February Milestones

With February nearly to a close, I had to document a couple things I actually accomplished, instead of just talked about or thought about.

Remember my kissing pictures series? Basically I am horrible at printing and framing pictures on my wall. I didn't have hardly any pictures of family, and wanted my kids to know who was who. So I decided I would take a picture of every auntie and uncle in our family to frame.
Catch one: they had to be kissing
Catch two: Black and white to try to look pretty

I decided I needed to do this back in 2007! This is why this is not a crafting blog people. It's now 2011 and I just finished my collages for family A (my side) and family O (his side)



Ta-da! Nothing major but a big accomplishment for me. Now I just need to finish the collage for our family (me, Mister, kiddos). Hopefully it won't take me another 4 years but anything is possible.

And lastly: I think Vanilla Wafer has asked if we could make a snowman for a solid 5 months. Sometimes it's too easy to put kids off...especially when you say "Okay buddy, there's a big storm coming in 2 days and then we'll build one" and said storm brings rain not snow. So this time we pounced on our recent snowstorm like a puma! A puma I tell you! And we built this guy after church last Sunday.



Too bad some punk teenage kids (I think) whacked his head off the same night we built him.

Grrrrrr!

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Weekend in Scotland

Over the weekend, we took a ferry from Ireland to Scotland and headed to the capital of Edinburgh. Just about the entire weekend we practiced our pronunciation: which is to say {Eh-din-burr-eh} (try to roll those r's just a bit) instead of Edinberrr-g. I have to admit, Edinburgh could be my favorite stop so far. There really is only one word to describe the town, towering with high rise stone buildings, lining the royal mile leading up to the castle, with parliament buildings, churches, and banks so grand each building could easily be a highlight if placed in a regular town. Okay so the one word to describe it before I began my run-on sentence is this: majestic.

When we first came to town square, we were immediately seized upon by a parade of sorts. Armies of Scots in kilts were walking through the streets, playing bagpipes, and hitting drums.



It wasn't until later that we found out that this was a "Protestant March". It seemed the natural extension of our black cab tour and the U.K.'s Protestant vs. Catholic history. Later in the day we learned that the pope is coming to Edinburgh next week, so perhaps fervor was brewing for the visit? Who knows.

If you see in the picture above of the high rise stone buildings, you get a sense of the presence of "The Royal Mile". It's a cobblestone street with buildings that old and that tall lining both sides of the street. It was on The Royal Mile that I tracked down my salad of the day.



A few things I'm starting to figure out about food over here.
A) Big Salads are rarely a menu item. Usually it's a side with something else.
B) Apparently my U.S. palette is sodium heavy, because I keep ordering all this delicious food but end up cranking the salt shakers all over it.

So I was excited to eat this salad because it had sweet potatoes, but the greens were bitter and the potatoes bland. My yellow split pea soup however, was divine.

We toured the castle, imagined life as royalty, and later in the day did a tour called "The Real Mary King's Close". That was a fascinating look into the everyday lives of people living here centuries ago, particularly the poor. With such huge buildings, the basement levels were generally fallout shelters, just one big dark enclosed room. They explained that usually 2-3 families shared this space, slept on floors, and the only light was from a wick burning the cheapest oil available: fish oil (gag me now). And in the corner was a bucket where everyone went to the bathroom and which could only be thrown into the alleyway twice a day, draining down the roads and into the lake below.



We also took a bagillion flights of stairs up the Sir Walter Scott Monument. Here we are about one-fourth of the way up.



Next we stayed in Glasgow, but didn't really hit the city scene at all. We strolled through a HUGE park with a museum showcasing the private collection of John Burroughs. Lots of Degas, Rodain, and this sculpture, which I disturbingly related to the most:



This park was huge rolling countryside hills. Apparently, Scottish cattle had nearly been lost in farming practices until a recent resurgence to bring back heritage breeds. Very cool. Check out this particular herd at the park. They are owned by the city council, and they have enough pasture to remain clean and eat a healthy grass-fed diet. So cool! My little farmer husband got up close to pet one.



