Holiday Recap

Well, as usual, my husband and I forgot to bust out the digital whilst merry-making (not that kind... ew, gross!) so there are no pictures of our holiday festivities. We started things off by going sledding with Rob's sister's family. It was pretty laid back. The snow was knee-deep (sometimes thigh), and it was hard to treck to the sledding hill but sledding on fresh snow was really fun. Then we went to Tepanyaki for dinner. I've never been to one of those Japanese grill type places, so it was a neat experience. Flames! When we got to the restaurant, it was hotter than you-know-what in there, so I sneaked over to the thermostat and turned that baby down. It was set at 84! Well, I guess I turned it down too much because by the time we got to our table we were freezing. My attempt to turn it back up failed because there were some workers sitting right by it.

Christmas morning we opened our presents and then made a nice Christmas morning breakfast. I tried to make cinnamon rolls, but they turned out not so good. Next year, I guess. Then we went over to Rob's parent's house for a Christmas dinner. We visited with his parents and some of his siblings, and then went home. I am still getting used to his large family. I love them, but I get a headache when I'm with that many people for too long. Actually, I had a headache to start. Sometimes I get these tension headaches that turn into migraines and I have them for 4-5 days and they only get worse. Any suggestions for how to get rid of one?

On Saturday, Rob's family had their annual Christmas party. I wasn't in the best of moods, nor did I feel well, so I ended up having a breakdown when I went to get my food and there wasn't any left. I'm telling you, every family is different and I guess I just wasn't prepared for there not to be any food left when I made my way up to the buffet table. I felt like a cotton headed ninnyboggins for crying at the buffet table, but hopefully everyone was so busy chowing down that they didn't notice.

People say that the first year of marriage is the hardest. I don't know. Being married has been wonderful and, for the most part, the transition from being single to married has been a smooth one for both of us. I think it's when we have to blend our families and family traditions that it gets rough. I'm not gonna lie. This Christmas was hard. It's the first Christmas that I have not been in California, the first Christmas without my grandma, and the first Christmas with snow. All of these new things at once were overwhelming. I just had to keep reminding myself that Christmas isn't about who you spend it with, or what you eat, but it's about the Savior. When I reminded myself of that, the Christmas Spirit returned and I was able to enjoy myself.

I know this post is kind of a downer, but I'm just following my mantra of "keepin' it real." I don't want to portray my life as being 100% marvelous 100% of the time because that's not accurate. I like President Hinckley's quote about not all puts dropping, steak being tough, etc., but that life is like an old-fashioned train trip and the trick is just to enjoy the ride. And enjoying the ride I am!

The Weather Outside is Frightful

Unless you live in a cave, and don't have cable television, you've probably experienced, seen, or heard how much snow we have in Utah right now. I shouldn't complain about it. Afterall, all of those righteous people in Santa Clara, Utah have been praying for "moisture" for decades. I shouldn't complain about other's prayers being answered. But I'm gonna complain. It's so cold here that my fingers and toes are in a perpetual state of popsicle-ness. I have to wear my ugly pink Ugg boots (jealous?) because honestly, this is the only acceptable time to wear such a thing. But I'm not a tucker. I cannot allow myself to tuck my pants into my Ugg boots, pink ones nonetheless, because I have flashbacks to the early 90s when pegged jeans were in style. I hated the early 90s.

Now I'm going to complain about ice. The parking lot and sidewalks at the condo are just one big, continuous ice trail. I'm going to start renting skates and charging admission. I personally have slipped 7 times in the last 4 days. And to make things worse, a visitor to our house slipped and hurt his fanny. I'm going to go to the HOA and refuse to pay the fees until they get off their lazy bums and do what we pay them for! When the residents themselves have to borrow snow blowers and shovels from other neighbors, that's a bad situation.

Now that I'm done complaining, I'll tell you about some fun things. I did donuts for the first time last Friday night. Rob insisted that I learn how to do them and also how to handle my car in the snow. I don't see what the big whoop is. I don't think I'll be doing donuts any time soon. It was fun to see how excited Rob got about the whole process. He told me that earlier that day on his way home from work, he stopped in a church parking lot and did some of his own. Must be a guy thing.

Last night we drove through the neighborhood passing out our Christmas goodies. My Hyundai Sonata, Uncle Jesse is his name, handles very well in the snow. Every time we'd make it over a big pile of snow or up a steep driveway, I'd yell "Uncle Jesse!" Yeah, it's dorky, I know. Anyway, we drove up to one of the houses we were bringing goodies to, and the teenage boy in the family was packing the front door with snow. I thought to myself, 'that Wilcox boy seems pretty bright, why is he packing his own front door?' I made it a point to ask Rob later that night if the Wilcox boy was "all there."

Me: Why was the Wilcox boy packing his own front door with snow?
Rob: Because it's fun.
Me: Well, but isn't it more fun to do it to someone else?
Rob: Why would it be more fun doing it to someone else?
Me: Because then you don't have to clean it up.
Rob: Um, I guess not.
Me: I mean, why would you doorbell ditch your own house?
Rob: What?
Me: Isn't that what you do? You pack a front door with snow, ring the doorbell, run away, and when the front door is opened all the snow falls in?
Rob: No! You pack the door and when you open it the wall is still there and you run through and bust it down. We did it to our door all the time when I was a kid.
Me: Oh, I guess that makes sense.

I just don't get a lot of the snow stuff. Donuts? Snow packing? Skiing?

I am excited to have my first "White Christmas" ever. It's kind of romantical.

The McRib is Back!

I drive by Mc Donald's every day on my way to work. About a week ago, I started seeing a sign that says "The McRib is Back." I thought to myself, I've never had a McRib. I wonder what it tastes like? I asked a few people and they all said it didn't taste very good. One of those people was my husband. He said, "Don't do it!"

I did it. And I don't like it. I had a Jessica Simpson moment as I was eating it: "Is this chicken what I have, or is it fish? I know it’s tuna, but it says Chicken. By the sea. Is that stupid?" Except I was saying, "is this pork what I have or is this chicken?" I don't know what the meat is. As I was searching for a picture to use, I came across this quote on a blog: "The McRib first appeared in the late 70s-early 80s as McDonald's first attempt to court black people. Their reasoning: the black man loves him some ribs. Only problem is that it doesn't resemble ribs in any way and tastes like a rubber chicken patty doused in syrup. Some pretty ridiculous advertising ensued including some really bad break-dancing." This guy hit the nail on the head with the taste.

And how do they get it to look like a rack of ribs? It's just scary. Now I know why the McRib goes away, I just don't know why it comes back. From now on, I am going to listen to my husband. He's older and wiser, so I better take his advice... especially when it comes to food that looks wierd.

Going Postal

I've got a bone to pick with the United States Postal Service (hereafter referred to as USPS). I don't know what it is about this job, but

most postal employees I've come across are just plain ornery! Maybe it's because it's December and it's busy? You'd think that they would be grateful for the increase in business and just shut up! Anyway, a few weeks ago there was a sign posted above the mail boxes in our complex that read, "Mail Must Be Picked Up Every 3 Days," and in handwriting, "Removing this sign does not change policy, it only hurts your neighbor!" As I was collecting my mail, I was trying to figure out how removing the sign hurt my neighbor. I then began thinking that maybe Rob and I were the offenders. We went out of town for almost a week, and our mail was being picked up, but it didn't get picked up on Saturday (from what I could tell) and it was then Monday. So, whatever, I chuckled at the sign and almost ripped it down, because that's just how I am (I hate passive-aggressiveness).

