Ahem

A Sign of the Times

2012-01-26T12:21:00.000-08:00

Some days just feel like this, don't they?

It is time to Toot

2012-01-25T16:22:00.000-08:00

My own horn. Cuz not all of my homemade Christmas Gifts ended in disaster this year. Tears, yes. Large quantities of blood, of course. Sweat? No! I'm a lady, chumps! I ain't got no sweat glands!

My big homemade project was quiet books for each of the boys. My mistake was, I didn't think it WAS a big project. I got everything else done by Thanksgiving, and figured I would just work on the quiet books in the evenings after the boys were in bed for a few nights and turn those puppies out in no time. Didn't work out quite that way though. I finished at 12:30 am on December 22nd. And I was working almost every possible second until then. I was up until 2:00 am for a couple of weeks straight. Just a fun little tid bit of info I though you might enjoy.

So, I made Colin's quiet book based on a pattern found on Serving Pink Lemonade. It is cute and most importantly, free! Though I would have paid money for it. Look how cute?

She really should be charging for that. I'm not gonna show you the whole book, though, cuz my book looks just like hers for the most part. If you care, click that link up there. Or click this one. Or even this one. It doesn't matter to me.

I did a few different pages though, like these:

I copied that rocket page from Handmade By Jill. So far, Colin just tries with all his might to rip that rocket ship out of there. Those poor astronauts are never gonna make it to the moon as long as Colin is the guy at mission control.

And then I added this camping page, which I also copied from Handmade by Jill. But it was my idea to add the moon and tree in there. Yep. MY IDEA. I got a few. I especially love the little ropies holding the tent down. I think Richard told me they are Guy Ropes? I don't know. I thought that sounded pretty sexist.

So, you just get back after a rigourous hike to the top of the summit of the peak of the mountain, and can't wait to curl up in your top-of-the-line sleeping bag, and Surprise! There is a Bear in your tent!

Rar.

Colin loves him. He spends a lot of time hugging that crooked-bellied little bear. Actually, he doesn't really care about much else in the book. But he loves to play with that zipper and hug the bear. And now I have to wonder why I wanted him to learn how to use a zipper in the first place? Now he unzips my purse and pulls out all the change, cards and other, more embarrassing items which are none of your business. He unzips his jammies and his coat and he opens rogue bags of curlers I didn't realize I had anymore and spreads them all over the house. It's wonderful.

Moving On.

I made Harrison the "JEDI QUIET BOOK" which you have probably seen on Pinterest. You can see it here. It is very, very awesome. She is crazy awesome. AND she also has a Star Trek Quiet Book, which you have got to see.

I bought the pattern for the book from her etsy shop, but - and I only tell you this in case you plan to make a book identical to mine - I made a few changes.

I used stiff, non fusible pellon for the white pages, and attached my felt to the pellon with Wonder Under for the black pages. Then I sewed two pages back to back to make them two sided instead of just one. TRICKSY!

I made the letters on this page removable:

And now I know that at this point in his life, Harrison is not really interested in snaps.

The girl who made this book is probably crazy. And I mean that in the nicest possible way. There was so much hand embroidery required. The time involved is mind numbing. You could build yourself a violin from scratch in less time. She had lots of cute hand embroidered instructions written on each page, but I left them off, since Harrison can't read and hand embroidery is only fun if you are in your nineties. I just put big titles on the pages instead, like so:

Oh, and look who is inside the Death Star! (See all that embroidered detail on the Death Star? Yep! Crazy! Richard kept saying. "You're doing it too. Who is the crazy one?")

The girl who made this book didn't include a Chewbacca finger puppet, so I bought some finger puppets from The Idea Room. All the finger puppets above came from there. That guy on the left there is Luke. Richard thought it was Anakin, since Luke never wore an oufit that looked like that. Now I know. And now I know you can't trust every pattern you buy on the internet.

I wanted Harrison's book to have as many pages as Colin's, but that left me quite a few pages short. So Richard and I had some brain storming sessions to come up with some other pages we could throw in. Making my own pages was by far the funnest part. Here is what we came up with.

A dress-up Luke page!

I found a Luke Skywalker paperdoll here, which included every single outfit Luke ever wore. It is awesomeness itself. I printed them on t-shirt transfer paper and ironed it onto the pellon. Worked beautifully. Then I sewed Luke onto the page, and made a Jedi-y sort of pocket for all his clothes to go in.

This is Harrison's favorite page. He likes to try the clothes on all of the finger puppets.

Then you get to help the Millenium Falcon navigate the asteroid feild!

OOh! So difficult! I feel like those asteroids need some more detail, but since I was making this at about 1:00 am on December 21st, I really didn't care anymore.

And then we have the page I am most proud of:

the Build Your Own Lightsaber page!

He's got all these spiffy parts, and with the magic of velcro, gets to put them together into a light saber of his own. He would really like it if the light sabers came off the page so he could swing them around and fight with them, but the magic of velcro can only do so much.

I made that little yellow pocket to hold all the light saber pieces, but it isn't nearly big enough. I had to add another pocket inside the back cover to hold it all.

And so, in conclusion, Harrison's book is way too big! There is just too much stuff in there. And too many removable parts. This is meant as a quiet book for church, and it sort of works, but not until the pew is strewn with every single item that can be removed out of the entire book.

I don't necessarily recommend putting so much time and effort into a gift your children will try to destroy. And while Harrison really likes the book, I think, the only pages he spends any time on are the Luke page and the light saber page. And he likes the finger puppets. A lot. Really, I should just turn the pages he likes into seperate little Folder Games that he can take out ONE AT A TIME and then put away. If only he would listen to me. Which he doesn't. Especially not when I am whispering. Like I usually do at church. Usually. Someone is yelling, but 63% of the time, it isn't me.

Any Questions?

This Post May Not Be Entirely True.

2012-01-13T13:19:00.000-08:00

My dad’s philosophy of Gift Giving was always, “I will give you what I want to give you, not what you want to get.”

Which maybe sounds a little crazy. But I like it. I probably didn't love it when I was a kid, but I don't really remember. And my dad always made us the coolest gifts, so I doubt I was doing much complaining. It takes a ton of the stress out of gift giving. Instead of trying to divine what that one special thing is that they want most in the world, you get to figure out what YOU want to give THEM. Homemade gifts fit perfectly into this philosophy.

At this point I was going to go off on a lecture about how wonderful and important homemade gifts are, but it was really boring. And being bored is something up with which I will put. I'll just sum up by saying that I made a bunch of gifts this year and bought a lot less, in hopes of enjoying the season a little more than I usually do.

I know making gifts adds more work, but I stress and stress over what gifts to buy for people and by the next year I can't even remember what I gave them, and they probably don't either, so what was the point? At least I remember the stuff that I make. And if it is really ugly, or I REALLY mess it up, the chances are that they are going to remember it too. Those are Special Christmas Memories, right there.

So now, you lucky dog you, I'm gonna show you what I made this year. Don't ask me why. I just want to. Ready?

THING 1:

I made one of these for my mom and one for my mother-in-law. It is an 8x10 picture glued onto canvas, which I bought at Walmart. I followed this tutorial. I got the pictures here, but there are some really nice temple pictures here as well. In photoshop I added names and wedding dates, and printed them at Winkflash for less than a dollar each. Very cheap and easy. Just like me!

I gave this one to my mom and she said, "Oh, that is so pretty, but Elesa. . . that is not the right temple."
Let's check again, shall we?

I said, "Uh yeah, that's the Jordan River Temple, isn't it?"
She said, "Yes, but we weren't married in the Jordan River Temple."
me - "WHAT??"
My husband said " I could have told you that. The Jordan River Temple wasn't even build in '67"
I sweetly told him where he could stick his very useful but Much-Too-Late knowledge of temple history and asked my mother what temple she WAS married in and she had the nerve to say, "Logan".

I won't bother recounting our entire conversation. The language isn't suitable for a family friendly blog like mine. But I tried very hard to convince her that she was wrong. I've ALWAYS known my parents were married in the Jordan River Temple. Every time we drive passed it I think "There is the temple where my parents were married." It has always been so. And now she is telling me they got married in the Logan Temple? It is ridiculous! How does she know anyway? It was a long time ago. It was a very exciting day, and her eyes were so filled with starlight and love that she could have been married on the moon for all she would remember! I threw the picture on the floor, and as I stormed out I shouted, "I'll give you what I want to give you! Not what you want to get!"

Crazy old woman. And now my mom will probably say that she doesn't remember the conversation going like that at all, which just further proves my point, that it is her memory, and not my gift, which is flawed.

Christmas Fetters.

2011-12-09T19:45:00.000-08:00

I just sent off my Christmas cards. And I didn't include a letter this year. If that makes you sad, I'm sorry. Though if you really are saddened by it, it is likely that you are a sweet old lady I met on my mission and don't read my blog or know what the internet is, and therefore have no idea what is going on in my life. So I am most apologetic to those of you who will never get this apology. May my unheard apology lighten your heart and brighten your day.

Still, I'm always a little bummed when I get a card with no letter, and now I am kinda wishing I had included one. SO, since dinner is in the oven and all and the kids are wrestling in the other room, here is the letter I would write if I were to write a letter right here right now.

My kids are getting bigger. In the usual fashion. Colin started saying "Please" yesterday. He rubs his little belly and says "Bee! Bee!" And I find it impossible to say no to him. Harrison has started telling poop jokes. And mostly just throwing the word "Poop" and "Pee" into sentences at random. I think we have the public school system to thank for that.

My mostly crazy and somewhat amazing husband is building a motorhome in our backyard. From the ground up, basically. Because he just had loads and loads of free time and was dying for a little project to fill it.

As for me? Last night I ate the perfect cupcake. Thanks to Lindsay, who just moved into my ward and got put in charge of the food for the ward Christmas party. It was a chocolate cupcake with peppermint ganache in the center and the most amazing buttercream on top. I really kind of wanted to cry, it was so delicious. I really, REALLY wanted to hug her, but I was holding a baby, so I had to settle for an awkward shoulder pat. And now, unfortunately, that cupcake is the standard by which all other cupcakes will be measured, and I'm sorry, Other Cupcakes of the World, but I just don't think you are going to measure up.

At this magical time of year, I am most thankful for: shatterproof Christmas tree ornaments, the fact that there is no snow on the ground outside, that my heater works, and that my neighbors have just this minute decided it is probably OK to start testing out the base in their new car-stereo sound system. And my kids, cuz they are pretty great.

My Goals for the coming year:

Get some more kids. As much as I feel bad for my poor children for being stuck with me for a mom, I still want more. But we really only have 2 rooms. If we're gonna get any girls, we really need another room. And I don't think the motorhome counts. So my goal next year is to find someone to build us another room or 2. I've thought about Extreme Makeover Home Edition, but they'd just want to tear the house down and start over, and I don't THINK I want that. Do I?
Punch someone in the face. Ok, not really. But it is on my bucket list. I don't have anyone in mind, but sometime before I die I'd like to punch at least one person in the face, good and hard. Now I just need to find someone who really deserves it.
Survive, keep my children alive, and stay out of jail.

That probably about wraps it up! Thank you so much for stopping by and we'll see you again next year!

That is what happens when you try to fly by them.

2011-11-12T12:26:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, unbeknownst to me, I shopped for about an hour with THIS in the seat of my pants.

You're welcome, people of Target.

Bringing Nerdy Home

2011-11-01T22:59:00.000-07:00

It is a problem the world over. You are a giant nerd, but how do you incorporate that nerdiness tastefully into your home decor? You probably shouldn't line up all of your Boba Fett paraphernalia above your T.V. in the living room. Because your husband won't let you. And you might love to display all of the Star Trek toys you got from Burger King when the new movie came out, but they are Mint in Box in the Attic, and just too much work to retrieve. And now that you are married it is no longer "appropriate" to line the walls with your posters of David Tennant, Nathan Fillion, and Richard Ayoade. And your authentic Hogwarts Robes just don't go with the decor.

So, what to do? Here is what I did:

Built some nerdy Furniture! Stylish & functional, yet it still subtly displays your love of Sci Fi Cult Films.

The story began when I saw this picture on Pinterest.

Which came from here. So cute, right? The only trick was this lucky girl found a couple of old crates at a thrift store and stuck some spiffy wheels onto them. That is fine and dandy, but what if I don't have the gift for finding neato crates at my local thrift stores? What if I ain't got no crate to stick no wheels on?? Those were the thoughts, word for word, that were running through my mind when suddenly inspiration struck and I realized I could BUILD MY OWN CRATE. And you can too!!! Cuz I am going to tell you how! I can't help myself. Doing tutorials is like a drug. Once you start, you can't stop. It's irresistible, for a bossy person - telling people what to do and how to do it. They just can't get enough. Ok. Me. I'm the bossy person. I can't get enough. I love telling people what to do.

HOW TO BUILD YOUR OWN ROLLING CRATE

I would like to start by telling you that this only cost me $3.00 to make, but the truth is I don't have a clue. Cuz I didn't pay much attention at the time, and I made this like a month ago, and I don't remember that far back.

First of all, I used what I had, which was 3/4 inch plywood. Which is WAY thicker than it needs to be. That sucker is heavy! I would suggest using 3/8 inch plywood, but that makes the math too tricky, so I am going to tell you to make it using 1/2" plywood.

Ok, let's see if I can remember how I did it. The finished peice is 21" high, with the wheels; 33" wide & 19.5 inches deep. Several minutes of research and experimentation showed that would be the ideal size for my purposes. Obviously it will be smaller if you use 1/2 plywood.

Start by cutting your wood.
Of the 1/2" ply wood you'll need
2 peices 18"x30",
2 peices 18"x18" and
1 peice 31"x19" (for the bottom).
If you don't have the tools or the inclination to cut at home, they will usually cut it for you at the hardware store.

The trim pieces I used are 3/4"x 2.5". I THINK that means they are officially called 1x3's. Maybe. And you could surely use something thinner or different, but trying to think about what your other options might be and adjusting my measurements to account for thinner trim is just about taxing my brain beyond its capacity. So let's just assume that the trim you use is 3/4" too, ok?

cut your trim thusly:

4 peices 18" long
4 peices 32.5" long
8 peices 13.5" long

And oh my goodness this is terrifying. What if you go to the hardware store, buy all your wood, have them cut all your wood and then get home and find it does not fit together? Is there any way that I won't be held accountable for the things that I write here?

MOVING ON!

Now Sand. Everything. As much as you feel like it. Sanding is very personal. And then it is time to start putting it together. I didn't take pictures along the way, cuz it didn't occur to me. So I will draw a picture for you, which I'm sure will work almost as good.

You put it together like that, ya shee? I used a brad nailer to hook the boards together, but screws would probably work better. And then the bottom peice should just fit right on top of the box you have just created, so screw that in as well. Then it is time for the trim! Boy, this sure is coming together quickly!

The trim goes on like this:

Wow, I really suck at this. Not at drawing, obviously, just at Tutorials. That is a top view. OH! Hey, I DID take a picture before I finished the whole thing. Maybe this will help?

Not really? You can see I didn't miter the edges of the trim, I just did it like in the picture. Yep. I really suck at this.

So, attach the trim pieces with finishing nails or a brad nailer. And then if you want it to look all battle scarred and beat up then beat the thing up! I was going to, but it was so pretty when I got to this point that I just couldn't bring myself to do it. The poor thing is going to get beaten up enough just living in my house, so I decided to let nature take its course.

Then comes the fun part. At this point my crate looked like this from the front:

But shipping crates always have a logo or shipping company or something stamped on them, so I had to pick something to put on mine. I thought it might be fun to make it look like a something intercepted on its way to to Warehouse 13, but while I was looking for shipping images online, this one kept popping up:

Which seemed familiar, but I couldn't place it. This helped though:

And then I read up on it on the FireflyWiki, and I knew it was the logo I wanted to use. So I printed it off on my Cricut, used it as a stencil and I spray painted it on. The logo is not too detailed though. A dedicated anal person could easily cut it out with an Xacto Knife.

And then I stained the whole thing. Right over the top of the spray painted logo. I used Minwax Polyshades in a satin Antique Walnut.

I just did one coat. It went on so fast and easy. The hardest part was waiting for it to dry.

Then for the wheels!

The girl who inspired me was inspired by these crates (which don't even have any trim. You could leave out that whole annoying attaching trim step).

Sold by SerenaAndLily.com. She even found a website where you can buy casters in almost any color (CoolCasters.com). But to me, that crate looks kind of like a box wearing tennis shoes. Also, the cool casters are about $10.00 a piece. Too steep for me! So I was more than happy with these little black ones from Home Depot for about $2.00 a piece.

Just remember to get some screws to go with them. I forget and had to rummage through the junk drawer at home to find some with the right kind of top in the right length.

Then I screwed them on, one in each corner, just like the pros do, and Tada! I now have a place to keep all my toys!

And I can get them out and play with them any time I like. Now I just wish we lived on a hill, cuz that thing is just begging for somebody to go for a ride in it.

Are you going to the Gun Show?

2011-10-26T14:54:00.000-07:00

I owe you guys an apology. I believe a person can never say I'm sorry too often, so that is why I want you to imagine that I am standing next to you, whispering "I'm sorry" in your ear over and over and over, all day, in kind of a creepy voice (cuz that is the only way I know how to whisper). Then maybe you will really feel apologized to. Cuz I promised I would tell you how we did Richard's Steampunk costume and my steampunk gun and there you all are, waiting with baited breath and heated up Hot Glue Gun, Rub 'N Buff at the ready and I am over here just living my life and stuff. And that is not right. I know that. That is on me. Feel free to throw very small, soft objects at me.

OK!

How to Steampunk Your Man!

Step 1: Get permission. Most guys do not like it when you dress them up in their sleep. They are not dolls, dogs, or babies. Be respectful, ok? You might get away with a haircut while they are unconscious, but I really wouldn't go any further than that.

Step 2: Look at this picture and try to recreate it.

yeah, I am really feeling too lazy to go into detail. Here is what I will tell you: to achieve Richard's look, use Simplicity Pattern number 2895 for the vest, massacre several leather belts and give the camera lots of smouldery looks. This was all his idea. The Steampunk, I mean. Halloween a couple years ago he pulled up a "Steampunk" Google image search and said "Isn't this awesome? This is how we should dress next Halloween." And I said "You are sitting on my foot". But see where it led us?

I think I've mentioned that Richard always wants to make everything himself (or get ME to make it for him). So he has always saved every bit of leather he gets his hands on. We have quite a stash. He wanted to make his own hat, but I found that hat at Target in their Halloween costumes for $5.00. So he took the satin band off and replaced it with a strip of leather. His goggles are identical to mine. See them here. He designed the Gators (or whatever the manly equivalent of legwarmers would be) himself. Used some old denim to make the pattern by wrapping it around his legs till it looked right, making marks, wrapping again, making more marks, and then got me to sew it all together. If you want better instructions than that, just ask.

And now. . . . . . . My Steampunk Gun of Awesomeness.

I really like it.

Here is how it looked when I bought it for $1.99 at Savers.

I know. Kind of a rip off, right? I shouldn't have had to pay more than 50 cents for it. But it was the size and shape I was looking for, so I splurged. Richard told me later that when I bought it he thought it was a really stupid gun and there was no way I could turn it into a decent Steampunk gun. But he also admitted that he was wrong and it did turn out cool, so TAKE THAT, Past Richard!

So here is the low down. I took off that blue thing in the front cuz it was dumb, and then sanded the whole thing down. Not really carefully, I just wanted the paint to stick, and didn't want the gun to be too smooth and shiny. Then I took I knife and stabbed and cut and generally mauled the whole thing till it looked good and thrashed. I wanted it to look like it had seen a few battles. Then I spray painted the whole thing a matte black. Next came the Rub 'N Buff. And away I went! Rubbing on a little gold here, a little copper there, and maybe some silver over here for kicks! But I needed something to breakup the monotony of the cylinder on the back, so I drilled tiny holes along the seems and superglued regular metal brads into the holes. Then, to add a little color, I picked a couple spots and painted them with blue fingernail polish. THEN I sprayed the whole thing with a clear top coat to keep the Rub 'N Buff from rubbing off.

It was good, but not good enough! I wanted more!!

I made the gauge by cutting a 5/8 inch tube about 1/4 inch long. I found a picture of a gauge online, shrunk it down so it was the same size as the tube, printed it off and cut it out. We had some sheets of thin, hard, clear plastic that we cut into a circle the same size, and glued it and the picture inside the tube. Superglue. My very favorite adhesive with special abilities. Richard soldered together some copper and brass tubing into a fancy little doohickey, we glued the gauge on top, then glued the whole thing to the gun.

Then I pranced around carrying it just like a proper, well-bred, heat-packing, zombie-killer would. Truth be told, I wear it almost everyday. Here is me today, posing before I take out some cats in the backyard. Pew! Pew!

I made several guns before this one, to practice, and some after, because it is just so fun. Here are my favorites.

And that is all. I have probably blown your mind enough for one day. And I have used mine completely up, so I think I'll go watch "Single's 2nd Ward" for a while and recuperate. Thank you for joining us.

