32

How do I love thee, let me count the ways.

(Even though there are far more than thirty-two of them, in honor of thirty-two action packed years, here are just a few of the reasons I love Gordon Keith Risser III)

Happy Birthday love.

1. Your integrity.

2. The way you can memorize the words to a song after hearing it twice.

3. Your eyes.

4. Your passion for the ocean.

5. Your devotion to me.

6. The right hand corner of your mouth.

7. Your constant search for truth.

8. The way you play with Van.

9. Your hands.

10. Your ability to make me want to be better, even when it's hard.

11. The sausage and tomato pasta you make.

12. Your strong arms.

13. Your bottomless pit.

14. The jokes you tell, even when they shouldn't be told.

15. Your sexy crooked teeth.

16. Books

17. Your dedication to living...

18. understanding...

19. embodying the gospel.

20. The way you walk.

21. Laughing with you.

22. Your love for the natural world.

23. The fact that we have totally different aesthetics (and mine is better)

24. Your hand strengthening cruncher things.

25. Your recent addiction to chocolate milk.

26. Your tummy.

27. Your family.

28. Your thirst for knowledge of any kind.

29. Your willingness to wake up at 5 AM to go surfing in a blizzard.

30. Your voice.

31. Your opinions.

32. Come home and I'll tell you.

Let's see, did I miss anything?

How do you love GK?

Change We Can Believe In

Over the course of my love affair with my good man, I have kissed and cuddled various hairy incarnations.

When I first saw him on LDS Link-up (Something we are only now finding more endearing than horrifying) he looked like this:

Then when he came out to Denver to meet me (I mean fall in love with me) he looked like this:
When we got married he looked like this:Some could have argued I was a sucker for false advertising because after embracing his inner mountain-man (and some said unibomber) he looked like this:
He joined the ranks of the New York fashion-forward like this:

And now after being called to work in the temple and observe missionary grooming standards he thought about it for a minute:

And then he looked like this:Then this:Until he finally looked like this: I have loved him through all his transitions, but have to admit that I had forgotten how much I love his face.

My Mother

My mother is the most amazing woman I know.

I don't usually succumb to the more serious subjects in my posts. But I've been thinking a lot about my mama these past few days.

For those of you who don't know her, I wish you did. For those of you who do know her, you know that she is extremely loving. She is a good listener. She is kind and always looking out for the underdog. She has the most tender heart I've ever known.

38 years ago today my brother David was alive. He was my mom's first baby. He was born on October 7, 1970 and passed away October 9, 1970.

Many years of my childhood in early October I remember driving down with my mom and dad and whatever siblings were home to visit David's grave in the Provo cemetary. It was in the shadows of the large granite headstones of my great-grand-parents and other long gone relatives. A small flat little stone that just said his name and the dates of his life. David Giles Florence Oct. 7-9 1970.

During my years in Provo, I often visited David's grave. I would run there and sit by him and wonder about my oldest brother. I didn't feel sadness, in fact I wondered if maybe he was watching out for me. I don't really know much about guardian angels, but I like to think that David checks in on me from time to time.

Born nearly two months early, David didn't have much of a chance in those days. In fact the doctors didn't even really attempt to prolong his little life.

It wasn't until I had my sweet little Van, who shares David's middle name, that I began to understand what a tragic loss that must have been for my sweet mother. Her 20 year old heart must have been broken knowing she would never know her little boy in this life.

Recently my friend Abby lost her little girl Beatrice. Born with a little understood illness, she lived for two months. Watching her move on with her life has been an inspiration to me. Although more children will hopefully come to her just as they did to our family, these little ones are never replaced.

And so on this day of David's life 38 years ago, I pay tribute to my mama and all the other sweet women out there who have felt the dear price of mortality.

Van

Mornings around here go about like this:

Put on something sporty and exercise by kicking my legs until they're blurry.

Visit my girlfriend Lucca and show off how strong my neck is in her purple chair.
Take a nap on my mom's bed because she thinks I'm all grown up after holding my ground and insisting I don't want to sleep in my bed this time. She tried for the first hour and a half to keep Reggie away, but I kind of like it when he sleeps on my legs.
Then when Daddy comes home he gives me drum lessons. I get a little frustrated when I don't get it just right.
I'm pretty much the coolest kid ever.

Naptime Update or Early Christmas Card

Van's asleep. Someone out there has more clout with him than I do. You must have convinced him of the dire necessity of a new blog post because he is out for the count. Good work people. So now that I've got a few quiet moments after scrubbing the bathroom, vacuuming the living room, sorting the laundry and eating a late lunch, I'll give you a quick update on each of us starting from most to least interesting.