About a week ago, I picked up our mail and noticed that the paper sign that is repeatedly ripped down was replaced with a permanent metal one. There's no taking that baby down! Anyway, I just think it's really funny. Personally, I don't think it's anyone's business how often you get your mail. You get it when you get it.

We didn't pick our mail up on Saturday because it was just a crazy day and we forgot. I stopped by the mailbox while I was walking to our condo, and opened it up to see our mail crammed in the box. The junk mail and ads were crumpled up in a ball and shoved into the box. And it's not like it was full! There was plenty of room in there for the junk mail and ads to be placed flat. Talk about passive-aggressive. If I were home when the mail was delivered, I'd hang out by the mailbox and give this mail carrier one of my minds - not just a piece of it! I was so angry that the mail carrier crumpled up my Rite Aid circular. I was really wanting to know the price of a Chia Pet, but I couldn't tell because of the creases in the paper. That dang postal carrier!

So maybe I was so upset about it because this incident came right on the heels of one earlier that morning. I put my Christmas cards in the outgoing mail at work, and when I went to lunch the receptionist told me that the mailman gave her an earful about how people need to take their personal mail to the post office instead of mailing it from work. Why in the heck does he care? His job is to deliver and pick up mail. Period.

What happened to the good 'ol days when you knew your mailman's name? He was a nice, friendly sort of guy. He'd stop to shoot the breeze, and tell you that he was gay (like you couldn't tell from his uber tight shirt unbuttoned to the navel and his shorty-short postman shorts) and then invite you to see his play that he was putting on at the LGBT center in West Hollywood? I miss those days. I miss Derek. He was the best mailman a girl could have. Derek would never chastise me for mailing personal mail from work. He would never crumple up my junk mail and shove it in the box. I miss you Derek!

I am sorely disappointed in the USPS. And they wonder why people use FedEx and UPS more often.

Magic Nail, Wha You Wan?

There was this one time that I needed a Pedi ASAP, so I was calling all of the nail shops in town to see if I could get an appointment that day. All of my normal places were booked, so I had to branch out to another part of town. I call this one place, and the guy who answered the phone barks at me, "Magic Nail, wha you wan?" I was so taken back by his greeting, that I couldn't speak for a minute. After he said "wha you wan?" like six times, I was snapped back into reality and told him I needed an appointment for a pedicure. What kind of business answers the phone and says "wha you wan?"

OK, so flash forward a few years. A girl I work with sends me a YouTube video of this comedian making fun of nail shops. She had it down! The accent, what she said, everything. I still laugh at that one. it is so true, I don't think that the Asian nail shop people try to be rude, I think they just are and they make no excuses for it.

In California, nails are a lot cheaper to get done than they are in Utah. You can get a mani/pedi for like $15 in California, but it's like $35 in Utah. Probably the whole supply demand thing. So, everytime I visit my parents I like to go to the Mantrap Nail (just one!) up the street. This place has been there since I was in high school, and the same guy owns it. He is young, American born, and college educated, so I've often wondered what he's doing operating a nail salon. And then the last time I was there I figured it out. He is a nail pimp. There are like 20 Vietnamese ladies that work there. They all sit at their stations until he calls them over to take a client. And he barks at them in Vietnamese, and they run up to him with their heads down and then take the client back to their stations. After they're done, they hand their tips to him. He is rollin' in dough! I kind of feel guilty about going to a nail sweatshop for a mani/pedi, but then when I have an extra $20 in my pocket, I don't feel so bad about it, which is why I treated myself to a pedi and a full set at Thanksgiving.

I'm back here in Provo, and it's time for a fill. I didn't have time to go to my normal nail shop (the one that Marie Osmond goes to - yeah, I took her picture clandestinely with my cell phone), so I went to the mall by my work. I actually heard this conversation happen (just like in the YouTube video):

"You wan acylic er gel?"

"Uh, what?"

"You wan acylic er gel???"

"Um, I don't know what that is."

"You wan gel. It make yo nail sparkle like diamond in the sky."

"Oh, OK. I want gel."

"For you, only thirty-fi dolla more."

I had to hold in the laughter, so as to not get smacked by the man nail tech. He had already smacked me on the wrist with a nail file because I wasn't holding my hand the way he wanted it. While he was doing my fill, he says "you get nail done here last time?" I told him that I had it done in California. His response was, "They do bad job. Look at all this lifting." And then he smacked my wrist again because I wasn't holding it up right. Long story short, I didn't have time to stay and get my nails painted because I had to get back to work. I left and decided I was going to paint them myself at home. I did, and I did a craptastic job, so I needed to have it done again. But I couldn't go back to the same guy because I'm sure the guy would beat me to death with his industrial strength nail file for messing it up. luckily he wasn't there, so I went to a different lady and the first thing the lady said was "this a really bad nail, who do this to you?" So I told her that it was the other place in the mall, and then she started talking about how the girls who work there are a bunch of harlots (but she really said "hoebags").

Really, I get my nails done for the entertainment and not out of vanity. Hours of laughs after going to the nail shop. Check out the YouTube nail video.

What Would Freud Say About This?

I had this strange dream the other night that I showed up to my husband's work Christmas party wearing nothing but an oversized Twilight T-Shirt. Well, I was wearing underwear underneath it, but I wasn't wearing shoes or jewelry or anything. And when I say "oversized," I really mean it. It was floor length and the shoulder seams came down past my elbows. I think I was wearing a fat red belt with it, but the details are fuzzy.

I remember feeling awkward that I was wearing this outfit, but no one else seemed to notice. Or they noticed but didn't say anything. Rob says it's almost like the dream where you show up to high school naked. Almost. Except that it is worse because you're wearing only an oversized dork shirt.

What does this mean? Am I having anxiety about what to wear to the party? Do I secretly wish that I owned an oversized Twilight shirt? Please give me your interpretations.

A little philosophy

If a cat throws up in your closet and you're not there to see it, did it really happen? Discuss.

I think that our cat thinks that if she throws up where no one can see her, that it never happened.

I'm just happy that she missed my shoes and that it had been there long enough to be not mushy (she threw up waaaay in the back).

My Two Cents

Now don't get me wrong, I love Niel and Babs, but there is just something wrong to me about them having Christmas albums. Niether of them are Christian. Not that anyone would ever want to buy an album of me singing songs period, but I would never put out a Hannukah album because I do not celebrate Hannukah. It also bothers me when the MoTab sings African spirituals. Middle-aged white people who aren't even wearing choir robes do not have any business singing African spirituals. I'm going to bring this up with Mack Wilberg the next time I give him a ride in my car. I'm also going to talk to him about the terrible outfits the ladies have to wear. Ever heard of a waist?

I guess I just have a problem with breaking the mold. I do not like it when Will Ferell and Jim Carey play in serious roles. I can handle Jack Black being serious, but his serious isn't totally serious. I do not think I would like it if Josh Groban switched to pop or JT switched to Opera, although "Sexy Back" would be really funny sung opera style. Sing it in your head, I promise you'll laugh.

So, that's my two cents about genre switching.

P.S. Is it just me, or does Babs have freakishly long fingers?

Deck the Halls!

Here's our Charlie Brown tree. It's actually pretty tall, just sparse. We got it at Baum's Christmas Trees. I highly recommend them.

We need to have the obligatory "1st Christmas" ornament.

Below is our mantle. I'm looking for some nice, but inexpensive stocking hooks we can use to hang our stockings. I'm so excited to have a mantle! I've never hung stockings on a mantle before. I also got a really nice garland that looks great on top of the china cabinet. I'm still not done with the decorating, so tune in later.

Gonna Party Like It's Your Birfday!