Rest for the Rest of Us

2011-10-17T23:35:00.000-07:00

When Harrison was 6 months old I left my husband alone with him and went to Girls Camp. For one night. It is nice, every once in a while, to get away. Girls Camp, however, should not be called a "Vacation" under any circumstances. Putting up my own tent, sleeping on the ground, having makeup put on me by a 12 year old, and mediating an argument between two hormonal girls sounds more like an episode of Survivor than a vacation.

But as a mom, it is the only one I've had. Sure, we've taken a few family vacations, but as what's-her-name from Modern Family said, "I'm a mom travelling with her kids. It's not a vacation, it's a business trip." So now I've got 2 boys, the oldest of whom is almost 5 and I just wanted a tiny little break, ok? And that is why my friends and I left our families for a night and went out and tore up the town.

I always love to read the posts people write about trips they've taken to exciting places like New York City, and Branson, Missouri (no, I'm lying. I really don't) and so I am going to tell you all about my weekend in Fabulous St. George, UT! Yes, you read that right! Woohoo!

First stop, once we gathered everyone together and arrived at our destination, was lunch. Any vacation that doesn't revolve around food is a pretty lame vacation in my book. So we hit the nearest Taco Time and OWNED that menu and then the "waitress" splashed hot sauce all over me and then gave me FREE Cinnamon Crustos out of guilt and shame. SCORE!!

And then I ate 3 churros and a few cherry empanadas for good measure. I had to pay for those though. I wish more people spilled things on me.

Exhausted after our social lunch, we headed to our hotel. Motel. Which had some really outstanding decor. Cowboy boots stuffed unceremoniously with fake flowers, horseshoes hung in completely unexpected places, blood red walls in the bedroom and then this, just in case it all got to be too much:

But we wouldn't need that rope! We have so much fun when we get together, having zit popping contests and taking pictures of our feet.

Wow, feet are weird looking, right?

After a wild night of cards and sour gummy bears, I pulled out my camera for a photo shoot. They were not impressed.

I begged and pleaded and bribed and just finally convinced everyone to sit down and smile when the Hotel Tipped Over!!!

And we high-tailed it out of there, and hid out in the parking lot. Things were just starting to return to normal, the hotel was righting itself, and we thought the coast was clear, so we decided to sneak back in for our sour gummy bears,

When out of the corner of my eye I saw it. I started screaming, "Lookout! Lookout! She's coming back!! Run! Run! Run!" and snapped this picture before diving into the nearest sewer grate.

Seriously.

So, yep. Just about the perfect vacation. I mean, how can you top Mothra? We decided to end things on a high note, so we headed home after that, very rejuvenated and refreshed. A Brush With Death and losing the rest of your sour candies can do that to a person. A few hours drive home to snooze and gab with the gals and then the vacation was over.

And, you know, even though I came home to two sick little boys, and a mountain of barfed on clothings, towels and blankets, I was still SO HAPPY to be there. Cuz I really missed them. And maybe taking care of a house full of pukers is exactly where I belong.

Steampunk Yourself

2011-10-09T14:30:00.000-07:00

Alison asked me about our Steampunk costumes from last year, and it made me realize that probably all of you had the same burning questions, but just didn't know how to ask. Who doesn't want to know how to Steampunk themselves for Halloween? My only regret is that I waited so long. You all are going to really have to hurry if you are going to get your costumes done in time. I'm serious. This is happening. I'm going to tell you exactly how I made my whole Halloween Costume last year. Because I want to. So let's get down to business!

Steampunk Goggles:
There are lots of tutorials on line for how to make your own from scratch, but we went the easy route and bought some welding goggles from Amazon. Here is how they look on Amazon.

But that was real easy to fix. The first tool in any steampunkers Bag of Holding is Rub 'N Buff.

You can buy it in Gold, Silver, Bronze, Copper, Antique Gold, and other metaly colors like that. It comes out in a gold cream (if you are using gold, obviously), and as you rub it over a surface all the raised parts start looking like gold and all the recessed parts look like the old, unpolished parts of the metal. It is like magic. So awesome. Practice on things you don't care about first, use less than you think you need, and follow the instructions on the package. It is pretty easy and very fun.

The goggles are shiny, so I sprayed them with a matte, black spray paint first so the Rub 'N Buff would stick. I probably should have sanded them very first, but I didn't. I think I used Antique Gold Rub 'N Buff on these. But I really don't remember. We were going to replace the strap on the goggles with some leather or something but we ran out of time.

And then I doctored this picture to make my eyes look really green. Cuz that is what Photoshop is for.

Women's Steampunk Jacket:

My jacket started out like this:

It was one I already had, but it didn't button up, so I hadn't ever worn it. Then I just kind of tried to guess how I would want a cropped jacket to look, marked it, cut it off and rehemmed it.

Then I replaced the buttons with some brassy looking ones (I bought a huge bag of assorted brass buttons on Ebay), and Blamo! Jacket done:

I already had the shirt - I think I got it here if you are interested in getting the very same one.

We got those leather pouches at an army surplus store. Years ago. Richard just knew we would use them for something SOMEDAY. And it turns out he was right. This time. Threaded them on a regular old leather belt. Fancy!

Steampunk Skirt:
It was time to stop pulling things out of my own closet, and make a trip to the thrift store. For my underskirt, basically I was just looking for a lot of cheap white material. I thought it might be cheaper to buy a large white dress than to buy the right material at a fabric store. I'm not positive it was, but I got this dress for $4.00.

I know. That picture is useless. The dress was too big for me to fit the whole thing in the picture. It was perfect though, cuz it had 2 layers, and the material was kind of gauzy, in a cheap way.

I cut a section out of the center of the under layer that looked like this:

and put some elastic at the top. Then I cut the rest of the dress into equal width, equal length strips of fabric, and you guessed it, basted one side and gathered them. Then I sewed them on, bottom to top. I put two rows of ruffles on the bottom of the front too, which just about used up all the fabric I had.

You can see I didn't hem anything. I wanted it to look all worn and thready.

AND then my overskirt. I also got this at the thrift store:

I put it on, and then pulled the back into a sort of bustle, pinned each side, and then tacked them into pleats by hand. See?

Then I made those spats or gators or whatever you would call them, but they wouldn't stay up, and they were a pain to make cuz I didn't have a pattern and didn't know what I was doing and I think my boots would have been just fine all by themselves. Here is a picture anyway.

Whew, does it feel like this is taking me forever? Yeah, sorry about that. Last thing for today is those little glovelets. Which you should find a better way to make than I did. I bought a bit of really wide lace, and basically just sewed it into a tube with a hole for my thumb to stick through. I made them as tight as I could while still being able to get them on and off. I should have put some elastic on the underside, but I was too dumb.

Put it all together and what have you got?

That is all for today. I probably ought to feed my kids. Those hotdogs aren't going to thaw themselves! But stay tuned, because I still need to tell you about Richard's costume, and, Most Importantly, my gun! And I don't really care whether you want to hear it or not. It's not like you are here by choice. Till then, Elesa Out!

Guy on a Buffalo

2011-10-04T15:24:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Epbot, I find out about very funny things. Have you seen this?

I have been giggling for about 23 hours straight.

And if that is your cup of tea, here is Episode 2 and Episode 3. You're Welcome!

I Have a Problem

2011-09-30T11:06:00.000-07:00

A big one. Or maybe several small ones. And I'm a little hesitant to admit it. But I believe the internet is a sacred place. A safe place where I can say anything and no one will judge me. So here it is:

WE HAVE MICE.

Yep. Dirty little mice. I assume they're dirty anyway. What else would they be? They are running around on MY floors after all.

We used to have mice when we first moved in here, 8 years ago, but after putting out some poison they magically disappeared, and we haven't seen them again until now. Now, we Definitely have mice again. Sometimes at night when I am sitting at my desk I can hear them scratch, scratching in the closet next to me. Or scratch, scratching somewhere in the living room while I am watching TV. Whenever I hear them I just start yelling and stomping on the floor. Cuz if I were their size that would scare the crap out of me. But they just keep getting bolder and bolder. The other night while playing on the X-Box I distinctly heard a "Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!" go running across the room behind me. I mean! The nerve! If I were living in a Giant's house, eating their food, trying to stay alive, I would try my hardest NOT to run screaming through a room that they were in. Maybe he did it on a dare? Maybe it was some sort initiation into a mousy fraternity or something. That probably IS what is actually going on, cuz the next night I actually SAW the mouse running to hide out under my entertainment center. Which was the last straw. I can pretend they aren't there if I only hear them once in a while, but now I don't really have a choice! I went out and bought some mouse traps, which claim to get rid of mice FAST, and do it without me having to even see the mouse once it is caught.

Only once I got them home I realized they don't come with any bait. I thought they'd be like Ant traps, all souped up and ready to go, but NO. WE have to bait them OURSELVES.

And so, tonight, the traps are set, baited with a variety of cheese, peanut butter, and even a gold fish cracker. Let's see which works best? You're Going Down Little Mousy!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DAY 2 -

NO TRAPS SPRUNG.

Not even one. The mice didn't fall for it. All my spiffy new traps are sitting alone and impotent. I really kind of expected them to each have a mice inside and my problems would be over.

But clearly not. And to make matters worse, this morning some cheeky mouse went running ACROSS MY KITCHEN FLOOR! In the full light of day! In view of me and both my children! So now I am just mad. AT LEAST COWER BEFORE ME, TINY MOUSE! I AM HUGE!

So I looked online: Best mouse trap bait. The verdict - peanut butter. Hmm. Not impressed. They also said if you don't catch anything in a week, change out your bait. A WEEK! I'm not going to wait a week while some free-loading rodent goes to town in my kitchen! Besides, I suspect these mice are highly evolved because of the radiation levels around here, and it is going to take something more than PEANUT BUTTER to tempt them. Tonight I am going to put money in one of them. And maybe a tiny motorcycle in another. Then I'll pimp out one to look a little Night Club. Where they can also gamble. And another I will make to look like a game store, complete with a Dungeons and Dragons tournament going on in the back room. And on one I am just going to stick a tiny "WalMart" sign, and see how many don't get trapped inside. Then we'll see. And if all that doesn't work, I've also just found some Rat Poison that even I am not supposed to touch with my bare hands, so one way or another, the status quo is about to change. Those disrespectful mice might think they own the place, but they are about to find out just how terrifying I can be. And now, in honor of the Mouse Annihilation that will soon take place, I will leave you with a poem, by my brother-in-law Lance:

Pitter-patter little mouse
sneaking all around my house
Fae caught you once inside her closet
While she made a shirt deposit

Pitter-patter little mouse
Fae doesn't want you near her blouse!
so I sent Ethan for my broom
(I keep it in the other room)

My eyes stayed fast upon your spot
A way to pass me filled your thoughts!
Oh where's the broom! Hey look! It's here!
and then you knew the end was near.

The curtains closing, things looked bleak.
Your chances slim, your position weak.
And just when things were at their worst
When with fear you thought you'd burst
a tiny flash of hope and chance
told you that you might pass Lance
without being hit by my large broom
maybe you could skip your doom.

So up you sprang!
Out toward the door!
My broom, I swang
down toward the floor!

I did not get you on that day
You jumped and zagged and got away

But heed my words, for this I swear
If I see your mousy hair
Even though It cause me strain
I'll whack you hard right on your brain!

And I will, Little Mouse. I WILL.

A Lot of Things. Really, REALLY Important Things.

2011-09-19T12:52:00.000-07:00

Hey Misty! I made this just for you!

You inspired me so much when you talked about these "Keep Calm" signs, that I just had to make one of my own. And I love The IT Crowd. I'm gonna put this on a t-shirt, and have the numbers wrap all the way around my side. Awesomme! (I like 2 M's in awesome. It makes it seem kinda French.)

Other Things!

Colin spent Relief Society yesterday wandering around to all the sisters trying to find someone who would give him food. I told him if he got any chocolate he had to bring it straight back to me. It was a pretty good plan. Till some sweet little old lady wouldn't let him wander off with her cane like he wanted, and he laid right down at her feet and cried. Then we finished off church with him crying on his back on the floor of the gym. So, yeah, standard Sunday.
I think I'm gonna start a company that sells Door Mats. Because I sense there is a real need there. I'm gonna call it "Soul Mats" Get it?
I like to think of Canada as the United States' Hat. Mexico is, of course, USA's kicky scarf. And I always fondly think of Florida as the U.S. of A's fancy little earring!
This is a free country. To me that means I should be free to shop at Kmart without having to listen to Melissa Etheridge.
Being in a fabric store with my kids is like repeatedly punching myself in the head. At some point I just get bored of it, you know?

And now for a moment of introspection. . . . . .

It's inevitable that as a blogger sometimes you will feel like you are talking to yourself. Depending on who you are (and how much talking out loud you do when there is no one else in the room) you might always feel like you are talking to yourself. The question is, does it matter? I don't write the same way on this blog as I do in my journal. (When I am writing in my journal I like to say "Doi!" a lot.) because the audience is different. The question is, as a blogger, who IS your audience? And what AM I getting at? Again, DOES it matter? I go through phases where I don't want to write anything, to phases where I don't want to READ anything, to phases where I just want to be the queen of the whole blogiverse! And then I go through phases where I throw things a lot, but I guess that isn't really related. So, obviously, the question is: Does the radio host just keep on talking even though he can't be sure anyone is listening?

Maybe what I should be asking myself is, what would Howard Stern do?

Mostly, I just talk a lot about nothing. I cannot get myself to shut up sometimes. See, we have something in common!!

More About Me Than You Would Care to Know

2011-09-07T18:40:00.000-07:00

So, Pinterest, right? I know. When I first looked at Pinterest I was like, "Meh." But now I'm like "Weeeee!" I know you feel me. (Except those of you who don't know what I'm talking about. I don't want you guys to touch me.) It is way better than bookmarking webpages and so very addicting. But am I the only one who sometimes gets depressed looking at Pinterest, or reading blogs? The gulf between what I want to be and where I actually am seems so wide sometimes. For instance, for like a month I have been pinning pictures of dining rooms that look like this:

while my actual dining room STILL looks like this:

or lately I have been pinning wonderful lunches to feed my two little darlings that look like this:

but standard lunch round these parts usually ends up being:

I pin hairstyles that look like this:

But half the time my hair looks more like this:

And I pin all sorts of cute outfits like the following:

But 86% of the time I leave the house in clothes like these:

All this stuff can get a girl down! You know? But what I have to remember is that

I AM FABULOUS! I am Freakin' Fantastic! I really am! I almost never fart loudly in public, I have really good veins, I make delicious cookies, I make myself laugh, I have perfectly adequate penmanship, I like BOTH of my kids, I wash the dishes sometimes, I'm rockin' hairy legs and I am murder on the dance floor! I'm AWESOME! And I would say there is like a 50/50 chance that you are awesome too. Maybe even 70/30. Admit it! You are swell! So go ahead and keep pinning all the things and go right ahead and implement them if you ever take the notion, but you don't need to be and do all the things in those pretty little pictures to be great. You are already great.

Here, I have put this handy reminder in vinyl sign format so that this can be stuck up on your bathroom mirror to act as a mantra for you to repeat morning and night.

Also, and this is just as important: none of that other stuff actually matters. At all. I know what matters. You know what matters. We all know what matters. So don't forget, ok?

There Are More Ways to Fall Down Than We Ever Imagined

2011-08-22T11:42:00.000-07:00

Walking around is dangerous stuff - It's not just about tripping, or falling strait over because your head is so big. You could step on a rogue peice of sidewalk chalk, your feet can slide out from under you, or they could just take off into space and leave you in a heap on the floor. There are literally Zillions of different ways you can fall and permanently damage yourself. What is a person to do?

Once our kids start walking we like to show them the following safety video. We have found that with a little bit of awareness, we can really cut down on home-place accidents. As a person who falls down a lot, I find the information offered herein to be timely and invaluable.

And if you can get the Rifftrax version of this video, all the better for you.

Vinyl and junk

2011-08-06T16:02:00.000-07:00

Did you know that just by signing up for Etsy, you automatically have an account that can be turned into a store? Wild, I know. All you have to do is start listing stuff for sale. The only question is, what? What do I have that no one else does? What could I offer that would be unlike anything else out there?

Well the answer is simple. Nothing. Everything there is to make or do has already been made, done, labeled, and sold, bought and processed, so there is no point spending a lot of precious brain power thinking about it. Instead I figure I will jump on whichever wagon seems like a good one and just ride it until the end of the line. And so, with my Cricut in hand, I have begun working up some of my very own vinyl signs for folks to stick on their walls and decorate their otherwise boring houses with.

Here are a few soon-to-be-classic phrases I came up with, that, if they prove popular enough (and I'm thinking they will!!!), will soon be flying off the shelves of my hypothetical store.

Just imagine these beauties hanging over your dining room table:

I would hang the next one directly across from the toilet:

I find the font especially soothing.

Here's one you might like to stick on the outside of the bathroom door. Maybe on the lower half, where the short people can read it:

Or one I made to go on the dryer door:

but it would also be really fun to put it on a T-shirt.

Here are a few others:

And here are pictures of some of my signs in action!

That is supposed to say "Always". I don't know where the L went. I have looked everywhere for it.

I'll also do specially made name vinyls in a little 2x6 size. That way you can carry a stack of name stickers around with you all the time, and stake your claim on anything that isn't labeled. I would especially use it for seating. Anytime I sat down I would pull out a sticker, label my new seat and then I would be free to walk around. And when some wiseacre steals my seat and says "I don't see your name on it!" I can point out the label and boy won't he look foolish then! Ha!

And I just gotta tell you that while I was looking on Etsy for ideas for these, I found some truly awesome and stunning vinyl signs you can put on your walls. If you don't want one of these. But it is really up to you.

Amiably Grown Up

2011-08-02T20:00:00.000-07:00

Today I went grocery shopping. I do that sometimes. And today I figured we would get some icecream cones while we were there, to make a party out of it. Icecream can do that. So I got a tiny little baby cone for Colin, and a slightly bigger cone for Harrison and a monstrously huge one for myself, but Harrison-the-weirdo said that he wanted the little tiny baby one. So I gave it to him and the bigger one to Colin and on we shopped. And because of all that, Harrison and I had long since finished our cones when Colin was still sucking on his and it was oozing all over him and he started mostly just sticking his fingers in it so I TOOK CHARGE! and filched that dirty cone and reassigned it into the depths of the nearest garbage can. Success!

But he was super mad at me. Not screaming at the top of his lungs mad, more like taking it out on his surroundings mad. He squealed and hit his brother with his tiny hands and smacked the cart and tried to smash the groceries. It is sad when your fury makes other people laugh. Cuz that is what I did. But it did get pretty annoying and he was NOT getting over it, so I found some potato mashers for both the boys to play with. Soon, though, Colin was only happy if he was holding BOTH of them, and Harrison finally gave his to Colin just to shut him up. I thought that was pretty nice, so we made a little stop in the toy aisle so that he could play for a while. And I found a few goodies. No, wait, that wasn't said with the right amount of enthusiasm. Let me try again:
I FOUND A FEW GOODIES!!!!

There. Now I've captured my emotion.

So then after I ate all the Swedish Fish, I took a few pictures, because those toys are just funny.

Sure looks like a fun train set! Please box, tell us more!!

Whew, I don't know about you, but On and Off are just about more than I can handle. This toy might not be appropriate for children under 13. Use Caution.

Translation: The chemical composition of the plastic may cause you to break out in Cloor* Boils, (a painless side effect of all the ideation and fun!)

Aand THIS version is cool,

cuz I'd rather be happy than amiable, it comes with a car, AND it does this:

Boy, I know I've passed a few "sounds and flishing" in my time, if ya know what I mean. But never in public. I AM a lady. Even when I am giggling uncontrollably in the grocery store. Decorum, always decorum. That is why my children are so well behaved.

Thank you.

*a rare strain of the bubonic plague.

The One Done Room

2011-07-11T23:51:00.000-07:00

I'm Back!! Just kidding. Not really. I just like to say that. I actually say it all the time. Every time we enter anywhere that has a door, in fact. I will throw the door wide, stand in the doorway with my feet apart and hands on my hips and proudly declare, "I'm Back!!" to anyone who might be there to hear me. It gets a better response than you would expect. One time somebody threw me a pizza. And whenever I am at home I will sneak out the back door just so I can burst through the front door and shout it at my family. Over and over. They love it.

Anyhoo, I figured it was time for you to know more about me and my life. Maybe I'll even tell you my whole life story, one little bit at a time. Who wouldn't benefit from that?

So, we are remodeling our house. Not so much because that is the popular thing to do right now, but because our house is an ugly, falling apart hole. We bought it as a fixer-upper, so this was actually the plan, but we really didn't know what we were getting ourselves into. And slowly, bit by bit, we have been fixing up our 100 year old house. So slowly in fact that I am going to want to redecorate the bathroom again as soon as we are done because I no longer like the colors I chose 7 years ago when we redid it the first time. We have lived here 7 1/2 years and we just finally finished one of the rooms. FINISHED the Boys' bedroom. Every single thing is done in there. Well, except carpet, but we have to wait until the whole house is done to put that in (right now it just has a carpet remnant in it). Wanna See?

