We headed off to the Curtis house to meet the parents and etc. Dorey was nervous. She could remember the name of the street, but not the exact address of the Curtis's. She thought that it was 1872 S. Retriever, but the address was in the trunk of the car. As we drove up to the house, she insisted that we get into the trunk to find out if this were in fact the right address. There was a big van parked in front of the house with advertising for an heating and air conditioning systems on it. Oh no, we thought. This is not going to be a good day for them. But the worker came out around the side yard. While Dorey flustered around in the truck trying to find the address, I went and asked the worker if this is where the Curtises lived. He confirmed that it was. So we went to the door.
"Are you ready," Dorey asked. I was. She rang the doorbell. A big man opened the door with white hair, buoyant eyes, and a wide grin opened the door. It was Jacob’s dad, Harold. He hugged Dorey and shook my hand. Then Cheryl came up and hugged us both.
I am not a hugger by nature. If I never hug another human beside Dorey in my life, it would be okay with me. I read in a book that the Danes do not hug. Go Danes. But other people are huggers, and they seem to have won the battle. So I hugged. And survived (barely).
We sat down. Dorey and Cheryl put the dress in the room where Kate stays when she visits. Harold, Bob, Sharyn and I sat in the living room. Sharyn had broken her right wrist a few weeks ago, and so we discussed that hand. Harold is currently staying home on workers comp with a shoulder problem. Both have to do physical therapy. So I told my pinkie physical therapy story. When I was on my mission, I dislocated my pinkie. I went to the doctor, who wanted to operate, but decided to try me first on physical therapy. I was in a huge class with people who were really hurting. Stroke and car accident victims, and me with my pinkie. I was able to get my pinkie back into position through my physical therapy. On the last class, my therapist stopped the group to tell them about how through hard work, I had been able to straighten my pinkie. They could improve if they worked as hard as I did, etc. My fellow patients gave me death darts. After I worked my way through this one, Dorey and Cheryl had returned.
Cheryl was having problems getting some pictures which had been taken by Valarie Porter printed at Walmart. She said that Walmart thought the pictures were too professional, and would not release them until we had obtained the photographer’s permission. Dorey and I went into the computer room, and I whipped out a little legalese releasing the copyright. We emailed it to Valerie Porter, who signed it and sent it back. It seemed to have worked, as we were able to view the pictures at the open house.
Bob and Harold started to talk about genealogical stuff. We had sat through my father's rants about the church genealogical department before. Now we could be here forever, I feared. Bob, we have got to go, I said. My mother must have joined in my fear. Bob, we have got to go, she said. We became more forceful. Don't start, Dad, I said.
Happily, for once, he took the hint. A few minutes later, and the meeting was over, and we were graciously released from the house. On to Rexburg. As we were walking out, I suggested that I be added to the car. My father said he could handle it. That suggestion–and in fact the plan for renting the car for the trip–went nowhere. We were now going to head across the state.
The stats: Yesterday, I walked 12,709 steps. Overall, as of this moment, 10:56 a.m. of Friday, July 24, 2009, I have walked 344,434 steps in 29 days.
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