Other things in this park was a community garden, horse riding stalls, the miles and miles of soft green grass and forest. It seemed to me what every park should try to be. So lovely.

At the park we hit some old house where the former "servants kitchen" was turned into a restaurant. It was there I had my salad for September 12th. Perfect with a little quiche on the side.



And a kiss to end the post.

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Why I Fight

Because I've already made it to the ten year mark in my marriage, and I want another ten (or fifty): I'm a fighter.

Because my kids will eventually grow up and have an email account, and will possibly get solicited by perves inviting them to get enlarged: I'm a fighter.

*gosh I hope that never happens

Because sex is a beautiful symbol of marital unity: I'm a fighter.

Because I was a business owner for 6 years, and think employees should be paid for job skillz and not addictions: I'm a fighter.

Because I think women should be admired for their brains, and not their boobs: I'm a fighter.

My sweet Grandma Cooper, who passed away this year.

If you agree on at least one of these counts, then I invite you to become a fighter too!

How can you help? I mean really help?

Join the facebook group "Help FIGHT THE NEW DRUG Win 100,000 Dollars" and then vote for them every day. Don't worry, they'll send an email reminder with a link, which let's be honest, can get pretty annoying.

But has there ever been an easier way to fight?

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What is Love?

It might as well be February with all the pondering and celebrations of love recently. We finally married off little brother video buff of The Mister of the House. When the happy couple finally emerged from the stony temple that looks like a castle on a hill...well, it was like paparazzi scrambling to get a shot of Brangelina. Check it out.



Since both my Grandpas passed away before I was married, I got to adopt The Misters Grandpa and Grandma.  Grandpa married the happy couple (like he did for The Mister & Mrs. Olsen nearly ten years ago). Among the many words of wisdom he shared was this: 

Your love is strong right now, but it is not perfect.

He then pointed to the parents and grandparents, and talked about how love becomes more beautiful with age.

 


What a lovely, happy, and as far as I can tell, perfectly loving couple.

Now let's get down to bid-ness.


Come on, let us have it...

Yippee.  Another picture for my kissing wall.  Is passion love? Are kisses more passionate when love ages?  

Of course, first comes love, then comes marriage.  Nothing like a picture with all the nieces and nephews to prep you for what's to come.

Run now while you have a chance. Take a long, quiet, diaper-free honeymoon immediately before it's too late!

Who's talking?

That was uncalled for. Heck, there's nothing like children to bring you closer together.

Right? Right? Okay, that was formerly a crook for my offspring.  Take a joke why dontchya?  

btw, there's my long and apparently invisible layers of my first ever haircut in 5 years.  We're calling that phase 1 (of 2) in my hair makeover.  Besides we've got to keep it long enough to have the quintessential romantic hairdo of the century.

Modeled by the latest Mrs. Olsen, formerly known as Jen Adair.  Simple, classy, and gorgeous. What a perty bride.

Speaking of love manifest through hair, check out my daddio.

Poor guy's been without his bride for the past 3 weeks.  So here's love in action.  My folks can't seem to survive being apart from each other.  In order to prove his total dependence on my mom, my dad decided to grow a beard, be a hermit, and live on Cheetos the entire time she's been gone.  Sorry to break it to ya dad, but you failed the Louis L'Amour Cowboy Course: your beard really stinks.  But I think you made up for it with your sweet hairy eyebrows.  Thanks for riding your horse down my way to pay me a visit.

Maybe romantic love gets stronger the second generation down.  

When you start out young, bright-eyed and in love, do you really see this coming down the road?

Grandpa Love sure seems to be running strong around here.  Before he even pulled his loveboat of a car out of my driveway, Rainbow Girl turned to me all sad and said: "I miss him already".

I miss him too!  Of course, there's one thing me and my dad will always share: a crooked back.  Which is why I have been basking in this phase of my love life because I seriously got a 2 hour shoulder rub, back massage last night from The Mister of the House.   He insisted I watch Star Trek: Wrath of Khan so I could be properly prepared to see the new Star Trek movie in the theatre.  But it's more than just a nerdy sci-fi movie people that's motivating us here people!  Only true love could keep that shoulder burn going the entire time....