Ta Da!! Richard always said he was going to make a bed, and then one day, he did. Out of the blue he just started cutting wood. And Harrison loves it. For about a month afterward he would say "Thank you for my bed" whenever he was in it.

And I made this crib out of toothpicks and tar. I have a very special gift.

So there it is. The one done room. It doesn't usually look like that though. It usually looks more like this:

which is exactly how a boys' room should look. And looky there - I moved the toy bin out of the office where it was driving me crazy and stuck it in here under the bed. I like it. It gives the space purpose = playing and mess making.

And because I have to assume that you care (because if all of my readers are a bunch of people that don't care, then what are you DOING here?) I will tell you more!

I will tell you that I love my doors. They were special order from Home Depot. They are so pretty. My walls are a very pale gray and I love how it looks next to the bright white of the doors and trim.

The big robot on the wall is by Nicole LaRue. I printed it on what I will call a transparent substrate, for lack of my ability to remember what it is really called, checked out an overhead projector from the library and then traced the robot onto the wall.

On the dresser is a very cute robot I made out of felt. I found the pattern on Etsy, in a shop called Gulf Coast Cottage. Ack! I love him! He is so cute! I seem to always make that sound whenever I look at him!

He is sitting in front of this Robot Timeline, which you can see bigger if you click on the picture.

I printed off little pictures of all the most important robots from TV and movies and then just traced them. (Luckily there are all sorts of nerdy articles written about which robots are the most influential, or I would have had to come up with my own list.). And I know, Daleks are sorta more like cyborgs, and transformers are aliens, but I don't really care. We'll let the nerd forums hash it out.

And now I think I am done. I'm tired of sitting here. I've been writing this for like 7 hours. I don't want to write anymore. Oh wait! I forgot about the Before Pictures! We can't have that. Hang on....................................

Yes, I know, you can't see much. But that is pretty much how it looked. That pinkish dingy wallpaper all the way around. The door was in a different place

And we made the room a couple feet shorter so we would have room for the closet and a laundry room out in the hall. And look what we found when we pulled off the trim around the windows:

Sorry. I probably should have warned you. Gah. It gives me the heebie jeebies. Golly, aren't you glad you stayed???

Painting Glass

2011-06-14T12:46:00.000-07:00

Forever ago I saw a cake stand on Bakerella that someone had probably given her for being awesome or something and I fell in love with it, but though she told us where we could get one ourselves, it was way too expensive. So I have been waiting these long years for someone to give me one, but I'm afraid that I too will have to become awesome first, and I think it might just be time for me to give up on that dream.

But then, on some clever person's blog (I CANNOT remember which) some girl made a cupcake stand by gluing stuff together and I realized I could do that too!! So I went to DI. And I found the following:

For only like $25!! Ok, it was probably closer to $4.00, but even that was more than I thought I should have to pay. D.I. has way too high an opinion of their junk if you ask me. Not to mention the completely arbitrary pricing. That china platter was $1.00, but I also could have bought some ugly plastic plates for $2.00 a piece.

Anyway, I pulled out some newly purchased gorilla glue. Cuz that is what you use, right? And I started gluing. I have never used gorilla glue before. So I wasn't expecthing this:

I showed Richard and he just nodded and said "Yep." like that is exactly what he expected to happen. I trimmed off the bubbles with some kitchen shears as best as I could and sanded the rest off with an emery board, cuz it is what I had handy

Ha ha. Handy. Get it?

That pretty much worked, so I glued the platter on, using a lot less gorilla glue this time:

Which is where I got stuck. What primer do I use for glass? I searched online for what felt like an eternity, and both the websites I read just said to use "primer made for glass". Thanks. That is incredibly helpful.

I finally broke down and went to the local, tiny little hardware store and asked them. The 2 guys working there were anxious to help. So I said
"What primer would I use for glass?"
Guy 1 said "Glass? What do you want to paint glass for?" in a very are-you-a-crazy-person? tone.
I said "For fun?" and he just looked at me, concluding that yes, I probably WAS crazy.
Guy 2 said, "I don't think you need one." He looked at the cans of spray paint on the shelf and said, "Nope, none of these say they are for glass. If it was me, I wouldn't use one. Save yourself a step." Again, very helpful.

Now I may not work at a crappy hardware store, but I'm pretty sure that if I paint strait on glass, when it dries I'll just be able to scratch it off with my fingernail. But I don't argue with paid employees so I pretended like I thought they were right and was glad of their insight. They finally left me alone and I picked out some KILZ Interior Oil-Based primer, which says it can be used on glossy surfaces after they are scuffed. Then, because I didn't want them to think I was completely disregarding their sage advice, I bought some colored spray paint too. I grabbed a very happy yellow and told Guy 1 who was now at the register that I was painting a bed too.

He said "Someone is ambitious today." "Yep." I said, (cuz, yeah. 2 cans of spray paint. I'm a busy, busy bee. They obviously don't get a lot of people in there who are doing. . . stuff.) "Why?" He said, again questioning my sanity. How do I answer that? What kind of question is that for a guy who owns the hardware store to ask me? He should be singing my praises. I'm probably the only customer they had all day. But then he kept talking and to make a long story still pretty long what he said is that all this rain isn't normal and I think it might be my fault.

Oh yeah, my cake stand. Are you still here?

So I sprayed a bunch of thin layers of primer.

sanding away any rough spots. Did you know you could sand primer? I sure didn't. I had to read it on the internet.

And then I painted a bunch of coats of blue and a few coats of a clear gloss laquer and had this:

Yea.

Ok, so here are a few things I learned:

Scuff the service first. I really don't have any idea how a person is supposed to do that. I used some 200 grit sandpaper which kind of worked. Glass is not the easiest surface to sand, but I could see tiny scratches on it, so I hope that is all I was supposed to accomplish. I sure felt like I was doing it wrong, but didn't know what else to do.

Go easy on the gorilla glue. It might have a real neat name, but that doesn't mean you should go hog wild. Use just a little cuz it expands like crazy. And don't use it to give yourself a fake mustache. It will only bring pain and misery.

Don't spray paint down wind of someone using a table saw.

You might not want to paint down wind of dung flinging monkeys either, but I guess that is just personal preference.

Don't listen to guys in hardware stores. Or home improvement stores. Or any stores for that matter. They don't know anything. No one knows anything. Ask.com is the only place left where people like us can find the answers we need in the world today. And also DJ's and the guys on Public Radio.

Line up your candle sticks.

See what I mean? I didn't line up the sides and corners on these 6 sided candlesticks. I didn't even notice until it was painted. It might not be a big deal. Only now I've noticed and it will always bug me. So if you like perfection, well. . . you should probably just buy a cake stand. But if you are determined to make things yourself but are a bit anal, be sure to accurately line your candlesticks up while gluing.

In any case, painting the glass seamed to work. I tried scratching it a bit with my fingernail and it seems to be strong enough to withstand them. I need to find a shinier top coat though. I do love things that are shiny. Boy, I sure don't know how to stop talking. Maybe you should just go. I'll run out of steam eventually, don't worry.

A Gift of Love

2011-06-12T13:17:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, for no reason at all, I like to do something nice for my family. So I decided to make them cupcakes.

And to add that special touch, the one that REALLY says "I Love You" I decided to make them from scratch. Cuz you know making things from scratch means you have more love in your heart! I cut the recipe in half so that it made 9 cupcakes, just the right amount for us to eat all in one sitting.

Which we did, though it required hack saws and pry bars to get them out of the pan.

Nothin says Lovin like whatever this is from the oven!

They don't call me Miss Magic-Pants-Super-Baking-Machine for nothing!

What Have I Got in My Purse?

2011-06-11T15:40:00.000-07:00

Remember back in the day when one of the memes floating around was people photographing and posting about the contents of their purses? Yeah, I always wanted to do that. It was a big deal!! I just never got around to it. I always meant to, but every time I got out my camera I would lose my purse, or if I had my purse I couldn't find my car keys and without keys how could I buy film for my camera?

Anyway, times have changed. I know where everything is now. And I am feeling very productive this week, so there is no time like the present! I need to clean out my purse anyway, so lets get down to business. Here is my purse before. Full of the tools of my trade (that being Ninja Realtor).

And now I will delicately dump the contents onto the table and photograph them for your viewing pleasure. Cuz honestly, what could be more fun?

Oh. . . . Well. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .THIS is embarrassing. Maybe I should have cleaned out my purse BEFORE I attempted this little exeurcise. Actually, I probably should have cleaned my purse out MONTHS ago. Wait, I've only had this purse for a month. Where did all that stuff COME from?

I thought there were enough tissues in there to wipe the noses of a small community, but it looks like there is only one. One sad, lonely tissue. Where did all the rest go? Maybe I've been using the same one over and over?

Everything else is about what you would expect though: expired coupons, my cell phone with a dead battery, and The Declaration of Independence? What is that doing there? I could have sworn I kept that in the diaper bag. And hey! Look at that! It is the remote to the DVD player! I've been looking everywhere for that!

This is great. I know where the DVD remote is and my purse is all cleaned out. Now I just need a piece of pie and to find somewhere to put all this junk sitting on my kitchen table and I will have everything I have ever wanted!

Shapes You Can EAT!

2011-06-01T10:06:00.000-07:00

So the other day, blah blah blah, witty introduction.

Once the gas dispersed, I decided to make some cookies. Harrison really wanted me to make sugar cookies cuz he likes to use the cookie cutters. But it was more work than I wanted to do. I was thinking more along the lines of No-Bake Cookies. And then I had what can only be called a stroke of genius. Maybe just a stroke. But probably the genius thing too.

We made the No Bake Cookies from a recipe found on Allrecipes, like so:

No-Bake Cookies

Ingredients

2 cups white sugar
3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 cup margarine
1/2 cup milk
1 pinch salt
3 cups quick cooking oats
1/2 cup peanut butter
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions

In a saucepan bring sugar, cocoa, margarine, milk, and salt to a rapid boil for 1 minute.
Add quick cooking oats, peanut butter, and vanilla; mix well.
Working quickly, drop by teaspoonfuls onto waxed paper, and let cool.

only instead of just dumping little piles of dough onto the cookie sheets, we laid out cookie cutters and filled those with the hot chocolate mixture. Brilliant! Harrison thought that was fun and I thought I was clever. In about 5 minutes they were solid enough to pull the cookie cutters off - they slid off like butter - and there we had it, fun little amorphous cookie shapes. Hooray!

Hmm. Only now that I am looking at the picture, they remind me an awful lot of Litter Critters. But these are edible, so it is totally different.

Orange Cream Dream

2011-05-30T10:00:00.000-07:00

Yep. More Ice Cream. Oh, and this was so good. And I know that I have no place sharing recipes with you. It is like I am crossing into enemy territory without a license. Or some other metaphor that actually makes sense. I am on dangerous ground here. But I think we have already established that I like to live dangerously. Danger!

So, as I was saying, this was delicious. I don't even have any stories to tell you about it, just the recipe to share and to let you know that I am so glad I tried it. I had some Half & Half in my fridge that I didn't think was going to last too much longer, and a hankering for icecream so I flipped through the Ben & Jerry's book till I found something I had the ingredients for. I know it doesn't look very orangey, but it is.

ORANGE CREAM DREAM
- adapted from Ben & Jerry

2 cups Half & Half
2/3 cup whipping cream
3/4 cup sugar
1/3 cup frozen orange juice concentrate, thawed
2 tsp vanilla extract

Mix it all together nice and good, and throw it in your icecream freezer till it is done. Consume at an alarming rate. Makes approx 1.5 quarts.

I didn't even chill it before throwing it in the icecream maker. I was too impatient. So I mixed it all up and 30 minutes later we were eating icecream and watching SNL clips on Hulu. DELICIOUS! Make it! Eat it! Love it! Ok. I can stop yelling now. ICECREAM!!

How to Entertain a 4 Year Old in 4 Seconds

2011-05-28T16:45:00.000-07:00

Pick up a pen. Draw a mustache on his finger. Laugh a whole lot. The end.

Art, Art

2011-05-27T11:32:00.000-07:00

Harrison and I like to draw. Actually it is a new thing for Harrison, and I'm happy to oblige him. Chalk pastels on construction paper are pretty fun so I was drawing a big ol' goofy face and Harrison said, "That looks just like you!"

I laughed at his silliness, then drew some big juicy lips on it, and realized it DOES look just like me!

So then Harrison wanted to draw a picture of himself:

It is so cute I just want to eat him! He signed the picture and everything.

Then we have a picture that Harrison made at school. I thought it was a tree, but he said that the brown one is him and the green one is his little brother. Aw.

And see that little dot over there on the right? He said that is my one eyeball. I'm just so touched that I get to be in the picture.

Chocolate Statistics

2011-05-25T15:48:00.000-07:00

If at any one moment in time, there is a 73% chance that I have chocolate on my bum, and 58% of the time there is no one around who can be relied upon to tell me if I do or not, and 6% of the time I leave the house without checking my backside first, what are the odds that I will go to the store with a chocolate tushie and never know it?

Story #8 - Dear John

2011-05-24T09:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Benjamin Hulihu,
Ok, so you know how we've been dating for like 3 years and everything, and how we always said we were meant for each other or whatever, well. . . Actually, how are you first? Maybe I should have already asked that. Yeah, anyway, I"m sure you're fine. . . preaching and stuff. Things are the same around here. Your friends Jared says Hi! Actually, that isn't quite true. He really said "Suck it, Loser!" Isn't that funny? He really is hilarious. Remember when you bought me 20 roses and I said "Hey, I like daisies!"? That was forever ago. But really it was symbolic of how our love was pretty much down the toilet. That's harsh, I know, but we really have to admit that our relationship has deteriorated over the years. So anyhoo, you were pretty fun and nice. Better luck next time.

Your friend,
Genine Googlepluster

And that, ladies and gentlemen is the end. But let's have no tears. There will always be more dumb things to read. That is what the internet is for!

Story #7 - A "How-To" Blog Post

2011-05-23T09:10:00.000-07:00

How to Key Your Ex-Boyfriend's Car

This one may seem pretty simple, but you'd be surprised how often I get requests for this. And, truly, I am an expert here, so lets really get down to the basics.

Step 1: Always start with quality supplies. Your concrete should be collected from only the highest quality wrecking yards. That goes without saying.

Ok, so then gather all of your tube socks and mustard and lay everything all out in an assembly line. Don't forget the gorilla glue! LOL!

Once you get everything glued. . . and hammered. . . and, ya know, built, then there you are. . . your thing-um-dohicky is done.

Final step: Use one of your keys and run it along your ex's car.

And you're done! Thanks to all my loyal readers! Not you, Jared

Homemade Chocolate Icecream

2011-05-22T14:40:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. Post overload. I wrote about 3 posts in the past year, and now suddenly I am popping them one right after another. And while they may not be technically "good", or "disease-free" it is nice to be writing again. My little Colin is almost 1 year old and I suddenly feel like I can breathe again. And think again. I don't know when the last time is I did that. Also, I am trying to weed out all those lazy followers who are only following me because it is easy. It is easy to read everything by someone who never writes anything. But someone who writes a bunch of stuff you don't care about, those are the people you have to have real dedication to follow. That is my goal. To be so boring that people only keep reading me out of sheer force of will. I can do it. I know I can.

Ok, subject change. My best friend Marion gave me THIS for my birthday.

It is a little, countertop icecream maker. I'm not even sure she knows how crazy we are about homemade icecream. We got two of those gallon sized, electric icecream makers for our wedding, and we kept both, and usually use them both at the same time. We make a lot of icecream. But those things are so big that we always feel like we have to wait for a family function to make it, because it just makes so much. Yes, we could make less, but the fuller you fill it, the better your icecream turns out (something about less air making creamier ice cream or some other ice cream-science-hogwash).

So the beauty of this one is not just that it sits all little and cute on the countertop, and requires no ice or salt, but it only makes 1.5 quarts, which is more than enough for our little family. (it is a proven fact--discovered in a study I did on myself--that a person eats less homemade icecream than they do store-bought ice cream.)

Anyway, even though we have made so much icecream through the years, we really haven't tried that many different flavors. We are even the proud owners of The Ben & Jerry's Homemade Ice Cream Recipe book, and we have only made 3 flavors out of it. Not just because Richard is a flavor woosy, but also because I have been perfectly satisfied to stick with what works.

But, new icecream maker = new lease on life, so last night we decided to give chocolate icecream a go. With a counter top icecream maker like this you have to make sure your canister is frozen all the way and that your ingredients are all very nicely chilled. So here is the recipe - adapted from Ben & Jerry. (If I have adapted the recipe, does that mean I am not breaking any copyright laws?)

Ben's Chocolate Ice Cream

4 oz. unsweetened chocolate
2 cups half & half, divided
2 large eggs
1 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla
pinch salt

1. Melt the chocolate over low heat. Gradually stir in 1 cup half & half and stir until smooth. Remove from heat and let cool.
2. Whisk the eggs until light and fluffy, 1 to 2 minutes. Slowly add the sugar, whisking until completely blended. Mix in the rest of the half & half, vanilla and salt.
3. Mix chocolate into egg mixture and blend. Cover and refrigerate until cold, 1 to 3 hours.
4. Transfer the mixture to an ice cream maker and freeze following the manufacturer's instructions.

And that is it. The recipe normally calls for a mixture of heavy whipping cream and milk, but Richard doesn't like the taste or greasiness of whipping cream, so we just use half and half across the board.

So now the important part, the part that will change your life. You need to know that I didn't have any baking chocolate, so I used cocoa powder. There are always directions on the cocoa powder box for how to substitute it for baking chocolate - you just mix it with some oil - so that it what I did. Which means I skipped the melting and cooling steps and it took a whole lot less time. However, when I added my chocolate to the rest of my ingredients it WOULD NOT fully mix in. It looked like cream mixed with tiny chocolate shavings.

This was very annoying, but we figured that it probably wouldn't taste that gross so we didn't give up yet. We chilled it for a while to make sure it was plenty cold and then I threw it in the mixer. This little mixer only takes 15 to 20 minutes and when I peeked at it at 10 minutes I was completed surprised to see that it had transformed from chocolate shavings into chocolate icecream. Somehow it finally all mixed together. I left it in for a full 30 minutes to make sure it was good and frozen (though i really don't think it made any difference) and then scooped it out into bowls.

hmm. I would like to make it clear at this point that that is not a picture of a bowl of poop. Again - Not Poop! My poop doesn't look like that anyway, but I think it is time to change the subject. I put the rest of the ice cream in a tupperware container and stuck it in the freezer to harden some more.

And then we ate it!

Yep, that is Harrison in his jimmy jams. It was 10:00 in the morning. It is never too early for icecream!

And by the way, after being in the freezer for about 3 hours it was beautiful, and very easy to scoop. After about 6 or 7 hours I had to let it sit out on the counter for about 15 minutes before I could scoop it. It doesn't really store that great, so it is best to plan to eat it all in a day.

Oh Yeah. The Raw Eggs. Ben and Jerry's recipe book came out in 1987, which must have been before they had even discovered salmonella. So most their recipes call for eggs that never get cooked. Apparently, this makes some people nervous. Not me. I eat enough raw cookie dough to run a salmonella factory. There are options though. I think egg substitutes would work just fine, or you could actually cook the eggs. Like so:

Beat the eggs and sugar. Heat milk on medium low, stirring frequently until it starts to steam and bubbles just start to form on the edges. (You are NOT boiling the milk) Very slowly add the milk to egg mixture stirring frequently so that the eggs heat up but don't scramble, then carefully cook over low heat until you reach 160 degrees. Chill, then add your cream- THEN use the ice cream maker

So, yeah, totally doable, but a whole lot more work. So you'll have to ask yourself if it is worth it. Frankly, using Raw Eggs just makes Ice Cream a tiny bit dangerous, and I like that.

Story #6 - Letter to Santa

2011-05-22T09:04:00.000-07:00

Dear Santa,
I'm a little worried about writing to you this year because I've had a hard year and done some "bad" things, but you need to know that there have been a lot of extenuating circumstances. I didn't really mean to set the cat on fire. It's just that she got too fat for the ring of fire she usually jumps through, so maybe you could send me one of those too.
And while you're at it, I'd love to have the ability to make fire with my mind. That would really save me money on matches. Also, Santa, please send me some soup. I'm not going hungry or anything. I just really like soup. By the way, my young brother Jared pinched me the other day. Not that I'm trying to get anyone on the naughty list, but I just think you deserve to know all the facts.
So I'll try to keep my list short this time. A trip to Disney world and my own jet should do it for now.
Thanks,
Tootsie

Story #5 - Letter to Senator

2011-05-21T08:57:00.000-07:00

Bored Yet? Too bad!

