We WILL go camping and enjoy it.

Well, so much for reforming and blogging often. But I have to come to remedy that situation and share with you more happy news. You know that quote about insanity- that it's doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results? Well, call me crazy. We're going back to Antimony. For all those who haven't been following the saga, let's review. Antimony is a little town in central Utah in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by towns you've never heard of. I've only met one person outside Jessie's family who had ever heard of it. Jessie's Dad went to high school down there, so it's been a tradition since they were small children to go camping and fishing there every year. Aww, sweet, right? Well, when we got married I was eager to support this happy family tradition. This is what happened.

Year One- We had a good time until we tried to leave. Because there were massive soldiers that had shut down all the highways nearby and you couldn't get through. So we unpacked our stuff and stayed another night, and I missed one of my best friend's mission farewells. Then we lost Jessie's keys and were locked out of our apartment when we got back with all our camping gear. Fun times.

Year Two- Also known as the year from heck. We once again tried to leave on Saturday, but going down the ridiculously hazardous road out of the mountains, hit a rock and punched a hole in our oil pan and died. Got driven around Antimony (population 75 or something ridiculous) by a nice random camper and determined there was no mechanic in this galaxy. Went back up the mountain to stay with family. Rode home with nine people in space designated for a maximum of six (including unrestrained babies) in a suburban with faulty brakes that randomly didn't work. The three hour drive took six inexplicably and things were flying off the roof onto the freeway never to be recovered. Eventually sold our car to a junk yard for a couple hundred bucks because it wasn't worth the towing to a town with a mechanic. Fun times.

Year Three- Foolishly decided to still go even though we were in the middle of moving. Got there late and set up camp in the dark because we'd spent the day cleaning our old apartment. Madeline cried all night because she had no crib. Twelve hours after arrival, our brand new tent randomly had two main poles snap simultaneously. Gave up and went home to a house full of boxes and twenty messages from evil landlady telling us she was charging us for twenty hours of cleaning in which she was presumably picking hairs one by one from ten feet down the laundry drain and demanding we come finish more OCD cleaning. Fun times.

Year Four- We never made it down to Antimony because Jessie had an emergency appendectomy. Ironically the most relaxing Antimony trip I've had.

So you see, I really want to be supportive of family unity. But you have to admit, that's a pretty long string of bad luck. And despite my best intentions to be positive, I think I've been conditioned to get a knot in my stomach when I hear the name. But seeing as how this tradition is not going away, we're trying again. Maybe one good, uneventful trip will break the streak and heal all wounds. So we're off to eat fish and play games and cook food and return home unscathed. Think good thoughts. Lots of good thoughts. And prayers. And maybe a few horseshoes and a couple strings of garlic.

Guess what we get to talk about for the next seven months.

So being pregnant is awesome. Mostly because I love wanting to puke my guts out and feeling exhausted even if I sleep in and take a two hour nap. But the most awesome thing is that even though the scale maintains I'm not packing on the pounds, my profile disagrees. I know this is normal when you're gestating human life, but I feel like ten weeks is a little early to be showing when I usually don't until well into the second trimester. I am breaking my photo silence to prove to you that I am protruding. Observe.


Forgive the blurriness. And the pajamas. I was going to wait until a day when I took the time to look good, but then I remembered I don't do that. So this is as good as it gets. I am resigned. Apparently being recently pregnant means your body is ultra prepared to grow again. Awesome.

In other awesome news, we almost bought a minivan. I say almost because we didn't. Obviously. Fun story. We found this fantastic deal on a van that had everything we wanted. It was dirt cheap because it was a salvage title, but seemed to be working great and was perfect for us. So we looked at it on Saturday, told the guy we wanted it, and arranged to have it thoroughly checked out Monday (because we learned from our last purchase of a salvage title to get the next one evaluated. In case it had been underwater and someone neglected to tell us.) Then the guy called us Sunday night to tell us his wife had borrowed the van to run errands, and totally crashed it. Pretty much totaled. Which was awesome for both of us, because we don't get a nice cheap van, and they don't get as much money because insurance companies suck. Frankly, I'm surprised it was insured because I'm pretty sure the guy didn't have it legally registered and was just switching out the plates with his car when he drove it. But I don't ask these sorts of legal questions when I'm buying off the black market. (Kidding. As far as I know everything was above board and legal. We like not going to prison.) So, we have concluded the romance was not meant to be and eagerly await our next chance at a meaningful, lasting relationship with a van that's in it for the right reasons. Yes, we might be watching the Bachelor. I don't know how you guessed. We all do things we're ashamed of when we are fat and nauseous and without minivan.

So I don't get chastized later: there is important information in this post. Read it.

Okay. After my last couple of overloaded spotty posts, I feel to repent of my blogging slackerness. (Or maybe I feel to avoid laundry, but I won't admit to that.) It's time to make it up to you, you faithful people who eagerly await my frequent wisdom and have been crying in your pillows thinking I've abandoned all blog hope. And to reward your patience, I'm going to make this one a good one, filled with exciting news and big deal announcements. Well, just one announcement actually. If you're not among the lucky ones who've already heard, get excited: The Warners are once again growing, with a new little one on the way! I know, you're aghast with wonder. So let's give you a chance to recover and play a little FAQ:

Q: Really? Already?

A: Yes. Already.

Q: Was that planned?

A: None of your beeswax. Okay. Yes. And no. The official party line is that this pregnancy is a "planned surprise". Or something along those lines. As in, sort of planned, but we were pretty surprised too to find we're so efficient.

Q: When's the due date?

A: Valentine's Day baby! Or close thereto. Hopefully not on my birthday. That makes me nine weeks today. We started telling people pretty early because Jessie was so shocked with the news he started telling everyone he met out of sheer dumb surprise. So we figured since his carpool knew, and his coworkers, and some random lady he had a business call with right after finding out, we should maybe tell family and friends.

Q: Not to beat a dead horse, but that's pretty close together, isn't it?

A: Yes. Kimberly and the new baby will be fifteen months apart. I hear people have done it before and lived, so I'm cautiously optimistic about my odds of survival.

Q: Isn't morning sickness fun?

A: No.

Q: Are you going to finally have a boy this time?

A: Well, I know two girls in a row is ridiculously unsymmetrical of me, and you're all dying to see what kind of cuteness a male Warner babe might possess, but it's sort of out of my hands. And we will be extremely happy if it's a girl as well. Since everything we own is pink anyway, and it'll be fun to put Jessie through heck when we're all hormonal at the same time in twenty years. Haha.

So, that's about it. We're excited, we're surviving. We're going to get a minvan out of this beautiful mess, so don't feel badly for us. I'll try not to be a slacker anymore, because I know you'll want to hear every detail of my aches and pains the next seven months. Until next time.

An itty bitty post with a lot in it.

Ah, summertime. For some reason this month has been ridiculously busy, which means we've been going and going and crashing and going some more. In the last two weeks, we've babysat our nieces, attended a two day family reunion in Logan, celebrated the 4th of July, planned and carried out another two day family reunion, had my brother over, and died. Oh, and Jessie got a new calling (assistant ward clerk/assistant executive secretary. That's the actual title. I didn't make it up), and Kimberly learned to crawl and climb in the middle of this mess. So we're a little bit weary. In a good way. In a let's-not-do anything-else-for-a-week kind of way. Except we're going on a date Thursday to Harry Potter, which should be relaxing instead of exhausting, especially since we're going at seven instead of midnight. Booyah. More sleep for me. After that, no more doing anything. Ever. For at least two days. Anyway, that's all you get today. Because I'm doing nothing except laundry.