The Pack is Back!

One week from tomorrow, Rob and I will be kickin' it at the Magic Kingdom. I'm a little bummed that Space Mountain and Haunted Mansion will be closed for "Holiday Install," whatever that means, but I'm still really excited to spend 3 days at The Happiest Place on Earth with my honey for our anniversary.

While I was running my shopping errands today, I remembered that there were a few things I wanted to get that I thought would help me be a little happier and more comfy during my time in the park. You see, once my feet start hurting it's all over. And my feet usually start hurting, so Rob and I talked about getting some better shoes. I was seriously thinking about getting some Dr. Scholl's. Seriously. However, I tried them on and there was some uncomfortable heel rubbing. I won't be getting the Scholl's. And then I was thinking about which purse I would bring. It would need to be one I could sling across my body, and big enough to hold anything I might need during my time in the park. I have one that will suffice, but honestly, purses just get in the way. And that's when I thought about a Fanny Pack. Not that I'm ever going to get one because I'm not old enough to rock the pack with dignity, and not young enough to be ironic. I would just be a weirdo 30-something wearing a Fanny Pack at Disneyland. That is neither dignified nor ironic.

At what age is The Pack acceptable? My Grams rocked The Pack for a good 20 years and she especially looked good when she wore it to Costco with her puffy painted sweatshirts that said "#1 Grandma." And I'm not trying to be funny. That's just who my grandma was. If she didn't have either a Fanny Pack or something with puffy paints, it just wasn't her. If it weren't terribly disrespectful, I would have buried her with her fanny pack. Just sayin'.

I guess it's settled that I'll never be able to use a Fanny Pack. And I'm OK with that.

Gross Stuff That People Admit to Doing

I was watching Kathy Lee and Hoda on the Today Show yesterday and they were talking about a poll done by Glamour Magazine about gross things that people admit to doing. One of the things was re-wearing dirty underwear. I don't remember the exact figure, but it was something like 37% of people polled admitted to wearing their underwear twice. OK, that is gross. My momma raised me to change my underwear every single day. Some of the other things aren't so gross, but Kathy Lee and Hoda seemed to be having a coronary over some of them.

1) Some people admitted that they don't shower every single day. Kathy Lee looked like she was about to lose her lunch, and I was thinking to myself, that's not gross. I know a lot of people who don't shower every single day and I don't think they smell or have bad hygiene. I've been known to skip my shower if I'm in a hurry and I don't smell.

2) Wearing clothing 2-3 times before washing. Again, Kathy Lee was mortified. I probably shouldn't tell Kathy Lee that I wear my jeans at least 2-3 times before washing. Unless they get really dirty, I just don't think jeans need to be washed every single time. I also wear things like sweaters more than once.

3) 70% of women said that they wear their bras for more than a week before washing. Hoda said she only owns 3-4 bras, so she could understand that one. Kathy Lee moved her chair over a few inches.

So, I've set up a few polls to the side to see what my readers do and think. I've done it as a poll so you can remain anonymous, but feel free to leave comments.

What is it with me and weirdos?

I must have a magnet that attracts strange people, because let me tell you, I run into a lot of them.

A few weeks ago, I started feeling this excruciating pain in my left side. Honestly, I thought my liver was busted. It was that bad. I drove to the InstaCare only to be told that our insurance wasn't accepted there, so I could either go next door to the emergency room or drive across town to a different urgent care. Always conscious of how much things cost, I opted for the urgent care on the other side of town even though I was in a lot of pain. On my way to the urgent care, I called my regular doctor and they said if I could get there in 20 minutes that the doctor could see me. I drove to his office, but by the time I got there, the pain was gone. It figures. Anyway, the doctor was pressing on my side and decided that my pain was being caused by a rib that was out of place. Probably from when I tripped and fell a few weeks before that. He suggested going to a chiropractor to get things aligned again.

I called Rob and he said that he had some pre-paid visits with a chiropractor that he goes to, so I decided to go there. Everything was normal with this chiropractor visit until he told me to turn around and he placed both hands on the back of my head and started rubbing/shimmying them down the back of my head and neck. He did this several times and then told me that my body had told him that my hip needed to be aligned, as well as my ribs and my back. When he said that my body had told him what was wrong, I said "how did my body tell you that?" So he starts explaining to me that his mind is asking my body a series of yes and no questions and depending on the answer, his left hand will drop because my left leg will drop if the answer is yes. Does anyone else think that's weird, or is it just me? I feel violated that his mind asked my body questions.

Some letters look alike

I was making sugar cookies last night and I accidentally put 4 TABLESPOONS of vanilla in the batter instead if 4 TEASPOONS. I thought it would be tragic, but it turned out OK. I guess I need to re-write my recipes to make the little ts and the big Ts look more distinct from each other.

The Fungus Among Us

Rob and I have a way exciting life. After a rousing evening of DVRd America's Got Talent, we caught an episode of Modern Marvels all about mold and fungus. It's everywhere. We have it in our toilet and shower even though I clean them regularly. And what do I use to clean the mold? Bleach. Modern Marvels says that bleach doesn't kill mold, it just cleans the surface. The only real way to get rid of mold is to take away the moisture that it feeds off of. I don't really see how that's possible in a shower or toilet. So, thank you Modern Marvels for not giving me any solutions. I'm going to stick to my bleach.

P.S. That's not my shower.

The Stinking Rose

There is a restaurant in LA called The Stinking Rose and I remember looking at that sign and thinking that I would never eat at a restaurant that had the word "stinking" in it. And then I found out that "stinking rose" was just another term for garlic. I'm down with garlic, so maybe I'll eat there one day.

So yesterday I was frying up some bacon for a salad to bring to the ward activity and as I poured the grease into the "fat can" the most horrific smell started coming from that general area. I was guessing that the fat was rancid and made a mental note to chuck it outside once it cooled down. And then my nose got clogged up and I forgot to take it out until later that night. And let me tell you, it was really stinky. I can't believe that I didn't smell it even through my stuffy nose. I took that can out and was thinking that finally that smelly smell was gone. But then I opened the refrigerator this morning and was thrown to the ground by the strongest onion smell I've ever encountered. Not only were my eyes watering, but I started sweating at just that smell.

I took that onion and tossed it into a Ziploc bag and threw it in the garbage because I wasn't exactly dressed enough to take it outside. Once I had that smell contained, I was still smelling something else that was nasty in the oven/fridge vacinity. Turns out that it was a Stinking Rose in the garlic keeper. Let me tell you... if you think garlic stinks in general, put it in a garlic keeper for a few months and let it be and you'll smell a smell like you've never smelled before.

The crazy thing is that it's not the first time I've forgotten about the garlic. When will I ever learn?

Child-Proofing

This little bug taught me that a wooden spoon through the cupoards isn't an effective means of child-proofing my house. I have a lot of work to do before we have kids... or before she comes to visit me again.

Seen on the Street

Something tells me this guy doesn't care for Obama's healthcare plans, either. What do you think? Please don't turn me in.

Where's My Camera?

The other day I was telling my friends Heidi and Robyn that I had nothing to blog about lately because I've seen some interesting things but I never have my camera with me, so why blog about it if there's no picture. Then I started telling Heidi about something I saw in our neighborhood and she said that the story could stand on it's own without a picture.

I was driving down the street and in the distance I could see a person holding a giant Mountain Dew in the air. I was intrigued. I mean, wouldn't you be intrigued? As I got closer, I could tell that the person was stopped dead in their tracks, Mountain Dew in the air, the other hand raised in the air with the fingers in the "horns/rock on" sign, totally rockin' out to whatever he/she was listening to. I then got closer and saw that it was a woman roughly my mom's age (in her mid-fifties). She also had a buzz cut and was wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Classic. You can't make that stuff up. And then I saw her again later that day, still with Mountain Dew, minus the rocking out.