Dear Senator,
Hey Dumb-dumb! What the heck! Your decision to cut government funding for Hairless Women Against Frog Disection (HWAFD) was a heartless mistake. If there is one thing I cannot stand it is heartlessness. And if there is another, it's mistakes. So I hope you can imagine how I feel right now. Well, maybe you can't, so I'll tell you. My throat hurts, my head aches, my feet smell, and my nose runs. And all because of your stupid bill! And your toupee isn't helping anything either. I don't mean to insult your style, I'm just so steamed right now!
And so, in conclusion, please refund us hairless women and save those frogs. Nobody cares about biology. those frogs won't save themselves.

From,
Mirtle

Story #4 - Resume Cover Letter

2011-05-20T08:49:00.000-07:00

To Whom it May Concern,
I write to apply for the position of Rat House Coodinator, and feel that I will be perfect for the job. I grew up with many rats and many houses, and I think coodinating the two will be "No Prob." My skills include jumping over tall buildings in a single bound, jumping to conclusions, and jumping through hoops. I am also good at ignoring distractions and. . . hold on a second. . .sorry, I can't really rememeber where I was going with that. But anyway, I'm great. That's the point here. Some say fantastic. Fan-freakin-TASTIC. If you hire me you will also quickly find that I cook the best cookies in the tri-state area. What does cookie making having to do with assistant attorney general? You're the attorney, you figure it out.
So, in conclusion, clearly you can see that if you hire me all your dreams will come true.

Regard,
Willard

Story #3 - Book Report

2011-05-19T08:42:00.000-07:00

My book report today is about Eats, Shoots, and Leaves. This is a good book for learning more about punctuation. The author covers commas, apostrophes, semi-colons, & periods.
So that's all as it should be, all in order. As far as plot goes, it's the age old story: Girl meets boy, boy hates girl, girl makes boy cake, cake explodes, everyone licks their hands, life goes on.
I think the strongest symbolism in this story is the relationship of the size of our ego to the size of the wig. Extra large hair equals extra large lessons in finding yourself
After the Heroine spent 7 years in a cheese factory she really grew, not just in hair size, but heart size. And that's really what it is all about.
Maybe that's why it never sold too many copies.

Story #2 - Thank You Note

2011-05-18T08:38:00.000-07:00

Dear Grandma,
Well, my mom said that I had to write a thank you card to you for giving me that sweater, even though I told you thank you in person. So thank you once again. The yellow is going to go great with my jaundice eyes! Also, I love cookies. The idea to use sugar cubes in them was an interesting choice. Wow! I'm not really sure how to feel about it, to be honest. My first inclination was loathing, but that quickly turned to something akin to wonder. But I thought, either way, you should know that the mittens made my hands break out. I"m not holding you legally responsible, although I'm forwarding my attorney's address to you, just in case. Well, thanks again. I'm glad you came to my party. You really brought the house down!

Love,
Jared

Story #1 - Journal Entry

2011-05-17T08:07:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite games to play with my family is one we call "The Story Game." It goes like this:

Everyone gets a sheet of paper and something to write with and sits in a circle. Then everyone starts writing a story. Any old story they want. You write a few lines then fold the paper over so that only the last line is showing, and then everyone passes their paper to the left. (or the right. The direction of passing doesn't actually matter.) Now everyone has a new paper and a new story. And so you add on to the story on the page in front of you, based on just that one line of writing they left for you to see.

Got it?

Maybe everyone plays this game. Maybe everyone calls it The Story Game. I don't know. I don't really talk to anyone else. Anyhoo, we played it last night. And usually we are just writing whatever story comes to mind, or sometimes poems, but last night we had themes. And if you haven't realized by this point, I am about to subject you to some of these stories whether you like it or not. Because they make me laugh. Actually, they amuse me so much that I am going to post all 8 of them and make you read one every single day. Ha ha! It makes me feel so powerful! There is nothing you can do to stop me!!!

And for fun's sake, I am going to change the color of the font to signify a change in writer. Pretty fancy huh? Here we go (oh, and I should probably state beforehand, that yes, Jared kind of plays a big part in these stories, but since we don't actually know a Jared, I'm assuming he won't care.):

Dear Journal,
It has been 1 year since my last entry. So much has happened. Christmas. . . that was great. Scruffy, my dog, DIED. . . that sucked! But anyway, this journal entry is about ♥Jared♥.
Yesterday during lunch I was eating my pizza & ranch & when I turned around Jared was RIGHT THERE. I didn't even know he was there, but when I turned around, there he was. AND THEN he said "Hey." & walked off. AAAH!!!! I'm pretty sure I almost died. Good thing I was wearing my favorite pair of running shoes and my diamond tiara in case there was a princess contest nearby. I usually win those. As you know, I'm not actually a princess but I have that princess demeanor that is a real plus in those contests. I don't like to compete though. It makes people feel bad. I know that I am not supposed to care but my beauty really does raise the bar for the rest of the country. Anyway, back to Jared. . . he is not cute enough for me.
Love,
Me!

To Love and Lose a Lizard: In which I blather on and on and then turn strangely serious.

2011-05-16T21:40:00.000-07:00

Tragedy struck the home of one Utah family tonight with the 2nd loss of a beloved pet.

Well, maybe not beloved. I certainly didn't belove it. But Richard and Harrison went camping on Friday night and when they got home on Saturday Harrison walked into the house sporting a GIANT grin and carrying a very tiny lizard. Cute, for a lizard, but I couldn't get quite as excited as he was. Oh, he loved it. He named it Chris. We made a little home for it in a jar, but all Harrison wanted to do was hold it. All the time. Which made me nervous because I didn't want him to lose it somewhere in the house. I may have all kinds of critters living in my nooks and crannies, but I don't care for the idea of a lizard setting up shop under my settee.

So, about an hour later, Harrison told me that he lost his friend. He walk, walk, walked outside and, gasp! It was gone. I was just glad it was outside. We tried to tell him that Chris was now happily living it up in the back yard, but Harrison was convinced that a hornet got him. He was very upset and kept insisting that we find him. We mostly distracted him, but he never really let it go. Aw.

Yesterday we went to my parent's house and, as per the norm, Harrison was walked along the piano keys and looking at the small Christus my mom has on her piano. I ran over to tell him to stop before he broke something but before I got there he gave the statue a very gentle hug.

I went and picked him up and said, "Do you know who that is a statue of?" He said "Yes. Me ask Jesus to bring my lizard back." We all gave a very sympathetic "Ohh!" and Harrison told everyone about how he found a lizard when they went camping and then it got lost. Very heart wrenching.

But guess who Harrison and I saw today? CHRIS, running across the floor in the office! We both yelled and dove for him. There were plenty of toys for him to hide behind and under as he ran for it but I eventually trapped him under a hard hat. I didn't want to touch him, so I slid this pumpkin coloring book under the hat and flipped the whole thing over and dumped it into an empty bin. But there was nothing there. He wasn't in the hat and he wasn't in the bin and we couldn't see him anywhere on the floor. I worried that Harrison's heart would be broken all over again cuz he had been SO HAPPY to see him only to have his hopes dashed. I kept asking if he was ok and he said yes. I guess most of childhood is full of such ecstatic expectations and heart breaking disappointments. He is probably used to it. And NOW I had a little lizard running amuck through my office!

So (yes, I'm STILL talking about this) I told Richard about it when he got home. He went into the office and came back holding a rather flat and very dead little lizard. Darn it. I'm not sure just how it happened, but we managed to smash him instead of grab him. So we showed Harrison. We almost flushed him down the toilet without saying anything to him, but I decided to just tell him. He wasn't as upset as I thought he would be. Still just wanted to keep holding him and holding him. So we told him he needed to bury Chris the Lizard in the backyard. He seemed kind of excited about that so his dad went out and dug a little hole and they took care of business. In lieu of a eulogy, Harrison said "Bye Chris. Sorry we mooshed you."

Then he came in saying "Two guys got buried. Chris and Boo." Ok, prepare yourself, cuz it is about to get depressing in here.

Boo is his Grandpa, my father-in-law, Robin, who died just a few months ago. And Harrison had a hard time with it. (We ALL did, but I guess that goes without saying.) I didn't expect that I would have to teach him about death when he is so young. The day after it happened Harrison and I were driving home and talking about it and I was telling Harrison that eventually everyone dies, and their spirits go up to heaven to be with Heavenly Father and their bodies go into the ground to keep them safe, and it is OK. And he angrily said, "It NOT ok! It SAD!"

Well, yeah. It is.

And I was worried about telling him his lizard died because of his Grandpa. I know it was just a lizard that he had for about 4 hours, but still.

Cuz when someone dies, it is not just their death you deal with. It is the death of everyone you have lost before, and the death of those you have yet to lose. It is your own mortality, staring you right in the face. It is the loss and pain of all those around you. And you think you will never get over it.

But Harrison seemed to be ok with his lizard's funeral. He still says he wants Boo to come back alive whenever he sees his Grandpa's picture, but the pain of it is not what it once was. (Though I cannot write a post in his honor, or tell you the details or really talk about it in any more specifics than this. I just can't.)

I've had a horrible time at funerals ever since my little sister Gaea died, though of course the old wounds don't hurt like they used to, like they are still supposed to. Even Robin's funeral wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Not just for his sake but for hers as well. Certainly not as hard as I thought it should be. There are some things we should never get over, you know? But we do. Oh, Time. You heal even those wounds we don't want you to heal.

The Grass is Always Greener When it is Actually Grass

2011-05-14T22:15:00.000-07:00

I mowed the lawn today. Or, rather, I mowed the breeding ground for weeds and misery that is conveniently located right outside my front door. I think everyone should have such a breeding ground within walking distance. But the city made me cut mine! I got a letter from the Police Department saying that: my yard was an eyesore, I'm a lousy landscaper, and am probably bad at math. And if I don't do something about the above problems within one week, they will send their rabid secretaries after me.

I personally think that mowing the lawn should be the man's job. Because I like to only do things that showcase and emphasize my feminity, and lawn-mowing does not do that. Even mowing in 5 inch heels didn't help. It just made me feel stupid. But the fact is Richard has enough other things to do on Saturdays, and here I was with a gorgeous day. Why not?

First though, I had to get the lawnmower started. And I did NOT want to be starting it out in the front yard where my neighbors and random kids on bicycles could see me. I can't think of anything more embarrassing than the convulsions I have to go through to get the mower started the first time. Except maybe square dancing. So I pushed the mower all the way around behind the house and by some miracle, and after putting gas into it, I actually got it started.

So I pushed it back around and got to work. Though I honestly don't know what the city was making such a big deal about. I really don't think it had gotten all that tall.

Harrison, meanwhile, was furious. Apparently the weeds are his friends. He kept telling me to put them back, leave his guys alone, and shaking his fists at me. I just kept mowing though. I take letters from the police department very seriously. But it was no day at the beach, believe me. Our weeds are so juicy that the lawnmower stopped about every 3 minutes because the place where the cuttings shoot out was so clogged the blade couldn't spin any more. The weeds just piled up in there like Orc bodies at the gates of Minas Tirith.

My front yard is not that big, but after a couple of hours I was getting pretty tired. And the lawnmower just kept quitting every 3 to 5 minutes and I started telling myself that as soon as I couldn't get it to start back up on the first try I was just going to stop for the day. So, of course, it started right up, every single time, though I could barely summon the energy to pull the string at all. Even my sissy little girl pulls were enough to start it up. Pretty darn good little yard-sale lawn mower. I mean, it was smoking pretty seriously by the end, but I made it. I cut the whole thing. And I looked a little like a sea monster, I was so covered with green. And my high heels were totally ruined.

So now comes the one month stretch of summer where my yard almost looks like grass. And the nice thing about weeds is that we probably won't have to cut them again this year. I'm really surprised more people don't go this route. Even if you can't walk on it in your bare feet.

So, Good-bye weeds. You will me missed, but not by me.

Don't worry. There is a whole back yard for him to play in, and the chances of that getting cut are about 1 in 8, so he'll be just fine.

There is no Intro

2011-04-10T15:24:00.000-07:00

Ok, so here is the thing. My husband just got put in the Bishopric. Just a couple weeks ago. My first thought when they called him was "We are not OLD enough for that!" But, the truth is, we are. I just turned 33. And Richard is almost 40. Did you catch that? FORTY. Yeah. In your thirties you can say you are "getting old" but once you are 40 you are officially there. Oldness. You have arrived and there is no use fooling yourself. And my baby-faced husband is almost there. So, yeah, despite the fact that age has nothing to do with the calling, he is still, definitely, old enough.

My second thought was "I'm going to be watching my kids alone in sacrament meeting." And that is about as far as my thinking went. My brain is pretty small, so I try not to work it too hard. Besides, I knew Richard would be fine, but me? ME? Would I actually be able to survive this?

Today was our big chance to find out. Today was my first chance to sit through sacrament meeting alone with my two little boys. So how did I do? I think I would have to give myself 1 & 1/2 thumbs down. And maybe a sad, slow, shake of the head.

I didn't totally fail. Harrison did not run screaming up and down the aisle (though he did scream "Go Away!" when I tried to wipe his nose). And they didn't rub Vaseline into the carpet (because I am smart enough not to take Vaseline to church. They get plenty of Vaseline time rubbing into the bathroom floor at home). So it wasn't a total loss. And we did just great for about the first 3 minutes, which I think is something I can really be proud of. But Colin is ready to start exploring with gusto as soon as we walk into the building, and after the first 3 minutes he had our 2 feet of pew pretty much figured out. So the rest of the meeting was basically a wrestling match while I tried to keep him from escaping.

Meanwhile I did what I could to keep Harrison occupied enough that he wasn't smacking his brother or throwing things around the chapel. After he started grinding cheerios into the seat I picked them all up and took them away but I couldn't find the lid and I almost started crying after I dumped them over twice in a row. I went digging around in my giant diaper bag for the lid to the stupid cheerios bowl with one hand while trying to keep Colin from throwing himself off the seat with the other hand. I found about 7 pairs of underwear. No lid. At least in an emergency I can sew the underwear together to make clothes or a blanket or tent or something. I finally gave up and dumped the cheerios straight into the diaper bag. I'm sure they'll come in handy when someone is starving one of these days.

The rest of the meeting is a blur. Probably a bunch more stuff happened, but I don't want to tell you about it because I would like you to think that I am only saying that I am a bad mom. Apparently we survived it. Me and my children are all alive which is sometimes all you can ask for. And I would like my husband to think that I totally have this thing under control, so don't tell him about the cheerios, OK?

I'm Happy Where I'm At

2011-04-05T22:21:00.000-07:00

Prepositional phrase be hanged. (or is it a dangling participle?)

As you can probably tell, I give my blog posts lots of thought before publishing them. I don't just pound out some drivel, hit publish, and move on. I think it out. I plan. I write draft after draft after draft, scrap the whole thing and start over again and then write several more drafts before each post is ready for publication. Each post is, by anyone's standards, a short masterpiece and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Today though, I am just going to write it. I've already typed in my title, which means I have a general idea of what I want to say, and so I am just going to start saying it, and see what comes out. It should be a pretty exciting exercise. Sort of like Jazzercise.

I am 33 now. I am officially "Getting Old", there is no denying it. The other day I was thinking about guys that I used to date. I totally do that all the time. I was always into very active, outdoorsy guys, who like hiking and rock climbing and snow boarding, sitting in frozen lakes, or running directly up the side of a cliff or jumping out of a helicopter into a swimming pool. Stuff like that. Which is fine. Whatever. The problem was I just wasn't so much into that stuff. I mean, it is fun to do sometimes. Who doesn't love a good run up a cliff now and then? They just aren't my passion. But I felt like they should be. So I always had to pretend like I actually cared about hiking boots and bike tires and stuff that I don't even want to type because it bores me so much.

Take What's-His-Name, that I dated in college. He always acted like the day was a total waste if he wasn't out living it to death, by driving around in the mud in his truck, or riding his bike down the side of a building. He had even arranged his schedule specifically so he could go skiing twice a week. Which really doesn't sound bad in writing. Richard, on the other hand, was working so hard in school that he barely had time to look at me. What's-His-Name was trying to find a major that required the least amount of work, and always said he hoped his wife would want to be the bread winner so that he could stay home all day. Gosh am I glad I didn't marry him. That guy was a ding-a-ling. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.

I should probably be completely honest at this point and say that me and What's-His-Name never actually dated. He never kissed me or even held my hand or anything. I think he might have been just a little bit gay, cuz look at me, I was gorgeous.

I guess the point is that I didn't really know what I was looking for, so I am so glad I just happened to find it. I would have been miserable married to one of the guys I was usually interested in. All of our money would have been spent on expensive crap from R.E.I and I would have had to spend every weekend carrying a 97 pound backpack through a river filled with alligators. I admit these people do some very exciting things, but it exhausts me just thinking about it. And yes, Richard would love to spend a lot of money at R.E.I too, but what he loves is camping, which for me means sitting around a campfire eating the food that HE cooked. Nothing wrong with that.

While it is true that sometimes I wish I weren't quite so lazy, mostly I am just so glad that I get to be. I like my husband and I'm glad he's mine and even though my house is messy I'm happy where I'm at. And that is a nice place to be.

Dreams are like popcicle sticks

2011-03-24T22:05:00.000-07:00

Last night I dreamed that I was in this old School building that was being torn down, so a bunch of kids were camping out inside as protest. I was in a class room with a bunch of other kids and one girl said she had to pee, but didn't know what to do about it. The boys started passing around a soda bottle, which obviously didn't do the girls any good. It was getting to be a big deal, and I had to go myself, so eventually I just walked out of the room to see if I could find whatever passed for a bathroom in this old dump.

There were people everywhere. It was like one of those events that are really well attended and are filled with people walking around and sitting everywhere. I finally found the one-toilet bathroom, and had just sat down to use it when this completely crazy girl appeared, cheerfully demanding that SHE had to use the toilet right then. I tried telling her that I was already using the toilet, and that she could have it as soon as I was done, but she nearly sat down on my lap and tried to use the toilet with me still on it. I punched her in the head several times, but it didn't help. She was happily, enthusiastically, unmovingly determined to use the toilet whether I was on it or not. So I got up, yelled my head off at her but eventually just gave up and went to find another bathroom.

I found one, but it looked like there was some sort of slime-emitting sea monster living it in. So I searched and searched and found a teenie tiny little closet of a bathroom, all decorated in flowery wall paper and was about to sit down to relieve myself when some older man came and poked his head in the open, lacy curtained window to say hello. And he wouldn't leave. Finally two little girls came up to use the bathroom, the man left and I came out and knelt down to talk to the girls. I begged them to stand guard so that I could have 30 seconds of privacy for crying out loud, and in return I would do the same for them. They couldn't have been more than 4, but I guess they did the job, because I woke up after that. Phew!

Productivity and the Challenges of being a Super Hero

2011-03-15T13:42:00.000-07:00

I have to confess something to you, kind reader. I don't know how to tell you this, so I am just going to come out and say it. I like to read craft blogs. And that is the truth. I read several craft blogs. And, no, not the lame ones, like Doiles for Dummies, or Ric Rac for the Rest of Us, or Glitter & Glue Dots for the Craftinomically Impaired or anything like that. I read the good ones: Make it and Love it, Blue Cricket Design, Not so Idle Hands, and Welcome to the Good Life. Ok, and, Doilies for Dummies actually is pretty awesome.

But, I don't really know why I read them. I guess I like the idea that if the notion of craftiness should happen to take me, then I will have everything I need to find out how to make Bookends out of old Diapers, but the truth is that I will probably never get around to it. Frankly, I am just far too lazy. Not too lazy for my own good, just for crafting of that caliber. And also for walking around.

For instance, some girl on some blog said she was looking through the Pottery Barn catalog, saw this thing, and said to herself "I can make that" and then went and got the stuff, made the thing, and hung it on her wall. All within a 5 minute period or something like that.

Really? You wanted to do it, so you just did it? Just like that? If that was me--and it wouldn't be, because turning the pages in a magazine is too much trouble--I would see the picture, think "I bet I could make one of those." and then fold over the corner of the page. And then forget about it. Or, if I was feeling super ambitious, I might even rip the page out of the magazine and stick it in a special file full of stuff I want to make someday. I call it "The Good Idea Folder". And that would be the end of it. Then 10 years from now when we move I might find that file again, look through it, and shake my head that I could ever think any of that crap was cute.

The mentality of wanting to do something and then actually doing it is just completely beyond me. Which probably explains why I haven't showered in over 3 years. The only reason I am able to type this is that my fingers move so fast that if I am sitting in front of a keyboard and I start to think, it is like my thoughts literally just pour through my fingers onto the screen of their own volition, with absolutely no conxcoius effort on my part. (Yeah, I"m pretty sure that is how you spell that word.) It is actually one of my super powers. I call them Mind Fingers. And I think I've gotten off topic. But it is ok. I've clearly made my point. Thank you for your time.

It is Time to get Serious

2011-03-08T20:37:00.000-08:00

As you all know, I like to keep things fresh. "Fresh as a baby's bottom", the saying goes. And that level of freshness is getting harder and harder to maintain these days, what with the world and all of its things and changes and government policies. I think you know what I am getting at. "How can this be?" I ask myself a hundred times a day, which gets really annoying, but what what I REALLY want to know, is
Why don't Aliens wear pants?

