Black Friday

Ummmm...I married into a family that LOVES Black Friday. Well really just Mom Reilley and Misty. But they go CRAZY for it. Really. I think it is the biggest Holiday of the year to them.

They are up long before o'dark 30. Probably close to o'dark 10. They scope out the ads, make a plan, and they don't stop until about 9pm.

I am not one of those people. I sometimes wind up at a store on Black Friday and buy something if it happens to be a good deal and I want it. But, I don't plan. I don't pour over the ads. I don't write a plan of the stores to go to. I just enjoy it if it works out and don't feel heartbroken if it doesn't.

Tonight we happened to stop by the Reilley's while they were going through the ads. Turns out I want a lot of stuff. I want to go to a lot of different stores. And I might need to prioritize....

Will I hit them all? Probably not.
Will I like what I get? I hope so.
Will I wake up earlier than I otherwise would? Yes.
Will I be standing in line to enter a store before the sun comes up? Absolutely not.
Will my heart hurt a little if I don't get those boots from Sears? Yes. But just a little.

The first year they asked me if I wanted to go. I said something like "no way! Are you crazy? I will never go to any store on Black Friday as long as I live. I will never set foot outside my house before 5am for anything. I refuse to spend my entire day and my life savings on stuff I don't really need just because it's 90% off. I won't do it. No way. Never. No! No!! No!!! And by the way, I think you're crazy for going and I feel bad for you."

Last year they asked if I wanted to go and I said "no thanks. But I hope you have fun." and then went shopping with Josh anyway.

This year they asked and I said. "I really don't think I could do it. Besides, I don't really want to hold you back." then spent 2 hours pouring over the ads.

Sounds dangerously close to the whole "pity then endure then embrace" thing.

Some things shouldn't be bought....

Do you usually type your titles of your posts first, or second? Normally I do the title first, mostly because it helps me stay on one topic rather than rambling through the whole post...today I kinda feel like rambling.

I really thought that this Thanksgiving was going to be the worst ever because I was informed that our Egbert Thanksgiving meant going to a restaurant for the big meal. When Josh told me that was the plan I was stunned. I didn't even know it was possible to go to a restaurant for Thanksgiving.

It sorta felt like the time a friend told me that you can buy maple syrup. I had no idea. I was like 12 years old. I felt a little cheated. It was one of the few recipes I had already memorized and I decided right then, that just because you could buy it at the store didn't mean you should.

Same concept, different food. (Is it bad that my life revolves around my views on food? hmmm...I'll work on that.) Thanksgiving dinner should be at a church with at least 25 relatives you don't really know. It should involve basketball after, and at least 4 different kinds of fruit pies. Not to mention the cream and pumpkin pies. you should walk down both sides of the table dishing up with the stuff you like. That's just the way it should be.

What I didn't realize was that you can have Thanksgiving food from a restaurant. Who knew?

Turns out that it felt a lot like Thanksgiving at a church. There were plenty of people I don't really know. We helped ourselves to Turkey, stuffing, salad, and all the fixings. And it tasted fantastic.

In the end I decided that I don't really think you should buy Thanksgiving dinner from a store, but it wasn't even close to as bad as I thought it was.

After dinner (and dessert, yes I cheated today, but only a little, and I already confessed....), Josh and I were introduced to Rock Band. Wow, we really don't have ANY skills, mad or otherwise. However, we had a great time pretending we were rock stars and playing a very close game of Settlers.

Overall, it was a great Thanksgiving, even though it was store bought.

Some things which are true:

You wanna know the truth?

The truth is life isn’t fair. It just plain isn't. Never has been, never will be.

The truth is even though family brings happiness, they also bring misery, hurt, pain and anguish.

The truth is that some nights I just need to wallow in self-pity and do NOTHING productive.

The truth is that the morning after wallowing usually brings a frantic hunt for clean clothes to wear.

The truth is that my baby brother is gonna get married next month (congrats dude!).

The truth is that Josh is married to me because he wants to be, and that is fantastic news.

The truth is that it isn’t that hard to just TURN IN YOUR RECEIPTS!!!!

The truth is that everybody is important. Even if I think they’re weird or mean or immature.

The truth is this blog has some dang good music on it.

The truth is that most young people are a lot better than they get credit for.

It's Thanksgiving

Remember how I got all crafty? Well, I finished my Thanksgiving danglers. Turns out I'm missing some parts for the FHE board. But I did go ahead and make the danglers before Thanksgiving no less! These babies are going to get 5 whole days of decoration love before they get switched for Christmas.

Turns out that creating things really does feel good. I'm totally proud of myself, mostly because I did it ALL by myself. I bought all the right stuff, I painted, I decorated, and embellished all by myself. I've never been so cute and crafty in my life and nobody even had to tell me what to do every step of the way. Who knows what I'll attempt next?

Nothing like a good disease....

.......to TOTALLY throw off your sleep schedule.

When you start taking Nyquill at 7pm, you generally wake up around 2am.

When your husband has been waking up at 2am all week, eventually you just bite the bullet and get up too. It's lonely from 7pm to normal go-to-sleep-time, and it's actually kinda fun to be awake in the middle of the night with someone you love.

Here's to middle of the night Monopoly, and the 1:00 church that makes it all possible.

Thank you wonderfully, wretched disease of ickiness and filth.