This is my cute sister-in-law, Becca (the guy is her husband, John, but this post isn't about him 'cuz it's not his birthday). Her birthday was yesterday, December 4. I just love Becca and I wished she lived closer. She is one of the sweetest people I know, and I give her a lot of credit for Robert and I getting married - and she hadn't even met me yet! That's how great she is. I wish her the best year ever! I love you, Becca.

P.S. This is going to be a regular blog series of mine, so drop me a line and let me know when your birthday is.

Introducing The Blog Frog

Hey Y'All,

You'll notice a new little gadget in the top right hand corner of my blog. I'm totally ripping the following wordage from my favorite blogger, CJane, so please forgive my plagiarism. I guess it's not plagiarism if I give credit, right?

"JMadd Supporters" are people who link their blog to mine. A partial list of what blogs link to mine was created by The Blog Frog (they have a robot that crawls the web and tries to connect blogs together). Please don't judge the grammatical errors on the widget. I hate grammatical errors, but what can I do. That's right, I, and not me. Therefore, some of you may find that your blog is already in this database so you may already be a supporter. (If you don't want to be on this list, click on "Visit the community", then you will see a link that says "Remove my blog".)

To become a supporter, first add a link to this blog somewhere on your blog's sidebar. (If you already link to this blog, you don't need to add the link again, just go on to the next step.) Then, go to the widget on this blog and click "become a supporter." Enter your blog address in the box and click submit. The widget will then go to your blog (behind the scenes) and verify that you have a working link.

The next time you or one of your friends uses the link on your blog, a link to your blog will appear on my blog! The widget displays the last 6 "referrals" from supporters. Even when someone else clicks to my blog from your blog, your blog will appear. (You can only appear at the top of the list once per user who clicks per day.)

You can also click on "Visit the community" to get to know each other better and interact with other readers of this blog. If you have questions about the widget please email rustin@theblogfrog.com (not me!) and he will answer them.

So, I'm in serious need of validation that people actually read my blog. I don't even think my mom reads it :( And, I want to win a $200 gift card from Target. I heart Target.

So here's a question I am posing to all of those who read (or stalk) my blog: What is the etiquette of following blogs? I had a wierdo follow my blog once, but I blocked her because she seems like a psycho and I don't want to be associated with her. Anyhoo, I started looking at other blogs she follows and saw that she is following a lot of my blog friends. How did she find us? I was reading some of the comments on her blog, and I thought one in particular made a lot of sense. I went to this person's blog and started reading. I like this blog. I wanted to follow it. It looks like this person follows several of my co-workers blogs, so I figured it would be OK if I followed her. I added myself as a follower, but I think she blocked me. I can't get any of her feeds. I feel like I just got broken up with on a blog (don't read too much into it ;). What is the proper protocol? Should I have made a comment on her blog and said, "I would like to follow your blog. Do I have your permission?" I just don't know. I don't consider myself a sicko, or a psycho, but I like to read about other people's experiences. I feel very rejected. What are some of your thoughts?

BTW - This person has commented on my blog before.

***WARNING*** Serious Post Ahead!

Lately I have been feeling very grateful for the things I've been blessed with in this life. Seeing all of the terrible things that are going on with our economy, the social unrest, poverty, lack of morality, etc. has made me do some serious reflecting on how I have been blessed.

Robert and I are by no means "wealthy," but we are able to pay our bills, set aside for savings, and have extra to spare. We have a comfortable place to live, cars that work, warm clothes, food to eat, and each other. We have faith in Jesus Christ and a testimony of His gospel. Compared to most of the world, we are rich.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine asked me to relate to him an experience I had with my dad when I was younger. Ever since then, I have been reminded again and again of the principle I was taught by that experience.

When I was 9 or 10, I went to the grocery store with my dad one afternoon. There was a homeless lady sitting outside the grocery store begging for money. When we walked by her, she asked my dad for some money and he told her he didn't have any cash. While we were shopping, my dad put an extra loaf of bread, some peanut butter, jam, and a few other things in the cart. He asked the checker to put them in a seperate bag and had me hand the lady the bag as we walked out. She thanked us with a "God bless you," and we walked to the car. After we put the groceries in the car, my dad sat there and didn't start the engine. I asked him why we weren't leaving and he said that he wanted to watch the homeless lady for a while. After being in the car for a few minutes, we saw the lady walk over the the trash can and throw the bag we gave her away. I was angry. I thought "how dare she!" I asked my dad if he was going to say something to the woman, and he said that he wasn't because it was her choice to do whatever she wanted with what she was given. He said that she probably wanted money for drugs or alcohol, and that he wasn't going to aid her in her addictions, but that she still needed help and he felt it was his responsibility to help those who were in need.

I hadn't thought about that for a long time until my friend asked me about it. And since he asked me about it, I can't stop thinking about it. If you are LDS, you are probably familiar with the scripture in the Book of Mormon in Alma 34 that says if we pray for things, but neglect to feed the hungry and help the needy, our prayer is in vain. That scripture has weighed heavy on my mind and heart lately and so I have prayed for opportunities to help those who are in need.

Here's where the dead-serious part comes in. As I was driving to work yesterday morning, I saw a man walking down the street without a coat. He had wrapped his arms around himself and was all bent over as he was walking. It was very cold yesterday morning. The thought popped into my head that I had a fleece jacket in my car and that I should give it to him. Then the thought came that "I just bought that fleece jacket and who gives their jacket to some guy on the street?" The light turned green and I continued to work.

I've been bothered by this since then. I feel so terrible that I prayed for an opportunity, it came, and I ignored it. I also feel terrible about letting the man go jacketless down the street. What if he freezes to death or catches pneumonia?

Why am I writing about this? I don't know. Maybe to clear my conscience?

Since what happened yesterday, I have an even greater resolve to help those who have less because I have so much. I don't know what the world will bring. Robert and I have jobs now, but with the economy the way it is, you just never know. I want to be able to help those in need and hope that it would be returned if I ever needed help. I also want to form the habit of giving now so that my children will see an example of it, just like I saw from my father.

So, the next time I see someone walking down the street cold and jacketless, I will stop and offer them my extra fleece in the trunk.

Oh, the Farmer and the Coleman Should Be Friends!

Oh my goodness! Gary Coleman provides me with hours of laughing in silence at my work desk. What on earth is he wearing? Is he going skiing or is he going to plow a field in Santaquin? I just had an awesome idea. I should nominate Gary Coleman for TLCs "What Not to Wear." That way he can get $5,000 for a new wardrobe (we all know he's broke) and a serious fashion flogging session from Stacy and Clinton.

Oh Fuuuuudge!

I don't usually do this kind of stuff, but I want to win this leg lamp real bad. I'm in serious need of one more Christmas decoration, and this lamp will do it. What can you do to help me win it? Go to Word to Your Mother and check out her Super Fantastic Giveaway. This giveaway is Super Fantastic, so feel free to enter yourself. Just give me the lamp if you win it ;)

I highly recommend you add this blog to your favorites. It's a doozy.

A Cut Above

I cut my hair. I've been wanting to do it for about a year, but never got up the nerve until now. I loved my long hair, but it is so thick and long, that it took me so long to dry and style, that usually I didn't dry it or style it. This style is very chic and much easier to dry.

Do you Hear What I Hear?

On Saturday night, the people who live downstairs decorated their porch for Christmas. It's early. I draw the line at putting up Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving. Call me old fashioned, but that's just how I feel. So, not only did they decorate, they really decorated. Lights, lights, lights, and even centerpieces. That's right. Centerpieces. There are also some stuffed animals and baskets of something-or-other. They also put up some lighted candy canes. And they keep the lights on 24/7. I'm glad that I'm not paying their electricity bill.

Not actually their porch, but close.