Ok, yes, some of them do. Lots of them do, I guess. The ones who look Human are usually fully clothed and I guess most of the humanoid ones like to stay modest too, but certainly not all of them. i.e. this guy:

Besides, most of the ones pretending to be human are only pretending to wear clothes, which really doesn't count. I might pretend to wear pants with all my heart, but that won't change the fact that my bloomers are showing.

It's shocking, right? Who do these aliens think they are? Are their races so technologically advanced that they believe they have progressed beyond the need for clothes?

Cuz I would have to disagree. No matter how "sophisticated" they think they are, they are still teleporting around the universe in the buff and I think they would get just a little more respect if they put on a nice suit, or maybe a dramatic hat and cape. Even a bandoleer can work wonders.

Take this guy, from some early episode of Star Trek, who is wearing a futuristic little onesie. He is the very height of fashion, and all set to go out and hunt a human for a while.

Makes all the difference in the world, doesn't it? Maybe dressing for success isn't such a backward, human notion after all? I just don't quite understand a civilization that doesn't include clothing yourself as an important part of your daily activities. (though I think my husband definitely disagrees with me).

Still, of all this alien immodesty, I find nothing upsets me more than male aliens who run around naked from the waist down.
What in the world is that about?

And obviously, it goes without saying that I don't have permission to use any of these pictures.

2011-01-14T19:37:00.000-08:00

You know what phrase I love to hear people say?
"It is what it is."

Could anything be more truer?

I mean, you could walk around making statements that people might misunderstand, misinterpret, or misconstrue, like "I love lasagna", or "Toxic fumes are bad." But why? Why not stick to what you can truly be sure of, to what is safe?

I just wish there were more phrases like that out there. How many other things can you say that convey such pointless, opinionless declarations of nothingness? Cuz if there is anything we can be sure of, it's that it is what it is. It's not what it isn't, that is for sure. There is no telling if it will be what it was, or if it weren't what it won't be. But what it is is what it is. And don't let the nay sayers come back with an arguement like "Well, that depends on what the meaning of the word IS is." Cuz that is just lame.

So keep on using it, you people who say stuff! But just don't go so far as to start saying things like "I am what I am." Cuz you might not be. You might be what you eat, and can anyone really say with 100% certainty what that is?

2011-01-09T09:58:00.000-08:00

Can someone please explain to me how it is possible, that inside this package,

(which is so cute I actually have to wear shades and sunblock to protect myself from its red-hot rays of adorableness) lies the ability to scream at a pitch just below that of a dog whistle, at a decible comparable to a sonic boom?

How can he both make me swell with his sweetness and make me want to hurl myself from the top of the tallest tower in town, all at the same time?

Sock it to YOU!

2011-01-05T15:00:00.000-08:00

It goes without saying that my husband is Practically Perfect in Every Way. He's like the male Mary Poppins, with more singing. oh wait. Not singing. Guns. Guns and knives. Yeah, Mary Poppins with guns and knives. I would watch that movie. Well, as part of this perfection he suffers from, he frequently takes his socks off while sitting at his computer and leaves them there. Later, I pick them up. It is a little game we play. Except Richard doesn't know that we are playing and also I have to pick up socks all the time, which I loath with a loathing more powerful than the fire of 1000 suns.

So one day, I decided to conduct an experiment. What if I DIDN'T pick up his socks? What would happen? It was too intriguing an idea to let slip, so I carefully put my secret plan into action, and scheduled time to covertly NOT pick up his socks. It was a complicated scheme. One that required putting on the biggest glasses I could find.

It was so complex, in fact, that what with all the hullaballoo I forgot to document day one of my experiment! Curse me and my forgetful ways!

Here we have The Space Under Richard's Desk: Day 3

I'm assuming it is day three because there are 3 pairs of socks under there. One for each day. Are you following me? The results thus far are exactly what was anticipated.

The Dark Recesses below Richard's Computer: Day 7

Very interesting. There are a lot more shoes down there than I would have expected. There are so many shoes that I can't even count all the socks, so we can only postulate that there is a pair for each day. It looks like there is also a small piece of cheese under there, but don't worry, some mouse will find it.

Things in our little experiment got really very exciting after this, because I forgot all about it. Nothing passes the time like total memory loss!

Several more days passed without a word from Richard. I'm sure he had no idea what was transpiring beneath his desk, though he would have had to fish out shoes from there from time to time. Things can get pretty darn messy around here before he even notices. It is one of my favorite things about him.

But two weeks into our experiment he finally realized something was up. From the kitchen I heard him exclaim "I've got a sock farm growing under my desk!" My response was "Wait, wait, wait, wait! Don't touch it, don't touch it I've got to take a picture!" And I snapped the following.

Richard's Giant Foot Hole: Day 14

So. Indeed. There we have it. Left to its own devices the socks and shoes beneath Richard's desk will multiply until they reach critical mass (being in this instance 3 pairs of shoes and 12 socks), after which they will remain in a stasis wherein the number neither decreases or increases until acted upon by an outside force.

So, my top secret experiment was over. The End.

Or Was it?

I think Richard had really been about to pick up his socks when he noticed them under his desk, but I interrupted him at the pivotal moment, distracted him and then he forgot. And so did I. Then we left for fall break and didn't give the sock farm another thought, except to argue about why Richard didn't have any socks with him and whose fault it was (FYI - NOT MINE).

It wasn't until we got home that I realized that the experiment was far from over and all of my hypothesis had been so very, very wrong. Beware. What you are about to see may shock you.

The Deepest Abyss of Deskdom: Day 20

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaAAACK! The Socks are Sentient!

I was always afraid something like this would happen. I always suspected my laundry was out to get me. But I never came up with a plan for what to do if the socks gain consciousness. WHAT NOW?

I have a New Year's Surprise for you!

2011-01-02T22:49:00.000-08:00

You know that old saying "Be careful what you post online, because you never know when an internet, web-based, online e-zine will take your words and use them to turn you into an instant star"?

Well it's true! Except the star part. No one has even asked for my autograph yet.

cuz I was featured in The Barrel

Pause for effect

So exciting, right?

What? You say you've never heard of it? That's ok. You've probably never heard of Being Awesome, or Keeping Up With the Times either. Don't beat yourself up about it.

It really is exciting! And the magazine is really very cute and you should probably check it out anyway. And they didn't even tell me to say that. They didn't ask me to advertise them in anyway whatsoever, so all of this plugging is purely selfish on my part. Let's hear it for stuff like this!!

I Think Twinkies are Delicious

2010-12-14T21:47:00.000-08:00

Seriously. I'm eating one right now. And it is goood. Thank you twinkie, for your gift of cream.

oh, poo. Everytime I set it down to type it leaves twinkie droppings on my desk. I'm gonna have to lick those off.

Is cleanliness really next to Godliness? Or is that just one of those things people say, like "All's fair in love and war" or "I don't have time to watch T.V."

If, hypothetically speaking, I haven't done my dishes all week, am I really more evil?

Whatever. Let's move on. I'm bored of writing about that. We went to our ward Christmas party tonight. And the food was good. Which was a nice change. Not to complain. I am not complaining. A free dinner, not cooked by me, is always worth it, no matter what. But tonight we had some sort of beef brisket, which was pretty awesome. The POINT is, we also had baked potatoes. Which is just fine. Baked potatoes are like the plain white shirt of the vegetable world. SO BORING, until you accessorize and then they are great to have around. I dated a guy in college who was that way too.

What I am trying to say is that I realized that baked potatoes are one of those foods I would rather eat in private. I put a nice slice of butter on and mixed its melty goodness into the hot recesses of my potato, but it wasn't enough and I wanted more. Only problem was, we were sitting right next to the line of people still waiting to get their food and I could feel all their eyes on me. Watching me. Watching my potato. All ready to be shocked at my exorbitant butter use. I could almost hear the talk on Sunday: "She seems so nice. But did you see how much butter she used on her potato? What kind of a woman uses that much butter? I won't be calling HER to babysit again!"

So I didn't do it. I had a healthy, low-fat baked potato for dinner, and my intense love of butter is still my closely guarded secret. And those gossiping High Priests have nothing to gab about. But the joke is on them because what they don't know is that I snuck a 2nd brownie for dessert. Ha!

Cat Scratch Fever

2010-11-14T20:25:00.000-08:00

I do not have a cat. I do not want a cat. Not that I have anything against cats. My problem is with pets. I don't want one. And I wish the cat mafia would stop trying to give me one.

A couple months ago someone left a kitten, complete with litter and food in the back of my husbands truck one night. Who DOES something like that? If I wanted a cat, I would have one. I don't want one forced on me by someone who doesn't have the nerve to take responsiblity for it. The kitten stayed with us for about a week until we found somewhere else for it to go. Harrison LOVED it and followed it everywhere but it frustrated him to no end because he just wanted to play with it, and kittens aren't puppies. I don't know if you knew that.

So we got rid of the cat and told Harrison it went home. He was sad but mostly got over it, though he still talked about it whenever he saw a cat.

B) Our backyard always has its fair share of cats. I don't know if they are strays or belong to the neighbors and just like to hang out in our yard cuz the hunting is so good. Either way I usually just ignore them, and they run away from me. But in the last few days one of them has gotten increasingly friendly, until one night I came home to find him sitting on the door mat. Harrison got all excited and said "My Cat! My cat came home!" which made me feel very sad.

If I go outside that cat starts rubbing against my legs like it is in love with me and it spent all night pacing back and forth outside the back door. Scratching and trying to get in. Where does it think it is? Does it know that it doesn't live here?

I think the Feline underground has had some wires crossed somewhere along the lines. Cuz when they are leaving their little hobo-cat markings on the fence posts, the ones outside our house seem to be saying "This is a good place to get food." And it's not true! Just ask my husband.

Now, 5 days later, the cat is STILL sitting on the back porch. Sometimes he paces back and forth in a frenzy, but mostly he just sits there, unmoving. Watching me with those wide, staring eyes. That seem to be saying "Wait till Martin comes."

If Steampunk is Nerdy, I don't want to be Cool

2010-11-12T21:00:00.000-08:00

If you, like me, have done as many steampunk google searches as I have (steampunk fashion, steampunk gun, steampunk shirt, steampunk jacket, steampunk goggles, yackity schmackity, etc.) then this just seems like one more blog post about one more nerd who wanted to be steampunk for a day. But it's not. It isn't like that at all. This is a story about two hearts, 3 bags of potato chips, 7 mismatched socks, and a dream that just wouldn't die.

This Halloween we went Steampunk, and it was fun.

The End.

It isn't a very long story.

Crap I found While Shopping

2010-11-11T09:00:00.000-08:00

Not literal crap. I don't shop at those kinds of stores anymore. I mostly just shop at the grocery store. And now and then a thrift store or two. Which is where I found these beauties:

It may not be entirely clear in the picture, but those pants are touching the floor. They go all the way from the floor to my armpits. I could not stop giggling. Those pants are almost 5 feet tall all by their lonesome. Which is apparently all it takes to crack me up. 5 FOOT TALL PANTS!!

Speaking of the grocery store, mine has a "Toy Section", though I avoid that isle at all cost. Harrison is onto me though, and usually manages to convince me to stop there for at least a few minutes. One day, Harrison handed me this:

Which is a really a beautiful bunch of plastic. Let's take a closer look:

Yep. You may not know this about me, but I was a cheerleader for about 2 weeks once, and let me tell you, these pom poms have hit the nail on the head. "Drink for them, colourfulfor them" are the basic tenets they teach at cheer camp.

And clearly THESE pom poms are of the highest quality. That says they are perfect, and I don't think they would lie. Skillful manufacture indeed. These beauties would turn anyone into a first rate Encourage Leader. "GO! CLAP!!" Repeat that mantra hourly and you will be peppier, and encouragier in No Time! And Hygiene!

We Have Willpower!

2010-10-15T09:54:00.000-07:00

Eating healthy for me is a lot like that Frog and Toad book where Toad makes cookies and then Frog tells him that it probably isn't good for them to eat all those cookies at once so they get a ladder and put the cookies way up high on a shelf where they can't reach them and then run around yelling "We have Willpower!"

But then the story (and my life) continues by Toad realizing that he could just use the ladder to get the cookies back down. So Frog throws the cookies out the door and a bunch of birds come and eat them all. Then Toad is mad cuz he doesn't have any cookies so he goes home and makes a cake.
You know. It's kind of like that.

Tales of the Macabre

2010-10-13T15:38:00.000-07:00

How did Puff Daddy Become P Diddy?

And how can I become E Licious? That is what I want to know. I mean, there are a lot of questions out there to ask, but that is the one that prays most often on my mind.

I would just like to state, for the record, that I should be doing something else right now. I really felt like the record should include that. Good ol' record.

And speaking of the record, I've been told that it also needs to include my least favorite ways to die. I'm assuming this is so that when an evil genius finally decides to do me in that he can kill me in the most unpleasant way possible. Which sounds like a swell idea to me!

So here they are, in honor of the morbidness that is Halloween,

5 ways I don't want to die:

Burned at the Stake. Fire is one of those too-much-of-a-good-thing type forces and I just don't think I want to be fired until I die.
Tickled to death. I'm sure we've all said "Stop stop stop!" when being tickled (and meant it to varying degrees, depending on how cute we thought the tickler was) but can you imagine if they just actually really wouldn't stop until you were dead? It is a fearsome assasin who weilds those fingers.
Glue gunned to death. Enough said
Suffocating in excrement. I know it is gross, but I read a story about someone who escaped from a Nazi prison camp by hiding out in a toilet hole, and I've thought about it a lot. I really don't think I would want to live through that experience. But I wouldn't want to die through it either. I would just like to avoid all close contact with human waste if at all possible. And I know I would rather die than clean up human poop for the rest of my life. Animal dung I think I could live with, but human poop? No, just kill me now. Just not in the poop. I know I am making a lot of demands.
Being hunted, chased and then mauled to death by a giant beast. Death by beast is bad enough. Being hunted would be..............I'm at a loss for words. Being hunted would be pretty darn scary. Please, just let it take me by surprise, just let it hide in the bushes and spring out at mekkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

Cupcake to My Face Ratio = 1:1

2010-09-01T22:22:00.000-07:00

All is quiet. For the moment, both kids are asleep. Next to me, on my desk, sits a cupcake.

I bought it at the store. It came with a crown so I feel special. I already ate two; I am feeling pretty full. But I am very tempted to try to shove this whole thing into my mouth all at once.

Of course I never would. I am, firstly and foremostly, a lady. Decorum is at the heart of all I say and do. But would it even fit? That is what I would like to know. I know I have a big mouth, but is it big enough? Or would I be laughed out of the "All In One Bite" social circles? And would it still taste good, gagged down like that? Maybe, maybe not. But we will never know. I don't eat three cupcakes in one sitting, I just don't. Ask anyone.

I definitely should have taken the crown off first.

But it is so nice to have a moment to myself, you know?

And while we are on the subject...

2010-07-30T21:55:00.000-07:00

I find that you really can't talk too much about throwing up. It simply doesn't seem to be possible.

Richard got sick last weekend. Usually I am the one who is sick while he points and laughs at my misery. He probably gets sick 1 out of every 10 times that I get sick. So last weekend I guess it was finally his turn again. And while it put a damper on the weekend, it brought up lots of fun memories of sicknesses gone by.

When we first moved in to this house we went to Home Depot like we did all the time in those days. I started feeling oogy, so I made Richard push me around in the shopping cart. I think he suspected that I was just lazy, so I was really glad when we got home and I ran strait into the house and puked up pizza all over the shower. That showed him.

Once when I was young my sister Demi got sick. So she was hanging out in front of the toilet like you do, waiting for the sweet release of up-chucking. It was late and she was exhausted and all the sudden she ran into the kitchen saying that her hands wouldn't work. They were in these weird positions and seemed all frozen and she was freaking out and I was FREAKED OUT! I thought she was dying, cuz what else do frozen hands mean if not certain death? Turns out she had just fallen alseep on her hands and they were totally numb, but otherwise fine.

And then there was a time on my mission when a lady in the ward told me that taking Mulitvitamins on an empty stomach made her sick. I thought that was rather silly. But when I took one a couple days later on an empty stomach I started feeling sick too. I think she hexed me. I knew the thing to do was to eat something, so I grabbed the first thing I could find - leftover fish pasta - and ate it as fast as I could. About 5 minutes later I hurled in the shower. (By the way, puking in the shower is way better than puking in the toilet. Though if I have my druthers I prefer vomiting into a pitcher from the comforts of my bed.)

Anyhoo, as I listened to Richard hurling into the toilet I realized how generous and forgiving he is for still loving me after hearing me barf all those times. Cuz now, for me, it is over. How can I kiss someone after hearing them throw up like that? I know there are some silent pukers out there, but I'm sure not one of them, and now I know my husband isn't either. So that is it for us. We had a good run. But I was also interested to realize that, while the love is gone, listening to him didn't make ME want to throw up. It always does in the movies, and I have always wondered if it would work that way for me, but it didn't. So now I know, next time I am stuck in a room full of barfing barfers, I will be the one with my head held high, holding it together while everyone around me falls apart all over the upholstery. Man, that is going to be awesome! I can't wait!

We All Scream, Just Because We Feel Like It

2010-07-28T16:43:00.000-07:00

In the movies you can always tell when a woman has had a bad day. Well, first of all you can tell because she actually did have a bad day - maybe she lost the big account her boss was counting on, or she got left at the alter, or fell off a building, or maybe got chased by zombies. But there are other signs, for those of you not too quick on the uptake. She'll come home at the end of that crappy, zombie-filled day and head for the fridge. Her roommate will say "How was your day?" and she will answer by pulling a container of icecream out of the freezer. To which her roommate will respond, "Ooh, that bad?"

I never really understood that. Are you telling me she only ate the icecream when she was upset? Did she only keep it on hand in the eventuality that she might someday have a bad day? For months it would sit neglected in her freezer while she ate grapefruit and spinach until the day her dog died? Or was it the fact that she was eating icecream before dinner that alarmed her roommate so? Somehow I doubt it. I think this is one of those myths perpetuated by the media, like the idea that bank robbers are good at heart, or that monkeys can fly space shuttles. Cuz if I have icecream in my freezer, I'll eat it, day or night, before dinner, after dinner, in place of dinner, for breakfast, whatever. I'll just keep eating it until it is gone. Which is exactly why I don't keep it in the house. If it is here, I will eat it until it is not here anymore. No occasion required.

So if I have a bad day, I don't have the luxury of just going to the freezer to eat that whole quart of Ben and Jerry's that has just been sitting in there. I either have to MAKE something, which takes more time than I am willing to spend in that moment, or go out and BUY something, which is a bad idea all on its own. I have a tendency to run over people when I drive angry. Which means I have to resort to other sources of sugar, and I will use just about whatever I can find: Chocolate chips usually, or all the marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms box, maybe Candy Canes from 3 Christmases ago,or if worst comes to worst, spoonfuls of sugar.

Have you ever tried to seek solace in a spoonful of sugar? It doesn't have much to offer. I doubt it even really helps the medicine go down. It only takes about a spoonful to make you wish you were dead. 3 or 4 spoonfuls later the barfing starts, which incidentally makes you forget about the zombies and sort of puts things in perspective. At least I have a toilet to barf into, you know?

And that my friends, is why.... I don't know. I really don't know how to wrap this up. I just like to call you my friends. But at least now we know that movies aren't real. Yes, bad things happen to good people, but the odds of a person actually having icecream in the freezer on the day they find out that the perfect guy they just met has amnesia and doesn't even remember them is just too great to fool any one anymore. You're gonna have to try harder, movies! We are onto you!

Babies Are Boring

2010-07-15T12:44:00.000-07:00

They get born and come into this big ol' exciting world, and what is the first thing they do?

You put them in the car, and

You get them dressed for church, and

You can poke them in the foot,

strip them down naked,

or kiss them in the face,

but they'll sleep through it all.
On this couch,

in the bath

on a lap

or a shoulder

You name it, they can sleep through it, on it or over it. Seriously, wake up already! What are the rest of us supposed to do while you are asleep? Clean the house? Cook dinner? Pay the bills? Sleep ourselves??? Don't be ridiculous! It is high time you did your share! I demand payment for services rendered. I only accept smiles as payment, so I would get working on that.

My Very Own Star Wars Kid

2010-07-11T13:24:00.000-07:00

So Richard made these very cool light sabers for Harrison for Christmas out of pex pipe and old flashlights. I would show you a picture, but then I would have to take one. And it is hot in my house. We don't have air conditioning, but our house is made of brick so it stays pretty cool for the most part. So if I keep very still, I can keep from raising my body temperature in any way. If I have to get up to take a picture, it might cause me to expire. Plus, I am super lazy.

Oh, look at that! A picture magically appeared in my camera and transferred itself onto my hard drive. Fairys sure are nice to have around. Here ya go:

Because of these light sabers, Harrison and I have a lot of light saber fights. Lots of them. Long ones. Epic ones. And I always feel a little silly. Until it finally occurred to me that my problem is that I was holding my light saber wrong! I was holding it one handed, like a foil, which is so embarrassing because everyone knows the light saber is a two handed weapon. Duh.