My first thought was that she was drunk, but maybe she just doesn't care what people think. Although I still think Mountain Dew has mind-altering ingredients, I really think it was the latter. She just doesn't care what anyone thinks about her. I used to spend a lot of time worrying about what other people thought about me until one day in the late 90s my dad said to me, "it's really conceited of you to think that other people use up that much of their time and energy thinking about you." That really got to me because it was a little harsh, but, let's face it, totally true.

When I drove by the Mountain Dew lady who was rocking out on the roadside, the only thought I had was that she made my day with her individualism. And that was it. So, thanks, Mountain Dew lady, and thanks Dad, for reminding me not to care so much about what other people think.

Adjustment Period

I don't have anything interesting to blog about these days. Just not too much going on. I'm trying to learn how to adjust from working 8 hours 5 days a week, to not working at all. Honestly, that's the hardest part about having been laid off. I don't worry about money and whether or not we'll be able to pay our bills, but I worry about what on earth I'm going to do that day that doesn't involve shopping. So far, I've done some catching up on housework and teaching myself how to can fruits and vegetables, but other than that I'm running out of stuff to do. My parents are coming to visit this week, so I'll have something to do for a week, but what after that?

Although I've been bored beyond belief, losing my job has actually been a blessing in disguise. It has motivated me to go back to school - something I've been wanting to do for 10 years, but haven't been able to because I needed to work. I missed the deadline to go to BYU during the Fall semester, but I'll be there in January. I'm looking forward to that, but need something to do in the mean time. Part time job? Working at the temple? Selling stuff on Craig's List? I just don't know, but I do know that this is the first time in a long time that I've had options... and I like that.

Say Hello to My Little Friend

My nephew, Tyler, thinks he's Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier. I wonder if he knows it's only a pellet gun? I also wonder if he knows what the hoodie does for his bear huntin', squirrel shootin' image?

How to ID Covert Cop Cars

I like to keep the peeps informed. Here's a sweet article on how to spot covert cop cars on the highway. Enjoy!

For Cheryl

Cheryl said she wanted to know what my thoughts on Michael Jackson are. Well, first of all, I think it's sad that he died at such a young age. Having said that, I'll unleash the dogs.

Do I think MJ is a great performer? Absolutely. Do I start singing and dancing when I hear his music? Sha-mon! Did I try to learn the Thriller Dance? Atcha-ooh! But that's about as far as my admiration of Michael Jackson extends. I don't know what influences made him the way he is, but if what I've been hearin' all these years is true, he's a little on the sketchy side. There's usually some truth to every rumor.

I simply don't think he deserves the demigod status that has been bestowed upon him. And other than Lionel Richie's performance at his funeral, I couldn't stomach half of what was said. It's sad that the little children that he calls his own lost a father figure, but let's be honest, where and who are their real parents?

And I think it's deplorable that the City of Los Angeles is expected to foot the multi-million dollar bill for security at his funeral. California can't pay for their obligations as it is, expecting people like my mom to work 1 un-paid day every week so that it can lower its debt. Horrific!

So there you go, Cheryl. That's what I think of Michael Jackson.

Do you remember the time when...

I don't really have anything to blog about right now that's not controversial and wouldn't get me some nasty comments from readers, so I thought I'd blog about an experience I had about 8 1/2 years ago on a dark and stormy night. I was thinking about it today after I saw this really old dude haulin' you-know-what down University Ave.

Once upon a time I was a nanny for a family that lived in Pleasant Grove. I was going to school at BYU at the time, and even though school was out for Christmas break, I was still stuck in town because I needed to work until Dec. 23rd. At approximately 11:30 pm on Dec. 22nd, I was driving back to my house after an evening of Christmas shopping at the Wal-Mart. There were literally 3 cars on the road at the time and, to be honest, stopping at the lights seemed pretty pointless. But being the law abiding citizen I am, I dutifully stopped at every light. I was sitting at an intersection all by myself when a big Ford sedan pulled up next to me and revved its engine. I looked to my right and next to me was President Bateman, the current president of BYU at the time. He revved the engine again, looked both ways, and then went straight through the red light. Was I just challenged to a drag race through the empty streets of Provo by the president of BYU? I think I was. Did I rise to the challenge? Sorry, but no. I was so shocked that all I could do was sit there with my jaw hanging in disbelief. Now I wish I had accepted because I do love me a good drag race.

We Were Robbed!

So, here's another snippet of my neighborhood. I went to our storage unit last week to get some 4th of July decorations, and I saw that most of the units had been broken into. One of ours (that we let a neighbor use) was broken into and then about 6 more in that unit. It looked like someone took a crowbar to the doors and just popped the handles right off. Luckily for us, they didn't get into the one our stuff was in. Not that there would be anything of interest to them in there (except maybe awesome seasonal decorations from Krumpets). It looked like the burglars tried to bust a hole in our door with a crow bar and just gave up. And I'm glad, because, honestly, I don't think I could deal with that right now. I called the HOA manager and let him know and his response was this: "well, I guess I'll have to go down there tomorrow and check it out and then let the people who own the ones broken into about it sometime next week." Um... is it just me or should he be looking into this situation STAT? Robert called the neighbors who are using our extra unit to let them know and they said that as far as they could tell, nothing was stolen, but what about the rest of the people?

And here's another sad story. The Walgreens down the street was robbed last night by some crazy addict looking for Oxycontin. I sure hope my favorite pharmacist wasn't harmed in the robbery. There was a gun pulled! Although, I take comfort in the fact that if Pharmacist Spandy were there that he would have talked the guy out of it ;)

And another even sadder story. I was sitting at the interestion where the Walgreens is and I looked next to me at a guy sitting under a tree in front of the 7 Eleven, and he was smoking a doobie! Right there in front of the Sev! And how do I know he was smoking a joint? I learned what marijuana smelled like as part of my first-class education at Westchester High School. Even though it is a top 1500 school, it had its fair share of potheads. Anyway... I thought about calling the police, but I knew they wouldn't get there in time to catch him in the act. Seriously, what is the neighborhood coming to?

Sometimes Life is Hard

I had hoped to be making a very big announcement on my blog in the next few weeks. Very big. You see, Robert and I decided that we should start a family and I got pregnant like right that second. It was news to me, because I actually thought it would take months. Robert and I were both ecstatic - it would be a birthday baby for me! I wanted to tell everyone the minute we found out, but my mother-in-law reminded me to keep things quiet for a bit because "things can happen."

Well, things did happen. I had morning sickness for about 3 days in week 5 and then it stopped completely. In my gut, I knew something was wrong. I started getting cramps in the lower-right side of my pelvis, but everyone said that cramps in early pregnancy could be completely normal. I called my midwife and she thought it would be a good idea to do an early ultra sound at 7 weeks. The week I had to wait until then was terrible. The pain was getting worse and I was really starting to worry.

The ultra sound showed nothing. My uterus was completely empty. And the worst part was that Robert and I could see all of this on a 40 in. LCD TV right in front of us. The tech wanted to give the benefit of the doubt, so she ordered me to go take another pregnancy test. It was positive, so she tried the ultra sound again. There was still nothing. And then the ultra sound tech said that I had an ectopic pregnancy and that the midwife would come talk to me soon. I was crushed. The news from the midwife was grim. All I heard was "no viability," "terminate the pregnancy." I was told that I'd be given a medication that would , for all intents and purposes, "take care of the ectopic pregnancy."