As we were walking out of the house on Sunday, Rob says to me, "You're not going to let them out-do us, are you?" I take that as a challenge. I'm trying to plan something Winter Wonderland-y, without being over the top or, dare I say, white trash. I'm thinking that I'll put up a fake, decorated tree outside, with some of the iceicle lights on the rail and a blow-up snow globe. But just one blow-up snow globe. Two for that small of a space is just too much. Maybe I can convince Rob to dress up as Santa a few nights a week and pass out candy. Do you think that's overboard? All joking aside, I need some ideas for porch decoration. I only have about 10 sq. feet to work with, so it's got to be good. If we lived in an actual house, I'd decorate it like this:

Just kidding ;)

Husband Tag

What is your husband's name? Robert
How long have you been married? 2 months on Wednesday
How long did you date? Exactly 3 months before we were engaged
How old is he? 38
Who eats more sweets? Robert. He always has to drink lemon-water (he calls it lemonade, but it's really just a glass of water with a whole lemon squeezed in it) to counter-balance all of the crap he has eaten during the day.
Who said "I love you" first? Robert. He said it on our 4th date.
Who is taller? Robert - by about 6 inches
Who is a better singer? I'm going to say that I am, but he does sing really well.
Who is smarter? When it comes to words, I am smarter. When it comes to numbers, he is.
Who does the laundry? Me, because it wouldn't get done very often if he did it.
Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? Depends on if you're looking at the bed or if you're in it. If you're looking at it, then I sleep on the right.
Does he snore? Yes, but only right when he falls asleep and if he's on his back. I just poke him and tell him he's snoring and he stops. (Funny story that's not about snoring. Right after we were married, I wake up to Robert trying to roll me over in bed. I was a little wierded out by it, so I sat up and said, "what are you doing?" He says, "I can't find my glasses. Move over, I think you're laying on them." I said, "did you check the nightstand?" At this point I'm thinking maybe he's serious, and then I realize that he's totally not awake, so I said, "you didn't lose your glasses, go back to sleep." He looked right at me and said, in a huff, "This is not a dream!" Then he rolled over and went back to sleep. When I asked him about it in the morning, he didn't remember a single bit of it.)
What does he do in his spare time? Plays World of Warcraft and other games.
Who mows the lawn? A very thorough latino man. We live in a condo.
What is his favorite candy? Peanut M&Ms
Who cooks dinner? We both do, but I probably cook more.
Who drives? Mostly me because he hates to drive.
Who says they are wrong? Both of us.
Who kissed who first? Well, that's a difficult one. It was on our third date, and I thought to myself, "if he doesn't kiss me tonight, I'm never going out with him again." It started getting later into the date and it didn't look like he was going to kiss me, but I wanted to go out with him again, so I said "are you gonna kiss me or not?" We kissed, and it was awkward. If I could do it over again, I wouldn't have been that blunt.
Who asked who out first? We were set up on a blind date, but Robert called me after my friend gave him my number and asked me out.
Who wears the pants? It's 2008 - we both wear pants. But seriously, we're both pretty stubborn, so we both take charge sometimes. If you've ever seen "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," you know it's more about the head and the neck, than pants. "The man may be the head of the family, but the woman is the neck and the neck tells the head where to go."
Does he say he loves you every day? Several times a day. I'm still working on getting him to call me "Your Royal Hotness" along with it.

I tag Jayna, Christine, Cheryl, and Mallory.

And the winner is...

Christine of McDaniel Moments! Congratulations, Christine. I'll be sending your Pampered Chef Ice Cream Scoop in the mail this week.

Thanks for participating, everyone, and stay tuned for more giveaways. I still have a lot of wedding stuff I can't return.

Mind the Gap

Remember when Gap commercials used to be good? Yeah, me too. Well, Gap is back. Check out this hot number I found on Word to Your Mother. You're sure to feel all Christmasy after watching this one. You can't go wrong with Napoleon Dynamite and Dwight Schrute in the same commercial!

Your Husband Needs New Pants

This ad popped up on my Facebook today. "Your husband needs new pants. He probably suffers from the 'diapers under khaki' look." Um, so he doesn't look like he's wearing diapers under his khakis, but he could use some new pants that are about 2 sizes smaller. So, of course I think, "yes, my husband does need new pants." I click on the link, and up pops this page.

Here are some of my favorites. But seriously, my husband would not be caught dead in orange pants with Pucci print facing on the inside. And I wouldn't be caught dead with him if he were wearing them. I guess these pants have their place in the world of male modeling, or on one of the Reeb brothers, but not on my husband. Don't get me wrong, he's hot, but he's no Derek Zoolander. He works the Dockers just fine, but I don't think he's ready for Bonobos. And our bank account isn't ready for them at $110 a pair because that's what I pay for my pants ;)

If you have Facebook, do a search for Bonobos and look at the Bonobos group. All of the guys in it are named Armando, Jesus, Enrique, Amador, Michel, and Ricky Martin. I'm glad I saw this ad today because I needed a good laugh.

Happy 100!

In honor of my 100th post, I'm doing a GIVEAWAY! I know it's the trendy thing to do, but that's not why I'm doing it. I have some extra wedding junk that I want to get rid of. So, here's the prize... A NEW CAR!!! Just kidding. I'm giving away a Pampered Chef Ice Cream Dipper. I hear that it's awesome, but we already have several ice cream scoopers in the kitchen drawer. So here's what you need to do: 1) leave a comment, 2) in the comment, tell me why you want/need this ice cream dipper, and 3) tell me a joke. I'm going to randomly choose the winner, but I just want to hear some good jokes. Good luck! You have until 11:59 p.m. on Friday, Nov. 14, 2008 to enter.

A Christmas Story

I know what I'm getting Rob for Christmas this year. Check it out!

My husband doesn't like stuff about him out on the interwebz, so, shhhh, don't tell him I posted pictures. I purposely picked ones where you don't see his face all that well.

My day is complete! Can I go home now?

I saw a car with all of these animal bobble heads on the dash on my way back to work from lunch. Even better, the lady driving had spiky hair, Blue Blockers, and a ciggie hanging out of her mouth. If I had been quick enough, I would have snapped a pic with my celly.

Say What?

This little diddy popped up on my bank statement today:

Debit Card: AUTO RESTYLING ASS

They ought to revisit how they abbreviate.

Two Truths and a Lie

#1 is the lie. I do know how to swim. Sadly, I didn't use the Internet until I was a Freshman at BYU, and even more sad than that is that I do not know how to make pie. I have never made a successful pie in my life. Always too wet or too dry and my crust is either too flaky or too doughy.

It's the Final Countdown!

With 95% of precincts reporting, 52% of the votes are "yes" for Prop 8. I've never been prouder to be a California Girl.

Yes
5,163,908
52%
No
4,760,336
48%
95% precincts reporting - 9:57 a.m. EST, Nov 5 '08

Call Before You Come

I had a phone conversation with a sister from our ward yesterday about bringing a receipt to her house for things I have purchased for an upcoming activity. She asked when I would be bringing it over, and my reply was "probably after work tomorrow." She then said, "what time, exactly, will you be dropping by?" Me: "Um, I don't know. After 5 some time." Sis. So-and-so: "Can you please give me an exact time to expect you?"

So this is where my sarcasm kicked in. Me: "I'll be over at 5:13:29 p.m. on the spot." Bless her heart, she didn't catch on. Sis. So-and-so: "Well, please call before you come over so I know to expect you."

I don't really know what to say about this conversation, other than that I'm not going to call before I come and I'm probably not going to be there at 5:13:29 p.m. on the spot. What's with the micro-managing?

Tagged Again!