Aaaahhh..

is anyone still reading this?

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Testimony Tuesday: Sophia

There are a few unwritten rules in life: never buy from traveling salesmen, don't say the word "bomb" in an airport, never date co-workers, or your best friend's crush for that matter.  Never ever allow yourself to purchase or drive a Trans Am.  And once you're married, don't go tracking down old boyfriends and setting up lunch dates and such.

As far as I can tell, there are no rules about steering clear from old boyfriend's sisters.  I can't deny the fact that the reason I met our guest writer today was because I once dated her older brother.  Kindof weird.  It's so irrelevant now, and it became irrelevant even back in "the day".     

For now, Sophia and I share in the roller coaster ride that is motherhood.  As a mother to three girls under age 4, Sophia demonstrates her mad skills by filling each day scrubbing up her kids to cute-ness with matching bows, reading to them, cleaning her house, counseling the young ladies at the church, fixing dinner, and working out.  Plus she gets to bed at a decent time.  Mister of the House, if you're reading this: please don't up your standards on me.  Just love me for my frenetic spontaneous energy bursts that seem to follow the moon, or maybe chocolate consumption. 

Over the coming years, I look forward to sitting back to see how her offspring turn out after spending their lives with this wise no-nonsense mother, who is level-headed, funny, and insightful.

As a bonus for you all: A kissing pic!  

And now,  Sophia's tips for maintaining her faith through life's craziness:

I’ve always believed in the existence of God, but it doesn’t automatically follow that I’ve always known that a connection to Him is a connection to happiness. Nor have I understood how my choices affected that connection. I feel that my testimony has grown “line upon line” as I’ve experienced life and made choices, for good or bad, in sometimes imperceptible increments. But I have had a few standout experiences that became pivot points.

Probably the most significant of these was a car accident I was involved in when I was 17. I was trying to beat a red light and ended up colliding with two boys on a motorcycle. They both died within the next several hours. It’s a difficult thing to figure out how you can possibly have the right to be happy, or even live, when you’ve been the instrument of so much pain. Some people are imprisoned for less than what I did and here I was, walking down the halls of my High School, sitting in class, planning a future, all the things any other teenager is allowed. I instantly started taking my choices more seriously, but it was a couple years later that I finally began to feel I was also allowed to pursue happiness. That was when I began to learn about the Atonement and the great paradox of how He who deserved it least experienced the indescribable weight of us all. The fact was, I didn’t deserve happiness (no one does) but He offers it anyway. He carries the pain that we can’t. Because of His sacrifice we can reach out and pluck happiness like the fruit in Lehi’s dream. Instead of earning, we’re reaching and in the process we’re filled.

The great paradox of the Atonement applies to other areas as well. Just like a common mistake isn’t supposed to end in death, a God powerful enough to create worlds and posterity as the sand of the sea isn’t supposed to know and love a rebellious an evil, carnal, weak piece of dust; the most important message of all time can’t possibly be entrusted to the weak and ignorant; the one experience most commonly shared by women throughout the world and time, bearing children, can’t also be the most personal, intimate, unique, heart-wrenching experience for each one; each of Heavenly Father’s billions of children is entrusted with agency and so, because it will be through as many different paths as there are people to walk them, can’t possibly each arrive at the exact same truth. Reason doesn’t explain these things—only the Atonement does. Miracles don’t make sense but they are real, and even common.

I believe in God and in obeying Him, not because I think it will eliminate my trials and suffering, but because it gives meaning, perspective, and even joy to them. I actually know that it’s possible to have indescribable joy in the midst of excruciating pain. In fact, that kind of joy isn’t possible without it. I have faith because I’ve experienced the sweetness of His promised blessings. I don’t know how the miracles in my life have happened, only that they came after the faith.