The sweet taste of satisfaction

Really truly there is nothing better than simply being satisfied with your life. Since the Wyoming-scare I have been thinking a lot about how happy I am here. Right where I am right now.

I have a fantastic job with the greatest people in the whole wide world. I love being at work, I love what I do, and I love the people I do it with and for. I get to leave that job every single day at 5:00. Not 5ish or 7. But really just 5:00.

I come home to the world's greatest husband. Often I come home with him because he is kind enough to drive me around like a chauffeur. And just like a chauffeur, he is NEVER late. Really. Never.

I love my house, it's coming together in terms of decoration. My bulbs are growing, Junior is a whole head taller than he was when we got him (impressive yes?) and all of my kitchen stuff has a home. We have comfy couches , a beautiful painting on the wall, and I get craftier (yes, it's a word, they just added it to the dictionary, along with 'meh') with each day that passes. Josh built shelves above our shelves so we have room for food storage, which is filling up rather quickly. We have a garage, a clubhouse and pool. What more do I want? Nothing. I am truly honestly satisfied with it just how it is.

Josh has a fabulous job and on Saturdays when he has to work, I can usually tag along with him. Which is great because, you know, "it's always better when we're together".

I own some really fantastic Christmas music, and Pandora  fills in the holes for me. Thanks Pandora.

Even though we haven't been blessed with any little ones in our house (Junior excepted of course) we are truly happy. We have family close by, adorable nieces and nephews, fantastic friends, and full lives. Some of the things I love most about my life right now (mostly work and the people there), will probably come to and end when the babies start to come, so for now, I'm really OK with our childless state.

We have the gospel in our home and in our lives. We pray together and read the scriptures together. Josh and I are continually learning and growing and trying our best to live up to our covenants.

In this particular moment in time, I don't think I've ever felt happier. I feel like my life is balanced, I'm not really failing at anything in particular.

For me, this feeling of sheer satisfaction is rare and I'm going to savor it all day long.

Best $10 I ever spent

Remember my Christmas tree from last year ?


Well, while I did love that tree, it was somewhat lacking in the pine-smelling yumminess department. My parents ALWAYS got a real tree, and even though the good 'ol fake tree and Jamie and I got has served us well for many many years (or 4, but who's counting?) AND even though I haven't replaced this Walmart beauty, this year I will be joining the ranks for real-live grownups with real-live Christmas trees.

Last year at the end of Christmas, I took all the lights off the poor sad droopy tree with very intention of doing a better job of it this year. This year I'm thrilled that I've already removed the lights because it puts me 1 (giant, 5 hour) step closer to having my real tree lit.  

I bet you're jealous, and you should be.  What's the best part about it you ask? Well I'll tell you. It's coming on Monday, I have no control over that so I am hereby forced to put it up and get it decorated before Thanksgiving. I really don't believe in decorating before Thanksgiving (but secretly I wish I did because I love decorations so much! And after Thanksgiving is so crazy busy that there's not time for it anyway….), but it's totally worth abandoning my entire Christmas Decorations belief system to have a fresh cut pine tree in my home for a 6 weeks (I'm a sucker for something that smells yummy). You can bet it's gonna be the prettiest tree there ever was.  Don't worry, I'll post a picture of it in all its Christmas glory. I'm thinking I probably won't use ALL of those lights, but who knows, I didn't think that the first year either.

What about you? Do you do a real tree? Or fake?

It's raining it's pouring.....

I love my husband just as much as the next guy, wait - not as much as I love the next guy. Just as much as the next guy loves his husband. Not that I believe in gay marriage, or think that guys should love their husbands, or even have husbands. Just that I love.....ah, nevermind. I'm just going to complain.

Josh has been sick all week. He's had this horrible, awful, all-consuming, knock you flat on your butt, make you wish you were dead, can't drink enough Nyquill, cold. Only he refuses to be on his butt, so really it just knocks him all over Salt Lake Valley and conveniently stops him at Redbox locations.....where he stops to fix/load a machine. And he only drinks Nyquill between 7PM and 3AM. A normal human being would whine and moan and stay at home in bed. They'd have a big box of tissue on one side and the remotes in another....you know the drill.

Not my husband. He just goes to work anyway. He figures he has things to do, so he gets up and does them.*

Tonight, I just wish he had stayed home and gotten better because he's snoring, and he can't breathe, and every time he rolls over he kinda moans like it hurts, and it's really freaking me out. He took enough Nyquil to get him through the night (and probably the morning too...) and I'm scared that if he stopped breathing it wouldn't wake him up (what with all the drugs and all) and that means I can't sleep which is totally unfair because I feel fine!

I'm not the irresponsible, irrational, unreasonable human being who refused to stay home and sulk about not feeling well. It's not my fault that he spent the whole day working his tail off and is now tired (and drugged) enough to sleep through the 2nd coming.

Anybody else think it's totally unfair that I'm the one who has to stay up being tortured by watching my sick husband sleep simply because I'm paranoid that he'll stop breathing if I fall asleep? Ughh. My life is so hard! (Say that in the whiniest high school cheerleader voice you can muster. Then stomp your foot a little to add to the effect....)

*In real life I love this about him. The man is made of steel....or something else really strong. I truly believe that there isn't anything in the whole wide world he can't do and I know without a doubt that he would never ever just give up because something was hard. it's a gift and I'm thankful for it.....99% of the time. 