I totally forgot that I got tagged by my friend Melissa. Here's how it goes:

1. Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
2. Share 2 true facts about yourself and 1 lie.
3. Tag 4 people at the end of your post by including links to their blogs.
4. Have people guess which one out of the three is false.

I'm really bad at this.

1. I don't know how to swim.
2. I'd never used the Internet until I was a freshman at BYU.
3. I don't know how to make pie.

I Tag:
1. Heidi
2. Robert
3. Stormy
4. Christine

Bad Grammar and Other Annoyances

If you know me well, you know that I hate improper usage and bad grammar. I also hate improper pronunciations. Now, I never use the word "hate" lightly, so you know that I have strong opinions if I'm using that word.

I was driving to work this morning and I heard a song come on the radio that I don't like, but I was too distracted by something going on in the lane next to me to turn the station. The song became background noise, but then I started listening to the words and I got road rage just from listening. First of all, the singer sang "was" where "were" should have been used. Common mistake, I know, but who says that grammar rules should be thrown out the window just because it's a pop song.

I know I'm right on my way to being a senior citizen. I might as well start popping the Geritol right now!

My other pet peeve is mispronunciation. I had a roommate who would say "asuage" as "a-sewage." It drove me nuts. My other pet peeve is when people sing the word "angel, " they say "an-gel" instead of "an-gul." Aaargh!

Anyway, I just had to rant about it.

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween!

Spookily similar, huh?

Best. Costume. EVER!

This is my cousin's little boy dressed as... the Travelocity Gnome. Awesome, huh?

Scott Stoddard! Scott Stoddard!

OK, so this post will only be funny to 1 person... maybe 2. Back in my single days - way back - I lived in a tiny duplex on 9th East in Provo. Me and the roomie, Chit Chatt, didn't spend a whole lot of time at our house, but instead hung out across the street at a group of houses known as "the courtyard." There was a house of guys, one of them being Scott Stoddard, and we went over there a lot... mostly because they had a TV.

We had a lot of good times with these guys, and were really sad when one of them moved out. We missed Bob, but the guy who took his place seemed like he'd be alright. Shortly after Russ... or Ross... or Randy moved in, Chit Chatt and I asked Scott what he was like and whether the guys liked him as a rommmate. This was Scott's response: "His diet consists mostly of sausage and cheese. I don't think that's very healthy." I said, "what does that mean?" Scott said, "he has a certain smell." Nuff said, Scott Stoddard. Chit Chatt and I moved shortly after this, so we never really got a chance to know Russ/Ross/Randy. I do remember him having a certain smell.

So flash forward to 2008. Right before the hubs and I got married, I started craving bean and cheese burritos from Beto's/Rancherito's/Whatever the heck it's called these days. I told Rob this and he touched my forehead and asked if I was doing alright. I know, I know. Beto's is hardly the pinnacle of culinary quality, but I was always needing a bean and cheese burrito real bad. I craved them daily. I hadn't indulged that craving until today. See, I went home for lunch and smelled some Mexican goodness coming from the ghetto Tesoro/Taco Shop/Smoke Shop next door and it must have triggered my Beto's reflex. Maybe that's why I've been craving the B&C burrito every day since I moved into our condo. Anyway, I couldn't take it any longer. I had to indulge my Beto's craving.

I am hooked now! I want to eat a B&C burrito from Beto's every single day! Maybe that's what happened to Russ/Ross/Randy with the sausage and cheese diet. I just don't want Rob to say, when someone asks how 'being married' is, "being married is great, except Jen's diet consists entirely of bean and cheese burritos from Beto's." To which someone might say, "what does that mean?" And Rob would say "there's a certain smell to her." So, I have resolved not to eat B&C burritos from Beto's every day... just on the 4th Friday of every month.

A Great Prop 8 Article

Orson Scott Card wrote a great article in support of Prop 8. You should read it.

http://mormontimes.com/mormon_voices/orson_scott_card/?id=4740

Yessssss!

Jack is back!

What My Bed Says About Me

So here's what some dumb quiz says that my bed says about me. Can you tell it's a slow day in the blogging world for me? Since I have nothing else to blog about, I've added my comments in parenthesis. BTW - the bed to the right really is my bed. I have excellent taste, I know. Well, it's not actually my bed. Just the bedding is the same.

Outward appearances are a concern of yours, but not your primary concern. (True)

You try to take care of yourself and your home, but it's not an obsession. (True)

You are an organized and disciplined person. You do the right thing because you want to, not because people expect you to. (Sort of true. I like to cook well and throw awesome parties because people expect it.)

You are not very high maintenance in general, but you are high maintenance about a few things. (True)

In relationships, you tend to be quite dominant. You enjoy taking charge. (Not True. Sort of.)

You tend to be a dreamy, head in the clouds type of person. You think in terms of possibilities. (So not true. I am pragmatic.)

You are a total homebody. You are happiest when you're at home. (Sometimes)

To find out what your bed says about you, go to http://www.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourbedsayaboutyouquiz/.

Your Tax Dollars at Work

The hubs and I got our property tax bill/whatever it's called in the mail yesterday and I said to him, "because we pay this, some little kiddies will be able to go to school and learn." He replied, "not our kiddies." And I said, "not yet." How interesting that I should see this yesterday. It's rich... and not in a chocolate/Donald Trump sort of way. My friend, Chit Chatt, got this from her sister. Apparently, this flyer was sent home from school with one of the kids. I just don't know what to say other than "OMG'ness!" I sure hope that this isn't a reflection of the edumacation that our children are getting in the public school system.

So, here's the question: Is the "g" in stanger a hard or soft "g?" Actually, I have several questions. Is a "Parent" better than a "parent?" If there's a "last," where's the "first?" I didn't know that "toss" was in. Now it's "out." My friend Becky pointed out that any kids who are of the age to be Trick-or-Treating probably don't know what the word "tamper" means. My assessment is that the person who wrote this, judging by their spelling, punctuation and grammar, probably doesn't know what the word "tamper" means, either. I thought that with the advent of spell check that egregious errors like this couldn't exist anymore. I mean, really................. I think it's better to be safe then sorry and use spell check. Yep, you read correctly. If you're safe, then you're sorry. In that case, I think it's probably better to throw caution, and this flyer, to the wind. OK, I'm going to stop because all of this "proofreading" is making my brain hurt.

Disclaimer: I know several teachers, a few of whom read this blog. You guys are doing a great job! I can't vouch for any of the others out there, but you guys are awesome............................

Nasty Smells

I work in a small office. Very small. So small that you hear every conversation and smell every smell eminating from a neighboring cube, the break room, bathroom... you catch my drift. There have been many days when a co-worker has heated up their lunch in the breakroom and then brought it out to their cube to eat it and I have wanted to vomit in my cup (but remember how the cleaning lady likes to take my cup and wash it? Sometimes when I feel like vomiting, it's not there). Anyhoo, there is one particular co-worker who likes to cook the same thing several times a week, and that smell is the most atrocious of all. I won't say who it is or what they're cooking because I don't know who it is or what it is. Seriously. I have yet to figure it out.

One day, I thought to myself "I'm glad that I never eat offensive smelling food at work."

I had an optometry appointment today during my lunch, so I didn't have time to go home to eat. Instead, I stopped at a very sinful eating establishment, a.k.a. Burgers Supreme, and got me a Gyro (pronounced "year-o"). I got back just in time for a meeting, so I left my Gyro on the desk and headed to the conference room. When I came back to my desk after the meeting, I could smell it. And it didn't smell all that good. I mean, it smelled good, but it smelled strongly of onions. Nobody likes to smell onions at work. I was really hungry by this point, so I unwrapped it and started snarfing it down. I could smell it, and I knew that everyone else could, and then I started to feel a little like Dwight Schrute in the episode of The Office where he says he isn't a time thief and Jim gets the stopwatch to prove him wrong. I am a "smell thief," and by that I mean that I stole the good, clean smelling air from my co-workers and replaced it with foul, gyro air.

