The "Out of Business" Curse

The curse began when we were engaged. My sister, Ryan and I were talking around and around in circles about where to go to dinner. We couldn't decide and we couldn't decide, and then someone suggested Rosie's. The little mexican restaurant on Bulldog in Provo sounded perfect to everyone. My mouth watered thinking about their chips and salsa as we headed over. "Closed for Business," the sign read when we got there. No delicious cilantro salsa for me.

Fast forward about a year. Ryan and I are now married living in Orem. It was my 23rd birthday, and I selected the restaurant I wanted to eat at: Black Angus on University Parkway in Orem. It had been the the restaurant where our parents had first met each other, and over dinner, they planned our entire wedding and reception BEFORE we were even engaged. It held fond memories (and great steaks), so I called my sis and her husband to meet us there for my bday dinner. We both pulled in the parking lot at the same time to discover their sign had been removed and that the place was dark. Definitely closed for business.

Destitutely poor, one Friday night that following winter Ryan and I decide to splurge and go out to a real restaurant for dinner. I frequently drove by a restaurant on my way to work in American Fork called Chef Plex (State Street in Lindon), and I thought it sounded neat to have different chefs specializing in different cuisines of different countries. We'd been talking about going for months, and this seemed like the perfect time. Any guesses to the end to this story? We drove into the parking lot and... Out of business. Dark and deserted.

Our "restaurant" of choice in Orem was Panda Express: it was close, fast, and relatively cheap. So as soon as we moved to Madison, we googled it to find the nearest one. To our pleasant surprise, there was one listed across the street from West Towne Mall. We drove the 15 minutes to the location... Any guesses about what we found? The dirty, outlined shadow of where the sign USED to hang on the white stucco building. No more Panda in Madison.

Since having Collin, making it to the temple has become quite an excursion. Fortunately, my parents live close to the St. Louis temple so every other month we drive down there on a Friday night, and Saturday morning we head to the temple while they watch Collin. When we come out of the temple, I always call my mom to see if Collin is behaving himself and to see if we have time to go to lunch too. In May we called and everything was fine (at least that's what she ALWAYS says), so we started the food discussion. If you haven't noticed so far, it is hard for Ryan and I to agree upon a place to eat, so we got out the Garmin and started searching for a place that sounded good to both of us. After lots of bantering back and forth, we decided on PF Chang's. To our surprise, there was one at the very next exit. As we pulled in the lot, things didn't look good again. No sign. No lights. No other cars. No PF Chang's here anymore.

Today is Ryan's 28th birthday. Each week we go to lunch together. Sometimes I pick him up and we eat peanut butter and jelly in the park; sometimes we meet at a restaurant; sometimes we heat up leftovers in the cafeteria microwaves and eat at Cat. Today he wanted to meet me at ChiliWorks on Allen Road. We had seen it many times driving by, and we had been wanting to try it for some time. And since the high today was only 55 degrees, chili was sounding mighty delicious. I arrived first. From the road I could tell it wasn't good. I could see that the lights were off, and the tables we stacked on top of each other. "The last day of business for Chili Works will be May 31st" the sign on the door read. Uh oh. I'm pretty sure that's past.

So, are Ryan and I cursed? Does anyone else have this problem? Do you EVER pick a restaurant only to find it has gone out of business? If this has ever happened to you, has it happened this many times???

Anyway, happy birthday Ryan. Sorry we ended up at Hardee's. Maybe next time we'll have better luck... or maybe not.

Nine Months

At 9 months, Collin is...
Height: 29 inches (75%)
Weight: 19 lbs 15 oz (40%)
Head Circumference: 44 cm (17%)

And since a picture is worth a thousand words...

Give your hand at some captions. I'd love to hear your witty remarks.

Labor Day Weekend

Other than selling our car and being too cold for swimming, we had a great Labor Day weekend. Here are a few highlights...

New Friend
Chase is almost exactly one year older than Collin. They had a great time together, when they weren't beating each other up!