Robert and I left the office feeling devastated. We had barely found out I was pregnant and now we were hearing that it was over. It was a lot to handle, but I truly felt comforted by the Holy Ghost that God loved me and Robert and that everything would be OK.

Before we left the midwife's office, they drew blood to see where my HCG levels were at. I received a call the next day and the nurse told me that the level was quite high for an ectopic pregnancy and that now the possibility of an ectopic pregnancy could possibly be ruled out. We were given a glimmer of hope that things might still be OK and that I just wasn't as far along as I originally thought. I needed to have my blood drawn a few more times to see if the HCG levels grew or dropped. My second test revealed that the level had gone up by 400, but in a normal pregnancy the level should double every 48-72 hours. This was not the case. The next 3 tests revealed that the levels were dropping, but my midwife wanted to do just one more ultra sound just to make sure there was no pregnancy in my uterus before I was given the medication.

During the week I had to wait, I prayed so hard that the pregnancy would be viable and that everything would be OK. The next ultra sound still showed nothing in my uterus. At this point, all chances of viability were ruled out. I didn't have a problem with taking care of the ectopic pregnancy because I knew that my health was in jeopardy, but I had a problem with the terms used while talking about taking care of it. "Terminate the pregnancy, "induce a miscarriage." It just sounded so awful.

And my midwife didn't make matters any better. I won't name names, but I will never go to her again. I've never seen anyone try to fake sympathy as hard as she did. I also felt like the office staff didn't give a lick about what was happening to me. Out of everything, that was the hardest part. My options were never explained to me, and I was just told by the nurse to go to the hospital the next day. I asked to speak to the midwife and was told I may have to wait a while because she had 3 patients she needed to see before lunch. I told the nurse I would wait, and then when I finally did get to talk to the midwife she told me that I needed to make a decision right now as to what I was going to do. I asked her about another option I had heard of, and she told me that I didn't know what I was talking about and that if I wanted that option I would most certainly have to pay for it out of my own pocket because it wasn't within the standard of care. And then she threw out her credentials about having practiced for 10 years and where was I getting my information. I may not have a medical degree, but I have a degree in Google and it has been my best friend throughout this whole situation. I've also had my body for 32 years and I think I might have some clue as to what will be best for it. I told her that I wasn't ready to make a decision yet and that I would get back to her.

I had already made the decision that taking the drug as opposed to surgery was the best option, but I didn't like her attitude with me the whole time. And I didn't like it even more when the hospital called to check me in for the procedure. I told her I wasn't ready to make a decision yet and she scheduled everything at the hospital anyway. Needless to say, I'm looking for an obstetrician. A high risk obstetrician, if anybody knows of one in Utah County.

I went to the hospital on Wednesday for the injection of Methotrexate and was really pleased with the sensitivity of the nurse working with me. He even gave me a Diet Coke and let me watch Dr. Phil while I had to be there. Although I was injected with chemo, it didn't hurt and for the most part, I've felt OK. Really tired and really nauseated, but OK. I guess I thought I would feel differently.

Through the past few weeks, I have felt the love of the Lord buoy me up. I have had my moments where I've felt incredibly lonely and sad, but Heavenly Father has always sent someone to me during those times. And through prayer and priesthood blessings from Robert, I have been assured that we will have another chance at having children. We never know why we have to go through trials, but perhaps I needed to go through this to be reminded that I am not in charge. We have a Heavenly Father who loves us and knows what is best for us. I don't need to know why, I just need to know that everything will be OK.

I Like Turtles, Part Dos

A few weeks ago, I was washing my face before bed, and had the black raccoon eyes from mascara and white skin because of what I was washing my face with. I turned to Rob and said, "I like turtles," thinking it was the funniest, most clever thing I've ever said in my whole life. He just stared at me. He didn't think it was funny. If you don't know about "I like turtles," you can see it here.

Go Comets!

I just saw online that Newsweek has just published its list of the top 1500 High Schools in the U.S. and the high school I went to is in that list. Those 1500 schools make up the top 6% of high schools in the U.S. Way to go, Westchester! I must say that I am proud to have been a student there and have always felt that the education I received was top-notch. And now Newsweek gives some credence to my feelings. All things considered, a lot goes into the quality of education that children receive - parent involvement, quality of teachers and curriculum, school safety, extra-curricular activities, etc. I would have to say that Westchester High has always been great in all of those categories. Perhaps I am such a proponent of public education because I had such a great experience, but that could be a whole other blog post!

TMI Pharmacist and Other Friday Updates

I have had severe bloggers block lately. Hopefully it'll pass. Until then, I wanted to give you an update on the TMI Pharmacist at the Walgreens.

Last week, someone I know was severely constipated (it wasn't me) and needed a little help to ease the discomfort. The doctor prescribed something wicked, with the caveat that it should be remembered while in the throes of diarrhea that he is our "friend." I went to the Walgreens looking for this stuff called magnesium citrate, and I hear a voice yell at me from behind the pharmacy counter "do you need help finding anything?" I started walking toward the counter and said "yes, I need something called magnesium citrate." It was the TMI Pharmacist! As he was walking down the aisle to meet me, he yells at the top of his lungs "Ooooohhhhh, I feel sorry for whoever has to use this stuff. Have fun in the bathroom tonight!" I noticed some people were staring at us. Then, in what seemed to be an equally loud voice, he says "is this for a procedure, like a colonoscopy? Because you can only use the lemon kind for that. The colon has to be clear, if you know what I mean." I told him it was just for constipation relief, but not my constipaion relief, so I wasn't too worried about the color, if you know what I mean. After he helped me with the magnesium citrate, he asked if I needed help finding anything else, and I told him I needed Miralax, too. "Oh, double whammy, ouch!" was his reply. So much for discretion. As my mom would say, "his mother must be so proud."

If you work for, or are affiliated with the ASPCA or PETA, please stop reading now!

I locked Kaydee the cat in the bedroom closet for over 12 hours. Not on purpose, and I feel really bad about it. Mostly I just feel bad because even though I don't like Kaydee, I'm not cruel to animals. I'm just not like that. Kaydee likes to be in the closet to sit on top of our nice, clean and fluffy towels, so we keep the closet door closed. Mostly because I don't ever want to find a cat hair in my belly button again. That's what happens when a cat lounges on your towels. Anyway, yesterday morning I opened up the closet just long enough to grab a shirt and some pants to wear. I immediately shut the door and then left for work. I didn't come home that night until almost 8, and then it was after 9 when I decided to change into my pajamas. I opened the closet door and saw these yellow, beady eyes staring at me from the the towels on the shelf and almost had a heart attack. I think she alsmost had a heart attack, too, because she fell off of the towels onto a plastic bag. Luckily, she didn't leave any surprises other than a nice coating of cat hair on our towels. Rob says that it serves her right and that maybe she won't go in the closet anymore.

I didn't see her this morning when I was getting ready, and I didn't want to have a repeat of yesterday, so I searched the house high and low to find her before I left for work. I couldn't find her, so I just went to work and figured it would work out in the end. Turns out she was hiding under the bed. I should have known, because the other night I was laying in bed and reached underneath for something and touched her cold, wet nose, and almost fell out of the bed because it scared me so much. My nerves can't handle it.

In other news, the texturizing and some of the painting is finished. The stove and fridge are no longer taking residence in other rooms of the house. Hopefully we'll have the mantle finished this weekend and maybe we'll get some of the wiring done. One step at a time.

An All New Low

For some reason I've been watching TV a lot more than normal. I noticed last week when I was watching Cash Cab that the guys from The Deadliest Catch were contestants. I thought it was so neat. And then I saw a commercial for just about the coolest thing ever. Will Ferrell was going to be a guest on Man vs. Wild. What has my life come to that I'm planning my schedule around what is coming up on TV?

