Utah, land of the free, and home of the {insert noun}

Many of you have asked what we've thought of our first year here in Utah.  Derek & I created a top 10 list that you may have seen months ago.  It was written with humor in mind (of course you'll be the judge of whether it was actually funny or not), but does denote some of the things that worried us most about moving away from "the mission field" as it were.  (That basically means living anywhere outside of Utah/Idaho and some sections of surrouding states.)  I think mainly I was worried that we would find the Mormon culture (note I did not say the Gospel in which I believe fully) stifling and close-minded.  I worried that my occasional naughty word, my recycling zeal, our family's most-vegetarian status, and not-so-politically-correct tee shirt collection (see above) would turn off potential friends.  I also worried about the kids having trouble knowing who would be a good friend for them since most of those friends would be Mormon, and some of them would be making bad choices.  Mostly, I fretted about the lack of diversity and in-bred attitude that I had met before in different Utah wards I'd visited.

 So now that I've lived her a full 13 months, I can honestly say that I still have some of those worries.  And some of them have been put to rest.  There is definitely a culture about this valley in Northern Utah that's hard to miss.  There are people who make jokes about Mexicans, and who are ultra-super-massively conservative to the point of zealotry, and who often speak before thinking.  But...the people here are also friendly and almost always willing to help.  I don't get honked at for not accelerating the millisecond the light turns green, and with a college in town, I find that many of the people are a more open-minded than I originally gave them credit for.  The city is constantly putting out environmentally friendly initiatives, and our new neighbors are also vegetarian.  It goes without saying that there are all kinds of people everywhere you go.

It's not all roses and pep rallies, though, and I still worry about the lack of diversity in our neighborhood and school.  We get some international families through the BYU family housing (one is Shrimp's BFF despite moving to Illinois), though the main body of residents that we interact with are stolidly middle- and upper-middle- class.  Our ward is tight-knit and close, but almost too much.  (Of course, it's also an aging ward, and I suspect the neighborhood will continue to turn over and boast more kids as the elderly move out for smaller living spaces.)  There has been a little weirdness concerning women and their place in the church, something that was never an issue in other stakes.  (By this I mean that women aren't necessarily listened to with the same amount of respect as perhaps they should be.)

I don't want to come off as a complainer because in reality, it's been an easy ride (notwithstanding the money pit we bought, and all the crushing debt of first-time home ownership).  Our family surrounds us with security and activities, and we never lack for family-oriented things to do.  The schools are amazing, and the resources that BYU and the city offers our family more than makes up for the lack of money to go on expensive vacations, join expensive gyms, and pay for expensive extracurricular classes.  In fact, it's been too easy to slip into the loop of only doing things with family members and not making friends outside of that circle.  It's something I want to work on this year--I crave the diversity of relationships and the different perspective it brings to my somewhat home-bound life.  I miss the close friendships that I enjoyed in family housing at Umich.  Even though so many of those same people live just minutes from me now!  Some of that comes from the busyness of having 5 kids.  Some of it is the lack of crammed-in-your-face-rowhouse proximity.  Some of it is laziness and poor planning on my part.

Now that I've unburdened my soul to you, I'll tell you what I don't miss about the East Coast.  I don't miss the mosquitoes and the weather.  I am a mosquito magnet, and the wee beasties they had out there came from miles around to feast on my blood.  All day.  Even through my clothes.  In any weather.  Since most of my children inherited my sensitive skin and intense mosquito allergies, they couldn't play outside for most of the good-weather parts of the year unless I wanted to be changing bloody sheets (nocturnal itching) and deal with staph infections.  I say good-weather meaning sunny, but really the good weather part of the year was the spring and late fall, before and after the bugs became a menace, and when it wasn't too bitterly cold outside.  One other thing I don't miss at all is the constant power outages.  One of these days, the entire infrastructure is going to collapse and they're going to have to rebuild the all of the electrical structures from the ground up.  And everyone else is going to be dumping their stored up booby juice down the drain while crying at the waste of liquid gold.

What do I miss?  I miss the people (especially my book group buddies).  I miss Domba & Mini-Me being so close to their besties and being able to interact with them nearly every day.  I miss the Mall and the monuments that touched me every time.  I miss being close to the ocean.  Oh how I miss the ocean!  Even in Michigan we had nice beaches and water to swim in.  Not so much in a landlocked desert.  (Though you really can't beat the mountains.  They are God's gift to the world in so many ways.)  I miss the Woodmoor Bakery's rolls, the awesome thrift stores (I heart you Value Village), the DC temple and active visitor's center, and the lazy days at the Northwest Branch pool.  I miss the old, old trees towering over everything, and visiting places like Williamsburg, VA, and Palmyra & Niagra, NY.  I never got to go on an autumn drive up the New England coast or to PE Island, and darn it, but it was just too cold the day we tried to go out to Cape Cod.  We all desperately miss the Northwest Branch trail that was just out our front door.

Take it or leave it, but those are some of my feelings of our first year here.  I know we're here for a long time, and I'm satisfied with that.  Provo is a nice town to raise a family in, and I know that many of my worries are nit-picky and easily remedied by applying myself to cultivating relationships with those around me.  I get that little jump in my heart when I see the clouds stuck to the tops of the mountains, or smell that wonderful, sweet wind rushing down from the canyon, or drive past the temple only 2 blocks from my house.  I know we are supposed to be here, and I know it's only going to get better.