Things I Miss; One Thing I Never Will

Living my life in both Illinois and Utah has been an adventure. For almost two years, I've racked up the frequent flyer miles, allowing me to live with my husband most of the time, and making sure I get time with my children. Chuck has been so supportive and patient through it all. 

When I leave Illinois, I miss Chuck terribly, but I know that we will stay in touch as much as possible; texting, calling, and messaging. I love being married to this man, and I love our life in Illinois. (I miss you right now, Handsome.)

Yesterday as the Frontier jet was flying over the Rockies on my way to Salt Lake City, I contemplated the many things I miss about our home in Utah. First of all, it goes without saying, I miss my kids. Thank heavens for SnapChat, Instagram, texting, and Skype. It's not the same, but it helps soothe this mama's heart. 

My babies: Dylan, Sierra, Bridger

I miss listening to Bridger play his guitar. I miss weekends in Saint George with our married kids Dylan and Jamie. And now that Sierra is back in Utah from California, I miss our girl time; shopping, talking, and laughing. So, yeah, I miss my kids. A lot.

Another thing I miss is the arid climate of the southwest. In Utah, I can fix my hair in the morning, and it will stay that way all day long. When I towel off after showering, I feel clean and dry all day long. My freshly laundered jeans air dry in just a few hours. I LOVE the dry desert air of Utah.

Seeing the Rockies from the plane window made me realize how homesick I've been for the mountains. I love hiking and driving through them. I love the red rock slot canyons and aspen trees, and the mountain peaks and valleys. Be-UTAH-ful is what Utah is. 

There is really only one thing I do not miss. Do you know what a goat head is? How about a puncture weed? My friends in Utah are nodding in agreement; my friends in the midwest and southeast are puzzled. 

Tribulus terrestris is  a devil plant, well-suited to dry climates, requiring very little water to thrive. Once the cute, yellow blossoms fade, the little green buttons that looked so harmless while forming, start to extend huge, spiky thorns, and then they drop off the plant, scattering themselves all over the ground, laying in wait for unsuspecting victims.

I stepped on a dozen of these little monsters last night running out to the car barefoot. (I have an aversion to shoes, which, in hindsight, is most unfortunate.) Puncture weeds are strong enough to flatten bike tires, and certainly sharp enough to inflict great pain upon us of the bare feet tribe. Goat heads are worse than stepping on Legos, folks, because you have to pluck them out of your feet when the thorns sink into your tender flesh. 

All night my foot throbbed, and this afternoon, I discovered why. One of the thorns had broken off in the sole of my foot, and had taken up residence. Bridger worked removing the thorn with a needle and tweezers. I Googled suggestions for splinter removal, and one of the more ridiculous tips is what I ended up trying. I cut a small slice of potato, and secured it to the bottom of my foot with a bandaid. I was feeling pretty gullible, and not very confident, but we waited about an hour, and then, voila! Bridger was able to remove the goat head. Go figure.

Lesson learned: don't go outside without shoes in Utah. 

Puncture weeds are not something I will ever miss. Ever. Utah has many enticements for me, but the noxious weeds are not part of them.