Dear red-haired security man

Dear red-haired security man,

Today you scared me. I just wanted you to know.

You normally sit at your security desk looking nice and formal and intimidating. Like a security guard should look.  Your arms are folded and your eyes are on the computer screen, glancing up every once in a while to see the people walking past you. I like you there. You make me feel safe.

Today you were out of place (in my office instead of behind your desk) shouting about cookies and laughing with other people who clearly know you - but I don’t. When you asked why we were holding out on the Security team, I didn’t realize you were talking about the cookies. That’s why I stammered and blushed. I was embarrassed I didn’t realize you were joking.

When you shouted to my boss that I was in trouble for not sharing the wealth, I felt a little more stupid and I hate feeling stupid. Especially since I didn’t know it was part of my job to inform the security guys when we have cookies. In fact I didn’t even know there were security guys anywhere but behind their desks.

It’s not just because you have red hair that I think you’re going to fly off the handle. The earpiece and black suit make me think that you’ve been trained to kill a man with your bear hands (sorry, Bond is on the mind) and are ready to attack should anything look wrong to you.

So, for future reference, I always have candy in my top drawer, so consider yourself informed. Please don’t tell on me for holding out on you anymore. Please don’t talk so loud. Please don’t joke with people who don’t know you’re joking (especially innocent helpless receptionists who haven’t ever spoken to you before). Please remember that when you look like, act like and are a security guard, people think certain things about you. It’s not judging, it’s just observing. Please just take a handful of cookies and eat them quietly at your desk with your eyes on the computer screen. If you’d like, I’ll even deliver them to you.

Just please don’t hurt me.

From,

Amy

Gas

When was the last time you filled your tank for $21.00? Today for me, thanks for asking.

We're Cheerios kind of people

Growing up the sweetest cereal we ever ate was the infamous Honey Nut/Regular Cheerios mix. My mom just wasn't big on feeding us sugar for breakfast. Or for any other meal for that matter.  In fact I'm relatively certain that she still eats oatmeal (with raisins if she's feeling wild) every single morning of her life. 

I'm not sure when the last time you bought Cheerios at Costco was, but if it's been a while, I'll warn you now, that they don't come with a toy. Not even a game or puzzle on the back of the box. Just plain "nourish and strengthening" Cheerios.

If ever there was a cereal with a toy in the box (Tony the Tiger from Frosted Flakes is the only thing I remember.....something about a diver-guy in a 2 liter bottle? some help here? Anybody else remember that?) some other kid in my family got to it long before I even knew it was there. Don't feel too bad for me though, nobody else ever bothered to do the crossword puzzle or the maze on the side of the box. I wasn't totally deprived. 

Normally Josh and I don't buy treat cereal either, but Cinnamon Toast Crunch must have been on sale because Josh bought some.

Given my lack of history cereal toys, imagine my surprise when I poured myself a bowl cereal and found this little creature sitting in the middle of my cereal.

Yes, they put a rat in my cereal. Yes I screamed a little.

*Side note: I didn't actually eat the cereal because after I finished freaking out about rat I realized that "cinnamon and sugar sprinkled on every bite" probably doesn't fall within my "Don't eat sugar until March"  deal with Katy. All this trauma for nothing.

So, what I wanna know is what marketing genius thought "hey, I bet more moms will buy this cereal for their kids if we wrap a rat in plastic and throw it in the middle of our sugar coated cereal." And more importantly what marketing manager said "Yes, yes YES! That is sheer brilliance! You, Ratboy, are getting a promotion."

Gotta say, at this point I'm not a big fan of Ratboy.

Social or not social?

Is it bad that our most exciting evenings involve "dressing up" (read: not wearing a hoodie but a real sweater) and going to a movie in the real theater (Did you know Gateway theaters will give you a cup of ice or water if you ask for it? I'm never going anywhere else. Ever.), coming home at 8:30 and Josh going straight to bed while I watch What Not to Wear and read a great book? Maybe we're not that exciting.

We wound up sitting on the front row. In some movies that might be OK, but the worst movies to see in the front row are:

The Bourne Ultimatum

And

007. Quantum of Solace.

I know because I had to sit on the front row of both of these movies. Bond wasn't as bad because we were at Gateway and their front row (while totally sucking) isn't as bad as most front rows. 

Why did I have to sit on the front row for Bond  and Bourne  and not for Mamma Mia? Probably for the same reason I get to accompany Josh on business trips to Wyoming, but not to Chicago. 

Before the movie started, the other front row dwellers were awfully chatty and I realized (as I got incredibly uncomfortable) that is has probably been months since I spoke with a stranger. I just don't do it. 

I wake up, kiss my husband goodbye and go to work with people I know. Then he picks me up and I go home. 

When I go to the grocery store I say 'hi' to people as I try to squeeze my cart past theirs, but it's not like we have a conversation.

I go to church with people I mostly know, and usually I just sit by myself or by Josh anyway, so no conversations there.

Where else do I go? Nowhere. At least not without Josh who is all too willing to talk with strangers for me.

