Guilt

So, there's a lot to feel guilty about in this life. Guilty for every naughty, sweet-tasting thing you put in your mouth. Guilty for every minute you spend on the computer or watching TV instead of doing laundry or the dishes. Guilty for the moment you realize your husband came home after a long day and it never even OCCURRED to you to make dinner. And then there's mom-guilt. My sister Cindy once said that Guilt is the Wal-Mart Greeter of Motherhood--it's there to meet you the moment you enter. And it's very true. I feel guilty for every moment I don't cherish, or get distracted, or spend away from her, or foist her on to Trevor so I can get something done.

Oh! And we haven't even gotten to CHURCH guilt. There's always that. I mean, there's real guilty for real sins--which is necessary and an important step. But it always seems like you are missing something. I feel guitly when I don't read my scriptures (though, strangely, not guilty enough to actually pick them up and read them regularly...hense, more guilt) I feel guilty if I'm not praying often, or I skip an hour of church, or I remember that not only did I not do my visiting teaching this month but--oh yeah. I NEVER do. And there's food storage guilt. Not a very strong guilt, but it does tend to nag.

So I ask myself--with all this guilt around my neck, do I really need to feel guilty about one more thing? Namely, "I haven't updated my blog in forever!!" I say unto you, nay.

That is all.

The Turtle Hurdle

ACK! I hate the pressure of coming up with cute and original titles for my blog posts! It's killing me! Darn you Cindy! It's all your fault--you're so good at it!

That said, we do have a turtle. And we are not sure what to do about it. I suppose that's where the hurdle come in.

Trevor calls me down to come out to the backyard to see something. I see something moving over by the shed. I say, "Is it a rat?" no, it moves to slow. Phew. I say, "Is it a kitten?" this time much more excited. But then if it were a kitten it would be hiding somewhere. No, it's a turtle. THIS turtle.




















What does one do with a wild turtle? Or IS it wild? Is it some cast-off pet that has been living in the backyard for a hundred years? (Well, they say turtles live a long time...)

We call him Snaps.

So what is Snaps' story? Was he once spied in the window of a pet shop, catching the eye of a little boy who begged to take Snaps home? And was he then ripped from said home when the little boy moved, forced into the unfriendly wilderness of the backyard, to live on nothing but grass and snails and pork. Ok, not pork. But grass and snails. Do turtles eat snails?

Anyway, we aren't sure how Snaps came to be in our backyard, and we are even less sure what to do about him. So we googled it. Apparently he can live on his own back there very well, and can burrow down in the winter to keep warm. Well, to keep cold actually. He is a reptile, after all. So after "snapping" some pictures and making sure Afton got a peep (but not a touch--we aren't THAT stupid) we put snaps back where we found him.

I don't know if I will ever see Snaps again. But I'll know--he's out there...somewhere...lurking, burrowing, living...it will take him a lifetime just to get from the shed to the front lawn, so I'm pretty sure Snaps will always be with us, whether we see him or not. You fine, brave, lonely survivor. You are an inspiration to us all. Here's to you, Snaps.