Having realized my mistake, I grabbed my light saber with both hands and started whipping it around, perfecting my form and increasing my skill until I suddenly realized that I looked just like this guy:

And I was just so happy. I've finally made it, you know?

Colin-oscopy

2010-06-16T15:07:00.001-07:00

Here is the very short version and some more pictures. At some point I will force you to sit through the long version, but not today.

The gist is this: last Friday, June 4th, we were chosen by a birth mom to be the adoptive parents for her baby boy. She was due on the 28th. To say we were happy is putting it mildly. It wasn't much time to prepare, but we felt we were more than up to the task. So when we got a call barely a week later telling us she was in labor, we were not prepared in the least. We hadn't even started telling people yet (which is why you didn't know). We ran around like crazy people for the next couple of days, and yesterday morning we brought him home. We named him Colin and he mostly sleeps all the time, which is really very strange. But Harrison seems to like him ok so far and things are great. We are beside ourselves with joy. And some shock. It might take a few days for it to all sink in. We have two boys??

Here are some more photos for your viewing pleasure. If they don't please you, I recommend punching yourself in the eye.

That is a little boy very angry at being photographed without his pants on. Such modesty.

Brothers!

I caught him mid sneeze!

I'm pretty sure that is his "Stop taking pictures of me already" face.

So there you have it. All the pictures we are ever gonna take.

For those of you who are mad that this is the first you have heard about it, I apologize. I was going to be awesome and send out personalized emails in silver envelopes, but there is just so much baby to hold, and 3-year-old to entertain and icecream to eat. I hope you can forgive me.

And thanks to the well wishers and those who have offered to watch Harrison, which I will totally take you up on once he is no longer sick. You guys are nice and I like you a whole heck of a lot.

This Post Has No Title

2010-06-15T20:21:00.000-07:00

I don't have the energy or brain function to write, so I am going to let my pictures do the talking. You will have to make up your own words to the story:

Richard is going to be so mad at me for posting that picture of him. Please don't tell him, ok? It wasn't our most photogenic moment.

And Buzz will be pretty mad about that one. The top of his head is cut off!

Well, there you have it. I couldn't have made things any clearer or more comprehensive if I had written you all a 12 page, double spaced, fill-in-the-blanks letter.

sincerely,

Elesa

Yakkity Schmakkity

2010-06-02T22:50:00.001-07:00

One of the best things about being a mom is being able to say things like:

"You are going to have to use your fork if you can't stop putting mashed potatoes in your ears."

In what other social interactions do you get to say stuff like that to people?

I usually stay in Harrison's bedroom with him until he is alseep. I probably shouldn't. He's old enough to fall asleep on his own and he probably needs to, but it means I get to sit quietly in a comfy chair and read while he's dozing off. And it is often so much easier to read until he is asleep than try to convince him it is ok if I leave.

Sometimes he lets me leave if I sing to him, so I figured I would give that a try tonight. I sat down next to his bed, tucked him all nicely in and said "Do you want me to sing you a song?"

His tiny little hand reached up and I thought he was going to lovingly pat my cheek to say yes, so I started to ask what song he wanted when I suddenly realized he wasn't patting my cheek, he was covering my mouth. If that isn't a clear answer I don't know what is. A "No, thank you" would have been sufficient. Is that why he lets me leave after I sing? just to shut me up?

I made bread today. The very first time I have ever made bread all by myself. And I learned a few things.

It is not nearly as much work as I thought it would be. Yes, my kitchen is a mess (but let's be honest, it was a mess before), but it isn't like I had to slave away in it all day. Most of the time you are just letting the dough rise, during which you are free to throw rotten food at the cats in your backyard, learn another language, or just stand by your sink and drink water for a while.
My $20 stand mixer from Walmart is a piece of cow pucky. It is basically just a hand mixer that can be snapped into a stand. And it has been nice because we have the same model mixer without the stand, so our beaters are interchangeable which is good since one of them ended up in the garbage disposal last week. And it came with dough hooks, but after beating the dough for a few minutes today it started to smell like the motor was burning up and there were flames and stuff, but I just ignored because I am fireproof. I was using the mixer without the stand, but someone called during the critical dough mixing time, so I snapped it into the stand so it could mix while we could talked about poop and stuff, but while we were chatting the mixer popped off the stand and went jumping wildly across the countertop.

My bread still turned out great. Really good. How do you not just eat a whole loaf of bread strait out of the oven?
Making bread makes me feel awesome. It helps that my husband thinks it is about the best thing since Star Trek toys. I finally feel like a woman!

"Ode To A Small Lump Of Green Putty I Found In My Armpit One Midsummer Morning"

2010-05-25T00:01:00.000-07:00

I have absolutely no doubt that you all clearly remember me mentioning that I had towel day entered as an event on my google calendar, and couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was?

Silly me, I just had the date wrong. Because Towel Day is today! And since Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is one of my all time favorite books, and since I didn't think I could love Douglas Adams anymore until I found out he used to write for Doctor Who, I will faithfully carry a towel around my house with me all day. (The fact that I inadvertently chose today to potty train Harrison is just a stroke of serendipity. This towel is going to come in handy. Apparently the stars have aligned and the potty gods are smiling down on me.)

Many people celebrate Towel Day by reciting Vogon Poetry (see Title), but I have chosen to celebrate by hanging out in a track suit and stuffing my pockets full of leaves. It's not like money grows on trees you know.

Happy Towel Day everyone! May you always know where your towel is!

Food-Bouncers-Fun

2010-05-13T08:14:00.000-07:00

I just got a letter in the mail from a fertility clinic we visited. It is an invitation to a Patient Party!

What could be more fun that to hang out with a bunch of other people who can't get knocked up?? I know there is nothing I would rather do.

Thouogh there will be food. Which would almost make itworth it. I know it would for Richard. PLUS, they are having some drawings. We could win 1/2 off a Regular IVF cycle! OR $1000 off having my eggs frozen! Sounds like a bucket of fun to me!

Gardening and Other Things No One Cares About

2010-04-30T03:53:00.000-07:00

Recently we visited with some of Richard's family in Nevada and his aunt told me she has been reading my blog. I was touched. Then she said "You are a very interesting person." Which I am not at all sure was a compliment. But really, can I blame her? Based on what I have written, what else could she think?

So it is time to show the world that I am not only "interesting", but smart and special. And. . . . . . . . I don't have the slightest idea how to do that. . . . . . . I give up. Here is a story instead.

A few years ago I made a clock for my dad. He was always wishing out loud for a great big clock you could see all over the house. So my darling husband and I decided to make him one. I bought a clock mechanism and hands on ebay and got to work. I'm pretty sure the design was Richard's idea. Something square and manly. We took a piece of plywood and covered it with some small sheets of copper that came from who knows where (my house is full of crap of unknown origin), and then I very carefully measured out a circle and added rivets for my minutes and hours. Perfect!

See anything wrong with it? (It really is kind of cool in person. I think.)

Neither did I. Not for a long time. In my defense, nobody else did either, until it was hung on the wall. Until we actually tried to tell time with it. Can you tell what time the picture was taken?

So now it is a big ol' joke. It is still hanging on my parents wall, and people are always saying "I can't tell time on that thing!" Which just makes me laugh and laugh. It's not like I rushed headlong into my project without giving it any thought (though it was Christmas Eve when I made it). I thought carefully, counted carefully and executed my plan carefully. I was just wrong. Very, very wrong, and there is a great big, hard-to-read clock on my parents wall reminding the world of that fact.

Boy I sure learned my lesson!

This year I planted a garden. My very first. It is so very fun and exciting. I made several plans and then found a book on Square Foot Gardening, fell desperately in love with it, adjusted my plans just a little and started building. I built a box that would sit above ground to fill with top notch soil. We have lots of spare lumber, so I grabbed some 2x8's and carefully measured and cut them and made myself a box that is 2 feet wide and 14 feet long. All on my own. I was pretty pleased with myself. Until Richard and I started laying out the grid (which is the Square Foot Gardening way) and realized that something was wrong. My grid was not working out. I finally measured it all again and found that the front is 14 feet wide, but the back is 14 feet 2 inches. I am such an amazing genius. How do I always do stuff like that? I measured. Then I cut one so it would be the same length as the other. And yet here I am. My rhombus garden a testament to my idiocy.

So now, the one person I was most excited to show my garden to, the one who would have been the most interested in it, is the one person who can never be allowed to see it. My Dad. Things being out of square give him hives under the best of circumstances. This might give him a heart attack. Cuz it was already full of soil when I realized my mistake, and Richard convinced me it wasn't worth it to try to fix. So we just fudged the grid to sort look straight and left it at that.

So, there you go. And here you are. At the end. Goodbye.

2010-04-09T15:03:00.000-07:00

So I just changed Harrison's diaper. It was stinky and poopy and more than a little gross, so I changed him and then took the diaper straight out to the garbage can and then wandered off to find my calculator and started thinking about my vegetable garden again. I was sitting at my desk trying my darndest to figure out what equation I would use to figure out how many square feet of soil I need and I could hear Harrison in the other room yelling "Mom! Mom! Mom!" And I didn't pay much attention cuz he yells all the time and he can come and get me if he needs me. So I was still working on my math problem, looking online to see if someone out there knew the answer to my question and all the while he was yelling away "Mom! Mom! Mom!" but I paid him no mind. I was focused on the problem at hand. And it didn't sound urgent. It is the same way he yells at me when he wants chocolate milk. But after about 5 minutes, since he never stopped yelling, I finally thought maybe he had got himself stuck somehow and might actually need something, so I went back into the living room to find him lying on the floor with his pants around his ankles, bum as bare as can be. I said something like "What the?" I then asked where his diaper was and if he took it off. He didn't answer. I said "Did I forget to put your diaper on" and he said "Yes!" and I vaguely remember setting an unused diaper on the table and wondering absentmindedly why I had taken two diapers with me to change him. Turns out I just forgot to put it on.

And the crazy kid just stayed there, waiting for me to come and finish the job. I laughed and kissed him and diapered him up so he could finally run off and play. I still can't believe he stayed there. What kind of a kid does that?

Man, I am so smart some times. I can't stop laughing about it.

Some things I learned this year.

2010-04-08T11:24:00.000-07:00

I am 32 now. Last year I turned 31 and the year before that I turned 30. Will it never end?? The older I get, the more often I think about why it is that everyone hates and fears aging so much. I'm still working on some theories.

But I'm sure getting old wouldn't be so bad if it didn't feel so much like I was turning into an old man. Balding, graying, mustached, with hairs pooping out of moles and freckles and out of my ears and nose. Deepening, wobbly voice, chronic gas, polyester pants and a shuffling gait. It is the pits! Though I am a very lovely person.

I decided not to make a "Why it is so darn swell to be 32" list this year, since it really ain't that differnt from being 31. Besides, half of the year I thought that I WAS 32, so I don't feel any older at all. But I am wiser. (wisened?) There is no doubt about that. And I would be honored if you, gentle reader, would let me share just a few of the things I have learned this year with you. Ready..... GO!

1. How to keep my house clean. It is about dang time. But I am still mad about having to clean it EVERY day. Every day! I ask you! Where in the fine print of my marriage license was THAT laid out?

2. The actual meaning of the phrase "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth". I always thought that it was because gift horses are known to bite (Gift Horses, of course, being those mythical creatures that deliver presents on all the holidays besides Christmas and Easter). So I thought the phrase was used today to mean that you accept the gifts you get without question, because if you look too closely at the giver, they might symbolically bite you in the bum.

But Richard told me that the horse is not the giver, the horse is the gift. And if someone gives you a horse as a gift, you don't check its teeth to make sure it is healthy before you accept it. You just accept the gift and say thank you. Because it is a gift. It makes perfect sense, but I think I like my interpretation better.

3. Chocolate is a diuretic. Don't believe me? You clearly haven't eaten enough in one sitting yet.

4. Don't let my husband see what clothes I am getting rid of. I cleaned out my closet recently and got rid of all the stuff I don't wear and gave the decent stuff to my sisters and as Richard watched them go through it he was freaking out inside. Later he said to me"You gave away that sweater? You used to wear that sweater when were dating! And I can't believe you got rid of that necklace. I've always liked that necklace!" Nevermind that I don't wear any of this stuff anymore. If he had his way we would never part with ANYTHING, and my clutter would eventually gain consciousness and attack me in my sleep.

5. Sugar gives me gas. Which actually really explains a lot.

6. Don't mess with Richard when he is cooking. He made a refridgerator sized box full of fudge for Christmas. I tried sweetly suggesting to him that maybe he made just a little too much, and he was like "Rrrrraaaaaar!!"

7. Kids don't listen. For good reason I had to say to Harrison (AGAIN) "Don't eat your boogers, please." And he said "Yes, eat boogers! Chomp!!" I don't know how to spell the chomping sound he made. But I laughed so much that I know he is never going to take me sereiously. And I really need the booger eating to stop!

9. People selling trucks on KSL do not know how to spell. The further they get from Salt Lake, the worse the spelling.

10. Guilt trips don't work on 3 year-olds. When Harrison shoots me--which happens a lot-- and I have to fall down dead, I always try to make him feel bad for killing his poor MOTHER, who loves him and takes care of him and always makes him hot cocoa. But he just laughs and shoots me again.

11. If the person you are trying to kill won't just shut up and die, you can always shoot them again.

12. No matter where you go, in cities large and small nationwide, little old ladies still hang around the house in their muu muus and house coats. Because this is America!

I may not feel much different than last year, but I know I am getting older because I LIKE the clothes in the Chadwicks catalog. Crazy right? Those are clothes for middle aged moms, not a spring chick like me. But I happened to look through a catalog recently and I liked something on every page. What is next? Embroidering my grandkid's names on my Muu Muu?

And the Winner Is...

2010-04-01T11:03:00.000-07:00

Heather!

Hooray and congratulations! I will contact you to get the info I need. Thanks for playing!!

Because it is almost my Birthday.

2010-03-25T01:38:00.000-07:00

So my three year old has robots in his bedroom. On purpose. I put them there. They aren't invading or anything. But really, the room is kinda bare, and I don't know what to do about it. I suppose I could hang stuff on the walls, but that just seems a little TOO easy, don't you think?

Richard keeps talking about making him a very cool, rather large bed that will look neat and fill up lots of space, but I honestly don't know when that will happen. Today I saw these Kids Beds at AllChildrensFurniture.com and now I am all covety. They have some very cool beds! I think my favorite is this one.
If it was different fabric. Because there is no way my kid is having a camouflage bed. But what better way to start your day then scootin' down the slide in your jammies? It would almost make up for waking up in that awful pastel room. But seriously, with free shipping it might be better to just buy a bed than waiting until never for one to get built. Only joking husband dear! I know you'll do it when the timing is right!

And now I know what you are all thinking. I am clairvoyant, and it is pretty great. Except sometimes it sucks. But I know what these beds have got you thinking: When is Elesa Going to Do A Giveaway? And will she give away one of those swell beds? This thought has plagued your waking hours, and haunted your dreams. It isn't fair to you for me to keep you in suspense any longer. The answers are NOW and NO. Sorry. No one is going to give you a free bed. That is not the world we live in.

But I am giving away this. Monster Bowling, by Melissa and Doug. Why couldn't I have had nightmares about these guys when I was a kid? If you win, these crazy cute monsters are yours. It is that simple. Registering is somewhat more complicated however.

Here is what you gotta do to register: You must build a tower of books in your living room that reach as high as your desire to win is. Take several pictures. Compile those pictures into a slideshow set to your favorite Beach Boys song and post the video on YouTube. Once your video reaches 1000 views, write a letter to your mom and ask her to register for you. Easy as that.

OR, you can just leave a comment. Just say something like "Sign me up, Matey!" I guess I will accept that too. But the book thing would be cooler.

So, I don't know, you can tell your friends if you want to. I wouldn't if it was me, cuz it just decreases my chances of winning. (Ha. The first time I wrote that sentance it said "degreases your chance of winning.") But, since this all about advertising, I suppose it behooves us to spread the word. It also behooves us to use the word behoove at every opportunity. I guess if you mention the giveaway in a post on your blog then you can be entered again. Just comment again to tell me you did so. But you really have to ask yourself if it is worth it.

Giveaway Ends April 1st at noon. And just because you may not have children doesn't mean you shouldn't enter. Look at those monsters? Wouldn't you love to spend an evening throwing things at them?

Food for Thought

2010-03-16T10:40:00.000-07:00

It smells like poop in here. And now that I've got that off my chest, I have something more to say. Hmmmm. . . . . How to say this without offending either of my male readers?

What is the deal with your freakin' gender? Why are you such babies about food?? Oh yes, I think that worked out nicely. Very tactful. Well done, Elesa.

But seriously, why does it smell like poo in here?

I'm going to try something a little different and talk about my husband. Just this once. Don't tell him, Ok? He is sitting right next to me and all, but he doesn't have to know. He doesn't read my blog - his excuse being that he "doesn't even know how to find it" (sure, good try), so I don't have to worry about that. So, for the rest of you, if we could just keep this between us, that would be nice.

I have a very honest husband. And of course, yes, he is honest is the doesn't-try-to-steal-from-blind-old-ladies way, but he is also honest in the won't-tell-a-lie-to-keep-from-hurting-someone's-feelings way. Even the socially accepted "lies-to-keep-your-wife-from-throwing-things-at-you" are not acceptable to him. This is the man who, when asked by me "Do these pants make my bum look smaller?" said "Uh...not really."

I have come to appreciate it. Or, I have decided to appreciate it. I know when he tells me I look good, he means it and if he tells me something tastes good, it is. As aggravating as it is, it is nice to know he isn't just saying something to make me feel good.

Cooking is fun when I get to try out new recipes. But I have given up trying to find a recipe that will knock my husband's socks off. I don't think I am capable of cooking something he goes crazy over. He will always thank me for dinner, because he really is grateful that I am cooking for him. But if I ask him how the food was, the answer is usually "It was ok", The best I have ever gotten was "It was good" but that doesn't happen all that often. So I just don't ask his opinion anymore. Instead I tell him that if he never ever wants to eat a particular meal again, he better let me know.

Such was the case with this meal:

The Pioneer Woman's Chicken Spaghetti.

I thought a recipe from a back-country, meat-and-potatoes-lovin', down-home-cookin' lady like The Pioneer Woman would be just the thing for Richard, but he eyed it very suspiciously and looked quite afraid. I tried to convince him that it was going to be delicious because it was The Pioneer Woman's recipe, but he didn't believe me. He did eat it though, out of politeness. It had pimentos in it (and I am not even really sure what those are) and Richard picked them all out. I said "How do you know you don't like them?" and he said "They look funny".

I, however, thought it was really good. Though I think it would have been better with a different pasta, like rigatoni or something, instead of spaghetti.

The good news is I DID find something he likes. These:

These Ginger Spice Cookies are good. And easy. And since I bought some molasses for something recently, I always have the ingredients on hand. THAT is a huge plus. I was in love from the first. But Richard is nothing if not backward with praise and I didn't even know he liked them until he asked me to make them again. That was when I knew. I found something wonderful, and I'm never gonna let them go!!

I'm only sort of a Criminal

2010-03-11T22:21:00.000-08:00

Well, larceny was my crime today. That's right. I robbed a Shopko.

But you should know, I'm not a thief. Really. After my first attempt, I gave it up. This time was an accident. Honest. I just went into Shopko to get one thing. Something totally normal, not something sad and weird like Depends or Female mustache remover or anything like that. And then I had me a hankerin' to watch some Harry Potter, which is also very normal, but they didn't have the one I wanted so I left. It wasn't till I got home and saw my merchandise sitting on the seat next to me, and I started trying to remember PAYING for it, and realized I hadn't. Brilliant.

So I had to go back. I kept trying to decide how I should act. Guilty? Embarrassed? Ditzy? Scatterbrained? Rushed? Angry? In the end I went for matter of fact and the customer service lady obviously couldn't have cared either way. Just rang me up and that was that. Stealing really isn't as exciting as they make it out to be in the movies. I feel like I've been lied to! By the media, of all things!

Sugar is my drug of choice

2010-03-10T17:32:00.000-08:00

Since I had to go and announce to the world that I was was off sugar, I guess it is only fair that I inform you that I am back on again. That is right. I quit. Cuz it was a super sucky day, and it was either eat something delicious and sweet or run away, and I KNOW I would regret that tomorrow.

So I made myself a batch of snickerdoodles,

(I took the recipe from Domestication in Progress and added 1/4 tsp cream of tartar). and enjoyed every single bite. I could only eat three cookies, but I'm not sorry at all. I was sad and sugar made me feel better and I can accept that.

For a while there I was thinking "Wow! I'm sure not a quitter!!" Which was a nice thing to think and all, but it turns out that I am. And I am ok with it. Sometimes I think not quitting is just a little over rated anyway. For instance:

Have you seen this billboard?