So my concern is, am I that crazy lady who holes up in her house and never comes out? Am I the mystery person on the block who everybody knows, but nobody knows. I kindof think so and here's how I know:

• Josh knows our neighbors. All of them. Their kids. The husbands AND wives. He knows what time they go to work and when they come home. He knows what they do for a living and sometimes even what their names are. I know we have neighbors because on Sunday night and Monday morning the streets are LINED with trash cans. 
• Josh knows our old neighbors and recognizes them when he "runs into them" at Home Depot. I knew we had old neighbors because their yards looked nicer than ours.
• At a ward party I took my sister to because Josh was busy and we already bought the dinners, my sister and I snuck out before the awards were given. Everybody had dressed up (it was a murder mystery dinner) and they were giving out awards for like best costume, most in character, etc. We left just before that to get back to her baby and husband. I was told on Sunday that I got the "most coming out of my shell" award, or something like that. I didn't know I even had a shell to come out of, but apparently I do.
• In my normal course of blog-stalking, I stumbled on Rachel's blog (who I only know because of book group) and apparently she is linked to every single person in the ward. Turns out there's this whole huge blogging community in our ward that i had no idea about. And everybody is friends with EVERYBODY. Now I'm kindof lurking in the shadows of all the blogs and trying to gracefully introduce myself to all of these people's blogs, slowly. 1 at a time. Baby steps.
  

This combined with the fact that I am a crazy plant lady pretty much seals the deal. Jamie and I had a crazy neighbor upstairs who never came out of her house, and we were all scared of her. Darlene I think was her name. Anyway, I'm scared I'm turning into Darlene, only I have a social husband who everybody knows.

So, I invited us to a "cool kids in the ward" gathering on Sunday. What's that you say? it's rude to invite yourself to somebody else's party? Yeah, I know. It is. But kindof necessary, plus we're cool kids so I don't think they'll mind. I'm intervention-ing (yes, I know it's intervening, but intervention-ing sounds cooler. don't you think?) to try to save our social life. I don't wanna be Darlene!

Wyoming news

I guess the guy who is in Wyoming and wanted to move to Florida (and went out there for an interview and agreed to take the position) just got around to mentioning the whole thing to his wife. Here’s my idea of how it went down:

Him: “So, you know how I normally just drive out to a machine and it takes 10 hours? Well, last week instead of driving out to a machine I got a plane and went to Florida for an interview. They offered me a position out there and I took it.”

Her: “……are you serious?”

Him: “Yeah, I figured it will be great since that’s where my family lives. We can just stay with my parents until we find a place of our own. Plus since it’s the holidays we both have time off work making it the perfect time to me. Isn’t that great?”

Her: “YOUR parents? Excuse me? OUR family is right here.  Me and you and my mom and the kids. Everybody lives out here and this is our home. And NO the holidays are NOT a good time to move!”

Him: What? We have a ‘home’? We’ve only been married 10 years….I didn’t realize it was that big of a commitment “But what about Florida? The beaches, the sunshine, the old people. My mom who is a better cook than you…?”

Her: Does he really not see the problem here? And more importantly did he just call me FAT?!?!?!  “What about Wyoming? We have snow 6 months of the year, our power goes out every winter and we get to spend days inside because the roads are all closed! PLUS only 3 other people even know this state exists! And it’s our home!”

Him: “…….uhhhh, I thought you’d be excited. I already told them I’d take it and my parents are planning on us moving in next Friday.”

Her: “WHAT?!?!?!” since he only sees this glare once every 10 years he sometimes forgets that it exists. Then he sees it and immediately remembers not only that it exists but exactly what it means.

Him: “I’m calling them right now. Of course we’re staying here babe. I’m so sorry I even thought about it, that was stupid and I’m so glad you’re in my life to keep me from making stupid decisions.”

Her: “You’re welcome.”

Needless to say, the position in Wyoming isn’t even available anymore, so we’re staying put for now. Josh is a little bummed, and I think it would’ve been a fun adventure. BUT we love our house, our families, our jobs, our ward, and everything else about living here. So, it’s not a major bummer.

What am I looking forward to instead?  Getting my Thanksgiving danglers painted. 

EWWWWW!!!!!

You know when you were a little girl and all the boys were playing with terrorizing bugs? Tearing the wings off flies. Burning ants with a magnifying glass. Shaking a rollie pollie in their cupped hands and seeing how long it took to come out of its rolled-up state. I was pretending to be grossed out but secretly jealous that I couldn't play too.

I was also a part of the group of kids in Jr. High who taped frog eyes to somebody’s locker door after trying to make them bounce down the halls during Biology class.

However, I’ve NEVER EVER grabbed a fly of any kind out of the air in my bare naked hands. Until now. I don’t know what came over. I guess I’m just not myself today, what with all the painting, and craftiness. Maybe I was trying to make up for it with the grossest thing I could think of. There was a tiny fruit fly invading my computer space and I just reached up and grabbed it. It’s not like I thought I would actually catch it - but I did.

eeeeeeeeewww! I washed my hands 3 times, sanitized with Purell twice and I can still feel the yucky little fruit fly guts on the palms of my hand. I’ll never be the same again.

FHE here I come!

Remember my Family Home Evening board  that I figured I’d never get around to finishing? Miraculously I brought up the stairs and into my living room to start painting it (I know, it's so unlike me, I don't know what came over me.) As I "prepped the area" (read: spread out a garbage bag on my table because we don't get newspaper around our house) I noticed that there was a little chip in the wood. Normally I wouldn't notice it, but  because I was making it myself, I knew every time I looked at the thing the little chip would make me crazy. 

