My Dance Recital

Just a quick picture from the time I taught ballet...

Only I've never taught ballet. And that's NOT ME. Isn't that wild?

Noah's coworker noticed this in SelectHealth's marketing materials and said, "Hey Noah. Does this kind of look like the woman to whom you're lawfully wedded?"

So Noah sent it on to me, and the first thing that made me realize the woman in the picture was not me was the fact that I never put a bobby pin in my pony tail. No, no... not the fact that it's not actually my face. But the bobby pin. Naturally.

Date Night

I've been shying away from posts without any photographs to validate my stories are true. Because I'm so sure all of you are reading and thinking, "Yeah right, Riley. Prove it." (Because these stories are so fantastical.)

Actually, I just feel like a post recapping our weekend activities is missing something without a picture accompanying it. But I haven't dusted off the camera for the latest haps, so it's a pictureless post or I resume my blogging drought.

The Millets and the Rileys really tapped into that genius portion of our brains for a Friday "date night." The boys headed to a sports bar in Sugar House to shoot pool and eat manly food, while the girls caught Odyssey Dance Theater's spring show and wished we could rewrite our childhoods to include dance lessons. (Okay, that was just me. Linds did the dance thing. And really, I love that my childhood included violin and piano - but the aforementioned activities don't come with rock-hard abs and petite thighs.)

I can't speak to the boys' evening, but the girls' portion was lovely. We saw their "Let It Be" show, which was comprised of 25+ dances to some of the Beatles' best. Most songs I'd heard, a few I had not ... but I found myself wishing for the more obscure songs each time the girl behind me starting SINGING ALONG to all the ones she knew. Are you for real? Even with our surround sound experience, it was such a fun show - and it made me want to go dig out one of the five Beatles CDs I asked for (and received) for Christmas when I was 10.

After the segregation portion of the evening, we reunited at our place for crepes and all manner of decadence... strawberries, bananas, whipped cream, Nutella. Nothing wrong with this picture.

Casual Fridays Need Not Apply

Remember the time I went to an arena football game (read: slightly less formal than normal football, slightly more formal than Nascar) in a delicate little sweater with puckered sleeves and my high heels? Yeah, yeah... remember how I was sent home for being underdressed?

SelectHealth gave Noah a few tickets to the Blaze game on Friday night, so he picked me up and we planned to go straight from work. As we drove along 300 West and paused to let a few jerseyed fans with their faces painted orange cross in safety, I began to wonder about my ensemble that was entirely appropriate for a Friday at an ad/PR agency downtown but suddenly felt uber-stuffy for an evening of tackles and touchdowns sponsored by our local Harley-Davidson dealership.

Time was of the essence, so I shrugged it off as Noah and I roped our neighbors Marc and Katie into the last-minute plans (so glad you two could come!) and headed to the Energy Solutions Arena.

We disembarked the elevator on the suite level (a detail Noah managed to recall from the email) and found ourselves at the executive suite. Dress code: no jeans (a detail Noah did not manage to recall from the email). The very sweet hostess informed me I was not gracing the room's presence in my Gap bootcuts, at which point we turned around, retraced our steps BACK to the parking lot and called Marc and Katie to be sure they didn't show up sporting the same denim faux pas.

No big deal - we live just a few blocks away - we cruise home, Noah hands over the keys, I fly up the stairs and change. I get back in the car - now properly slacked - and Noah extends his hand for the keys... the KEYS. So Noah busts a very impressive break-into-the-house move, which receives a raised eyebrow from some guests at an apartment across the way but apparently warrants no actionable concern. We are, after all, west of State Street. The broad daylight break-in is commonplace.

We finally made it back to the game in suitable attire and enjoyed a fun game, pleasant company and a delicious meal. Thank you - Marc and Katie - for putting up with us :).

Everybody Loves Cinnamon Raisin Bagels

A few weekends ago, we escaped the snowy city and headed to St. George with three other couples for a few days of camping and climbing. It was great! It was the perfect reason to get out of town and enjoy some fresh air, sunshine and fabulous company.