And then on Saturday I spent all day watching the National Spelling Bee. How do they come up with these words? And why are these kids so obsessed with spelling? Anyway, those are just my two cents on that.

But here's my all new low... I'm a Celebrity - Get Me Out of Here! Did I really just watch that for an hour? I need a hobby!

Bit Off More Than We Can Chew

Last weekend, Rob and I decided to finally get to work on ripping down the wallpaper so we could paint the family room and kitchen. Well, one thing led to another and we now have about a month's worth of work to do. When taking down the wallpaper, we thought, let's sand the mantle over the fireplace and throw some stain on it. We might as well laquer it, too. Oh, and let's put in a ceiling fan... and canned lights and new light fixtures in the kitchen. And somewhere in all of that we figured that the wallpaper adhesive wasn't going to come off, so we would have to re-texture the walls. Well, you can't just spray some plaster on the walls without covering everything up so we've got all of the appliances out of the kitchen and plastic over all of the cabinets, walls, and ceiling that we don't want to texturize. Come visit us sometime in 2010... the project might be finished by then ;)

My Summer Can Now Begin

Are you ready to partay? The biggest and bestest night of the year (in my world, at least) is upon us. Just to whet your appetite for this season of SYTYCD, here's my favorite dance from last season. I can't listen to this song without seeing this dance in my head. Love it!

You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby

I have an announcement to make!

Rob and I are the proud new parents of two of the ugliest babies in the world! Meet:

Lucas Orson

and

Louis Oliver

Lucas inherited some awesome eyebrows, but that's about all I can say for him. I wonder where he got his baby stache and I'm worried he might be cross-eyed. Louis looks more like Rob, obviously, with the wider nose. Is he too young for me to worry about his tongue and ears sticking out? I know babies grow into their ears and all, but I'm a little concerned. Rob always said he wants one of our children to have an LOL name. He just got his wish. We have 2 LOL babies... in more than one way ;)

If you want to make your own Lucas or Louis, go to the Routan Babymaker 3000, where you can forecast the looks of your future offspring.

You Wanna See Something?

Last night, as we're getting into bed, Rob enthusiastically asks me "wanna see something?" I got all excited because I had no idea what he was going to show me, and I thought it might be really good. He jumps up on the bed and I start to get up there, too, when he points to his big toe. I wondered what I was supposed to be seeing, when he says "look! My toes!"

I think I've mentioned this before, but I have an aversion to feet. Even my own. I think that feet are nasty, especially ones with jagged toe nails and toe jam in the corners of the nails and cracked heels, etc. Since before we were married, I have always been telling Rob to get the toe jam out of the corners of his toe nails and he always says "why, it's just going to come back." Before I finish this story, please know that Rob has very good hygiene in general and that he also authorized this post. He knows I'm writing about it. Usually, I get grossed out enough that I just grab his foot and some pedicure implements and take care of the problem for him.

So last night, the "something" he wanted me to see was his cleaned-out, clipped toe nails. He was just like a little boy, proud of his accomplishment. And, although I was not expecting his toe nails to be what he wanted me to see, I was proud of him, too.

I love the little gestures my husband makes each and every day. And even though cleaning the toe jam from his nails is a little wierd, it's still a gesture and I love that he does those little things.

It's Shake 'n' Bake, and I helped!

Just in case you were wondering, it's dang hot right now in Utah. My mother would call it "earthquake weather" if she lived in Utah and there were earthquakes of size here.

Last night I had a vociemail from my mom that said "We're OK. It was a big one, but we're all safe." And that's all she said. I didn't really know what she was talking about, but since she said "big one" it was safe to assume she meant that there was an earthquake. I pulled up the LA Times online, and sure enough, the headline says "Quake Strikes East of LAX," and since my parents live just north of LAX, I knew it was close. It was a 5.2 on the Richter Scale, which is moderately big, considering that "THE BIG ONE" will probably be somewhere in the 7-8 range.

I called my mom for the details and she told me that after the earthquake, my nephew got out of his bed and came into the family room and said, "which one of you was shaking my bed?" I guess ignorance is bliss.

TMI Pharmacist

Our house has just been full of sickies (not sickos) this week. First, Rob hasn't been doing so well after his cat bite. We don't know if it's "cat poisoning" or the side-effects of the tetanus shot and antibiotics. It could also just be the flu - probably the swine variety, knowing our luck. And I started feeling funny on Monday and by Wednesday it ocurred to me that there may be something wrong with my bladder. I called my doctor, but he was out of town until next week so I decided I'd take my chances with the InstaCare. We'd already been there with Rob's cat bite, so I was really hoping that the same people wouldn't be there because I didn't want them to think that I'm one of "those" people who just goes to the doctor all of the time for no reason. I had no such luck. The receptionist was the same, the doctor was the same, the nurse was the same. Everyone was the same.

After peeing in a cup, I went back to the exam room and waited for the doctor to come in. He enters, and says "how do I know you? Are we in the same ward down in Springville?" I could have just played along, but I reminded him that I was the lady who came in with the cat bite man. He started laughing, and said, "that's right. I'd never seen a grown man who'd been bit by a cat before." I'm not sure if that was a jab at my husband's manliness, but that comment kind of put me in a bad mood. As we're sitting there, the door opens and 2 other people walk in and ask if they can observe because they're medical students. At this point, I figure I might as well let myself be their entertainment for the evening. The lady student starts asking me questions and poking my abdomen a little too hard and then says "I see that you're a diabetic from the presence of ketones in your urine." I get really defensive when people accuse me of being diabetic, because, well, I'm not diabetic. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But I get that a lot. So, that's what I said to her, "I get that a lot." I'm glad that the doctor stepped in and told her that I was probably dehydrated, and that she shouldn't assume that because I take a medication normally given to diabetics, that I am a diabetic. Because if he hadn't said something, I would have and it wouldn't have been nice, given the fact that she was poking me. Meanwhile, the other guy just stood there staring at me like I had a booger hanging out of my nose. Turns out I did. Oops.

I won't tell you the rest of that story because, frankly, it's too gross, even for me, and kind of long. Needless to say, I got a prescription for some antibiotics and a pain reliever and was on my way. I'm loving that the InstaCare and Walgreens are across the street from each other and both just blocks away from my home. I went in to drop of the prescription and the same pharmacist from Saturday was there. And let me tell you, this guy is interesting. Had I not had the pleasure of meeting him on Saturday, I don't know that I would have been so excited that he was there. I knew I was in for a treat. Let me describe him. He's probably 6 feet tall. He's what I would call "rotund," but in a cute sort of way. If he wasn't working at a pharmacy, you'd swear he was 12 years old because he has a baby face and very patchy facial hair. Think of that Spencer dude from the Hills and imagine him 100 pounds heavier, and there you have this guy! Except that it's Spencer wearing a white vest, a nice tie underneath, and a nametag. Now that you've got a picture in your mind of his looks, I'll give you a personality. Andy Bernard from The Office. Quite a combo, right?

There was someone in line behind me while I was dropping the prescription off, so at first it was just the normal customer/pharmacist convo. I walked around the store for a while as I was waiting, but the manager started following me around (I assume he thinks I was trying to shoplift) so I went back to the pharmacy area and sat down. Pharmacist Spandy called me over (on the loudspeaker, I might add) to get my prescription and he asks "so, what's this antibiotic for?" I told him it was for a bladder infection, and he says "ahh, I see. It's a pretty strong one, so I thought it was for something like that, or an STD." What do you say to that? I just looked at him and said "I have a strict 'no STD' policy in my house." He laughed and then recommended I get a probiotic to counteract the effects of this medication. I told him that I already had some at home, thinking he'd ring me up and I'd be on my way. But no, he just had to tell me about the time he took this antibiotic and how it gave him the runs so bad that he had to cancel his cruise. As an aside, he told Rob the last time that we were there that he should use chainmail gloves to bathe the cat, just like cooks on cruise ships use so they don't cut their fingers off. You learn something new everyday!