So, I took it back to the Wood Connection last night to replace it and be still my beating heart. I’m in love.

I wandered around mostly just smelling the shop because, mmmmmm. I love that smell. On my first day at my "new job" I took a tour of all the shops at the Church Office Building. My boss stopped extra long in the cabinet shop because it smells like wood. Every once in a while I walk down the hall just to get my fix of that incredible smell.

In an unlikely fit of desire to be crafty and cute, I got new danglers for my welcome sign for November, and I ordered December danglers too. Here's hoping the uncharacteristic fit continues....

Mostly I’m just proud of myself that I am this far in the whole process. Last night I painted my board (while Bones and Booth-light were kissing in the background! What?!?!?!), so today it should be ready for lettering and finishing. I’m surprised (and a little proud) that I’m on top of it so soon - this has to be some kind of record right?

Tag - 8 things

Sometimes I like being tagged. Tonight I like it.


eight things on my wish list

1. A baby.
2. Josh to get the ROS position in Wyoming. Yeah, we might be moving to Wyoming depending on Josh getting a job. Today I want it. If he gets it, I wouldn't have to work, which is good. See #1.
3. A jetted tub.
   
4. A computer that isn't a laptop. I don't trust my laptop, probably because most days it sounds like it's going to take off like an airplane.
5. Josh's student loans to be paid off. 
6. A whole new wardrobe. I watch WAY too much What Not To Wear and I really want to throw away all of my ugly cheap ill-fitting clothes and make 2 professional shoppers  dress me properly.  Shallow? Yes. True? Yes.
7. Commandments not a few. Thank you Elder Bednar for that tidbit this weekend.
8. The ice dispenser in my freezer to work. 

eight tv shows I like to watch

1. The Office. I seriously could die laughing.
   
2. Friends. Old habits die hard.
3. What Not To Wear
4. The news minus the weather. I hate watching the weather. It bugs me.
5. Bones. 
6. House.
7. Dr. Phil. Makes me feel a little less crazy.
8. Country music videos. They help me fall asleep in the middle of the night....

eight things that happened yesterday

1. I went to work.
2. Josh scrubbed my bathroom faucets because he loves me.
3. We went to bed at like 8:30
4. Josh came to eat lunch with me at work.
5. Full-blown FHE. Some weeks we're really good like that.
6. Some poor lady called about a mouse running around all over her cubicle and I told Aundrea I was "a-scared-a mices".
7. I drove my own car to work for the first time in more than a week.
8. I begged (again) Josh to let us put up the Christmas tree. He didn't. Someday I'm gonna sneak home from work early and do it myself, only it's REALLY high up and heavy....so I kinda need him.

eight things you can't live without "not literally live without, it's just an expression"

1. My husband. Actually this one is quite literal. When he leaves I am a horrible person and I hardly live at all. I'm so glad he finally moved in with me (when we got married) so I could live happily. Also, I hate standing on the counters to reach high things (especially overweight Christmas trees).
2. The Gospel. What do people who don't know these truths do? How do they cope? It's hard enough when you do know!
3. Books. I always need to have something to read.
4. My computer. When we go somewhere internet-less, I feel lost.
5. Really good, heavy, cuddly blankets.
6. Snowstorms. 
7. Bobby pins. I hate it when my hair touches me.
8. Clear nail polish. Nylons every day gets REALLY expensive if you replace EVERY pair with a tiny hole in the toe.

eight things you wouldn't miss if they were gone

1. Leg hair. Too bad laser is soo expensive.
2. Apparently chocolate - Katy and I have been sugar fasting for a couple of weeks now and it turns out that it doesn't really bother me to go without chocolate. Who knew?
3. Recorded phone message from "West Valley Suzuki. Our records indicate that you have not been in to service your vehicle in at least days. Feel free to visit our showroom M-F.........." Yeah. I'm too cheap to pay a dealership to change the oil in my car so I go somewhere cheaper, but I'll definitely just come buy a whole new car since I'm a few days late on my oil change.  Good thing you called so I'll come there instead of Ken Garff to do so.
4. All this extra weight I carry around.
5. Miracle Grow. I don't need the guilt trip from still not being able to grow my lily, even with the help of a miracle.
6. Politics. 'Nuff said.
7. That annoying lady in the RC Willey commercials. She bugs me.
8. Chalkboards. Chalk. All things associated with both. It gives me chills and makes my spine shudder.
   

people I tag

Cathy
Chelsea
Jamie
Jenni
Jessica
Julie
Katie
Laura
Stick

Thank you sir, for not killing me this morning.

You know when you walk across the street, INSIDE a crosswalk, and that car that’s turning right and would run over your crosswalk in doing so waits? I ALWAYS wave a “thank you” to that car.

Technically I have the right of way. That guy has to wait for me by law. The crosswalk was painted so that I could walk across the street safely. The little white man on the sign says it’s my turn to walk. But for some reason (perhaps due to the fact that the guy in the car is inching closer and closer to me and won’t back off.) I feel like I’m in his way and I owe him a little “thank you” wave. Every. Single. Time.