Bonfire, Smores & Chubby Bunny

Andrea and Austin played Chubby Bunny, a game taught to us by my Seminary students last Spring. We also roasted marshmallows and ate smores. Delicious!

Jubilee State Park

Chase looks so comfortable on his daddy's back, almost like a posed model. What a handsome little guy.

Collin finally got to ride in a REAL hiking backpack, and he couldn't have been more comfortable!

We played cards after the babies were asleep (gotta love a good game of Cover Your Bum) and ate lots of delicious food (spinach pizza, breakfast burritos, cheeseburgers).

Thanks for coming to see us, Andrea and Austin! We had a great weekend. Happy Labor Day!

Ode to Sven

Sven (our Swedish car) was our first major purchase after marriage, and he has been through many events with us. Here is my tribute to Sven as we parted ways on Monday after 5 years of faithful companionship.

***

Sven, you are the one who took me to and from American Fork in the I-15 traffic each day when I taught 6th grade. It was then that I discovered that if the headlights and turn signals went off after hitting a bump, all I had to do was jiggle your keys in the ignition, and your lights would begin working again. Silly Sven.

You were my trusty companion to and from Salt Lake. On one such outing (Tabernacle Choir Concert?), we had just finished eating at PF Chang's (mmm, simply delicious), and Ryan backed into a giant pickup. He sustained no damage, but your rear passenger tail-light forever more needed to be thumped from time to time in order to work again. I shall miss hearing, "Do you know your brake light is out?"

From the beginning of your life with us, you showed us what my teacher-friends in American Fork called your "personality." When it was cold and we needed heat, you emitted a pleasant maple syrup smell (we termed it "waffles"). Your dash rattles and squeaks, and last week I collected 3 more pieces of plastic from your floor for which no home can be found. Your electronics took some getting used to: the automatic lock on the driver's door never worked, the trunk release didn't pop the trunk, and the rear passenger window worked on the way down but not on the way back up.

Sven, you carried us from Utah to Wisconsin for graduate school. That first year we lived in the bitter north, I worked 3 jobs, so you had the privilege and honor to serve as my dressing room as well as my cafeteria (some days for all 3 meals!). The following year, you celebrated with me when I landed a full-time teaching position 50 minutes one-way from our apartment. And, ever the trooper, you took me both ways through 100 inches of snow that winter.

My favorite, also known as my least favorite, endearing quality of you was your creaking and rattling dashboard. We spent many vacations tucking folded pieces of paper into the space between the dash and the windshield trying to muffle and/or eliminate your mouse-y squeak. It's a wonder we weren't the cause of an accident!

You got to ride on a trailer to your new home in Illinois last summer, as we welcomed Yoda (our To-Yoda 4Runner) to the family. Here you've been spoiled rotten in an attached garage. I figure you've earned it.

We continued our relationship by driving to Seminary at 5:15 each morning. But when Collin was born, we found that his car seat was easier to lift from Yoda, and Ryan adopted you as his commuter. I fear you had become so attached to me that you never really were able to adjust to your new, male driver.

And tragically last Thanksgiving you, the trusty Sven, were brutally wounded in your hindquarter panels while returning from St. Louis. Fortunately the wound wasn't fatal, and you returned to Peoria "totalled." With little visual damage, and some begging on my part, I rescued from the junk yard for a mere $750. Of course, since then your trunk has needed much force in order to latch it securely.

And so ensued the search for a commuter car for Ryan.

Memorial Day we were in St. Louis, this time parked in front of my parents' house, and the neighbor backed into your front driver's side turn signal housing. Using the scattered pieces and tenderness, you were pieced back together like a jigsaw puzzle. The epoxy held for several more months.

But all good things must come to an end. Last Thursday, the search ended when Ryan found your replacement.

***

So welcome to the family Renn (short for rennwagen which means race car in German). We look forward to many years and many stories. We hope that you can fill the void that Sven has left.

Our good friends from Madison came to visit this weekend and after seeing all of Sven's endearing qualities, snatched him up. We wish him and them well in the coming years. We'll miss you and your quirks, Sven. May you enjoy many years (and many long winters) with the Rose's.