor. I'm amazed at how often a book title will come up in conversation with friends and strangers, and Jenny has usually read it, and often has read other title from that same author.
4. She used to kind of speak Chinese. Now, she mainly just knows the essentials, like "be quiet" and "you're embarrassing me."
4. She can eat. Jenny is really good about eating in moderation . . . until it comes to buffets. She is fixated on the idea that she has to get her money's worth, so she will out-eat even ME!!! I kid you not. I'm blown away--I don't even know where that food goes.
5. She started her college career as an interior design student. She enrolled at Ricks College as an interior design student, put in obscene amounts of hours, got burnt out, then went to China. She came back as an English major.
6. When it comes to cleaning, she's obsessive compulsive. She just can't help herself. Think of Monica on "Friends."
7. She's a fantastic writer who hates to write. It kills me to be married to such a talented person that shuns her talent. In college, several of Jenny's teachers told me how incredible of a writer she is. But she won't write. She has a hard enough time posting on the blog, much less crafting the next great novel.
Jenny is a great person. She's kind, charitable, and she is--to the shock of her parents--perhaps the most responsible person I know. The only irresponsible thing she did was marry me. Since then, she's had a clean record.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Part III: Arrival
We rolled into Dallas on January 9th, 2010, just after the sun had set. And it's probably a good thing it was dark.
Rewind a few weeks: I was in Texas on business when Jenny sent me the link to a house she wanted me to look at. "It has some strange colors, but it looks nice. Check it out."
We had to find a place pretty quick, and I had already looked at dozens of houses. When I went to this house I thought, "Yeah, pretty awful colors, but in a really good neighborhood, close to a school, and next to a park." So I took it.
Everything checked out with Jenny until she stepped across the threshold. There, in the hallway, she realized the terrible mistake I made. She wandered through each room, flabbergasted at the loud, vibrant colors. Some rooms had different obnoxious colors on each wall.
Jenny cried.
The kids actually thought it was great that we were in a new place. Logan's first utterance was "Where's the 'naughty floor' going to be?"
The other problem was that the heater had not been turned on in advance. The house was 45 degrees. We debated about going to a hotel, but the temperature seemed to be rising, and the realtor told us the house may take several hours to warm up. So we all bedded down in the dining room--all five of us on one air mattress.
We froze.
The house never heated up. In the morning the thermostat still read 46 degrees.
And THAT's how we spent our first night in our new house.
Rewind a few weeks: I was in Texas on business when Jenny sent me the link to a house she wanted me to look at. "It has some strange colors, but it looks nice. Check it out."
We had to find a place pretty quick, and I had already looked at dozens of houses. When I went to this house I thought, "Yeah, pretty awful colors, but in a really good neighborhood, close to a school, and next to a park." So I took it.
Everything checked out with Jenny until she stepped across the threshold. There, in the hallway, she realized the terrible mistake I made. She wandered through each room, flabbergasted at the loud, vibrant colors. Some rooms had different obnoxious colors on each wall.
Jenny cried.
The kids actually thought it was great that we were in a new place. Logan's first utterance was "Where's the 'naughty floor' going to be?"
The other problem was that the heater had not been turned on in advance. The house was 45 degrees. We debated about going to a hotel, but the temperature seemed to be rising, and the realtor told us the house may take several hours to warm up. So we all bedded down in the dining room--all five of us on one air mattress.
We froze.
The house never heated up. In the morning the thermostat still read 46 degrees.
And THAT's how we spent our first night in our new house.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Part II: Journey
If there’s one thing I love, it’s a road trip. If there’s one thing Jenny hates, it’s a road trip.
It only took 2 blocks for me to shake off the gray mood blanketing our departing family. The trip ahead would be 18 hours, and we planned to tackle it in two days. Fortunately, Cleveland is only Cleveland; the snow and suffocating clouds broke about half an hour out, never to reappear the rest of our trip.
We drove to Nashville TN that day. The kids were awesome, despite the fact that I accidentally packed their travel toys in the moving van, and despite the fact that our travel DVD player kept shorting out.
The next morning we drove down to Memphis TN. First on our itinerary was Graceland—to drive by Graceland, not to pay and actually see Graceland. When our perceptive kids noticed that we were driving through city traffic and not on the highway, they asked where we were going.
