run erin run.

This morning I signed up for the Timpanogos Half Marathon. Crazy, right? I hate running. Every time I start I silently curse the forsaken exercise for at least the first two to three miles. But once I hit mile three, something happens inside me.
No, I'm not going to call it a runner's high, because there's nothing high about my feet repeatedly pounding the pavement, and the monotony of inhales and exhales to keep up with my forward motion. It's almost like I hit a numbness, and in that moment I no longer feel the ache in my legs or the burn in the tips of my lungs. It's like my body just gives up and says, "fine, what the heck, keep running then. You suck."

So I keep running. On Monday, in fact, I ran just under seven miles.

Today when Mark proposed we run a half...something we've been considering for awhile...I figured, what the heck. Let's do it. We signed up, we paid our money, and now we're in. There's no turning back, but I figured why not get a few of you out there to do it with me. It could be like a super-cool group thing. You know, all the cool people are doing it.

So if you want to join me, click on the link for details:

Timpanogos Half Marathon

best album ever. oh, and a contest.

I was recently reading a friend's post in which she asked, "what's your favorite road trip song ever?"
Well, my first thought was:
Of course, I'm Moving On by Rascal Flatts
That song is a given for all road trips. If you haven't sung your guts out with the Rascal Flatts boys to the smooth harmonies of I'm Moving On while driving down the I-15, then you haven't road tripped. Just hearing the song on the radio puts an itch in my step to jump in my mini (van, that is) and head North or South to my sister's homes.
But before I could type my answer, a buried memory clawed it's way out of my cobwebbed brain, and I thought of another road trip I took years ago. During a short-lived summer job in New York City, I accompanied my boss to her summer home in the Adirondacks. We drove for a few hours at most, but what I remember was bonding over a particular album that we both loved:

U2 - Joshua Tree

Favorite song:
Where the Steets Have No Name

Um, pretty much. Best. Song. Ever.

The songs in Joshua Tree were like my personal anthem for that summer, and many more after. In recent years, I lost the album and sadly forgot about how much I loved playing it over and over again. That is, until Ally's post. And if you want, you can go and enter her contest:

HERE

And now that I have that memory back, the Summerills are going to be enjoying the musical stylings of Bono and the U2 gang once again. 

What's your all time favorite album?

second day of the journey I came across a large group of Wilcoxen...

Remember how I said my sister has seven kids, well I shot them all! Muah ha ha ha...ok, pardon my ill-placed humor. I see now that sounds disturbing, possibly sick. It could be a result of my easter bingeing, but regardless, it was uncalled for. However, that doesn't stop me from posting the fruits of my labor, the kill of my hunt, the fabulous picture of all 9 Wilcoxen! (That's what you call a family of Wilcox, just saying.)

Enjoy your Monday. Luv, erin

seven.

My sister has seven kids. I have four. That means, she has practically twice the amount of kiddoes running under foot than I do. Twice the mess. Twice the chaos. Twice the noise. So up until we visited her I thought to myself, why would any sane person have more kids than I have because I can't even keep up with the four that I have. And then when I was staying at her home in California, I remembered.

Because they're so sweet and cuddly. And they look up at you like this:

Isn't this little gal so adorable? I can understand the temptation to have another one, so sweet and cuddly and cute. Is this a spew of my own future desires? Heck no. I'm still set with my four...especially after Ruby and Teddy made sure everyone in church heard their uncanny ability to mimic a machine gun during the sacrament. That was a treat. But in all honesty, I love my four. I'm grateful for the manic joy they bring me every day...especially today when my thoughts are on all that the Lord has given me. Manic chaos and all, I've certianly be blessed.

Happy Easter.

luv, erin

build it and he will come.

Remember Field of Dreams? Such a classic, back when Kevin Costner was pure awesome.

Today Brekke, my frienemy, came by with her decadant strawberry lime "scratch" cakes (cupcakes made without a box mix). Unfortunately for me, and my kids that may or may not have heard me curse, I am not eating sugar. Mark and I agreed, when we returned from California, that our sugar days were over. So for the last five days I've been doing great.

And them Brekke came.

Well, I did tell her in the past, "Bring it and I will shoot." And so she did. I guess I shouldn't be complaining. I only had to leave the room once, fist stuffed securely in my mouth, to keep myself from lunging at the scratch cake and shoving it, wrapper and all, in my mouth. Now I have these lovely pictures to post.

Enjoy a strawberry lime Brekke-Cake.

Sigh. Remember when I could eat sugar and my hair wouldn't fall out. Yes, those were the good days.



hot sister of hair.

There are many things that I covet. The number one thing being: My Sister's HAIR!

If you don't know who she is, you can check her out:

HERE

As I was saying, she has Hair. Loads of it, and I have none. When we were younger I was convinced my hair was thin because of her mean, hair-pulling, older-sister ways. I see now that I lucked out and got the bum, thin-hair gene which isn't helped when I eat sugar or caffiene...there will be another post on this conundrum later...as I was saying, Nikki has awesomely thick hair. I love it and I'm jealous of it.

Confession over. Here she is.

A head full of hair, and smokin' hot.

This picture was taken during the Summerill Family Trip to SO-CAL 2011...also, there will be many of these pics to follow. Stay tuned all your 2 readers!

weedy niece.

My niece is growing like a weed.

hairy situation.

This is my husband, Mark:

Hairy? Yes.
Why? Simply because I cut his hair and I haven't had time to do so in the last year. So Mark got to embrace the 70's and grow out his wavy fro (as pictured above).

So, this last week I figured, why not really rock the 70's look. After a little persuasion, he was shorn like a sheep, sampsoned like Delilah would want it, de-hair-i-fied to look like this:

Oh yeah, baby! That's hotness for you.
But his serious man-ness was a little overwhelming after about 30 seconds, so we cut the rest off and now here's the new and improved Mark:

 

Which "look" do you like best?

a. 70's Fro

b. Mullet Man

c. Clean Cut Mark

I'm leaning toward Mullet Man.

Throw in a wife-beater top and a dirty old truck and he'd have some serious Mullet style.

luv, erin

Yard SALE!!! You know you wanna come.

Guess who's having a MASSIVE yard sale tomorrow? 

ME ME ME...want good stuff, come to my place: 

439 E 900 N, PG.