Do I feel bad? Not really. Afterall, it was a dang good Gyro!

Following the leader

Please follow my blog so that I don't feel like such a blog dork. Please.

Oy vey!

I just bought 100 of these for an upcoming ward activity. I feel weird. I also feel like watching Yentil. "Papa, can you hear me?" Or maybe even Fiddler on the Roof.

Whatchoo Talkin 'Bout, Willis? These boots totally go with this outfit.

OK. I just had to post this. I couldn't copy the picture, so go to the link and check out the outfit. He's not helping his cause. I mean, really, if he wants people to stop patting him on the head and calling him "Arnold," he should stop dressing like a 5 year old playing cowboys and indians.

Daily Herald - Gary Coleman pleads not guilty

It's a wise husband who will buy his wife such fine china that she won't trust him to wash the dishes

Well, in my case that won't work because Rob is better at doing dishes and less clumsy than I am, but I thought the quote was funny.

When Rob and I got engaged and were registering for gifts, we were told to pick out a china pattern at Bed Bath and Beyond. We looked through a book and chose something, but neither of us were super excited about it and didn't think anyone would buy us the china. We were right. No one bought us any china. I felt stupid having it on the registry because it made us look like pretentious social climbers, so I took it off and we instead elected to register for a more modestly priced set of "fine dishware" at JC Penney. The cost of the entire set equaled the cost of one place setting at BBB. We decided that if, after our receptions, no one bought the "fine dishware" that we would buy the set for ourselves. We didn't get it at any of our receptions, so we went online and got it for ourselves. It arrived last week, and after opening up the box, we realized we had no room - absolutely no room - to store the fine dishware.

A few days later, Rob mentioned that he thought we should get a china hutch to put the china and some of our other plates and platters and such in. I thought that was a great idea, and that of course, we could get one at IKEA. The other night we got online and looked at their site and saw that they didn't really have any such thing. I guess they're not that fashionable anymore because we didn't see a lot on any of the sites we looked at, except for RC Willey, and RC Willey charges an arm, a leg, and your firstborn for them. I got so depressed because as soon as we would see one that we liked and in a price range we liked, we would see that it was only for one of the pieces of the buffet/hutch. I didn't even know they were separate. I went to bed that night feeling depressed that we would probably not get a china cabinet and that we would have to store our dishes under the dining room table in cardboard boxes.

The next day, I had a stroke of genius and thought about looking on Craig's List for a china cabinet. I looked through and saw some china cabinets but, again, they were way out of our price range and/or ugly as sin. I almost stopped looking but I thought I'd scroll through a few more pages when I came upon a listing that seemed pretty good. I clicked on the link and there was more information plus a picture. It looked good and it was definitely within our budget. We figured we didn't want to spend any more than $500. I emailed Rob the link and he said that we should look into it. When I saw the date the listing was made, I figured that it must already be gone, or if it wasn't, that it must be a piece of junk and no one wanted to buy it. I called the guy and, to my surprise, it was still available. The owner said there was a blemish on it from the last move, but that it could easily be repaired. We had to drive up to Midway, which is kind of far, but we thought that we'd take a chance and go check it out since the price was super awesome!

I was feeling a little apprehensive as we drove up to the house, but when the lady opened the garage and I saw it sitting there, I knew we were going to get it. It looked great. I started looking for the "blemish," expecting a chunk of wood to be missing or broken glass, but I didn't see anything. The lady pointed out what she thought the blemish was, and it was just some varnish that had been rubbed off. It could easily be fixed, but it was so small that no one would notice unless it was pointed out. We opened the drawers and the cabinets and everything looked great. It is definitely not something that you'd find in a store today, but it is built well, in good shape, and the price was right. We shook hands on the deal and packed our china hutch up in the truck and smiled all the way back to Provo.

Wanna see what it looks like?

Wanna know how much we threw down for it?

$75.00



Awesome!

Crazy Eights!

I got tagged one more time...

Eight TV Shows I Love to Watch (in no particular order)
1. Dawg the Bounty Hunter
2. Gilmore Girls
3. SYTYCD
4. The Office
5. Barefoot Contessa
6. Lost
7. CSI
8. Anything on the E! Channel

Eight Things That Happened Yesterday
1. Went to the doctor and got some antibiotics for my sinus infection
2. Went to work
3. Ran out of Kleenex
4. Did the dishes
5. Drove up the canyon with Rob to look at the leaves
6. Helped Rob bring his old bed over to the Deckers
7. Visited with the Deckers
8. Went to bed early ;)

Eight Favorite Places to Eat (in no particular order)
1. Red Robin
2. Gloria's Little Italy
3. Magleby's Fresh
4. Zupa's
5. Mimi's Cafe
6. Bombay House
7. Thai Village
8. Kneader's

Eight Things I'm Looking Forward To
1. Going to Disneyland at Thanksgiving
2. Getting my hair cut
3. Getting my brows waxed
4. My husband coming home from work and school late tonight
5. Getting laundry done
6. Getting all of the presents put away and the house cleaned
7. Robyn and Jane coming back from St. George
8. Heidi, Allison, and Krystal getting married (I've put all of you on my prayer roll for people I want to have awesome things happen to)

Eight Things on My Wish List
1. A new couch
2. A dishwasher
3. More cabinet and counter space
4. A full 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep
5. A temple sealing for my parents
6. A good hair day
7. Harsher punishment for parole violators
8. World peace

People I tag
1. Karen
2. Becca
3. Stormy
4. Krystal

Thank Goodness!

I've woke up this morning feeling very grateful for the many blessings that Heavenly Father has bestowed upon me. I've been sick for over a week now, and have been feeling a little grouchy because of it, but something must have happened to me in the middle of the night that made me remember all of the many reasons that I shouldn't be grouchy. In no particular order, these are the things I felt thankful for today:

1) My wonderful, loving husband. One of the first things about Robert that I was attracted to was his kindness and genuineness (is that a word?). Since we met, I have been the recipient of his genuine kindness and love and have seen him express that to others, as well. He selflessly helps and serves his family and friends and since I have been sick he has selflessly served and taken care of me. It is hard for me to let others help, especially when I feel like crud and would like to crawl into a hole and not come out until I am well, but he is so sweet and loving that it was hard to refuse his help. I love him so much!

2) Fall weather. I can't help but think of the magnificence and power of God when I see the leaves change colors and feel the cold snap in the air. It's like it is His reward to us for making it through another nasty, hot summer.

3) Good friends. Being able to spend time with friends, new and old, and share the day's happenings, advice, funny stories, hard times, etc. Thanks for the laughs.

4) Latter-day prophets. One of my friends wanted to make foam fingers to sell outside of the Conference Center during General Conference that say "Latter-day Prophets are #1." Probably not a good idea, but Latter-day prophets are still #1. I am so thankful that we have prophets on the earth today to lead and guide us and convey to us the will of the Lord. Hard times are upon us, but we will be safe if we follow the prophet.

5) Modern medicine. Nancy Reagan says "Just Say No!", and so do I for the most part, but when it comes to anti-inflammatories and antibiotics, I "Just Say Yes!" My husband has been trying to get me to rub and inhale all sorts of homeopathic remedies, which are OK, but I'll take the hard stuff any day. Also, if anyone tells you that sticking a candle in your ear and lighting it will make you better, DON'T DO IT!