Jenny: We’re going to go see Elvis’ house.
Madison: Who’s Elvis?
Logan: Madison! (As if she could not ask a more obvious question.) You know, “Elvis and the Chipmunks!”
Unfortunately, Graceland isn’t much to see unless you break down and pay to get in.
So instead, we went to The Peabody Hotel to watch the world-famous Duckwalk. The Peabody is Southern fixture, extremely elegant with lots of history. Decades ago a hotel employee, a former Barnum and Bailey worker, trained some ducks to walk from their roost on the roof, ride the elevator down to the lobby, and walk from the elevator door to a large fountain in the middle of the lobby.
(note: the jackets were completely unnecessary, but we were only a day out of Cleveland, so please excuse us.)
Sounds uneventful?
It was, a little.
But, for some reason, at least 100 people lined up on the edge of the red carpet the ducks walk to witnesses the feat. Because there’s so much pomp and circumstance, it was actually kind of cool. The kids, at least, enjoyed it.
The rest of the day was spent cruising through Arkansas. If anyone ever has a chance, I highly recommended Hot Springs.
Finally, we crossed into Texas. Jenny swears she can’t tell the difference, but for me, as soon as I cross that state line, a euphoric rush breezes through me. It’s amazing. Jenny just slept.
It only took 2 blocks for me to shake off the gray mood blanketing our departing family. The trip ahead would be 18 hours, and we planned to tackle it in two days. Fortunately, Cleveland is only Cleveland; the snow and suffocating clouds broke about half an hour out, never to reappear the rest of our trip.
We drove to Nashville TN that day. The kids were awesome, despite the fact that I accidentally packed their travel toys in the moving van, and despite the fact that our travel DVD player kept shorting out.
The next morning we drove down to Memphis TN. First on our itinerary was Graceland—to drive by Graceland, not to pay and actually see Graceland. When our perceptive kids noticed that we were driving through city traffic and not on the highway, they asked where we were going.
Jenny: We’re going to go see Elvis’ house.
Madison: Who’s Elvis?
Logan: Madison! (As if she could not ask a more obvious question.) You know, “Elvis and the Chipmunks!”
Unfortunately, Graceland isn’t much to see unless you break down and pay to get in.
So instead, we went to The Peabody Hotel to watch the world-famous Duckwalk. The Peabody is Southern fixture, extremely elegant with lots of history. Decades ago a hotel employee, a former Barnum and Bailey worker, trained some ducks to walk from their roost on the roof, ride the elevator down to the lobby, and walk from the elevator door to a large fountain in the middle of the lobby.
(note: the jackets were completely unnecessary, but we were only a day out of Cleveland, so please excuse us.)
Sounds uneventful?
It was, a little.
But, for some reason, at least 100 people lined up on the edge of the red carpet the ducks walk to witnesses the feat. Because there’s so much pomp and circumstance, it was actually kind of cool. The kids, at least, enjoyed it.
The rest of the day was spent cruising through Arkansas. If anyone ever has a chance, I highly recommended Hot Springs.
Finally, we crossed into Texas. Jenny swears she can’t tell the difference, but for me, as soon as I cross that state line, a euphoric rush breezes through me. It’s amazing. Jenny just slept.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Part I: Departure
(Warning: Long Post)
In 1812 at the height of his power, Napoleon Bonaparte blitzed into Russia with nearly 800,000 troops and quickly captured Moscow. The Russians responded by burning their spiritual capital to deprive the French of winter quarters. The French limped home under smothering Russian cannonades. The once-proud Napoleon returned bruised and humiliated with less than 40,000 soldiers.
While I’m not Emperor of the World, I couldn’t help but compare my time in Cleveland to Napoleon’s disaster each time I climbed the frozen ramp into our ABF trailer. I came to this town having matriculated into a good law school, getting a coveted job at a respectable firm, and I had a hot wife. But there I was, my frozen fingers dragging my pride into a moving van, one box at a time.
Our trailer arrived on Tuesday, January 3rd. An impressive number of brethren from the ward showed up that night to cart out our embarrassingly large amount junk. (If anyone is wondering: Joe likes to throw things away, Jenny likes to keep things just in case we need it in the future, even if the likelihood of needing it is remote.) Molly Huang was kind enough to watch our hoodlums during the load-in.