The spearheading duo, Ben and Raeshell, are the type of couple every person needs in their arsenal. They are so outgoing and fun, and even though they can do things like THIS,

they were still so encouraging and made the experience a blast for all us climbing newbies. In fact, though they warmed us up on a 5.6, by the end of the day each of us conquered a 5.9. I may percept a slight guffaw from all the hard-core climbers who frequent this blog (?). But for those of you who think our little victory is pretty neato, and would like a visual translation, that means we climbed THIS...

Noah totally owned these climbs, and at one point earned the highest of all praises uttered from my lips (typically reserved for the likes of Jason Bourne) - "babe, you're such a bad-a." (Shout out to Whit.)

It's going to seem like none of the pictures are of me actually CLIMBING anything, but please understand the photos from this trip must be sagaciously selected - the harnessed butt flatters no one. But just to prove I am not SO concerned with image, I will post this little ditty - what's it gonna be, Al? The gun or the thumbs up? Because we just can't have both... (please do note the delightful sunshine in this shot).


We ended up camping in the foothills of St. George just above Grandma and Grandpa Riley's home. When Noah called to tell them we'd love to swing by for a few minutes before we left town, Grandma countered with a comfy bed, a shower and a hot breakfast. There was no sense in arguing. You don't argue with a woman who once outsped and hid from the highway patrol and expect to win. :)

Red and Green

We were together for a good four hours before we realized we looked like we'd just come from a Christmas card photo shoot.

It took the lady at Cafe Rio roughly three minutes to pick up on it.

Lucky Number Seven

** (Some day, when our grandchildren read our blog entries (because that's the guise under which I justify by blog addiction - "it's for our progeny...") they're probably going to ask if the Internet back in "my day" took two weeks to post information. To save face, I'll probably lie. I don't want them to think Grandma Alli was just a really slacker poster (oh yeah, that's what they'll think...))

Several weeks ago, my sweet parents celebrated their 7th anniversary. And somehow, they managed to have each of their now-adult children within the holy bonds of matrimony. That's because my parents only celebrate a legitimate anniversary every four years on Leap Day.

I hoped to scan a wedding photo of theirs to include with this post, but I lack both the photo and the scanner. And as I searched through my photos of the two of them, I realized there aren't any without one of us kids in between them. So I'll post a favorite from the anniversary they spent visiting me in China.

The story of their meeting and courting is one I love to both hear and tell... My parents met at a corn dog stand at the Eastern Idaho State Fair (how awesome is THAT?!) in the fall of '79. My dad was pretty smitten by the tall blonde selling battered hot dogs on a stick (who can blame the man?) and made sure to cross paths with her the next day at a single adult fireside. For their first date, he gave her the option between a few restaurants in the area, and asked if she had heard of one particular new restaurant and she replied that indeed she had. During the meal, several waitresses greeted my mom by name and dad just figured she was a friendly gal (indeed, she is). It wasn't until a few dates later that dad discovered mom actually owned the restaurant :). Still, her defense remains "we needed the business," delivered with a wink and a smirk. They courted through the fall and to this day, my dad finds fall the most romantic time of the year. They were married that February, and Leap Day happened to fall on Friday that week. I don't think they picked the date intentionally - in fact, if memory serves, it was really a matter of convenience more than anything else :) - but for the past 28 years (or at least the 20 or so that I've been around for) it's been one of my favorite facts about them. I always looked forward to Leap Day to say "my parents have only had four anniversaries." It was funny to me every four years (funny in the same vein as saying "see ya next year" on New Year's Eve), and as evidenced by this post, I'm still getting mileage out of it.

Happy Anniversary, you two!

Charles in Charge

I just woke up from a nap with the theme song to Charles in Charge stuck in my head. What was I dreaming about? Even more unsettling... since when do I know EVERY word to that song?