For all of this guy's quirkiness, he sure is likeable. And even though he spouts off TMI ('Too Much Information' for all of you non-abbreviators) like there's no tomorrow, there's just something about him that is fun. I've been laughing about him for the past few days, and now I found that someone else has discovered him. I was reading CJane today and she posted about the same pharmacist. I see that he is not stingy with sharing his wierdness with the world. You can read about her encounter here.

I usually use the drive-thru at Walgreens, but never again. I'm looking forward to my next visit with Pharmacist Spandy.

Trudy Churness

I was getting dressed this morning and my options were not so great. See, I just cleaned out my closet recently and gave away a lot of my warmer weather clothes. I've been trying to find some cute stuff, but since 2003, when this well-meaning woman at a clothing store told me I had "bat wings" for arms, I haven't been able to bring myself to wear a sleeve shorter than 3/4. That means I'm up the proverbial summer clothing creek without a 3/4 sleeve paddle. No grood. I finally settled on a nice blouse that I recently bought online. I believe it looked better in the picture, but all-in-all, it looks pretty good. It's got a bold print on it, which is kind of new for me. Bold color, yes! Bold patterns, still trying to feel them out. Anyway, I got all dressed and went into the bathroom to check my look in the mirror. Aaaarrrrgggghhhh, Trudy Churness!

Let me explain. Trudy Churness was the wife of the judge my mom worked with when I was growing up. The closest thing to Trudy Churness is the Mike Meyer's Coffee Talk character on SNL, except not quite close enough.

You see, Trudy Churness wore more make-up, had bigger hair, bigger shoulder pads, longer nails, more colorful glasses (think Sally Jessie Raphael), more jewelry, and more Bedazzlement on her outfits. She always looked like she was going on a cruise or spending the evening at a casino. She always looked like that. Even her dressed-down look contained at least 50% Bedazzlement.

And when I looked in the mirror, I saw a truly Trudy Churness worthy ensemble looking back at me. Starting from the head, I had curled my hair and poofed it up a little just for a change. It actually looked really cute, but it was too much with the bold print. I was wearing my red glasses because I was about to take a medication which had a label on it reading: WARNING - URINE AND OTHER BODY FLUIDS WILL TURN ORANGE/RED. WILL STAIN ALL FABRICS AND SURFACES. DO NOT WEAR SOFT CONTACT LENSES WHILE TAKING THIS MEDICINE, AS THEY WILL BE PERMANENTLY STAINED ORANGE. So, I decided I would rather writhe in pain from a bladder infection than stain my contact lenses orange. I ditched the glasses and put the contacts in. Oh yeah, there was also a little warning that IF YOU EVER PLAN ON BECOMING PREGNANT, PLEASE DISCUSS THE RISKS OF TAKING THIS MEDICATION WITH YOUR DOCTOR OR PHARMACIST. THE FDA DOES NOT KNOW THE EFFECTS OF THIS MEDICATION ON FETUSES. But honestly, the unknown effects on my yet-to-be-conceived fetus were the least of my concerns. I just couldn't wear the glasses!

Going on, my bold-printed tunic just screamed "Trudy Churness!" Taking the glasses off and brushing out the curls helped, but this outfit was just doomed from the start. I changed from slacks and heels to a more casual goucho pant and sandals, but this entire day I just keep thinking to myself "how did this outfit go so wrong?" When I was pulling everything out of the closet I thought it was going to be a hot outfit, but it took a wrong turn. Perhaps I should just admit and embrace that there's a little bit of Trudy in me and just go with the flow. I mean, even though we liked to make fun of her and her outlandish style, she thought she was the hottest thing since sliced bread. And people did what she wanted them to do. She wasn't manipulative or anything, but maybe there was just something about her big, Bedazzled glasses that made people want to bend over backwards. She was also quite rich, but I'd like to think it was her style.

The Beast

PLUS

EQUALS

Let me see you grill!

A little while ago, Rob decided he wanted to get a grill. He looked around, did comparisons, fasted and prayed about it (j/k) and then picked out a nice Weber gas grill. Since we live in a condo, our only option for where to put it is on the porch. My concern was that someone would try to steal it. I suggested that we chain it to the railing, but Rob assured me that it would be difficult to steal a grill and that it would be OK. Since getting it, we've used it a handful of times but I had this sneaking suspicion that we weren't the only ones because sometimes the cover would be on it wanky or it would be moved out of its place. Rob is real meticulous about grill care, and there have been some food particles left on it when I've gone to fire it up. I don't know for sure, but I just have a feeling that someone else has been using it.

A few weeks ago, we went upstairs to welcome our new neighbors and as we were leaving, the guy mentioned something about our grill and after we left I said to Rob that maybe this guy thinks that he can use our grill whenever he wants. I brushed it off, but I made a mental note to keep a watch out for him. And then last week, I came home from work and the chairs on our porch were moved and there was a book on one of the chairs. I checked the grill and it wasn't hot, but now I'm being paranoid that the neighbors are sitting on our porch and using our grill. Should I say something to them about it? If they're not using it, then I'll seem foolish for saying something, but on the other hand... The other thing is that it could be 1 of 2 people who are using it. It could be either upstairs or downstairs.

Have you been in a situation like this? What would you do?

And your little friend, too.

Yesterday as I was bringing my groceries from the car to the house when this little, fluffy white dog ran up to me and started barking like crazy. He looked like the dog in the picture, except he was dirty. He was a dirty dog! Anyway, I thought he was going to attack me so I kind of kicked him. Not hard, but enough to get him away from me. I kept walking to my condo, and thought I should look around for his owner to tell him/her to get the dog and I suddenly had this memory of this same dog almost attacking me and Rob on our wedding day.

Rob came to the condo to pick me up and take me to the temple, and as we were walking to the car this same little dog and a friend started chasing after us, barking and biting our heels. I was carrying my wedding dress, purse, shoes and another bag of stuff and Rob was carrying his tuxedo and another bag... our hands were full, to say the least. I'm trying not to trip over this dog or impale him with my high-heel, when I hear this lady screaming at us, "get my dogs, please, somebody, please get my dogs!" I start looking around because, surely, she couldn't have been talking to us - we had our hands full. I do a full look-around and all I see is Rob and this lady. She's standing on the sidewalk looking like her life depends on us picking up her vicious dogs and bringing them to her. As far as I could tell, she wasn't disabled. Her feet and hands were not tied. She was just lazy and wanted someone to get her dogs for her. And then she started getting frantic and crying. Rob and I did what anyone else would do in this situation - we got in the car and drove off.

You're probably wondering what the point of this story is. Really, there is no point except that sometimes wierd stuff happens and it makes you step back and think, "that was wierd."

States I Don't Want to Live In: Kentucky & West Virginia (mostly just Appalachia)

I saw a 20/20 special about Appalachia and I don't want to live there. There is a lot of Mountain Dew consumed there so a lot of people don't have teeth. I've never seen the movie Deliverance but I've heard enough about it that I don't want to live near hillbillies. I did see Coal Miner's Daughter and October Sky and it always seems dark in the Appalachians. And wet. My job options would be mine worker or drug dealer. Both really risky occupations. If you work them right, both could be pretty lucrative, but not lucrative enough to outweigh the risks of going to jail or getting Black Lung. I bet there are also serious vitamin D deficiencies from the lack of sun. Being Scandinavian, I'm already pretty pale. I'd be downright pasty in the Appalachians. I also don't like Mountain Dew. So, no Appalachians for me. I'll stick to the Wasatch.