Jenny was primarily in charge of packing things into boxes, and I packed those boxes into the trailer. This division of labor generally worked well, except that Jenny accidentally packed my underclothing in a dresser that got placed at the very front of the trailer. It wasn’t a very cool week for me.
On Wednesday night the Garn and Julie Smiths brought us a dinner—a wonderfully scrumptious dinner. On Thursday night the Jason and Bridi Waites invited us over for another amazing meal.
Thursday was Logan’s and Madi’s last day of school. At the end of the day, Logan’s close friend, Gavin, painted a picture and gave it to Logan, instructing him to put it in a place where Logan could see it every day to remember him by. The farewell was accompanied by five hugs. Another girl was in tears.
Friday morning came. We loaded up our air mattresses and travel items into our van. We called ABF and had them pick up our trailer. (Turns out we needed two extra feet, for which ABF did not charge us the extra $150.) We drove away to say a few more goodbyes around town.
Then we pulled back up to the house to give it one more farewell. We stared—speechless—at this house we loved, this neighborhood we prized, at a backyard that would never again see our kids kick a soccer ball in it, and into a large front window that will never fill with three children smiling back at me as I come home from work.
I didn’t expect to leave this way. I came to conquer, and I leave conquered. But what’s important is that I am leaving with what’s most important: my family.
In 1812 at the height of his power, Napoleon Bonaparte blitzed into Russia with nearly 800,000 troops and quickly captured Moscow. The Russians responded by burning their spiritual capital to deprive the French of winter quarters. The French limped home under smothering Russian cannonades. The once-proud Napoleon returned bruised and humiliated with less than 40,000 soldiers.
While I’m not Emperor of the World, I couldn’t help but compare my time in Cleveland to Napoleon’s disaster each time I climbed the frozen ramp into our ABF trailer. I came to this town having matriculated into a good law school, getting a coveted job at a respectable firm, and I had a hot wife. But there I was, my frozen fingers dragging my pride into a moving van, one box at a time.
Our trailer arrived on Tuesday, January 3rd. An impressive number of brethren from the ward showed up that night to cart out our embarrassingly large amount junk. (If anyone is wondering: Joe likes to throw things away, Jenny likes to keep things just in case we need it in the future, even if the likelihood of needing it is remote.) Molly Huang was kind enough to watch our hoodlums during the load-in.
Jenny was primarily in charge of packing things into boxes, and I packed those boxes into the trailer. This division of labor generally worked well, except that Jenny accidentally packed my underclothing in a dresser that got placed at the very front of the trailer. It wasn’t a very cool week for me.
On Wednesday night the Garn and Julie Smiths brought us a dinner—a wonderfully scrumptious dinner. On Thursday night the Jason and Bridi Waites invited us over for another amazing meal.
Thursday was Logan’s and Madi’s last day of school. At the end of the day, Logan’s close friend, Gavin, painted a picture and gave it to Logan, instructing him to put it in a place where Logan could see it every day to remember him by. The farewell was accompanied by five hugs. Another girl was in tears.
Friday morning came. We loaded up our air mattresses and travel items into our van. We called ABF and had them pick up our trailer. (Turns out we needed two extra feet, for which ABF did not charge us the extra $150.) We drove away to say a few more goodbyes around town.
Then we pulled back up to the house to give it one more farewell. We stared—speechless—at this house we loved, this neighborhood we prized, at a backyard that would never again see our kids kick a soccer ball in it, and into a large front window that will never fill with three children smiling back at me as I come home from work.
I didn’t expect to leave this way. I came to conquer, and I leave conquered. But what’s important is that I am leaving with what’s most important: my family.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Turning a Page
Today was my last Sunday here in Cleveland. It wasn't eventful in the least.
In some ways, it will not be that difficult to leave Cleveland. In almost every way, I was not a good fit for this place. But I look back on my brief time here and I'm amazed at what I've learned about myself.
I've learned that life is not worth living if you can't do what you are passionate about. There is simply no dollar value that compensates for meaningful engagement in the workplace. To those that have yet to learn this painful reality, I'm sorry.
I've also learned that I need to be less judgmental. Jennifer is great at this. I am not. I have found so much happiness opening up my heart to those that think no one is paying attention. Comfort is being loved; true happiness is loving others. My mind tends to think in business terms, and I'm amazed at how high the ROI (Return on Investment) is on service and kindness to others.