6) Funny pets. I get a lot of amusement from our cat, Kaydee. She's weird. I still don't like that she sheds and jumps up onto the bathroom sink, but she makes me laugh and I'm thankful for that.

7) Having relatively good health. Other than my recent illness, I am healthy and strong.

8) Having a home to live in, food to eat, climate control in both the house and vehicle, a job, insurance, Diet Coke, etc. In other words, not living in poverty. My friend, Krystal, and I were talking about some of the things we saw when we went to Mexico and felt so blessed that we have the things we have.

9) The blessings of the temple. I am so thankful that Robert and I have been sealed for time and all eternity. In General Conference yesterday, Elder Nelson gave a talk about families and said that salvation is an individual responsibility, but that exaltation takes a family.

I'm a bigot!

And you know what? I'm proud of it. If standing up for what is right is being bigoted, then I am all for it.

I was reading something that a "friend" posted on his Facebook page, when it occurred to me that I was the subject of his writings. In his post, he said that he had an old friend who was getting married and he was looking forward to going to her reception until he noticed on her Facebook profile that she supports Prop. 8. In his words, "how can I recognize and celebrate the marriage of someone who refuses to recognize my marriage?" And that's when he called me a bigot. At first I was shocked that such a word would come from his mouth, and that I would be the one he would call that. Then I felt that maybe I should call him and apologize for offending him. And then I felt at complete and total peace with being called a bigot. I believe that marriage between a man and a woman is the only marriage that is recognized by God and should be recognized by mankind. I will stand up for that and I will do everything within my power to support legislation stating such. And I am not ashamed of that stance.

I will be the first to admit that I do not understand why some people feel attraction towards the same sex. I do not love my friend any less because of the lifestyle he has chosen to live, and I do believe he has chosen it. I feel compassion for him, but not in an 'I feel so sorry for you' sort of way. I feel that he is a son of God and that Heavenly Father loves him very much. I respect his agency in making his choices, but I do not support his choice.

Since getting married, I have come to have a stronger testimony of "The Family: A Proclamation to the World", which states:

"The first commandment that God gave to Adam and Eve pertained to their potential for parenthood as husband and wife. We declare that God’s commandment for His children to multiply and replenish the earth remains in force. We further declare that God has commanded that the sacred powers of procreation are to be employed only between man and woman, lawfully wedded as husband and wife.

"We declare the means by which mortal life is created to be divinely appointed. We affirm the sanctity of life and of its importance in God’s eternal plan."

I know that the powers of procreation are sacred and am very mindful of the gravity of the commandment that those powers are only to be employed between husband and wife. I feel grateful for that knowledge.

Growing up in LA, you'd think that I would have been persecuted for my beliefs before. I was not. Most of my friends respected my beliefs and many looked to me as an example. How strange is it that the first religous persecution I have received happened in a state where the majority of the people hold the same beliefs as I do? Wow!

An old bishop of mine frequently talked about how there can be no fence-sitting when it comes to living the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The right choice isn't always the popular one, but it's still the right choice. I mourn the loss of a friend, but rejoice in living the Gospel and following the Living Prophet.

So yes, I support Prop. 8. If I didn't, I'd be a coward and a hypocrite. And I'd rather be called a bigot any day over a coward or a hypocrite.

Being Creative

I didn't go to the General Relief Society meeting on Saturday because a) I just got off the plane from my honeymoon and b) I didn't want to be away from my honey just yet. Thanks to my sister-in-law Karen for telling me to listen to Pres. Uchtdorf's talk as soon as I could.

I like Pres. Uchtdorf. A lot. I believe he is possibly the best-looking member of any First Presidency... EVER! I guess I shouldn't say that I have a favorite apostle or prophet, because they're all called of God and speak on His behalf, but there are some whose words resonate within me more than others. Pres. Uchtdorf is one whose words touch me to the very core.

So let me go back to why I am thanking Karen for telling me to listen to his talk as soon as I could. Karen is a scrapbooker. I am not a scrapbooker. Karen has tried on numerous occassions to get me to come to an all-day scrapping shindig, and on numerous occassions I have declined. My lack of scrapping stemmed from an occassion at Pebbles in my Pocket with Robyn and Heather, where the nice lady who worked there told me that they had plenty of extra materials if I wanted to start my page over again. And I thought I had done a good job. Ever since that day, I've thought that I lacked the creativity to produce anything nice to look at.

Enter Pres. Uchtdorf. The gist of his talk was that being creative was creating something that didn't exist before. If you count creating a mess, then I must be the most creative person ever. He talked about how sisters in the church need to stop worrying about what we aren't or what we lack, and start counting our blessings and rejoicing in who we are and what we have. I have often felt terribly inadequate during my lifetime, and I know that it has been because I have been so terribly blessed that Satan has worked doubly hard on me to make me think that I am not. I don't know if that made any sense, but I am now learning to rejoice in who I am and how to use the tools and gifts that I have been given in this life for the benefit and blessing of others and myself.

I remember thinking when I was single that life would automatically get better once I got married. In a sense, that has been the case. Life is different - wonderfully different - but I am still the same person and I am just as blessed as before. The only thing that is different is that now I have someone to share these blessings with. As mortals, we're always thinking about the next phase and wondering what it will be like. When I was single, I thought that married life is where life really began. Now that I'm married, I'm already thinking that having children will be better. We never seem to be content with our current ciscumstances. I think this is good and bad at the same time. Good because it propels us to progress and move forward in life. Bad because if we aren't moving forward at the pace we would like or the pace that others have set for us, we become discouraged.

Pres. Uchtdorf talked about finding happiness in the things of God. He said that one of the ways we find this happiness is through creating things. The most obvious method of creation is to bring children into this world, but beyond that, using our talents and abilities to create smiles, beautify spaces, teach a child, garden, etc. He admonished us to trust in the Spirit as we go about our daily lives, creating. When we bless the lives of others, we are being creative.

I may not be able to scrapbook or even draw a decent stick figure, but I can lift the hands that hang, I can serve, and I can love.

You've heard of a Velvet Elvis, and maybe even a Velvet Neil Diamond...

But have you heard of a Velvet Joseph Smith? The story I am about to tell is one of the best parts of our honeymoon... in my opinion.

We took a cruise down to San Diego, Catalina Island, and Ensenada, Mexico. San Diego and Catalina were pretty uneventful. We ate some tortillas in Old Town, walked along the harbor in Catalina, and pretty much did normal things. Ensenada was the last stop on the cruise, and one I was especially looking forward to because I wanted to buy some cheap Mexican crap. Once we got into port, there were a few options. We could just stay in the downtown area and explore for ourselves, we could take a guided tour through Ensenada and watch a Folklorico show, or we could take a bus outside of the city to see La Bufadora. We'd heard from friends who'd been there that it wasn't worth it, but when the guy on the bus said "the shopping is better and cheaper" bells went off in my head and I started dreaming about the cheap Mexican crap I was going to buy. I was sold.

We got on the bus and our tour guide, Lili, started off by speaking to us in the espanol. I was all excited because I could understand her, but the other peeps on the bus couldn't so she switched to English. We drove through the city and out to the country to where the blow hole (la bufadora) was. Ensenada isn't very pretty. For the most part, it looked like a mix of the Mojave Desert, East LA, and the beach. There was also this smoggy/foggy mess in the air and it was so humid that I felt like I had wet my pants the entire time we were there. There just seemed to be a lot of dirt floating around in the air. We got to the La Bufadora after about a 30 minute drive through the city past a Home Depot, a Walmart, a Costco, a Mc Donalds, and an Applebee's. No kidding. Above the entrances to Walmart was written "Siempre." I'm glad that "always" translated so well. One thing I'm wondering - do they call it "el Walmart," "la Walmart," or just "Walmart?" I should have asked.