So great!

Here is the re-cap. These are so funny!

Remember, you heard it here first!

Remember how I made some Lost predictions? Well, some of them came true. Not all of them, but some of the more important ones. Am I clairvoyant or what?

Discuss.

Mass Hysteria

Who's afraid of the swine flu? To be quite honest, I've been thinking about it non-stop for two days. I'm wondering if I should stop eating carnitas at my favorite Mexican retaurant/Tesoro gas station because maybe someone in there came straight from Mexico because, LBH, the food at the Mexican restaurant next to my house is the best you can get outside of Mexico and inside Mexico. And what if this person who came straight from Mexico brought the swine flu with them and then coughed on my carne asada? This kind of stuff keeps me up at night. And I also figure that since Utah has all of these Mormon missionaries traveling all over kingdom come and then coming back with ponchos and soccer jerseys and now possibly the swine flu, Utah is the perfect breeding ground for a pandemic because just as missionaries are coming home, we're sending more out. Yikes! I saw this old school PSA on Word to Your Mother and it makes me not want to come into contact with any elderly people with heart conditions for fear of passing to them the swine flu I acquired from Taco Riendo.



I didn't even know the swine flu existed back in the day. All I have to say is "scary."

As if I don't have enough to worry about with swine flu descending upon Provo, now I have to worry about 80 gazillion middle-aged women descending upon Provo for BYU's Women's Conference! I was at the store today, and as the lady in front of me in line was leaving, the cashier says to her "have fun at Women's Conference!" Gasp! Just hearing those words makes my heart beat irregularly. You see, I don't like Women's Conference. Here's why: When I was going to school at the good ol' BY, I decided that I should get a summer job on campus. I was somehow able to score a job at Jamba Juice in the Wilkinson Center. My first day on the job was the first day of Women's Conference. Those women drove me within an inch of losing my sanity with their stupid questions and requests. Here are some of my favorite:

"Oh, that is far to big for me. You see, I don't eat very much, so could you only make me a third of that and then only charge me for a quarter of it?"

"I would like the Strawberry Fields, but can you substitute raspberries for the strawberries and then strain the seeds out of it?"

"Can I get an Orange Julius?"

"What does 'Jamba' mean?"

"We would like to order 2 smoothies, but can you split that up into seven cups and then divide the cost in seven ways and charge seven cards?"

"I'd like the Peanut Butter Moo'd but without the peanut butter since I'm allergic to peanuts. Can you use almond butter instead?"

"I'd like to order 25 smoothies in 75 different cups, and make it snappy because my girlfriends are saving me a seat at the next Brad Wilcox class that starts in 6 minutes in the Smith Fieldhouse."



And since I must be a glutton for punishment, I got a custodial job at Helaman Halls the next summer and who do you think showed up in the dorms for a week? That's right, the women. I had this one lady rip me a new one because her bed wasn't made when she came back from class that night. I tried to explain to her that she was staying in the dorms and we didn't provide maid service, but she got even more irate and told me I wasn't getting a tip. No skin off my teeth, lady!

But hey, even in the midst of swine flu and Women's Conference I do have things to look forward to. I ordered myself a Liz Lemon-esque necklace with my initials on it and I also ordered Wonder Hangers for my freshly painted closet. If I'm lucky, they'll both be here in a few days. I had this brilliant idea about the Wonder Hangers (6 hangers to 1 expandable Wonder Hanger)that would allow me to keep most of my clothes and still have some space for my husband to use the closet. You see, he's been banished to a free-standing clothes rack in the spare bedroom since I moved in. The poor man didn't even get the closet! Wonder Hangers will change all of that. Life is good.

Oxymoronical

I went to St. George this weekend (hereafter referred to as "The George") to visit my BFF Robyn. Here are some highlights:

1) Robyn's baby is one of the cutest babies on the planet and she does cute things like wave when you say "hi." She also has cute cheeks.

2) Robyn's nephew Maddux always gives me the best welcome to The George. He seems more excited to see me than my own nephew does... and he told me my purse was "nice." I got to go to Pirate Island with him and all of the family to celebrate his mom getting a job.

3) The weather in The George was warmer than it was in Provo. It was still cold and a little rainy, but not as cold as Provo.

4) I went to Krumpets and spent too much on cute stuff for my house, that will probably just go in a box with the rest of the cute stuff I've bought for my house. I'm waiting to decorate until the house is painted. Not much longer, folks. Not much longer.

5) I think I won a round of Skee Ball at Pirate Island... but Heather and Robyn won the other rounds. Skee Ball rocks! When was the last time you played Skee Ball?

6) Went to Target and found a fashionable/modest swimsuit and saw the craziest thing ever, which inspired the title of this post. Robyn's mom knows how I'm always on the lookout for polygamists and Amish people (don't ask... I just get a kick out of seeing them in public), so she pointed out some polygamist ladies walking into Target. I didn't know they shopped there. But the awesome thing was that one of the ladies was wearing HUGE WHITE SUNGLASSES!

Do you think she knows that Paris wears HUGE WHITE SUNGLASSES? Do you think she even knows who Paris is? She probably has no idea and doesn't even care, but I thought it was pretty oxymoronical. The sighting was pretty much the biggest highlight of the trip, other than seeing my friends, of course!

Worst part of the trip? Tripping and falling after stepping on a crack while walking out of Pirate Island. More embarassing than anything else, but my hip hurts a little. I'm still not sure how I managed to not break a bone. If anything, my clumsiness has taught me not to fight the fall. Just let it happen and try to roll when you hit the ground. That would explain how I wound up flat on my back, facing the opposite direction from where I was walking. Of course my fall drew a crowd and this one woman tried to make me feel better by telling me that she tripped because of all of the "flashing lights" inside Pirate Island. And then a really old... er, mature guy offered to help me up from the ground. I lied and told him I was "just fine" so that I could save him from embarassment and myself from further embarassment when he couldn't get me off the ground because he was so fragile. Good times.

LOLCat

Rob has a cat. He had this cat before we got married, and when you marry someone, you inherit everything that's their's, including the cat. I remember when I found out that Rob had a cat I actually thought in my head that I couldn't date him because men that have cats are "crazy." And I still stick by my thinking that *most* single guys that have cats are crazy. Anyway, I'm off track. I wasn't jazzed about having a cat, but it just comes with the territory. Right? (As I'm writing this, Rob says, "I'm crazy. Crazy in love.")


Before we got married, I told Rob that I don't think the cat likes me. In fact, I told him I think she "hates" me. He told me that she's just a cat and that's why she looks at me funny. Well, I have been building my case against her for months and I think I finally have enough evidence to convict her of hating me. You be the judge!

Kaydee on the towels

Kaydee behind the blinds


Kaydee on my wool coat with a hanger on her neck. What?


Kaydee sitting on my wedding veil (that's why I didn't end up wearing one)

Kaydee on the dining room table staring at me while I'm surfing the net

Kaydee (black hair) on my comforter (white)

I like to call this Shakespeare Kaydee (we put this headband on her just to mess with her... and no, my washer isn't always in the living room)

Kaydee sitting on some khakis that are on the dining room table

Kaydee on the fridge (she was actually on top of the cupboards before this pic)

Kaydee trampling my clean, warm clothes in the dryer

Kaydee on the stove (by far, one of her most egregious offenses)

Kaydee doing something she's not supposed to be doing

So one day, Rob says to me "I'm beginning to think that she really doesn't like you." Yeah. Case closed. Or so I thought. I'm beginning to realize that she does these things because she *likes* me. Now that I'm around, she hardly gives Rob the time of day. Does that mean she's "my" cat?