This morning it’s raining. I had my book carefully sheltered by my coat, my hand gripping both coat and book tightly so it won’t get wet or fall down. In my other hand was my purse carefully positioned under my armpit so it wouldn’t get everything inside wet and rained on (sounds grosser than it really is, OK?). As I walked across the street I silently prayed (“pray always” and “counsel with the Lord in all thy doings” ok? It’s not blasphemous!) that I wouldn’t lose my balance on these stupid “sin shoes” (which for some reason I insist on wearing on days I don’t have to walk back and forth to the conference center more than once) so I wouldn’t have to flail my arms and lose the delicate balance that was holding it all together.

You know where this is going, right? As I approached the end of the crosswalk, the guy in the Jeep not so patiently waited - inching closer and closer to me every second. I attempted to give him my standard “thank you” wave which totally made me lose my balance on the stupid “sin shoes” and getting the entire contents of my purse soaked with the water that had pooled on my shoulder while I was not moving so it wouldn’t get into my purse.

As I cursed myself for breaking my neck to give an unnecessary courtesy wave I tried to figure out why I do it in the first place. What am I really saying anyway? “Thank you for obeying the law” “Thanks for not running over me”, “Even though I have every right to be here and you and your big fat SUV are invading my personal bubble, I will wave and thank you for being kind enough to keep your oversized tires off my forehead.” Yes, that’s it. That is definitely what I am saying. So, dear sir, even though you drenched the contents of my purse, made me nervous and forced me to say blasphemous prayers, Thanks.... I guess. 

A thing I love about Josh

He lets me sleep in pretty much every Saturday. True love? I think so.

Dear Roommates,

Hope Floats is on CMT it's dark and cold outside, there's snow on my lawn, what I really want is a Wendy's run and a good game of SkipBo. Just wanted you to know I miss you.

Love,
Amy

Self Control

What I wanted was this:

When Katy told me that if I broke the sugar fast she'd be mad at me, I changed my mind and had this:

Pomegranate/blueberry Icee? WAY better, plus if I eat it in this cool ice cream cup thing, I may as well be eating ice cream, only it isn't cheating! I rock.

PS Wanna know what THE PERFECT icee proportions are? 2 parts ice, 1 part juice/water/liquid. Couldn't be better.

On why my eyes hurt

I've been staring at a computer for exactly 8.02 hours.

I've been awake for exactly 9.17 hours (wow, that doesn't sound very long but it does feel long….)

The percentage of my day that I've been staring at a computer screen is 87.459%. That's too much. I need to go on a walk. Take a break. Get up and move. My eyes need to close, I should've taken a nap, but I just couldn't bring myself to curl up on the yicky couch in the "lounge" (that waiting room outside the bathroom) and actually relax. Especially not in my nylons and skirt. At least not while maintaining my modesty. Besides, I don't even have a blanket here and everybody knows you can't nap without a blanket. That bugs me.

Besides, my eyes are lopsided and my glasses look funny, so my brain has to work extra hard to correct my 20/40 right eye to make it match my 20-90 left eye. My mom sings this song (normally while camping with a guitar…) about "Catalina Madelina Oona Stonna Wanna Lanna Hokem' Pokem' Mokem'./She had 6 hairs on the top of her head/3 were alive and other 3 were dead./She had 2 teeth in the middle of her mouth,/one pointed North while the other pointed South/She had 2 eyes in the middle of her head,/1was brown and 1 was green. She had 2 feet like bathroom mats," I don't remember the end of the thing about her feet I think it has something to do with slipping.....or a boat.....no wait, that was her "hips like battleships". Anyway, it's all about how she's lopsided. Just call me Catalina.

Some of the MANY reasons I love this weather:

Hot chocolate.
Nobody expects me to do my hair because it would flop anyway.
Inside feels GOOD.
The smell.
Puddle-jumping.
Blankets.
Cuddeling.

The Church is True

And here’s another way I know it:

Yesterday we had testimony meeting, which just happened to be amazing. I love our ward. Testimony meetings are consistently meaningful and non-rambly I really think we’re in the best ward in the whole church right now. Josh and I sat down in Sacrament Meeting (in our usual place behind the Greens because they are our favorite family to watch during Sacrament Meeting) and settled into the meeting.

The member of the Bishopric who was conducting shared his testimony of testimonies and how great it is that we have this opportunity to gather and share our faith building experiences with each other. This is the same guy who set me apart for my calling and I am wowed by his spirituality and the strength of this testimony.

Then Dr. Dave (another favorite member of the ward who you might remember for his wife's cookie recipe) bore his testimony about fasting. He made reference to Isaiah 58 and talked about his personal experience that helped him gain his testimony of fasting and specifically a joint fast. What amazing opportunity we have to fast together as saints and claim these incredible blessings! He spoke about how when you fast you are blessed with the power and ability to withstand temptation and greater ability to follow the path the Lord has laid out specifically for us. Josh was fasting and I was embarrassed that I had forgotten. I’ll definitely be fasting later this week to make up for it though.