Having faith means that just my efforts are good enough. Even though I can’t be a perfect mother, I have peace and joy in mothering because of faith that God will teach and protect my children simply because I try. I don’t have to earn or deserve anything—only have faith in His mercy and allow the miracle of the Atonement to magnify my efforts. I know that when I follow Him the very best of everything follows. He is the only place that offers that kind of peace and joy.

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Lovely Monday on a Tuesday: Mom and Dad

Until the Olsen wedding next month, I'm clean out of kissing pictures to showcase. Well, clean out after this next one of Wade and Marilyn, Idaho natives and former dwellers of Apache Avenue. Also known as the big people who taught me how to ride a bike, how to laugh, and how to set the table. Check out how cute they are:



Here they are just appeasing my requests for a kissing picture. My dad, lover of Louis L'Amour novels who thinks shovels and hard work speak louder than words, has never been one for much public displays of affection. He also will perform a disappearing act anytime somebody starts talking about bras, maxi pads, or pregnancies.

I don't think that picture is making it onto my kissing wall. I have a better one in mind.


That's more like it, don't you think? I edited the picture to have full glow, because they are taking a bath in love and light. That kiss looks more real, and my mom is smiling in her eyes.

So what makes their love unique? Um, where do I start? They married while in college, my dad was a wiry b-ball player and my mom was a pageant queen with a 25-inch waist. Their first date was at the A&W, and my dad ordered french fries. My mom ordered a salad. She ate half his fries (or so he said) and we all heard about it every time we ate a Happy Meal. She would giggle and remind us that she didn't kiss him until the 13th date (or so she said) while he smirked. It took the family approximately 40 years to get the story straight, and I still don't remember the true story because I've heard the legends for so long.

Amazingly, they have been married 47 years this summer. That is really weird for me. And in that 47 years they left the farm, started a new life as teachers, wanted kids but couldn't have any...and then starting in 1969 {an anxious seven years after their marital vows} their prayers were answered and they had my brother Derek. Over the next eight years they cranked out 4 more kids and bought a spud farm on the side. And when I was two, they lost their shirts, pants, and underwear on that spud farm, which produced a lifetime crop of cautious, conservative, hard-working teachers instead of farmers.

She never pumps her own gas, and he lives off Cheetos and fruit spritzers if she's ever out of town. He was an athlete who grew up in the era when only flambuoyant men worked in Department stores, and yet he happily (and privately) delved into the (effeminate?) role of doting, singing, lullabying, floor wrestling, and making-up-songs Dad and Grandpa. She adored that about him, and provided 5 kids to practice on. Oh and he also chucked shoes at us if we got out of bed (there's that athlete part coming through). As long as his shoe hit the wall instead of our head (which it always did for some reason) she swooned at his superior athletic skills.

Mom and Dad...I love you!

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Lovely Monday: Herm and Norma

Advice to the masses: Don't for one minute think that you marry a person as a separate entity from their family. The mafia, the Mormons, and your grandmother are right: You marry the family. And I couldn't be happier to have married into the family of The Mister of the House. I hereby present, on this Lovely Monday, the lip attachment of his DNA contributors, otherwise known as my kids Grandparents, and The Mister's parents.



Although I asked them to pose for this shot, it couldn't have turned out more authentic. She's just breathing him in and he's pulling her in close, cherishing her at the same time. I think I can safely say that they're sharing an inside joke that might go something like this:

These young kids don't know much about love, but it's sure cute to see them try. Remember when our "Mister of the House" was a teenager who couldn't even bear to go on family vacations with us? Let's just cross our fingers that all these grandkids will see all the sights and know all the love we have for them, and that their parents (our kids) will make it through wiser, happier, and more in love.

So I can't help define "their love" and how it's unique without keeping it in context of The Mister of the House, he being the oldest of seven children (you heard me, seven!) and a very lost and lonely soul from about 14 to 20-something.