Each Life That Touches Ours for Good

I learned some tragic news this morning when I logged in to Facebook. A long-time family friend and former Sunday school teacher and bishopric member was in a horrible accident while hiking Mt. Whitney and died. Just like that. This life is so fleeting!

Kent Ashcraft was a wonderful man and a great teacher. His knowledge of the scriptures was unlike anyone I had ever known. As a teenager in his Sunday school class, I learned that the scriptures could be exciting and that there was actually some cool stuff in there that I could learn. When I was called to teach Sunday school, my first thought was "I want to be as good of a teacher as Kent Ashcraft." He and his family have been such a great example to me. You could tell that they really love one another. I'm grateful to have known Kent Ashcraft and I know that he is probably teaching the scriptures and telling jokes on the other side.

Learning of his death was shocking, to say the least, and I haven't been able to get it off of my mind all day. I called my dad to see if he had heard any details of the accident, and as we were talking he mentioned that in light of the circumstances, it reminded him that some things in life that we worry about just aren't that important. I've been worrying about my broken washing machine, the neighbors leaving trash on their porch and arguing at night, trying to figure out the placement of furniture in the condo, losing sleep over this stinking blog and comments left on it. In perspective, these things do not matter. What does matter is living life to the fullest and serving my fellow man. Instead of complaining about the neighbors, maybe I should pick up their porch trash and ask if they need any help with their kids.

In reading a hikers message board about Kent's death, every person who commented said that they knew his family was important to him, that he was a man of faith, and that he was a caring person. He lived his life so that people would know that about him. Even casual acquaintances. I want to live my life in the same way.

My heart goes out to his wife and children, but I take comfort in knowing that they will all be together again. I'm grateful for the knowledge that this life is not the end and that families can be together forever.

First Date Anniversary Date

One year ago, Rob and I had our first date. There wasn't anything particularly special about the date, but there certainly was something special about the guy who asked me out on the date :) I'm so happy that I got up the nerve to tell him that I had a really good time and that I'd like to do it again. He tells me often that those were the magic words. And it must have been magic, because all I know is that one minute I was thinking that I was ready to go home since I had such bad heartburn, and then the next minute I was telling him I would like to go out again. It must have been the Spirit that moved me.

In honor of our first date anniversary, Rob brought me a dozen roses on Saturday morning. Then we went out to lunch at Ruby River, went shopping for plants at Home Depot, did our grocery shopping at Macey's, came home and planted pansies and strawberries, and then went down to Spanish Fork to see "Monsters vs. Aliens." I would highly recommend the drive to Spanish Fork to see a movie. There were probably 10 people in the theater, and the movie was surprisingly good.

It was nice to spend a day with my honey where we could take our time and didn't have to worry about anything else. We need to do it more often.

One thing that I've realized is that the counsel we've been given by church leaders to have a date night once a week really is crucial to the health of a relationship. Not that we're having a rough time, but life just get's so busy and crazy that I can see how if couples don't take time to just be with each other and not be talking about which bills need to be paid, oil changes, paint colors, etc., that they could possibly drift apart. And when children come, that just adds to the mix. I'm grateful that the gospel gives us direction in every aspect of our lives. In my Sunday school class that I teach, we've been talking about how every commandment that Heavenly Father gives His children, although it may seem more practical or temporal, is actually spiritual. The counsel to have a date night each week may seem practical in nature, but it really rejuvinated my spirit and helped my love grow for my husband.

As busy as life can and will get, we're always going to make it a priority to continue our courtship. It's been a wonderful year with my husband, and I'm looking forward to an eternity of wonder!

Random Friday Thoughts

1. Why is Paula Abdul a judge on American Idol? Have you heard "Straight Up?" That song is whack! That's right, I just said "whack." Maybe she's just there because the producers thought it might be kind of fun to have a crazy drunk lady who gets up and dances during the performances.

2. I've used "Back to the Future" as the paradigm through which I view all time-travel movies, and Lost is really messing me up. When are people going to start fading from pictures? And when is the Delorian going to show up? Somehow I think the Libyans got their sweet VW Bus from the Dharma Initiative.

3. How can I teach the kids in Sunday school that it is important to pay attention in class and not write on each other's legs and take 7 potty breaks? They're 16-17 years old... I thought they would have gotten that out of their systems. I tried telling them that their salvation depended on them learning the Doctrine & Covenants but apparently my hell-fire and brimstone approach didn't work. I just don't know how to reach these kids.

4. Anyone want to teach me how to grow stuff and not have it die?

5. I think I may be hard of hearing... or just have selective hearing. When I was in London, poeple were speaking English to me and I didn't understand a single word of what they were saying. I went to Cafe Rio and I didn't understand a word they were saying to me. So, maybe I have accent selective hearing. It's really becoming a problem for me.

6. There are a lot of "mature" people who live in my neighborhood, and by that I mean "old", but my mom told me that it's rude to say that someone is "old". Anyway, I just have to remind myself that when people drive bad, cut me off, slam on their brakes in the middle of the street, don't use blinkers properly, get in front of me and then go slow, that they're probably just "mature" and I need to be patient with them. My patience only extends to mature people.

7. Speaking of "mature" individuals, there's this lady in my ward who calls me several times a month to see if I have done my visiting teaching yet. She sure is diligent! And the last time she called me she said, and I quote, "Well, I'm supposed to ask you how the sisters you visit are, but to be honest, I don't really care. I'm old. I don't even turn around in church anymore to see who's talking. In fact, I don't even think I know what you look like." I had no response for that. And then she asked me if I was "the young lady who came all the way from California to marry that nice young man in the ward." I just said "yes." I don't want to confuse her. Nevermind that she thinks I'm a mail-order bride.

So, those are my random thoughts for a Friday. I hope that everyone has a great weekend. My husband and I are having our 1 year of knowing each other anniversary. It's kind of exciting. We're going to try to do some of the same things we did on our first date, but the Mexican restaurant we went to went out of business. I have to say I'm somewhat relieved... that food gave me bad acid reflux. I'll fill you in next week. I'll also fill you in on all of the strange stuff the cat that lives in my house does. I promised that I would never get attached to this cat, and that I would certainly never be one of those people that blogs about a pet. But, you know, things change.

Winter Wonder?land

There's a saying in Utah that goes: "If you don't like the weather, just wait a little bit." Well, I don't like the weather right now so I guess I'll just wait until Sunday when it will be in the 70s. This is what I woke up to this morning:


My neighbor took these pictures, but since she lives right down the street, I think you get the idea of what it looked like in my neighborhood. You can tell it's not my house because I would never leave my Christmas lights up this late.

Isn't this snow crazy? I didn't even know all of this had happened while I was off in dreamland... or that trees had been knocked over, power went out, etc. I remember back to 1 year ago when I had my first date with Rob. It was April 19, 2008 and not a snowflake was in sight. We sat outside eating ice cream that night because it was so warm.

I thought April 15 was supposed to be the perfect date. Not too hot, not too cold. All you need is a light jacket. Apparently Mother Nature didn't get the memo.

A Major Award

Do you remember when I posted about Shirley J's products a few weeks ago? I did that post as an entry into a contest to win their entire product line. And guess what? I won the entire product line! This is a major award! Maybe not as major as Becca and John winning round-trip airline tickets, but it's major to me. I've never really won anything in my entire life through luck. I'm what doctors might call "luck-challenged." Sure I've won things through merit, like the Stake Speech Festival and the Freedom Foundation Essay Contest, but never has my luck been lucky.