The next 2 or 3 were “answers to prayers” type testimonies. The one that made me cry the most was when one guy stood up and talked about his wife who had been asked by another sister in our ward to help her teach at her pre-school. He choked up when he said that his wife is so great with children and it meant the world to her to have someone ask for her help with kids while they waited for the day they would “finally be able to have their own children”. He talked about how much joy it brings to watch all of the families in Sacrament Meeting and to feel like a small part of each of them (he and his wife serve in the nursery). I cried and thought of how hard it would be to have no children in my life at all. To not be able to kidnap my nephews, or to play with the Greens sitting in front of us. How my heart would break to go more than a week without hearing them laugh or cry or shout “look mom, I drawed this for you!” right in the middle of "reverent time".

I know that right now I’m not called to be a mom, but I am so blessed to be surrounded by so many amazing children who remind me that it’s worth every single second of the waiting. That one juicy-dirty smile after the embarrassing announcement shouted through the chapel that he “needs to pee RIGHT NOW MOM!” will make it all OK.

I don't finish things.

Yesterday morning (post-puke but pre-park) I looked at the kitchen counter and saw the two packages of tortillas I bought to take to our ward’s Super Saturday that had been planned for like 3 months. I had signed up to do a Family Home Evening Board and have been so excited to make it ever since. Somehow in the rush of Halloween and Egbert Party Weekend I totally forgot about it. On our way to the bowling alley we stopped by the church so I could drop of the tortillas and pick up the stuff I needed for my board and figured I’d just put it all together at home.


Now that I’m at work and thinking about it logically I know that I will never finish that board. I’m bad at projects. It will sit un-put-together until we move and I can’t remember what it’s for. 20 years from now I’ll be wishing we could have Family Home Evening all organized and cute and own an assignment board and then I’ll remember, and wish I had finished it, but I know I never will. I’m just not that cool. I love the board, I love the thought, I love the finished product, I love doing the project; but for some reason I just don’t finish things.

I don’t use the end of the conditioner bottle (this is one of those things that Josh truly hates about me) because it bugs me to use new shampoo with old conditioner. And I hate fighting the stuff out of the bottle. It’s just not worth it. This also goes for ketchup, chapstick, and mayonnaise.

I started chalking these adorable folders with Jamie when she lived her, then she moved and I don’t own a laminator and now I have a bunch of uncolored folders that my future children will just hammer.

My grandpa gave me his mission letters and journal to type up and make pretty for him. I got started on it and LOVED it. I read some incredible things and thought it was the coolest project I’d ever worked on. Then life got crazy and I dropped it. Now it’s been 3 years and I haven’t touched them. I’m halfway through his journal and I don’t have the guts to tell him I’m not really working on it anymore.

I don’t even want to count the number of times I’ve “started reading the book of mormon….again”. I do know that I’ve finished it more than once, but not much more.

Remember when I went to our craft group and made this cute sign? Well the idea was “danglers for every season and a season for every dangler”. I made mine in April or May so I have these adorable flowers that I love. June’s danglers were bees, but you couldn’t really tell that’s what they were, so I figured my spring flowers could last through June. July was supposed to be something about the 4th I think, but either it didn’t happen or I missed it because I was in primary. In August the girl in charge of the group had a baby. In September our ward was split and everybody was released from their calling. Now it’s October and I still have spring flowers hanging on my welcome sign. If I were a good person I’d go out and buy some beautiful fall leaves, something about back to school, a set of fireworks, snowflakes, hearts, Christmas presents, etc. I’d paint them all, they’d look fabulous. But, unfortunately I’m me and I just know that I will have spring flower danglers hanging from my welcome sign for the rest of eternity because that’s just the kind of girl I am.

In my attempt to force the nephews to like us, we decided to kidnap them on Friday night and have a super-fun weekend with them. Also this was a chance to prove to the man upstairs that Josh and I would be fantastic parents. Here are the highlights.

We stayed up WAY past their bedtime (like 12:30) on Friday night playing nintendo intellectually stimulating games about math and reading. That way we'd spark their interest and improve their minds at the same time. The children were thrilled with our choice of the evening. Just goes to show you that kids really do like to learn. My philosophy on bedtime: if you're grumpy go to bed. If not, don't. (Clearly I don't deal with the next day. Sorry Sarah.)

Also, I'm pretty sure that moving the Wii wheel (up and down, in front of your face, around your back, and pulled close to your body) doesn't really change the direction or speed of the Mario Kart. But whatever they were learning about how to be gracious losers.

The next morning despite a very healthy breakfast, Dallin wasn't feeling so hot and gave me back his breakfast, which I handled beautifully. (By handing the kid a garbage can to continue puking in and making him change his own pants while I tried to hold off my gag reflex.) Fortunately he felt fine and acted fine the rest of the day.

We asked the kids what they wanted to do today. Dallin brought his swimming suit (he thought he might need it in an emergency, which Garret explained might happen if we were flying over the ocean to get from American Fork to Lindon and the plane went down and we had to swim to shore) but Garret didn't. Dallin thought we'd all go to the rec center and since he brought the oh-so-versatile size 4 swimsuit (I guess they both fit a size 4....but really I'm just guessing because I know nothing about their vital stats) he and Garret would take turns swimming. Josh and I decided it was a great idea but unfortunately we didn't dare split up for fear they'd overtake us the rec center was closed.
While waiting for Josh to "get ready" aka take the fastest shower of your life and get right back out here! Dallin looked at Garret playing the games, looked at me and said "it's too bad you don't have much of a backyard". To which I responded. "uh huh. wanna play Wii?"
First order of business (after the breakfast and puking) was bowling. Thank you Bountiful Bowl for being close to home because I think if they'd asked us one more time how far away the bowling alley was from our house I wouldda gone a little crazy. 20 times is cute. 21 times is annoying. At this point in the day I'm still happy we're playing house for a while and answering "pretty close" 20 times in a row without yelling at all makes me feel like I would be a fantastic parent.
At the bowling alley, the guy asked what size their feet were. He clearly directed the question at me and I looked at the kids for help. They each took off a shoe to check and told the man themselves. Then he looked at me waiting for an explanation. "13 1/2" I repeated. He sighed and turned to get the shoes.
When the boys sat on the floor in the middle of the doorway to change into their "uber-cool bowling shoes" I didn't even yell about how they were in the way and needed to move.

