One-Shot KaLee

Disclaimer: This is one LOOONG story.

Many, many, MANY months ago, I promised the story of One-Shot KaLee.

And now without further ado.

In Wyoming you can hunt big game at the age of 12.

I want you all to pause for a moment and think of a 12 year old you know. Now think of a 12 year old boy. Would you want them in possession of a high powered rifle? I didn’t think so.

Nevertheless, that is the law, so every year men take their young sons out to get their first big animal.

I was not 12 on my first big hunt, I was 14—but I essentially had the arm-strength of a 12 year old.

I had decided before hand that I wanted to hunt antelope. I chose antelope not because they are edible (in fact jerky is the ONLY thing you really want to do with antelope meat and even then it is not very good), I chose antelope because there are LOTS of them on the plains of Wyoming and I figured I could get one with relatively little effort.

Towards the end of the antelope season, my dad, my brother Adam and I loaded up in the truck to get me an animal. We drove about 30 miles outside of town to a ranch that belonged to some friends. We pulled off of the dirt road and there they were.

Three large antelope.

My dad hurriedly handed me my .243 youth stock rifle and told me to use the bumper of the truck to steady the gun and then take a shot. I crouched down next to the truck and got the antelope in my sights, but then a strange thing happened...

The antelope started walking TOWARDS me. I was not prepared mentally for this. Antelope runs away? Totally prepared. Antelope wants you to pet it? Not prepared.

The animal had only started at about 75 yards away to begin with, but as he walked and I stared in unbelief he was closer to 50 yards away.

I said shakily “Uh, Dad? He’s coming towards me!” He answered, “Shoot, Shoot!”

Again, I took careful aim and then finally pulled the trigger.

Due to the recoil of the gun, I didn’t see if I hit him, and the antelope ran about 30 yards over a small rise on the plain.

“KaLee!” my dad yelled, “You just injured him! Now we are going to have to chase him across the plain for who knows how long!”

We walked briskly over the rise and to our surprise—there he was. My shot was perfect. He only ran those 30 short yards then collapsed.

My dad’s tone completely changed, “Great shot! I didn’t think you got him this good!”

Now came the hard part.

While the antelope WAS mortally wounded, he would not die naturally for several hours, so my dad explained that I would need to shoot him again, right now.

I looked down into the large black eyes and heaving chest just 3 feet from me and couldn’t do it. Luckily Dad was kind and did it for me.

Now that the antelope was good and dead, we had to clean him. I’ve never been really queasy, but I’ve also never seen blood in that quantity. Dad kindly explained that he would help me clean my animal this first time, but that from now on, I would need to clean my kills myself. As we proceeded to gut the animal, I felt more and more strongly that I would NOT be able to do this by myself the next time. I expressed that feeling and little Adam, who was no more than 8 years old, piped up and exclaimed, “I’ll clean it for you next time, KaLee!” I looked down at him and said, “Sounds great to me!”

We loaded the animal into the back of the truck and drove home triumphant. Dad was bursting at the seams to show everyone the size of the animal that his daughter had taken down with ONE SHOT.

I was not out to get a trophy animal. I was just out to have my first hunting experience, but when we got the antelope home and measured the horns, we found that I had shot a 15 ½ inch antelope. I proudly mounted the horns and they currently hang in my parents’ garage.

To this very day, no one in my family, immediate or extended, has killed a larger antelope.

And I have never had to clean another kill.

Because I have never been successful again.

And the fun begins...

Ronnie completed his first week of law school. They definitely threw him right into the thick of things. I am so proud of his dedication as he has studied each day (and most nights) to make sure he is prepared for class.

This is a real change from his undergraduate degree.

We have gotten to know quite a few other LDS first-year couples. Ronnie is pretty sure there are 12 of them in his class of 77—not too bad of a percentage. They are all so nice and I can't wait to get to know them a lot better as the year progresses.

We were surprised to find out that Ronnie is the only BYU grad at Wyoming this year but he is surrounded by at least three Utah grads—they like to give him crap.

I am adjusting to my new schedule of most evenings to myself—at first it was quite liberating; I could watch whatever I wanted on television; read for unlimited amounts of time; and do other girly past times like paint my nails, etc.

After only one week, the novelty is wearing off.

There is nothing on television (until the fall season begins), I finished all of the books in my “to read” pile and my nails haven’t begun to chip.

So, I started a hobby that I have wanted to pick up since the purchase of my beloved Bernina.

I am quilting.