Once we got to La bufadora, our tourguide walked us down through the open market and gave us some pointers for bargaining and ways to make sure we don't get sold fake silver. She also gave us some stickers that would allow us to pee for free in one of the restaurants. I'm so glad that I live in America, where at least I pee for free. Anyway, we ended up down by the actual blow hole, which Lili called a geyser, which is neither a blow hole nor a geyser, and we were told to meet back at the bus in about an hour. There was some guy dressed up in some native attire, beating a drum and dancing and he almost attacked Rob when he tried to take his picture without paying. Obviously, this guy has never heard of zoom lenses and didn't think that people would just walk 15 feet away and get his picture. I'm not sure if Rob got one or not.

Down at La Bufadora, we waited for this amazing natural phenomenon to knock our socks off. It was lame. There's a crevice on the cliffs, and when the waves rush in to the small space, it pushes water up at a very high rate of pressure and sprays all over the place. Our tour guide said that when it happens you will get very wet if you don't run away. Hardly. And it smelled like pee. I'm assuming that because you have to pay to use the bathroom everywhere else that tourists and locals alike use the la bufadora as the el bano. After getting some pictures, we walked back up the street to the open air market. We both had to usar el bano at this point, so we went into the restaurant where we had complimentary peeing priveleges. At least it was clean.

We did the whole bargaining thing, which is just crazy, and got some cool stuff. I didn't get the awesome turquoise necklace that i wanted, but that's a whole 'nother story and I don't have the energy to tell it. It makes me frown. Rob really wanted to get a hammock, so we checked several different places. The last one we went into was where Rob decided to get it. The thing with the shop owners there is that they just don't know how to let you alone. They follow you around there store and try to sell you everthing. This one guy was particularly aggressive. I was staying out of range because I just wasn't in the mood to deal with this guy, but I was close enough that I could hear everything he said to Rob. He was grabbing a hammock down from the ceiling, when he lost his balance and kicked over a ceramic donkey statue that was on the ground. "Ay dios mio, my donkey!" The donkey's hind legs broke off. He was really upset about it. And then, when Rob was closing the deal with him, this conversation took place:

Mexican guy: Are you a Mormon?
Rob: Yeah
Mexican guy: You know how I can tell? I see it in your eyes.
Rob: Um, OK.
Mexican guy: You see those pictures up there? (points to a row of velvet paintings on the wall) I have one of Joseph Smith in the back. You want one?
Rob: No thanks.

I'm standing about 1o feet away and dying inside because I want to see this velvet Joseph Smith so badly. But I didn't want to get something else started, so we just left.

Oh, how I wish we had seen the velvet Joseph Smith. I may have bought it... especially if he had one of Brigham Young, too. Maybe I can find one on eBay.

On the way back to the bus, a guy gave me a free sample of a churro and it was delicioso. I wanted to get one, but I didn't feel like $3.00 was a reasonable price for a churro... especially since the most expensive place on the planet, Disneyland, sells them for $3.50. I'm willing to wait a few months and spend $.50 more for peace of mind and solid bowels.

We also got assailed by people trying to sell us prescription drugs. There was a "farmacia" about every 25 feet throughout the open market, and they run out to you in the street and hand you a flyer listing all of the drugs they offer. Viagra was always in the biggest print and listed at the top. Rob no necesita viagra, so we kept on walking. I did stop into one of the pharmacies in downtown Ensenada because I saw that they had large quantities of heartburn medicine for super cheap. Rob wouldn't let me buy it because he thought it might be made from laundry detergent. Que lastima!

So, in the end, we walked away with some cheap mexican crap, dirt on our faces, and I'm pretty sure a virus of some sort. Best vacation ever!

Ghetto Superstar

It's official. I live in the ghetto. There were 2 domestic violence disputes in 1 day. I wasn't around to witness the first one, although I wish I had been because the couple was arguing about shampoo and conditioner and then the police showed up. I was there for the second one, but it wasn't very exciting because this couple was arguing in Espanol and I couldn't understand them. And the police didn't show up. I guess that's just how they roll on the West Side. Peace, I gotta bounce.

It's another hungry mouth to feed in the ghetto...

Thank you Elvis.

I was reading my friend Mal's blog today and she blogged about the lack of common sense and hygiene displayed by the members of her ward. I think my ward members are pretty hygenic. I've never smelled anything funny there, or seen puke in the hallway, so hygiene, or lack thereof in my ward, isn't the subject of which I want to write. I do, however, want to write about the lack of common sense and hygiene of my next door neighbors. They don't go to our ward, so I can talk about them.

Before I moved into Robert's condo, I never really noticed anything sitting outside our neighbors door except for their children's swim trunks drying on the rail. Not my style, but whatev. But after I moved in, I started noticing plastic grocery bags with something in them piling up on the front porch. And then one day, I saw dirty diapers, sans the bag, piled up on the porch. I asked Robert about it and he said that he has seen the door open a crack and a diaper being thrown out and then the door closing. Sometimes they leave these diapers sitting there for days. But the peak of laziness hadn't been reached until this morning when I saw a pile of diapers, with one of them opened and its contents spilling out onto the porch. It made me want to vomitar right there on the porch. I just put my head down and ran past it. When I came home for lunch, the pile o' diapers was gone, but the memory still lingered.

Willowbrook Condos are small, but not so small that a diaper sitting in the garbage for a night or so will create fumes toxic enough to kill the entire family. I Just don't understand why this family can't get themselves a Diaper Genie and empty it every so often. Or, why they can't walk the 25 feet to the dumpster to toss it. To me, throwing dirty diapers out on the porch is the epitome of white trash... or so I thought.

Last week, I was walking up to the condo from the mailbox and I was stopped by a woman sitting on the grassy knoll outside our living room window. She asked me what my name was, but not in a nice, friendly way. It was more like "Who are you?" I told her my name and she said that her name was Jennifer, too. I noticed she had a child in her lap, but I usually look people in the face while I'm talking to them, so I didn't notice that the 3 year old child in her lap was nursing. She had her entire breast exposed to the world, while she was feeding a 3 year old! On the grassy knoll outside my living room window! Not OK. Now, I don't want people to think that I'm opposed to breastfeeding, because I'm not, but I think that the girls should be covered at all times. And I also think there is a statute of limitations on the age of children to be breastfed. Gums, OK. Teeth, not OK. So, although I was shocked and appalled, I tried to keep my game face on and be a good, friendly neighbor, continuing the conversation. Somewhere between her asking me what my name was and which condo I lived in, the three year old decided that he had gotten his fill, got up, and ran over to play with some other kids. Did she tuck everything back in? Nope. Just let it all hang out. And then she began to put me through the 3rd degree about how she doesn't know my fiance personally, but she knows a girl he dated, and that she was so surprised to hear that he was getting married, and how she actually knew my name was Jennifer and where I lived because she was visiting someone else in the neighborhood that had our wedding announcement on their fridge. If I wasn't officially creeped out by the breastfeeding, the admission of stalking closed the deal.

I never really thought of Willowbrook as the ghetto. There doesn't seem to be any violent crime, except for that one shooting a couple of years ago in Building 1 that happened during the day when no one was around. I haven't heard of any break-ins. I don't see bars on windows or gang bangers flashing signs, but I think I live in the ghetto. The HOA has rules that won't allow people to put a satellite dish on the roof, but there are no rules governing dirty diapers thrown onto the porch or public nudity. What gives?

I've decided that I'm going to appoint myself as the official Willowbrook "Ghetto Blaster," fighting tastelessness and promoting common decency. First order of business: buy a Diaper Genie and a Hooter Hider.