Do I really want to stick with things at the cost of my limbs? Sure, some things are worth any cost, like my family, the gospel, good stuff like that. But if sharks keep biting bits of you off whenever you go to the beach, maybe you should start swimming at the pool. It's not like you are going to teach those sharks a lesson by surfing with one leg. They don't care. If your current activity is detrimental to your remaining limbs, it might be time to take up a new hobby. That's all I'm sayin.

Losing My ( )dentity

2010-03-09T21:24:00.000-08:00

My I button seems to be malfunctioning. If I don't pay careful attention it just doesn't type anything when i press on it. Most words can be gnored and fixed with spell checker, except when I am talking about myself and use the word "I". If I am not paying attenton, I will get to the end of a sentence where I expound my opnions on icecream flavors, and when I look back over it, I will have been completely left out of the sentence. I feel a lttle bit lke I am losing my identty. So I have to keep going back over it and saying “I! I! I’m the one who loves Heavenly Hash!” I have to be really forceful and jab the “I” key really hard to convnce it that I am the one who is talking.

Though it occurs to me now, that maybe the reason that I is the key that is going, is because I have always been too forceful with it.What am I trying to compensate for?

Where My Nerds At?

2010-03-08T20:25:00.001-08:00

My husband is just the teeniest bit nerdy. Only the teeniest, tiniest bit. Ever since who-knows-when he has wanted his very own Tricorder, just like the following:

If, by some bizarre accident of nature or TV programming, you have no idea what I am talking about or what this is a picture of, then I'm afraid there is nothing I can do for you. It would be like trying to describe the binary language of moisture evaporators to a hedgehog. Not that you are like a hedgehog. You are beautiful and good. And. . . . oh, let's just move on.

I bought him a phaser and a communicator for his Birthday last year

- only to find out JUST YESTERDAY that his mom gave him both when he was in highschool. He pulled them out to display in his Shrine to Nerd-dom he is putting together next to our bed. He assures me that these new ones I gave him are different and nice and he is very, very glad to have both. But the truth is, what he really wants is a Tricorder. He would happily own every one that has ever been made (and believe me, there are lots.) And as much as I like to surprise him, I think I have learned enough not to try to buy a Tricorder for him. Indeed, picking out your first tricorder is what turns a boy into a man.

So he's been looking at them online lately. Researching, comparing prices, reading reviews, watching videos. The videos are the best. In the "Sheesh, and I thought YOU were nerdy!" kind of way. Here is a very helpful and informative one:

No, no, I don't expect you to watch it (unless you are into that sort of thing). I mean, this guy happily rambles on about his tricorder for Twenty Minutes! And Richard watched the whole thing.

My favorite part is at about 8 minutes, 10 seconds. We watched it over and over cuz we thought it was so funny. Man, that guys is a nerd. And he doesn't know. I really don't think he has any idea what a nerd he is, which is what also makes him a dork. Not that there is anything wrong with that. And also, I kinda wish I knew him. Cuz nerds are the best, ya know?

and so on, and so forth...

2010-03-05T16:30:00.000-08:00

I just woke up from a nap. Sort of. As much as one can wake up from a nap. There are those who believe that you never truly wake up from a nap, and as your life goes on more and more of you stays asleep until there is more of you asleep than awake. That is why old people are such bad drivers.

Sitting at his computer, Richard got a popup advertising The Secret to thick, strong, shiny, Asian hair. And Richard said, "Uh, yeah. Isn't the secret being Asian?" And unfortunately, I think he is right. My mongrel, European heritage has bestowed upon me limp, frizzy, thinning hair, and I'm proud of that. I don't need any "internet secrets" taking that away from me.

My shocking news of the day is that I have decided to give up sugar. Temporarily. One day the notion popped into my head out of who knows where and I just up and decided to go without sugar until my Birthday in April. For a total of 6 weeks. Because--I reasoned--I can do anything for 6 weeks.

It has been almost 3 weeks so far. Sometimes it is easy and sometimes it is so hard it is all I can do to keep from smashing things, but I have stuck with it. And I guess I will stick with it till the end, cuz it seems like a waste to quit now, though I'm not really sure why I decided to do this in the first place. Mostly what I feel at this point is just bored. Dessert is fun. Cooking dessert is fun. How the heck am I supposed to entertain myself if I don't eat dessert?

Underneath this world, there is a whole nuther, different world, and they have really delicious potatoes.

2010-03-01T20:54:00.001-08:00

There is a whole bloggy world out there that some of you don't even know about. Some of you do, of course, and that is why you are here, but the rest of you are here because you are related to me, and as such feel a certain responsibility to read what I write, and find out what is going on in my life (which is increasingly infuriating, because I never actually SAY anything!)

Anyhoo, what I am driving at is that there is this whole, bloggy community of women (and men, so legend has it) who only know each other through their blogs, and read each other's blogs and from time to time go out to lunch together, and then casually attend Blogging Conferences where they meet and talk to MORE people and read MORE people's blogs and this goes on and on exponentially until eventually someday they will break the internet.

But until that day, blah blah blah, I really don't know where this sentence is going.

Ok. So these people get together. For instance, I assume it is not a secret that Kristina has announced a blog lunch on March 20th at the Old Folk Mecca: Golden Corral. (She also announced that she actually cares about Old People, which you can read more about here.) So, with that announcement comes a decision. Should I go?

See, the thing is, I went to one of these once before. Though it wasn't a lunch. It was a Bridal shower. Brittany was having a baby shower hosted by Kristina and she basically said "If anybody wants to come, let me know." So I said, "Send me on down one-a them thur invitations!" And she did. And somehow I found myself on the fateful day in my car, heading toward Salt Lake to attend the shower.

It was exciting to meet these people, but as I drove I was mostly just nervous. And then I got lost. And then I got loster. And then I was yelling "Where the heck am I??" and then I was like "CURSE YOU AND YOUR STUPID MAP KRISTINA!" and then I was like "Oh. I'm here." And then I was nervous again. Really, crazy nervous. What was I thinking coming to this thing??

But here is the plot twist: It was great! I ended up sitting by Annie of Regarding Annie, which was nice for me because Annie is good at talking. Well, no. That's not quite it. She is good at conversation. Talkers are nice cuz they do all the talking and I can just listen and I don't have to do any work. But she asked me questions. Got me talking, and it didn't feel like work at all. On my other side was Jessica, from Duck, Duck, Cow, whose blog was the first stranger's blog I ever commented on. Thusly, she was the first stranger who commented on my blog, and I was pretty dang excited, I can assure you. I also met the Boob Nazi, and Shanna of Just So, and Christa (whose blog I cannot find anywhere) and gosh it has been so long that is as far around the circle as I can remember.

So what I am trying to say is, it was really nice to meet them and I was so glad I went, but now there is another lunch coming up and even though I liked the last one, I am afraid to go to another one. I just read This Post by That Girl, and I totally get where she is coming from. Though for me it is not so much fear of having to meet expectations as just having to talk to people. Talking to people is the worst! And 19 million times more worser when they are people you don't know. With one of my sisters I can be like "Hey, what's up? Why don't we sit down, eat 27 peanut butter bars and watch some Firefly" But with a stranger I have to be like, "Hello. How are you on this fine morning? Would you care to sample some of these delectable peanut butter bars? Oh, you don't eat carbs? You don't like Sci Fi? You don't watch TV??" And then I have to fake a nose bleed and run for the bathroom. Yeah. Pretty painful. So, anyway, I think the point is,

Talking = BAD
Peanut Butter Bars = GOOD.

Oh, and the other point, which I learned at the aforementioned Blog Lunch, is that the name of my blog "Ahem" is no fun to say out loud. So when people asked what my blog was I started just clearing my throat. And then they would say "How do you spell that?"

I could try to sum this all up nicely, but what good would that do? Let's just say that I have shared all the thoughts I have on the matter, and leave it at that.

But what are YOUR thoughts?

It is Hot and/or Ready, if you are willing to wait till it comes out of the oven.

2010-02-27T20:22:00.001-08:00

Friday night I was going out with some friends, so a quick and easy dinner solution for my family was Little Ceasar's Hot and Ready pizza. Because I'm cheap like that.

At 5:00 Harrison and I pulled in to Little Ceasar's, (in order to beat the dinner rush) and I ordered a Hawaiian pizza. They used to have them hot and ready, but not any more. I didn't realize this. The cashier told me it would be about 5 minutes. No big deal. I grabbed a balloon for Harrison and we sat down to wait.

Turns out 5:00 on a Friday is NOT early enough to beat the dinner rush. It was packed. Crazy busy. I think Hot and Ready pizzas was probably the best thing Little Ceasar's ever did for themselves. The pizza is not fantastic, but it is cheap and it is available NOW. Those two qualities are pretty hard to resist. And those highschoolers employed there work really hard. People say teenagers are lazy, but those kids were working their non-existent bums off.

So we waited. And waited. And waited. After about 15 minutes an employee told me they had just put my pizza in the oven and he was really sorry and gave me a couple expired coupons for free crazy bread. So we waited some more.

Harrison was done sitting quietly by this time. I tried to find the balance between keeping him from driving everyone else in the place crazy, and giving him enough freedom that he wouldn't scream. I didn't do a very good job, but I honestly thought about trying harder. Some little kid sitting next to us was smacking his parents in the face with his balloon, so Harrison started doing it to me, and I was like "NUH UH." Then he wanted to roll around on the floor with his balloon, but I wasn't having any of that either.

I considered leaving, but thought, if I don't bring this pizza home to my family, how will I provide them with the nourishment they need? After around 20 minutes the same employee gave me my money back for the pizza. I said "Are you serious?" And he assurred me they were sorry that my pizza was taking so long. I wanted to ask how much longer it would be at this point, but after such a kind gesture on his part, I felt like that would be a little greedy of me.

So I just kept waiting. And it really would not have been a big deal if not for Harrison. He spent his time jumping in front of people on accident so that they tripped over him, sending their pizzas flying (OK. Nobody's pizza flew through the air. That would have been just so awesome), sticking his hand in the door to keep people from closing it (to which my response was "WHAT the CRAP are you doing???"), or patting strangers on the bum. The poor old lady he did that to probably had a mini heart attack from that little surprise.

At 5:30 I was just about to tell them that, Thank You, they had been very, very nice, but I was going to have to leave, when someone who looked like a manager came over with my pizza, an apology, and coupons for TWO free Hawaiian pizzas. Wow. Really, Wow. I thanked him for the excellent service and went home to scarf down my pizza. And I felt a little bad. Did the manager realize I already got my money back? Not to mention the crazy bread. Cuz while I did have to wait a while, that was a very profitable pizza acquiring expedition. And that is some seriously good customer service! Better than I would have ever expected from Little Ceasar's. Far from being annoyed and deciding to go somewhere else next time I want pizza, I'm gonna go back to L.C. because they were so nice to me. But, when that next time happens to roll around, you can bet your pajamas that I will be leaving Harrison with his Father.

2010-02-19T22:00:00.000-08:00

Here I sit in my 3 year old's toy strewn room, laying on the floor at the foot of his bed, reading a book while he slowly drifts off to sleep. I cannot help but look at him and my heart skips a beat. He is everything I ever wanted. It hurts a little, loving him this much. He catches me watching him and grins and scrunches up his shoulders. I smile too, and we spend a few moments just grinning and shrugging at each other. It's like feeling your whole self expand from the inside. I live for these moments. For joy like this. I have never felt so complete. What more could I ever want than this?

Oh, right. Another one. A little girl would be nice.

What Valentine's Day is Really About

2010-02-18T10:28:00.000-08:00

Just in time for V-Day my husband came down with the flu. So he spent most of the weekend watching NCIS and the V marathon on Syfy and reading The Silmarilian. And I spent the weekend eating every piece of chocolate and candy that I could get my hands on. And then I also made cookies and ate them too. Good times.

So, while we are discussing Valentine's and all the gooey love garbage that goes with it, let's not forget to discuss the most important, some might say pivotal, part of all Valentine's Day activities: SHOES.

I always think that I have told you all of my most secret secrets, but I might have left one out. I am 5'8". I guess all my other confessions didn't include that tasty bit of info. So, yes. The top of my head is 5 feet, 8 inches from the ground. Which really isn't that tall. There are all kinds of women taller than me. What is the average, about 5'6"? Hmm, I'm gonna look it up. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Oh. . . . . . . gee. . . The average height for women in the U.S. is 5'3". Now you know.

I tell you, it isn't all sunshine and rainbows being tall. It hard to find pants, strollers, or men tall enough. And for most of my life I have just felt TOO tall. My best friend was 5'2" (5'2 & 1/2", thank you very much), so I have always felt kind of, um, LARGE when I wasn't with my family. People often talk about tall women in vague exclamations of how enviable it is, but I've never heard them say why. I certainly couldn't ever see what was so great about it. All I knew was that I was taller than all the boys I liked, and I was always tripping over things.

I hear people complain about being short, but I was always jealous. The guys always seemed to like my short friends. I think there is something about a girl he can pick up with one hand and throw over his shoulder that is irresistible to a guy.

Here is a picture of me and some of my college roommates. Guess which one is me?

This is a picture with the short roommates, of course. I have a picture with some taller ones, but that would not have illustrated my point. Sheesh! It is no wonder I had a complex. I'm like a head taller than them!

And here is another picture that one of my roommates was kind enough to post on Facebook, for which I am very, very grateful.

This picture just cracks me up. I am like a giant. Why in the world am I so big? I look like I am standing on a stool or something, but I can't think of any reason why I would be.
Note to self: Rugby shirts make you look like a Rugby player. Please avoid.

So anyway, here I was three years into college; Tall and hating it. But then I went on a mission and things changed. Because it was a great, life-changing experience, but also because I had 8 different companions and all but 2 were the same height as me or taller. And even the short ones weren't very. For the first time in my life I wasn't associating with the tops of people's heads! (All right, I'm exaggerating here, but just go with it). And I had one companion who, though she was almost 6 Feet tall, wore heels all the time, and looked fantastic doing it. For the first time it occurred to me that I could be tall and proud of it.

So then I came home and married a guy 5 inches taller than me who loves high heels and I started wearing them and one day I suddenly realized that I actually LIKE being tall. When the Young Women come into Relief Society and we all get to stand up to do the theme and I find myself looking out over a sea of heads because I am wearing 4 inch heels, it makes me smile.

So, in honor of Valentine's Day, and as a gift to my husband, I got a pair of 5 inch heels. (I just went and measured them.) And they are really cute and pretty hard to walk in and I will probably be falling down even more than usual, but it is totally worth it! Happy Valentine's Day Shoes!

5" heels: $21.00.
Liking Your Height No Matter How Tall You Are: Priceless.

Some Questions:

2010-02-11T22:14:00.000-08:00

So I wonder, are there people's blogs you read that you only read because they read and comment on your blog? Do you feel obligated to maintain reciprocal readership? And should you feel obligated? These are questions I would like answers to.

And also, on a similar note, what about people who never comment? Do they deserve some kind of retribution? Just kidding. I really don't care if you comment, but I have one old friend whose blog I read so I can keep up with her life and all, but it is starting to feel a little one sided. I read her blog and comment, but I don't even know if she is reading mine. Not that I really need her to read my blog, but that I would like to have some response. I guess that is the flaw with having blogging be your only means of keeping in touch with someone. It isn't like she and I are carrying on a conversation. It's more like I am listening in on a phone call between her and her mom. And everyone knows eavesdropping is always fun at first, but eventually the ear horn starts to chafe and you start to lose interest and wander off to make yourself a sandwich.

So anyway, just some thoughts I had. I wonder what the rest of you feel? What are the rules, or do you even care about the rules and just do whatever you please?

And by the way, my feed reader just pooped out on me, which means I will actually have to exert effort to read blogs starting tomorrow, which is really a lot of work. So, ya know. There ya go.

Plant Care For The Rest of Us

2010-02-03T16:38:00.000-08:00

There are many, many things that I excel at. Cake Decorating and Photography are just a few that come to mind. Well, also Plants. And, apparently, writing good sentences, such as ones unto the similarity of this.

For today's lesson:

I realize I am probably telling you something you already know. But that is my job. That is actually what I have been assigned by the higher-ups to do; Tell you stuff you already know, like ....... I don't know, don't punch cows and stuff. Whatever.

So I live in a dusty house. I would swear that it is at least 3 times dustier than your average Utah home. And I deal with the dust by ignoring it. Which works wonders! Except today, for who knows what reason, I realized my plants were looking pretty sad. Ok, so the point!!

How to clean and polish your plants. Ta da!

The secret is mayonnaise. Mayonnaise will shine them up and make them look like plastic. (Which is the goal with live houseplants.) Lots of condiments have more than one use like this. You can use ketchup in your windowsill to seal up gaps, mustard will kill a beetle on contact, and pickles are great for throwing at people. Obviously. But the mayo on the plants really is real.

Here is my philodendron BEFORE. Can you see the dust? Can you tell that it is dirty enough to shock your mother-in-law and make her seriously concerned for her son's future?

No, I guess you really can't. You'll just have to trust me.

And here is the plant AFTER polishing:

Wow! Just look at those leaves shine!

So, here is what you do:

Plop some mayo into a small bowl or plate.
Put a paper towel or soft rag into your hand (right or left, the choice is yours).
Get a little mayo on a corner of the rag and gentle rub it into a leaf. Continue rubbing and polishing until the mayo is rubbed in and it looks clean and shiny.
Repeat with remaining leaves.

It goes without saying that you should be careful. Your plant is fragile and you could easily break a leaf. Which, unlike the phrase "Break a leg", is not used to mean good luck. However, if you do manage to break one (or several), just pinch the leaf off at its root, or base, or jointy-joint thing. (Yeah. Like I said. Knowing everything about plants is what I do best.) Plants really do like being pruned this way.

Maybe you are worried about the smell. Don't worry , it will only smell like sulfur for a few weeks, and you probably won't even notice it anymore after a day or two. If neighbors come over and notice the smell, just blame it on them. That is Basic Hostessing 101.

So maybe there are some of you complaining that you can't even keep your plants alive. All plants are different, with differing needs, but it is safe to say that you are probably over watering them. Very few plants need to be watered every day. I water my plants no more than twice a month. The philodendron is one of my favorites because it starts to look very sad and droopy when it is thirsty and this reminds me to water all of them at once. And it works out perfectly. I also have an Umbrella Tree (or schefflera) that I stuck in an unused room once and forgot about for months. Barely even looked thirsty when I found it again. Just keep it out of direct sunlight and it never asks for a thing. I recommend finding a plant that is as needy as you are giving. I used to have plants that needed lots more love, attention, and water than I was willing to give and they have since died (actually, this happens with my relationships too). It is survival of the fittest at my house. You get on MY watering schedule, or you meet your doom.

The point is, there are plants out there that are beautiful and incredibly easy to maintain. I would tell you what more of them are, but then how would you ever learn anything? Most plants will tell you when they are getting thirsty, and it probably isn't as often as you think. Don't fret over your plant, don't water it every single day, give it the amount of sunlight the little tag that comes with it says to give it, and suddenly you'll find that you have had it for a whole year and it is still thriving.

So get out there, get a plant or two, polish those leaves (it doesn't really stink. I was only kidding), and feel like a botanical genius!

If you didn't like that, try this:

The Best of 2009

2010-02-02T13:00:00.000-08:00

Now I would like to preface this by saying that, while my taste is flawless, this isn't actually THE best of 2009. This isn't even really a list of my favorites from all the new things that came out last year because I am probably at least a couple years behind. (No jokes now.) I don't even listen to the radio, so how could I possibly tell you the best new song from 2009?

No, what this is is a list of my favorite things from last year. They might be new, they might be old, they might be neither new nor old, but just something I came into contact with, and liked and remembered enough to have them come to mind right now while I am typing this. Ok. Prepped enough? Yes, I hear you saying "Shut up already and get on it with!" So here we go!

Movies

Star Trek
Up

Books

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
The True Meaning of Smekday
The Hunger Games

TV shows

Doctor Who. The new one, of course. Yep, this is my very favorite show. And if that doesn't tell you just about everything there is to know about me, then I don't know what will.
Warehouse 13
Community. This show has some flaws, but there are just some things about it that make me laugh and laugh and laugh. I think it is my favorite new show of the year.
Leverage

Food

Pepperjack cheese. I am 31 years old, and only last year discovered pepperjack. And it has changed my life forever. I just now ate a pepperjack cheese quesadilla, and my happy belly and greasy keyboard can attest that it is delicious!!

Recipes

Cheesy Roasted Red Pepper Dip (There. I hope this counts as forwarding the recipe to all those people I promised to send it to.)
Tomato Chicken Alfredo
Homemade Eclairs (And that's for you Alisha!)

Songs

The Christmas Waltz (It was my favorite Christmas song this year. I just wanted to hear it all the time. That very rarely happens.)
I Am The Highway - Audioslave
Hey ya - Obadiah Parker (I never loved Outkast, but this version of the song makes my heart go all mushy. Sigh.)

Game

Bananagrams (aka "Speed Scrabble")
Runebound (for which my husband better consider himself pretty darn lucky)

Number

1,637,529. That number is just so hot right now!