Yep. Quilting. I have to say that I love it so far. Now I only wish that I had a dedicated sewing area so my kitchen table wasn’t such a mess.

I finished the binding on a blanket that had been sitting in my closet for 8 years and am now sewing the bedding for this new little one. (I’ll post pictures as soon as I have anything to show for my work. I am still in the cutting stage (the worst stage of the whole process) but hope to have completed projects soon.

And since my back and eyes won’t allow me to quilt for unlimited amounts of time please let me know if you have any good book recommendations—I’m open to just about anything!

Cash Jeremy Goff

Little Cash Jeremy Goff was with us on this earth for six days. Heavenly Father needed him home and he left this life yesterday afternoon. We are so grateful for eternal families. Please remember Natalie and Jeremy in your prayers.

Prayers

My newest little cousin was born August 17th at 2:02a.m. Cash Jeremy Goff was at 24 weeks gestational age and weighed 1 lb. 14 oz. He was born alive, crying and moving around (they say he is quite the little fighter).

As with any 3 ½ month early baby, he has some developing to do before he can be released from the hospital. Please keep him and his parents in your prayers.

Edited to Add: My aunt has started a blog to keep all of us updated on his progress. You can find it on my sidebar, or here.

All Grown Up

I’m officially a big kid now.

Last night I had an extremely long and detailed dream about being in a musical production. After the performance I was running around getting things ready for the post-production party and all of the sudden…

I peed my pants (in the dream that is.)

I awoke frantically, sure that I would have a mess to clean up (cuz let’s face it, when you have vivid dreams about using the bathroom, they are usually a bit more vivid than you would like).

To my surprise—it was just a dream.

I think that proves it.

I am a grown up and may even be ready for this whole motherhood thing.

Sweet!!!!!

I figured out how to put a post on this thing. (KaLee is so going to be mad at me when she sees this at work tomorrow)

So in case you haven't yet determined this is the Little bit of Ronnie referred to in the title of the blog.

I figured since KaLee has been slacking on her blog duties I should fill in, (note there are only 6 so far this month, this being the 7th posting. As I know in months past there have been a few more than this month.)

I should start by telling everyone that despite the complaining about swollen feet and the occasional back rub, I have really enjoyed KaLee being pregnant.

I mean I have been able to eat a little bit more cause she is and I don't even feel bad about it.
The other thing I like is KaLee's belly, its exciting yet crazy that there is something alive and growing inside her and I'm sorry that I am going to admit this but yes I do think its fun to talk to her stomach. (I'm not really talking to her stomach, I'm talking to the baby.)

Other notes for those who are wondering I am enjoying Laramie, I think its refreshing to have this slower paced life at least for a little while. I also have been enjoying spending time with KaLee's family they are good people and I think the world of them.

I also would like to thank everyone who has supported me thus far in my life (by the way I'm feeling a little bit sentimental) I wouldn't be half the person I am today without the influence of my parents and siblings. (Yes that includes the in-law parents and siblings as well.) You've all had a very profound impact on my life and I am grateful.

Next item of business, I have just been caught by KaLee and have been threatened that I must spellcheck and let her proofread this before I post it.

My Feet

This post is about pregnancy—if you have no desire to read it move along.

I have been blessed with a very easy pregnancy (no morning sickness, no headaches).

However, in the last two weeks a new nemesis has appeared.

Swollen Elephant Feet.

Yes, at the end of the day, or if I walk for any amount of time my feet look like this:

(Notice how there is no separation between shin and foot.)

Other than the appearance, they haven’t bothered me, except a bruise-like soreness when I touch the area around my lateral malleolus (that bump on everyone’s ankle). I paid attention in Anatomy.

So, being the internet searcher that I am, I wanted to see what I could do.

Through various sites I determined that I should not sit with my feet flat on the ground or my ankles will swell (Hello—that is what I do for 8 hours a day!).

The internet’s solution to this problem is that I put my feet above my heart for 15 minutes every hour in order to minimize the effects. (I’m sure my boss will LOOOVE that one).

My solution was to borrow a small footstool from my parents and put my feet up throughout the day (but only about a foot and a half up, instead of above my heart.

It seems to be working a bit, but after viewing a few pictures of my mom’s feet when she was pregnant with me—I feel I am fighting a losing battle.

Trip to Denver

Laramie is a mere 2.5 hours from Denver and since Ronnie’s life will soon be a quite busy one, we decided to make a trip to the Denver Temple before classes started.