I went to pick up the goods yesterday and Becky gave me some good pointers on how to use the products. I'm excited for the cream bases and I'm sure Rob is excited about the dutch oven spices. I'll have to let you know how I like them. And if you come to my house for dinner, you'll probably be asking yourselves "is it Shirley J or Jenny from the Block?" You'll never know.

And as a side note, they totally laughed at my comment about the "Dharma" labels and they've hired a designer to re-do all of them. I saw a sneak peek yesterday and they look awesome!

Retraction

It seems that my last post was somewhat misunderstood, and some rather hurtful comments were elicited. I've deleted my post on trying to figure out how to mix holiday traditions because what I was seeking in writing it was to find out how others have dealt with trying to combine or create their own family traditions - what has worked and what hasn't worked - and not personal criticisms or attacks. I in no way intended to portray that I think my husband's family is strange or that they don't do a holiday up proper. I think my husband's family is wonderful and I do enjoy participating in their family traditions, but I'm still trying to find a balance of how to combine both sides, create new traditions and find my place in a new situation. My reason in writing it was to seek some honest, constructive feedback. Comments such as "suck it up" and "stop complaining" are neither constructive nor helpful.

You might be thinking, "well you kind of set yourself up for that," which may be true. If I allow comments on my blog, I'm likely to recieve a few that I don't agree with or are hurtful. That's the risk I take. I could also hand pick who I allow to read my blog, but blogging has been a good way to find old friends, make new ones, and keep in touch with the ones I already have. I'm not going to sacrifice that.

If anyone took offense at my post about holidays, please know that none was intended. I only had the best of intentions and didn't mean to be hurtful to anyone. I am ecstatic to be married, and I am happy to be married into a big family. It is still overwhelming and confusing and wonderful all at the same time. I'm just a newly married human, trying to do the best I can. And it's wonderful that my husband and I have an eternity to figure things out and make things work for us.

I welcome comments, but I expect all commenters to use common courtesy and respect. I have turned on comment moderation and will be moderating comments from now on. If you feel like you need to address something I've written, please do. But please do not block your profile or submit an anonymous comment. I'm a fairly reasonable person, and I'm open to discussion; however, if I don't know who you are, I can't clarify things for you or defend myself, or have you clarify or defend yourself.

To all of those who shared honest, kind feedback, I appreciate your suggestions. Your comments have provided my husband and me with some points for discussion and have helped us to figure out how we want to do our traditions. All I ask of you, my readers, is to consider that there is actually a person who writes this blog. A living, breathing, feeling person. I might look like a rhinoceros, but I have quite a thin skin, really.

Sip Bacardi Like It's Your Birfday!

Speaking of random memories, I was driving in my car the other day when a song by Fiddy sparked a childhood memory of Bacardi. You may wonder why I have childhood memories of Bacardi, since I grew up in an LDS home. I'm beginning to wonder myself.

When I was about 8 or 9, I was smart enough and tall enough to reach the cupboard over the refrigerator if I stood on a stool. My dad hid some cheese puffs up there, and I wanted some. I remember moving stuff around because I wasn't seeing any cheese puffs, when I saw a bottle with some dark liquid in it and a scandalous label. The label had a tropical-looking lady on it, and her boobies were showing. I felt bad about seeing a lady's boobies, being that I was past the age of accountability and all. Nevermind that it was alcohol.

I'd check periodically to see if the bottle was still there, and it always was. I often wondered about it and why it was in our cupboard, but never said anything to my parents until I was a sophomore in college and we were cleaning out their kitchen in preparation for a remodel. I pulled out the bottle of Bacardi and asked my dad why it was in the cupboard all of those years, in the back, unopened. He told me that it was there just in case there was a natural disaster and he had to perform emergency surgery on someone. I had no reason to not believe him, even though he is not a trained medical doctor (he did offer to remove my wisdom teeth using tools from the garage to avoid paying an oral surgeon). I asked him if he wanted me to pack it up with the rest of the stuff, and he said that we should throw it away because it was so old that the fumes that would escape from unscrewing the cap would probably knock someone out. Sketchy, but then again, my dad is a weird dude.

The next time I call him, I'm going to ask him about the Bacardi.

Why Do Asian-Americans Always Have Funny Names?

Do you ever remember really random things from your childhood? I do... all of the time. And then I forget about it. Today at the work potluck I remembered something about this kid I went to school with. His name is Duke Chanaban - he is Chinese - and his real name, as I found out from the Jr. High School yearbook, is Schatchai Chanaban. I'm not really sure why we called him Duke, but I guess it's better than Airport (thanks Kachee).

Anyway, Duke sat next to me in the first grade. He was a little stealer, that Duke! Except that I didn't know it was him stealing my juice boxes, Ding Dongs, sandwiches, etc. until I caught him. Fighting ensued. And what I mean by "fighting," is that I think I kicked him and told him that I hated him for stealing my Ding Dong. He kicked me back and so we were sent to Mr. Pryor's office. Mr. Pryor was rumored to be the meanest principal this side of the Mississippi. I'd heard stories of him spanking kids when they got sent to his office, and I was about to find out if it was true.

Duke and I waited outside of Mr. Pryor's office, probably still kicking each other, while the school secretary called our parents. Except that I didn't know that's what she was doing. Mr. Pryor then called us into his office. I sat there, looking up at all of his certificates and pictures on the wall, and stopped when I saw a paddle mounted above his desk with the words "The Board of Education" written on it. I was so sure he was going to spank us, and I hoped Duke would get it first. Even though corporal punishment hadn't been practiced in schools for years, we didn't know that yet because we were only 6.

Mr. Pryor walked to the other side of his desk and sat down and asked us why we had been sent to his office. I told him that I caught Duke stealing my Ding Dong and that he'd been stealing stuff from my lunch for a long time, so I kicked him. He asked Duke if that was true, and Duke said, "Yes, I took the Ding Dong... and I also took Shontel's Twinkie." Busted! Duke was gonna get it and I would be vindicated! Except that "The Board of Education" remained right where it was and never came into contact with Duke's butt. Instead, we both got a lecture on the Golden Rule and that if Duke doesn't want people to steal his stuff, then he shouldn't steal and that I shouldn't kick people if I don't want to get kicked back.

Duke and I walked back to class and as we sat there in our reading group, I plotted ways I could get back at him. The Golden Rule? In one ear and out the other, right? My time came a few weeks later when I came down with a sudden case of the stomach flu. We were standing in line to go out for lunch, when the urge to vomit hit me real bad. Duke was standing behind me in line, so I turned around and let the chunks blow all over him. He started crying, I started crying, and then all of the kids in line started crying and barfing all over each other. Wait, that's a movie. I think just Duke was crying.

Several months passed without any confrontations with Duke, when one day he got up from his chair, pushed it under the desk, stood next to me and peed his pants. When it hit the floor it splashed up onto my leg. It's a good thing I was wearing knee socks, but the pee still touched me so I started crying. Mrs. Bova, our teacher, came over and when she saw the puddle on the ground she sent one of the other students to the janitor's office, Duke to the nurse's office, and took me to the sink in the classroom to take my socks off and wash my leg. And when Duke came back, she told him he was going to trade desks with someone else.

I never exacted revenge on Duke for the peeing incident because the school year was over and we were in different 2nd grade classes. But every time I saw him on the playground I remembered his injustices. By the time 3rd grade rolled around, we'd both forgotten the whole thing. Duke and I went to the same Jr. High and High school, but I haven't thought about him since then. I wonder if he's still up to his Ding Dong stealing, pants peeing ways.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

From Facebook:

Hi,

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