Well, he made friends and enjoyed his hobbies, it's not like his entire life was a void of course, but a part of him was searching for spiritual peace during that time (and he looked for it in a lot of stupid places). He and his parents seemed to go through their own evolution together...and yet I think it was the love of these people with unique names, this Herm and this Norma, that eventually brought my husband back to his true self. His self as a son of a Heavenly Father who desperately desperately loved him.

Throughout those years his parents were always happy, truly happy to see him and hear how he was doing. While there was disappointment in the path their son was leading, they laid off the "How dare you!" or "You were raised better than that!" speeches (He was well into his teenage years by then, so I can still give those speeches to my very impressionable young kids thank you very much).

But anyway...

Apart from being an anchor to a wayward son, what makes their love unique?


He absolutely spoils her every Christmas even though she's not your diva-mom that would expect that type of thing. She puts on a major spread on the dinner table for most of her family every Sunday, all the while being shadowed by her man cleaning her trail in the kitchen (there's just something about a man who can clean a kitchen that will always win a place in my heart). He is an overworked attorney, and yet never seems to bring the stress of his job back home, and is quick to squeeze his Norma even after a crazy day at the office. She works hard to install lots of crazy and memorable traditions for her family throughout the year, and with all her careful planning is happy to sit back and let her man preside over the family with love and wisdom. There's something so daring about that in our modern day society. And they make it work because they adore, love, and respect each other. And their kids.

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Lovely Monday: Clay and Salina

Since I've already lamented about my cheap-arse brother here, I thought I would now share the love. Here is his image for my kissing wall, pictured here with his wife of *almost* fifteen years. Here we go:

The perfect parting of the lips...

the taste of sweet sorrow upon our loss

how shall I make the 5 hour drive home?

In a bucket seat, with eyes on the road

instead of on my love, my life....my Salina.

Okay, so I just made that up right? Amazing I know. Since this picture was just before they got in their car for their drive home, I thought it was appropriate. I actually wrote that channeling Clay, but for Salina. It's complicated. Somehow she (Salina) seems to embody all the romantic tendencies of the female gender: the bling, the smelling good, the getting all dolled up and making all the other aunties...I mean females, look like slobs who wear workout clothes but never go to the gym.

Plus, I'm quite sure that if Clay came home with a dozen roses, Salina would run up and squeal with delight, pure giggling delight! and not in a silly way. I just love going to a comedy on the big-screen with that girl, she laughs proud and loud.

You can see in her eyes she quick to humor, and she's generous enough to laugh at my brother: even when he's being a cheap-skate.

There's a sing-song quality to her laugh that I wish I could put on the blog. And if you get her in a movie that is good and funny, she belts a cross between a guffaw and a hardy-har-har and then ends it a triple note Ha-ha-HA! that trails upwards into space. I went to I-Spy with her and laughed more at her, laughing at the movie.

Clay and Salina. What makes their love unique? They started out playing college ball and sharing a bus on the away games. While they started strong and tough, they really just longed for a quieter life with the pitter-patter of little feet. After a few years of coupledom, their prayers for offspring were answered with the thundering of the uterus full of triplets. And while Clay had the business smarts to support his growing family in whatever he put his mind to: he also had (and has) the charisma to evolve himself in a changing world. He upped his college degrees with a plus-one (MBA) after the triplets and while working full-time, and put in the time (and moo-la) to allow his wife to be home laughing and loving on their adorable offspring. Salina maintained her sanity (and her figure) by keeping a great sense of humor and being one of my favorite motherhood blends: loving but no-nonsense. Fifteen years later, they've still got love to spare on their five adorable and squeaky clean kids.

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Lovely Monday: Kristen and Marshall

If you're female, and married to a feminist, what does that make you?

That makes you Kristen, the little sister of The Mister of the House. For any and all conservative readers out there, I would like to expand you're world a bit by sharing this little revelation: some feminists are....male.

[shudder] whaaaaa. ?

I know you didn't realize that this was possible, but alas, it is true. And Kristen's other half, an Olsen transplant like myself, is a self-proclaimed "hard-core feminist".