We were able to meet our good friends Jared and Ashley and do a session. It was great to see them and great to be at the temple. (Did you know they give pregnant people special treatment if you look uncomfortable enough?)

We neglected to take a picture at the temple, but here we all are enjoying our Texas Roadhouse steaks. (Yes, Karen and Ray, we went again—just a week after we went with you!)

We are happy to be close to the Jared and Ashley and hope to be able to get together more often!

My Influence

I think I may be rubbing off on Ronnie.

He finished reading a book yesterday.

A book he read PURELY for entertainment.

Since I have known him, this has never happened.

I like to think it was all because of me.

Memories or How My Old Room Was Full of Crap

I am not a pack rat.

Not even close to one. I despise all forms of piles, whether they be necessary or not and have no problem donating (ahem, trashing) my items. With two moves in the last 7 months, I can say that I have successfully sorted and cleaned every drawer, closet, box and cubby that we own.

Except for three large Sterilite tubs.

They are not mine and I do not have permission to go through them. (If any of you want to remind Ronnie that they are sitting in the garage, please do so).

Unfortunately, since I permanently moved out of my parents’ house in 2002, I had not gone through the closet of my old room.

Last night I took on that task.

I determined that I was a little bit more of a pack rat then, than I am now.

I threw away no less than three large, black garbage bags full of things like:

All of the letters I had ever received from a missionary (note: I did not send off any missionaries, so these were all just friends.)

A binder full of love letters from my 9th grade boyfriend.

No less than 100 empty CD cases (why I saved these I’ll never know).

Various trinkets that were given by old friends but had been melted or completely faded by the sun.

Three empty boxes (again, what?)

Not just one, but FIVE fuzzy notebooks (you know, the kind that are popular with the preteens).

And many, MANY more insignificant items. I don’t want you to think that I am heartless and don’t care about anything—I did keep many memory filled items as well.

Now all I have to do is sort through the large basket of old birthday cards and my cleaning will be complete. (Let’s all pray that I find some long-lost money in there!)

A New Look and New Due Date

I was getting tired of the other layout, so I decided to switch things up a bit—let me know if there are any major problems.

We also had another doctor appointment yesterday and confirmed that indeed, we are having a little boy! (I wanted to be sure before I let myself go shopping, since my last ultrasound was a little early.)

But the even better news is that the doctor decided to move up my due date to December 5th. I know it is just one week, but it’s all in my head and I feel better, so I guess that is all that matters. Ultimately, I know that I have no say as to when this baby comes and the due date means nothing whatsoever, but at least now I am in the first week of December.

I HAVE BABY!

First of all, I just wanted to publicly announce that I finished Harry Potter on Sunday, so those of you who have been waiting for the go-ahead before you posted your spoiler-full posts have free reign of the internet.

Now, on to a story from California.

The day before the wedding, Ronnie’s sisters and I decided to get manicures and pedicures. Due to my nail-biting habit (gross, I know) a manicure was pointless for me, but I was in love with the idea of a pedicure (never mind that I was actually wearing closed-toed shoes to the wedding.)

We went over to the nail place and three of us settled right in for our pedicures. I saw the lady turn on my sister-in-law’s (Aubrey) massager and Ronnie’s cousin’s (Maggie) massager, but she didn’t turn on mine. I figured she forgot.

So, Maggie kindly found the control on the side and pushed start. The machine had not been running for more than 10 seconds when the nail lady (NL1) runs from the other side of the store yelling, “No, No, NO! YOU HAVE BABY, YOU HAVE BABY!”

I had totally forgotten that I can’t have a massage unless it is a specific pregnancy massage. I apologized and continued to enjoy the massage that my feet were getting in the water.

A few minutes later a different nail lady (NL2) came to actually treat my feet. She noticed my massager was not on and turned it on. Instead of explaining everything to her and having another awkward conversation in broken English, I just turned it off.

She looked at me quizzically and asked, “You not like?”

Meanwhile NL1 had seen the whole thing from across the store and ran over again.

She was, of course, yelling. “SHE HAVE BABY, SHE HAVE BABY!” She then proceeded to give a stern lecture to NL2 in a language I am not privileged to know.

By this time, the entire store knew that I was pregnant and probably assumed that I was a complete idiot for turning on my massager twice.

And for the rest of the weekend, whenever one of Ronnie’s sisters would see me standing too long, etc they would yell. “YOU HAVE BABY, YOU HAVE BABY!”