Josh got a strike and gave me a thumbs up.

Dallin got a spare, but I guess that wasn't really exciting for him. Whatever, I didn't yell then either.

Dallin liked to push the buttons - of course they didn't do anything, but he was just as entertained with that as anything else. We shouldda just stayed home the nintendo intellectually stimulating games. Whatever.

Garret was an amazing bowler. Seriously. He beat us all, by 37 pins but just barely.

Dallin was an amazing bowler too. But, given that the ball weighed about 1/3 of his body weight (I'm guessing because clearly I don't know their shoe sizes, weights, social security numbers or even their middle names), after the first few frames he was having a hard time hucking the thing down the alley. So being the incredibly observant caretaker that I am I asked the bowling guy to get him this thing, which he carefully placed each turn, and then quietly put back away at the end of every turn. This kid is SOO polite it's ridiculous really.

This is my "I got 2 gutter balls in a row" face.

This is the "focus on recovering from 2 gutter balls" face. (Ignore the fact that all the shoes but none of the people are in the chairs behind me. Josh is taking my picture, where are the boys? No idea. But they did come back.)

After turning in our shoes and safely making it back to the car (and making sure everyone was buckled - once again with the 'I'd be an awesome mom' feeling) we decided it was time for lunch. For some reason when I asked what they wanted to eat for lunch I kindof expected something cool or exciting. "oooh a McDonald's is right there!" Is what I got. Amazing. While waiting in line at the drive through, Garret shared this little tidbit with us. Josh and I looked at each other and smiled because we're good parents that don't laugh at our (borrowed) kids.

We ate our (non well-balanced) grub at the park. Half Dallin didn't want to finish his hamburger because Garret asked about the toy that came with it. Given my lack of wild success with breakfast, I didn't really want to force feed the kid anything, so I let it go. During a rousing game of tag, I realized a few things. 1) running in the sand is hard and I'm out of shape. 2) If my success as a parent depends at all on my ability to keep up with 2 running boys and Josh dies, I will die too. 3) It was DEFINITELY a mom who invented the "safe bench".

Josh had a blast with them at the playground. And this is one of my favorite pictures of all time. Again, where are the kids? Probably on the slide of death and doom.

He conquered the "slide of death and doom".

Quickly followed by his brother. They're both smiling, and that's how I know it was OK to let them go down on their own. When you're a mom sometimes you just learn by trial and error.

Who can swing highest? Well, on this swingset, it was a tie. When Josh jumped out, I freaked out a little because Dallin likes to be cool like his "fravorite uncle". Images of the Emergency Room and blood and guts flew through my mind, while Dallin flew through the air. He safely landed and I promptly told them it was time to leave.

Back to intellectually stimulating games. Safe and sound where they belong.

When we got back, we were all bored. What do you people do all day with your kids? We had gone to the park, had lunch, breakfast, made our beds (and deflated their air matress) showered, gone bowling, and were totally worn out by 3:00 in the afternoon. Granted we didn't have all the normal daily stuff going on....the kids obeyed our every command because we aren't their parents, and nobody cried or whined the whole day (which I'm sure takes up a big chunk of time....). I was just surprised that we did all the fun things I thought would take the whole day, and it didn't. Not even close! If we had been required to be entertaining for much longer we both would've cried. Not to mention the fact that they and we were perfectly content to play Wii for 90-a hundred 1.5 hours this weekend. Geez, what do you with a kid who doesn't play Wii?!

After giving these lovely children back to their lovely mother (and giving her an only partial report of the day's happenings) Josh and I came home and crashed. For real. Josh fell asleep at 6:30 last night and I followed at 9:00. We didn't bother to get up until 8:00 this morning, and that's how I know it's a dang good thing we don't have babies yet.

Tag - 4th photo

Quick and easy tag. I like it. Go to your 4th folder and then get your 4th picture and post it.

There are a few reasons I love this picture. 1 is that my mom is smiling. But this is her "OK fine I'll smile because I love you but not because I love getting my picture taken" and I think I inherited it from her. Actually I'm relatively certain that Jamie has a picture of me that looks exactly like that. One of the first she took of me before I became the snap-happy person I am today.  *Jamie, if you happen to run into that picture (I'm sitting on the couch at the dorms, it's black and white, and I'm relatively certain I'm wearing pajama pants....not that it really narrows it down much, but the face I'm making might. :))

Why I don't need a Happy Meal

In the words of my 8 year old nephew. "I still like the toys, and I like the food; but well.....I guess I'm just growing up now."

Oh how I love that boy.