As far as I can tell, being married to a feminist means that Marshall (guilty party) likes to make bread, play with his kids, adore his wife, and become sweetly stubborn when he encounters a world that exploits for the sake of power, that furthers injustice for the sake of greed, or that says his kids aren't the cutest mutts on the block.

In Mrs. Olsen's ongoing series called "Here's my family in 8X10 black-and-white snippets sharing a kiss for my future kissing wall" I hereby present Kristen & Marshall:

What makes their love unique? Marshall's muddied the Olsen gene pool with his trim-if-you-dare Grandpa eyebrows. And Kristen is the only person in my generation that, immediately upon marriage, frequently began using the word "dear".

Dear, could you bring me a diaper for Peter?

Let's sit down and watch a "Soldier's Peace" dear, I hear it's an excellent documentary.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot call The Mister of the House "dear", it's so granny to me. And I absolutely adore that this crazy couple frequently uses this moniker. Kristen, if you're reading this: please don't stop.

What else makes their love unique? Kid #1 was conceived in Africa. Kid #2 was conceived in Jerusalem. They have traveled, worked, and served all over the globe, and when they finally came back "home" they took the Olsen Family on a 500-mile journey after Marshall served in the Iraq War. They are passionate about life, their kids, and making the world a better place...for all the people they hold dear to their hearts.

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Lovely Monday: Monica and Troy

The Week of Love proved inadequate in showcasing my family, their locked lips, and tales from the crypt. So I thought I would throw in a few Lovely Mondays to make up the difference. Having just returned from a weekend at my sister's house, I thought I would share the image of sissy with her husband of sixteen years.


This is the only picture that actually has no kiss--and yet I think it still qualifies for the kissing wall. Tell me if you think I'm right.

I love the false sense of defeat in the sissy's arms. She is obviously being solicited, and isn't quite reconciling the affection, but isn't fighting it either. I can just imagine the dialogue surrounding this captured moment:

Troy: Weeeell, I'm just about to go kill myself a 20-point buck. Can I have a snuggle before I go?

Monica: No.

Troy: Before the hunt, I need to defrost my high-octane nitrous exploder snowmobile from my pa's shop. How 'bout I take one of the kids with me? Would that help?

Monica: Um, you mean like the last time you nearly missed an avalanche and my nine-year old watched some guy get unsuccessfully resusitated and then put in an ambulance? Sounds great sweetie! [insert sarcasm here]

Troy: Ooooh.....you. Come here! I need a snuggle.

Monica: No. I'm mad at you. No pancakes for breakfast for 2 days.

Troy: [gasp] Come on! You know I get the jitters if I have to eat cereal.

Monica: Please stay home today.

Troy: You've already vacuumed three-thousand-square-feet of carpet, fixed kabobs for the kids lunch, knitted 12 hats for orphans, cleaned the bathrooms, and mastered Debussey on the piano. What else have you got going on today?

[begins to invade personal space and places arms around Monica's waist].

Monica: Not much I guess. Just fix dinner for the widow across the street, do three loads of laundry, and then fix 200 servings of berry-topped brownies for the church ladies tonight.

Troy: [leans in closer and begins flirting with his eyebrows].

Monica: Ooooooh-kay. You had me at 20-point buck.

Monica and Troy. What makes their love unique? He works hard and plays hard. Soon after their marriage, my family was trying to understand the psychology behind an Idaho ruffian during hunting season.

{For instance: What makes one purchase a crappy truck, overpriced, with too many miles, and without telling your spouse? That's easy! An Idaho Hunter on the last day of the hunt who has been driving a sedan for the past year.}

But seriously folks, he's forgiven. Why? First of all, he learned his stupid lesson with the truck. Secondly, he can cook a mean Sunday roast, does dishes, plays with the kids, and always...always...is ready to give a snuggle to my amazing sister. And his success as a small-business owner comes from a beautiful tango between with his insurmountable work ethic along with the wizardly-number-crunching skills of Monica. She was working her way up the corporate ladder as a CPA, and leaving co-workers speechless at the speed in which she could perform, audits, tax returns, or memorize complete rolodexes. But she left that life and trudged through 5 difficult pregnancies, and began devoting her business smarts into Troy's electrician business. She stands her ground with her own hobbies to keep her active and smart: like the 2 tennis matches she won over the weekend. The same tennis matches which made for exciting cheerleading and applauding by her number one fan: Troy.