So, anyone else want to do this? I would very much like to hear what everyone else's favorites of the year were. And did I miss anything? Should I include my favorite word or website or anything?

The Perks of Marriage

2010-01-21T13:33:00.000-08:00

I know some of you are thinking "I am going to strangle my husband!" (or wife. Whatever) But don't do that. Because he really is a great guy. That's why you married him, after all. And being married is nice, most of the time. We all know there are a few things that make it hard, not the least of which is the fact that you are different after a few years of marriage than the young, virile, energetic, always-up-for-adventure single gal/guy you were when you got engaged.

I mean, who acts the same now as they did when they were dating?

Personally, I was too busy wanting him to like me to really let loose and be my unguarded self; i.e. eating corn-on-the-cob in front of him, laughing naturally (my actually laugh is mostly just a huge burst of a "BAAAAAAAA!!!" and tends to scare little kids), or tell him how much I really love watching TV. It's not like we don't care what our spouses think about us anymore, it's just that over time it seems we sort of forgot to put our Best Foot forward and all that's left is just our regular old Boring Foot.

So here we are, almost 8 years later, and I'm married to a guy who farts at the dinner table and reads "Building Application Frameworks" (which I'm going to bet is a lot LESS exciting than it sounds) in bed for fun. And he's married to a lady who snores like a trucker, and is always interrupting his relaxing nighttime reading by singing little ditties to him that go something like:

♪ "Nerd Reading! Reading for nerds. ♪ It's fun to read when you are a big nerd!♫
♫ Nerd Reading! But where are your glasses? ♪ How can you read without big dorky glasses?"♫

The lyrics aren't groundbreaking, but the tune is really quite catchy.

So, ANYWAY, the point is, after a while you realize you are married to someone who is just a person. A person who drives you crazy and makes you laugh and there are a whole lot of ups and downs, but BESIDES all the relationship stuff there are perks to just being married, which is why we have gathered together today. Besides the obvious ones of Companionship, Parenthood, and lots and lots of Money, there are perks you might not have expected or ever even thought about on your way into all this, which is a GOOD thing. Here are a few:

For Him:

A Greeting Card Company: He now has someone that will send Thank You cards to his Grandma, and Birthday cards to his mother (This list is meant to be general, and not necessarily specific to me. My husband doesn't have a wife who does this, but some men do, and they are very lucky.)
A purse. While still being manly and not overloading his pockets, he gets to enjoy the benefits of a purse. He can have his wife carry stuff in her purse for him, like his cell phone, wallet, scriptures, wire cutters, zip-lock baggy full of worms, etc.
A Spider Killer. That's right. I am the Spider Killer in this relationship. I believe it is truly important that each relationship have one, so keep that in mind when searching for your eternal companion.
A memory bank. Now he no longer has to remember his phone number or the phone numbers of any of his friends and family, his social security number, important dates and birthdays, directions to his mom's house, how old he is, etc. His memory can essentially shut down without negatively affecting his life at all!

For Her:

Insta-heater. When her feet are cold at night she can just stick them on his legs and shazam! Warm Toes!
A Comforter: Waking up from a nightmare is no longer a big deal because HE is there.
A Pipe-thawer-outer. When the pex pipes freeze in the middle of the night, in the dead of winter, and someone is going to have to crawl under the house with a blow dryer to try to thaw them out, the wife can happily curl up in the warmth of her bed, thanking her lucky stars for her gender.
A Noise Investigator. Hear an unexplained bump in the night? Now that you are a married woman, you no longer have to curl up under the covers with only a finger-sized hole to breath out of, replaying your favorite episodes of The Office in your head until you forget all about that weird sound you heard and just fall back to sleep already. Now you can just send your man to check it out!
And I just realized that all of the benefits for woman have to do with night time. I think what that really means is that I'm scared of the dark and the cold. I'm positive it doesn't mean anything deeper than that.
A back cracker. Without my husband, I would live in constant pain and misalignment.

For Both:

A built in excuse. Don't want to go somewhere? Blame it on your spouse!
A checkpoint before you walk out the door: Someone to say ''Wait sweetie, your skirt is tucked into your nylons again, or, "Hey! Your fly is down" before you waltz out into the open for all the world to see. Which is why Richard gets so mad at me when He realizes he forgot to do his hair and has been walking around with a fuzzy head all day and I didn't say anything! (Or even notice) That is my job!
Being with someone who gets you. If my husband ever sat me down, and wanted to sing painfully cheesy loves songs to me, like Enrique Iglesias, or Richard Marx, I would probably have to punch him in the head. But he doesn't. Which is why we are still happily married.
Learning to Truly Communicate with Another Person: Sometimes it feels like trying to communicate with my husband is about as effective as exchanging information through an elaborate dance involving The Running Man, beating each other with sticks, and wordy legal contracts. BUT, if we stick with it, every once in a while we actually manage to really understand each other. And THAT is priceless.

So now it is time to sit down and think of some of the perks you enjoy about marriage. And spill it! I am truly interested to know!

You Dirty Bum.

2010-01-10T21:30:00.000-08:00

If you are eating messy foods, like, for instance, bbq chicken wings, and you find yourself without a napkin, and are at a total loss what to do with your messy hands, just remember that your bum is always an option.

And with some misdirection, careful maneuvering, and traveling from room to room with your bum to the wall, nobody else ever needs to know!

The Christmas of The Skull

2010-01-09T15:25:00.000-08:00

So, Christmas. It's over. Has been for a little while now. I hope that it has been long enough that I can bring it up again without reopening old wounds. (Christmas is painful. Don't tell me it's not.) I've never really been into Santa Claus. I think the tradition is silly. I don't usually tell people that though, especially around Christmas. Bagging on Santa at Christmas is a little like running into a sports bar and shouting "Football is Stupid!" Every idiot knows that is just a bad idea.

But that is not what I wanted to say. Not even why I sat down. I even thought about deleting the above paragraph, but that "football is stupid" line just cracks me up.

So lets get serious and begin our discussion of Christmas in the natural place: Halloween.

Harrison thought Halloween was awesome. Far from being scared by any of it, he loved it all. And the one thing that stuck once Halloween was over was his love of all things skeleton. Several times a day we talked about skeletons, and I finally checked him some books out of the library about them because every night he was asking me to read him a skeleton book. (And sing him a skeleton song, of course. So now my awesome, honky rendition of "Dem Bones" is the lullaby of choice each night.)

The first time I drew him a dinky skeleton on a piece of paper he was thrilled. He never let it out of his sight and had to show it to his dad when he got home from work. He also asked for it first thing the next morning, but by then I had thrown it away.

So, being the kind and benevolent mother that I am, I went online and found him his favorite old Ben and Jerry's skeleton and printed it out on some white paper. He stood next to me while I cut it out and taped it together and he was so excited he was crying. I kept saying "You gotta stop crying. I"m doing it." He would say "Yeah", but then his excitement would get he better of him and he would start to cry again.

Paper toys are awesome. Very cheap, easy to store, pretty simple to repair. Mostly. For a little while. That skeleton was just not durable enough for the love it was showered with, and I got sick of taping it together. So, (wow, are you bored yet? I feel like I have been writing this forever! Feel free to leave now if you like. Is not like this story is really going anywhere.) inspired by my mom, I made him a skeleton out of shrinky dinks.

That went over pretty well. He likes skeletons even better when they are wearing Santa hats. He requested this one special:

But was NOT pleased about having its picture taken.

Anyway, I bought him a skeleton for Christmas. A cool little 9" tall anatomy model. And due to some shocking oversight on my part, it was the very first present he opened. He was so excited, all he wanted to do was open it and put it together and play with it. He could have cared less about the rest of the gifts. We had to coax and cajole to get him to open anything else. It's not like he had that much stuff, but when he didn't want to open any of them, it just felt like a lot of stuff we had to talk him into unwrapping.

We did stop in the middle and put the darn skeleton together, to Harrison's utter glee, and then I had to bribe him to open the rest, like I do when I want him to finish his food. "Just two more presents Harrison! Just open two more presents and you can play with your skeleton!" He calls it Skull and loves it more than me.

This picture was taken right before Skull beat up G.I. Joe and took his vest and boots.

To the victor go the spoils:

It turns out the other half of the battle is actually knowing how to fight, which apparently G.I Joe doesn't. Poor Joe.

And that is all! The end! Good for you!

Love is in the Air (or is it the in water?)

2010-01-09T13:44:00.000-08:00

For the record, I am not trying to get pregnant. 4 years ago it was eating me up inside, but now I think I have come to terms with my infertility, thanks in large part to a very small boy, who is so cute it hurts a little.

I am, however, writing about infertility, and was looking for some weird tips and tricks people like to give you to get pregnant. I looked online for the Old Wives Health Almanac, but all I could find were tricks to planning the gender of the baby. Some of those are pretty whacked. But I couldn't find anything on actually getting pregnant.

I was thinking that was kind of weird, but maybe because medical science hasn't had any luck in the gender control area, herb lore and witch craft still holds the corner on the market. And maybe because modern medicine has been so successful at getting people pregnant all the old wives tales in that area have faded away. Who knows.

And you all are so nice. If there is anyone who is looking for just a little help in the getting pregnant area, you've come to the right place. Here you have access to lots of really great, supportive people, with lots of really helpful advice. So thanks.

But while we're on the subject, does it seem like this has been the Christmas for babies, or what? I don't know about you, but over here, there seems to be something in the water cuz babies are coming out of the woodwork! (And don't make fun of me. I know where babies come from.) Within the last month there have been babies poppin out of:

A friend who has been trying for 6 or 7 years to get pregnant again.

A friend who was surprised with baby number three, after being sure she was all done.

3 friends who have been married for years but are finally having their first. (They are friends, but I don't actually know whether the waiting was a choice or not. I always wondered, but never asked.)

My brother and his wife. Hooray!

My husband's cousin and his wife who have been trying to adopt for a while, and just brought home their first little girl from the hospital.

Not to mention all the babies born throughout the world that I don't know about, which has got to bring this number up to at least 10. That is a lot!

Pregnancy for Dummies

2009-12-16T22:08:00.000-08:00

Hey, I am doing some research and would like to know:

What crazy advice have you heard or received for how to get pregnant? What tips or tricks did your great grandmother tell you they used to do back in the day? What weird, Old Wives Tale types of thing have you heard? My inquiring mind wants to know!

And a Merry Christmas to You too.

2009-12-14T21:36:00.000-08:00

Richard is in the kitchen making candy right now. It is kind of his Christmas thing. It is what he does. What he is. And it is one of the main reasons I married him. Cuz a motorcycle AND candy making?? Irresistible. And delicious. So he is in there stirring a bubbly pot of sugary goodness and he is wearing an apron. A black, manly apron, lest you get the wrong idea. My mom gave it to him for Christmas a few years ago and he just doesn't wear it often enough. Because I like it. Apparently aprons work for me. But that's not all.

A couple weeks ago at his parents house he was wearing a headset to test it out for his mom. And I was nuts for it! I guess tech support reps are my cup of tea. Tech Support Guys and Fry Cooks. They say that women love a man in uniform, but I really didn't know this about myself.

But all of that is really beside the point. I just came to say Merry Christmas! And even though I never write anymore, I still like you a whole bunch and I hope your Christmas is swell!

A New Nativity

2009-11-29T20:21:00.000-08:00

A few years ago I started to realize that in almost every nativity scene, Mary and Joseph are just looking down on Jesus in his manger. Gazing adoringly at him from afar the same as everyone else. And it started to bug me. Why wasn’t Mary holding Jesus? It is nice that they are worshipping him and everything, but he was just born! Why isn't she holding him? What mother would lay her brand new baby down in the hay and then just stand around with all her visitors and farm animals just looking at him? Ok, it really doesn't sound THAT weird, especially if he was asleep. But if they were going to be getting their pictures taken then OF COURSE she would pick him up.

This seemed so glaringly obvious to me, that I began a quest to search for, and ultimately buy, any nativity set I saw where Jesus was being held. They were rare, but I always managed to find a couple. However, in the last couple of years they seem to be everywhere. It has gotten to the point where I can no longer buy every one I see. I think I saw about 9 at one store alone last year. So I’ve decided to just buy one a year. This make me happy. My collection is growing but my husband doesn’t have to take up a paper route just to fund my crèche obsession.

And I found this nativity a couple of weeks ago, instantly fell in love with it and bought it.

Isn't it pretty?

When my husband got home from work, I excitedly showed it to him (because, like any man, if there is one thing he is interested in it is Christmas Decorations) and said, “Look what I bought!” And he said “Last year?” I said, “What? No, I JUST bought this.” He said, “You bought that last year.” Baffled and exasperated I said “WHAT?” He said “That is the one you bought last year.” Understanding finally dawned and I said “No…. wait, really? No, it isn’t. Is it? No it’s not!” And then Richard explained to me how last year, at the same time, I had excitedly shown him this very figurine, and it was now wrapped up with the Christmas stuff in the attic.

Well he is never wrong. I got this one at the Hospital gift shop, and suddenly could almost remember buying the last one at the Hospital gift shop too. Gee, it almost sounds like my holidays are spent in selfless service visiting the sick and afflicted. I wish that were true. I actually don’t remember why I was there, though I am sure that I WAS there. Yeah, obviously I have some memory problems.

So the other day, just to solidify my fuzzy thoughts, I climbed up into the attic and pulled out the Christmas stuff. And lo, what did I find but no nativity like this one. Not even one that was very similar. There was a white one that was about the same size and I am guessing that was the one he was thinking of, but I can't believe he so totally convinced me! It's like he planted the memory of me buying it twice in my mind with his words. Darn him and his Jedi mind tricks! What else has he convinced me of?

More Unrelated Thoughts

2009-11-20T12:49:00.000-08:00

When I was in middle school (6th or 7th grade) I decided I really liked the song "Rock Lobster" by The B52's. So one night while I was at the mall with my friends (which really didn't happen all that often. Those were different times. The only time I ever went to the mall was during a slumber party) I bought their tape. I'm pretty sure it was the first tape I ever bought. It wasn't till I got home and started listening to it that I realized I must have made a mistake. The songs didn't sound right at all!!

Turns out what I bought was UB40, not B52s. (which is Reggae, instead of the slightly wacky party band sound of the B52s.) A common mistake, surely. One anyone could have made. You would think I would have at least checked to make sure I was getting the right B52's album, but maybe the possibility that they might have more than one album didn't even occur to me. So, what the hey? I kept it and listened to it all the time over the next few years. I've often wondered if I might have turned out differently if I had spent my formative years listening to the B52's instead of UB40. Someone should test this on their children, to see what happens.

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You know those commercials for stuff that "isn't sold in any store", like paper cutters, can openers, mini hamburger cookers etc? They really want to stress that getting along without their product is nearly impossible, so to do that they show people having a hard time. And you always just see the hands. You'll see some hands trying clumsily to strain some spaghetti noodles, but they end up dumping the noodles all over the place. Or you'll see the hands trying desperately to cut out a picture but "cutting a strait line with scissors is almost impossible!"

These commercials have always made me laugh and laugh until today, when I realized that they are very sad. It is probably just one lady. She has been hired to do all these commercials, and she is trying her hardest, but nothing seems to be working out for her.

I made some hamburgers the other day, but when I tried to flip them over they just flew out of the pan. So I kinda know how she feels. Poor lady. Can't do anything right, and the whole world knows it.
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On my Google Calendar, tomorrow is listed as towel day. Not like National Towel Day or anything like that. It is a calendar Item that I entered all by myself. What the what?

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I had a dream last night that I started taking a gymnastics and deportment class (because everyone knows the two really go hand in hand) at a local community center. In the class we did things like going from laying on our backs to sitting up, gracefully. And from sitting to standing, gracefully. And all with a very large purse on our shoulder. Advanced stuff. Once we had mastered sitting and standing we worked on moving our purse from our right shoulder to our left, with a little flick and a flourish. I just know these skills are going to come in real handy some day.

I'm not writing this either.

2009-11-18T21:05:00.000-08:00

So I have learned that I can either blog or clean my house and cook for my family, and I have chosen to cook and clean. (It isn't the right decision for everyone.) But I can't disappoint the masses! I mean, I would if I could, but I don't know how to reach them, so I will have to settle for disappointing you lot (er, I mean, you guys. Sorry, I've been watching a lot of Doctor Who). Just when you were thinking "Phew! No more to read from Elesa!" here I am again. I don't have anything new to write, but I have loads of old stuff that I started and never finished. So I will give you some of that. I gotta disappoint someone.

So here is something. I don't even know when I wrote this. I found it on my external hard drive. I don't think I ever posted this, did I?

I have been catching up on some old scrapbooking lately. Some really old pictures. Scrapbooking is always a time for reflection and a little nostalgia. But mostly wonder. Wonder at the way I used to be. Am I forever doomed to look back on myself in the past and shake my head? Must I always think “What was I wearing?” “Why did I act so dumb?” “I really left the house with my hair like that?” “Wow, thank goodness I am smarter now”.

I mean, it is nice and all, to know that I am much wiser with better style than I used to be. But still. I remember when I was in college, thinking how nice it was not to be in High school anymore. Boy, was I dumb in High School. Thank goodness I am so smart now. But NOW, I look back at myself in college and I think “Boy, was I dumb in College. Thank goodness I am so smart now.” Only now am I beginning to realize that the chances are that in 5 years I’ll look back on myself now and think “boy, was I dumb”.

I guess it is good that I am still growing and learning. And what a shame it would be if I reached the height of my wisdom at 30. But I am smart enough now to realize how dumb I really am, and probably will be for a very long time. Which is kind of a sad thought.

I am Elesa. I am dumb. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

I Don't Write Anymore (and this is no exception)

2009-11-18T13:39:00.000-08:00

The wider my readership gets (We just jumped to 6!) The more difficult it becomes to write stuff. I feel like too many of you will think my stuff is dumb. And you might. But that is the risk I run when I post things online for the world and my Ward to read.

Today, I don't much care. I've got this stuff that I've never published because I know it is dumb. But I am going to publish it now because it makes me laugh. And that is what really matters. That's right. Not any of you sorry suckers. But me! ME!

And I was just about to apologize for what comes next, because I KNOW I have done it to death, but I'm not gonna! Let's just agree that if you are bored, you won't read it and I can continue to write mind-numbingly stupid things in blissful ignorance. That is the dream you know. THE dream.

Back when I was doing all that translation stuff(and at this point it behooves me to once again mention Lance, who did it first), this is the first thing I wrote to translate, but decided that it was too long for my purposes. Lucky for me and my fancy I kept it, and here it is:

Lost in Translation The Story in English:

Here is a story. It is a good one too. You just hold on to your hat because this may be the best story you have ever read. I hope not though, really, because that would be a pretty sad commentary on the stories you have come into contact with in your life so far. Pretty sad!

So, once upon a time, there was this monkey's uncle. (Once monkeys become uncles they are no longer referred to as monkeys, but as uncles of monkeys. It is a high honor to reach this stage of life, and the term is one of deep respect.) So, this Monkey's Uncle, whose name was Milton (though he preferred to be called Sir Milton, the Monkey's Uncle, which everyone thought was a bit too pompous, even for him) was walking through a charming grove of trees admiring the wildlife, when he suddenly found himself falling into a hole.

"Great Gravity!" he exclaimed, with more dignity that you or I could manage under such circumstances, and landed in a heap. He untangled his remarkably long arms from his unremarkably short legs and looked around at the pit he now found himself in. It was not much to look at -- pits never are -- and cleared his throat. He remained dignified, despite his surroundings, until he discovered that, in falling, he had landed on and crushed beyond repair his Top Hat. It was his favorite one too.

With that, he plopped himself down and had a good long cry. And I say, Good For Him! If you can't bawl like a baby at the bottom of a ten foot hole in the ground, where can you?

English to Japanese to Chinese to German etc.

Here it is a history. This is a good idea. Because perhaps, this is the story where a certain thing which you read is best, it hangs on exactly in your hat. I hope no however, really, because these would be enough sad comments in the histories to get in touch with the past in your life. Enough sad!

Thus, did a time and a time, exist this uncle of the monkey. (As soon as the apes become divine they are not reported more as apes, but as uncles of apes. It is the high reputation in order to achieved this stage of life, and the term of from profound respect.) Thus, this uncle of the monkey, which name was Milton (even if it is telephoned Sir Milton, the Monkey the uncle, we all thought it was a bit too exaggerated, Monkey you liked.) walked even excessively via an enchanting orchard admiring the wild nature, when he was found suddenly in the hands of a hole.

"The Large One Seriousness!" He exclaimed, it could manage him in such a case, and landing with the accumulation many dignity, you shouted. The impressively large untangled the arms of his short foot and take a look into the pits. He was not a lot in order to it examines - it is not never - and cleaned his neck. He remained decent, despite his outskirts, until it discovered that, as for him with the falling, it had been landed, and had shattered beyond the repair, his flattery. This is his favorite one.

In this way he fell with a splash. With this, it had a good long-lasting cry. And I am good because of that, you say! If you cannot scream like a child to the fund of a hole of 10 legs in the ground, is possible somewhere, you yell?