Van

Is Eleven weeks on Sunday. He is still accused by nosey women on the street of being skinny, but he makes up for it in strength. He holds his head up for long periods of time, he stands on his little legs with the help of a responsible adult, he gauges holes in his cheeks and forehead when his nails aren't quite short enough. His grunts have given way to gummy smiles and the beginnings of a priceless laugh. He thinks his mama is the funniest lady in the world, and he flinches as his daddy's whiskers come in for a kiss. He has bright blue eyes that take in everything around him, he prefers Biden to Palen, and he can count to seven. Okay that last thing's not true, but everything else is.

Reggie

Has taken to helping with housework. He used to only clean the floor in the kitchen, but now he's on the look out for any article of clothing or fabric that has spit up or other baby substance on it. He even attempts at times to clean off Van's face when I'm not looking, or catch the spit up before it even comes out of his mouth. He refuses to enter into political discussion.

GK

Is loving school this semester. He's finally taking a few of the classes he's been looking forward to since day one. He's creating action plans for his capstone project next semester, his job search for next semester, and his job search for the post graduation move to San Francisco. He's excited about his new calling and enjoying being 40+ years younger than the other temple workers. He loves the autumn chill that's coming on and is so excited that his parents and Bubba and Jason and Sarah are coming to see us in New York in a couple of weeks. He gets regular comments and thumbs up from total strangers when he wears his Obama t-shirt that he got on the street for $5.

Susanna

Well, I've taken to hanging out with other mothers of young babies. We talk about breastfeeding woes and gas and pediatricians and baby gear. I went on ebay for the first time last night and won a jogging stroller for $76. I may have just uncovered an unhealthy addiction. I'm a little nervous about the coming of winter because I'm loving being outside every minute possible. I'm getting a little nervous as election day comes around.

Now you see why I don't do update posts more often. I stink at them. Our life isn't as boring as I make it out to be. We live in the most exciting city in the world according to itself, and we are engaged in the most meaningful pursuits of our lives according to us.

And now Van's awake, so you'll have to wait til his next nap to see some pictures. Believe me, they're worth the wait.

I'll do what I want

At least that's what I tell myself.

But actually I'll do what Van wants. So if Van wants me to, I'll do a blog post soon about him. He doesn't really like that kind of attention. He does like to be held (making typing difficult), rocked, walked, nursed.

So for those of you wondering when it will happen... Take it up with the man in charge. Tell him, napping is very helpful to his growing body and his mother's sanity. And if he listens, I'll update my blog.

Better to have loved and lost...

Our house has been a little meloncholy today. It's strange how much things affect us I suppose. I certainly don't mean to be dramatic, and GK and I have already been accused of treating our pets like people. But we can't help our attachment to them, especially to Johann, who in spite of our neglect lived a pretty full life.

GK bought our beautiful Beta Johann as a present for me almost two years ago. We had previously had two goldfish (one gold-Goldie, and one black-Kurt) who didn't last very long in spite of our best efforts. So we decided to get a tougher fish, and what we got was Johann. He was bright and beautiful and active and vibrant. When we dropped his food in the bowl, he snapped at it with amazing precision (and a fair amount of violence).

After surviving our move across the country from Denver to New York in a Nalgene bottle, Johann started to seem a little depressed. He stopped swimming around as much, he ignored the food we gave him and for a while we weren't sure how he was still alive. We went to Utah and California on multiple two week trips and would just leave him in our apartment. We'd give him a little extra food when we left (which he wouldn't touch) and we'd come back to our amazingly tough fish.

Well, a couple of weeks ago, GK decided to try to encourage Johann to return to his pre-New York state. So he bought a couple of guppies and for several days, Johann seemed to respond. He chased them (non-threatningly, but territorially), and swam around showing off his beautiful fins.

The guppies weren't as tough and after only a couple of weeks, one died. GK promptly went out and bought a new one. He placed the baggie into the top of the fishbowl and went to get a few things ready for the release. When he got back into the room he said, "Where is Johann?" I said, "What do you mean? Did he escape?" We searched all around and found him on the carpet in front of the bowl. It had been a minute or two and there was a clear path showing where he had flopped along and rubbed off most of his scales. We promptly put him back in the bowl and watched as he treaded water and slowly began breathing more regularly. We felt sick to our stomachs and hoped that once again our Johann would prove that he was the world's toughest fish.

This morning we woke up and found him face down at the bottom of the bowl beginning to decompose. He passed away from injuries sustained from an attempted escape. We'll miss him. It's strange, but I didn't realize how many times in a day I would glance up from my chair where I nurse Van and look to see how he was doing, until he just wasn't there.

If you're still reading, you're a better friend than I am. I loved my fish. I hope he had a good life.