Similarly, I've learned to accept service. Here in Cleveland I've been touched by small acts of kindness towards me and my family. I hesitate to mention anything because so many have been so thoughtful, but two instances that come to mind are when Laura Welch threw a baby shower for Jenny. Laura learned that even though Jenny was the mother of three, no one had ever thrown her a baby shower. So Laura did, even though there was no baby. Also, when I was gone for an extended period of time this summer, some anonymous friends came by and manicured our back yard. I really hate the anonymous part of that because I have this burning need to repay someone. But that's probably the point--I need to repay everyone.
I've also come to the conclusion that I'm pretty soft. I don't cry very often (unless Jenny is being mean to me), but I swear, I get that lump in my throat so easy nowadays. Usually, its things like Extreme Makeover Home Edition or a personal interest story on ESPN where a football team goes out of their way to ease the pain some kid with leukemia. But it's also when Logan explains a gospel principle he learned in Primary, or Madi shares with a friend, or Grant pulls my hair. And it's also when I think about how lucky I am to have blindfolded Jenny into marrying me. I am seriously the luckiest man alive. Almost by definition, though, that makes her the least luckiest woman alive. Regardless, I find myself swallowing down that lump pretty often as life continues to touch my heart at an ever-increasing pace. I hope that sensitivity is a sign of maturity.
I've also started graying here in Cleveland, by the way.
I've learned other things (like useless facts in all the history books and narrative non-fiction I read and that Jenny insists are as dry as shredded wheat, no milk), but these are the few things I've decided to share on a sleepy Sunday afternoon. If you have made it this far in the post, my apologies.
Oh, and I won't miss the snow.
Cleveland, adios. It's back to the land of lower taxes, unhealthier food, slower speaking, and George Strait.
Que le vaya bien,
Joseph McGregor
In some ways, it will not be that difficult to leave Cleveland. In almost every way, I was not a good fit for this place. But I look back on my brief time here and I'm amazed at what I've learned about myself.
I've learned that life is not worth living if you can't do what you are passionate about. There is simply no dollar value that compensates for meaningful engagement in the workplace. To those that have yet to learn this painful reality, I'm sorry.
I've also learned that I need to be less judgmental. Jennifer is great at this. I am not. I have found so much happiness opening up my heart to those that think no one is paying attention. Comfort is being loved; true happiness is loving others. My mind tends to think in business terms, and I'm amazed at how high the ROI (Return on Investment) is on service and kindness to others.
Similarly, I've learned to accept service. Here in Cleveland I've been touched by small acts of kindness towards me and my family. I hesitate to mention anything because so many have been so thoughtful, but two instances that come to mind are when Laura Welch threw a baby shower for Jenny. Laura learned that even though Jenny was the mother of three, no one had ever thrown her a baby shower. So Laura did, even though there was no baby. Also, when I was gone for an extended period of time this summer, some anonymous friends came by and manicured our back yard. I really hate the anonymous part of that because I have this burning need to repay someone. But that's probably the point--I need to repay everyone.
I've also come to the conclusion that I'm pretty soft. I don't cry very often (unless Jenny is being mean to me), but I swear, I get that lump in my throat so easy nowadays. Usually, its things like Extreme Makeover Home Edition or a personal interest story on ESPN where a football team goes out of their way to ease the pain some kid with leukemia. But it's also when Logan explains a gospel principle he learned in Primary, or Madi shares with a friend, or Grant pulls my hair. And it's also when I think about how lucky I am to have blindfolded Jenny into marrying me. I am seriously the luckiest man alive. Almost by definition, though, that makes her the least luckiest woman alive. Regardless, I find myself swallowing down that lump pretty often as life continues to touch my heart at an ever-increasing pace. I hope that sensitivity is a sign of maturity.
I've also started graying here in Cleveland, by the way.
I've learned other things (like useless facts in all the history books and narrative non-fiction I read and that Jenny insists are as dry as shredded wheat, no milk), but these are the few things I've decided to share on a sleepy Sunday afternoon. If you have made it this far in the post, my apologies.
Oh, and I won't miss the snow.
Cleveland, adios. It's back to the land of lower taxes, unhealthier food, slower speaking, and George Strait.
Que le vaya bien,
Joseph McGregor
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