Halloween Party at Grandma's

My mother insisted that we celebrate Halloween this year as a family even though she would be out of town on the 31st. We gathered for pizza and games (7, 11 or doubles) over the weekend. Rather than bringing a favorite candy bar to add to the pot, people brought their favorite treats. My mom brought a Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory caramel apple for herself and chocolate turtles for my dad. My sister brought chocolate caramel popcorn from Artichokes and Company. The rest of us brought the usual stash of junk food: OREO's, sour cream and cheddar chips, and a host of candy bars. Joey walked away clearly victorious winning both items from RMCF and a handful of candy bars. Apologetically, I asked my mom if she wanted her treats back and she sheepishly smiled and pulled out a hidden stash of of turtles and apples "just in case" she didn't win. Smart woman.

10 Minute Pumpkin Fest

Two weeks ago, my family made the 90 minute drive to Thanksgiving Point during rush hour traffic to attend the Scarecrow festival. The kids were just getting into the swing of things when we realized we were at the Pumpkin Festival, not the Scarecrow Festival. You'd think this wouldn't be a very big deal, (especially after paying the $10 admission fee and finally seeing your kid smile after a long drive in the car), but it was to my mom who quickly got our money refunded and we made the walk to the South side of Thanksgiving Point to attend the Scarecrow Festival. This festival is a charity event, but not as much fun as the Pumpkin Festival, which in my opninion is worth the entrance fee.

Here are some pictures from our 10 minute stay at the Pumpkin Festival. Sammie and Owen climbed into the "cow train" and headed out into the pumpkin patch. As they were returning, I suddenly realized that Sammie was alone in the car. I panicked, obviously, and wondered how Owen had escaped and where he was now. With a wildly beating heart I ran to Sammie and found that Owen had slid down into the seat and was noosed by the seat belt. Only mildly relieved.

Sitting happily before the ride.

The rescue mission.

C'est la vie!

My parents left early Thursday morning for a vacation to Switzerland and France in honor of their 35th wedding anniversary. My dad served his mission in the western part of France and Eastern Switzerland, or the Geneva, Switzerland mission. He returned a year after his mission to work in France as a tour guide. They have always wanted to go back and see those places together. Hence, the whirlwind tour of France they are now embarking on.

Consequently, we have grown up with a high regard for France - the language, the land, the people. My sister and I traveled in Europe before I got married and I felt such a connection with Paris (maybe it was the Éclairs.) I need to go back! I did everything I could to convince my parents that it was necessary that I accompany them on their trip. My dad was only slightly amused at my suggestions. Needless to say, I am still here and they are staying at a posh hotel in Geneva.

My father did however offer the use of his car while they were away. While it is not quite as good as walking down the Champs Elysee or eating Brie at an outdoor cafe across from Notre Dame, I'll take what I can get. I'll try to take care of it dad.

May parents flight was canceled and so they have been plane- hopping to Geneva. They spent the first night in Newark, New Jersey - a far cry from Geneva. I was asked to call the hotel in Switzerland, The Beau Rivage, to notify them of their delay. A male voice answered the phone in what is quite possibly the most beautiful French accent I have ever heard. I wasn't even going to try to embarrass myself, so I very quickly said, "Parlez-vous anglais?" His English spoken with a French accent was equally as beautiful. I can just hear the words "of course madame," echoing through my head today.

If my parents have half as good of an experience as I did talking to the concierge on the phone, the trip will have been a success. Now, I just have to figure out a way to get myself over there . . . C'est la vie!