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My First Kiss

Mrs. Olsen finally gets a kiss...

Since I've been shoving kissing pictures down your throat for a week, ooohing and aaahing about the over-and-over show of love...I finally talked The Mister of the House into kissing me on camera. No matter how much I faded, cropped, or softened, I couldn't completely erase the disturbing quality of this image.

But in the end it was a fitting tribute to our first kiss.

Young and Single Mrs. Olsen overhears a radio report about how people that kiss with their eyes open have a hard time trusting.

A week later The Mister of the House finally gets the courage to kiss me. It's a sweet, semi-passionate kiss that would require closed eyes for full impact. But I had to know...does he really, I mean really trust me? Is he going to open his eyes?

So I waited. And watched.

Only to have The Mister peek through his sloshed lids to find me peering wide-eyed. I think I kindof freaked him out, and then I thought:

Wait a second....I've been tricked! Stupid radio.

But he persisted that guy, and now almost ten years of marriage later, he'll give me a creepy eyeball during our goodbye kiss for old time's sake.

Here's some more kissing pics of the offspring. With love, from my house to yours!

This kid had velvet silk skin. I'm not kidding. I beg for kisses all the day long, to the point he just shoves the fingers in the mouth to deal with it.

But once in a while, I talk him into coming in for a wet one. Check out the cute little curved feet balancing him while he leans into momma.

Vanilla Wafer got a multiple-attack last week, and had this to show for it:

Who knows how much longer I can get kisses from this little guy?

Over and out!

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Week of Love: Saturday

This week Mrs. Olsen got all sorts of love in her inbox, check it...

A couple that bikes together, stays hot together. This could be the only person you will ever meet named Gheen. Here he is with his lovely wife, Beth.


This is the only person I've ever met named London. She lovingly calls her daughter Urchin, and they snuck a kiss in while playing at Disneyland recently.



Back during High School in Idaho, Jennica was always...ruh-neeng. Apparently, being a runner has big payoffs: you can smack on your hubby without your kids getting sicked out.


Nice pics. Just too perfect for me to tweak over to my favorite black and white.


Here's Jenny. I haven't seen her in about ten years, and apparently she's been busy creating adorable offspring since then. Here she is loving on her little cutie.


Here's another of Jenny's offspring trying to steal a kiss from a non-compliant cousin. Loving that mess of chubby kiddie fingers!

Generally, I would not have included the following pic, because in my humble opinion webcams have no ability for artistic beauty. However, the sender included this following piece of info:

Here's some people you don't know but these are our
very good friends the Blacks--they have 9 kids and they're
not done. Plenty of this going on at their house!

Mrs. Olsen says: It's Valentine's Day! Procreators UNITE.

I don't even know who this couple is, but they recently got married in the big house...

It's just a matter of time until we hear the pitter patter of little feet with this still goin' on...

And lastly! Here are our amazing friends, Mike and Sara, sharing some love on their big day.

Soon after, they were sharing kisses with some of these.

Seeing boisterous, funny, loud-Italian Mikie snuggled up to some newborn head is about enough to make Mrs. Olsen sniff.

Here's Sara still in the hospital with her little boy. Sara embodies everything a delicious mother should be: patience, kindness, love, and mouth-slobbering cooking skills.

Mike and Sara's offspring part-grown up. And redheads to boot! I do declare that the world needs more redheads.

One last kiss before signing off...a miss lands squarely on the nose. Very sweet.

Phew! Mrs. Olsen is feeling the love. And I haven't even finished kissing pics from my amazing family. So stay tuned over the weekend while my husband gets ignored over V-Day so I can update the blog....or not.

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