Better Late Than Never

Now that Christmas is over and I have some time to breathe, I decided to post a poem I wrote for my Christmas lesson for church, that I never used. (I hate to think I waisted my time.) Mostly I just feel guilty for not even mentioning Christmas. So here is my "better late than never" effort.

'Twas the Night of True Christmas
'Twas the night of true Christmas, when all through the Earth,

The world was stirring, with news of His birth,

The stars in the Heavens hung by the moon with great care,

In hopes of a glimpse of Our Lord laying peacefully there,

The child was nestled all snug in his manger,

While King Herod was plotting against him with danger,

The wise men did come from far in the east,

Unknowingly alerting this selfish beast,

When in the fields there arose a messenger divine,

Telling the shepherds of the true Christmas sign,

Away in a manger all wrapped in swaddling clothes,

While the Wise men sought him by following the starlight glows,

The Nephites did look as the new star appeared,

With no darkness that night, the righteous cheered,

While the wicked did fall down to their knees,

Regretting they couldn't slay the righteous as they pleased,

So Satan doubled his efforts of doubt,

Lyings, deceivings, and hardenings did sprout,

But most of the people still knew he came,

Baptism, repentance, and peace they did proclaim,

Now in Bethlehem the Shepherds did see his angel's face!

Then with excitement told everyone, all over the place,

The promised child lay cooing, at his mother so mild,

With hope now all who heard surely smiled,

The wise men did bring gifts, even three,

They presented their treasures, bowing down on one knee,

The first gift was that of beautiful gold,

Something so valuable for one who is not very old,

Then came the frankincense, the holy perfume,

A great symbol of his future sacrifice, I presume,

The third gift was that of myrrh, the great embalmer,

A reminder of resurrection's new hope, and the stable grew calmer,

All these grown men bowed down and worshiped the baby,

The Lord's promises were sure, not just a maybe,

A bundle of peace, a bundle of joy,

He would grow in wisdom and stature, a smart little boy,

The gift was given, the Lord came to reign!

From breaking the bands of justice to death's ugly chains,

He would save us all from our world of doom,

Because of him, all who died would rise from the tomb,

But first he stayed among the children of men,

He would teach us, love us, heal us and then,

The small baby would pay for each and every sin,

Then great long nails would pierce his precious skin,

Upon a wooden cross he'd be lifted up,

Because of love, His Father would not remove this cup,

After three long days the babe turned man would rise,

Giving promise of renewed life to all who dies,

Yes, this babe in the manger would have a hard life,

Full of mockings and trials and great unjust strife,

Most beloved by all in heaven is given,
The brother who's life would be purpose driven,

Look now upon this little Christ child with hope,

You can be cleansed through him, better than any old soap,

So let me hear you exclaim, ere ye go on with your celebration,

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all salvation!"

Can You See Him?

I received an email from my mom yesterday. It was one of those ones where you forward it to 5 people cause, the person who created it felt like they would make their mark on the world by email. Here is what it basically said:


"If I could sit on the porch with God, the first thing I would do is thank him for you.... Forward this to at least 5 people including the person that sent it to you, a person will appear standing on this bridge. Let me know if you know the person ? Okay?"

Here's the picture before.

So we both had to try it. And the result is this picture.

Do you see Him? Yeah, that's what I thought.

My mom emailed back and told me who she saw. "It must be the Holy Ghost!"

I love my mom!

"It's Like an Angel Peeing on Your Tongue!"

...That is if the angel had a candy cane fetish like I do. What am I talking about?
My new favorite tradition. Ready for this Holiday recipe?
First you take hot chocolate (I make it from scratch: cocoa, sugar, make it the same color as the commercially made Hot cocoa powder, then sprinkle a little salt, add a little water to make it a paste, boil it, then add milk and heat till it's good and hot.)
Put the hot chocolate in a mug and then... be prepared to be amazed at the next and final ingredient... Take a good scoop of peppermint ice cream and drop it into the hot cup of chocolate. It totally blew my mind that I never thought of this before. I think I have a new crush. *sigh*

Because I Can

So, I got an email from Kristin, one of those look at my answers and then fill in your own and email it to people doohickeys. Since I'm just not that kind of person, and it's not that I mind getting them or filling them out, but I really don't think other people care about my answers, I decided to just post the questions and my answers here. Okay, I'm also sick of looking at my last post.

So if anyone wants to, I would love to hear your answers, but I won't bother tagging people, cause then I feel stupid when no one follows through.

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Gift wrap unless I'm lazy or out of tape.
2. Real tree or Artificial? I like real, I settle for fake.
3. When do you put up the tree? Who knows? Last year it was two days before Christmas
4. When do you take the tree down? Are you kidding, I just put that thing up! It will be at least a couple weeks.
5. Do you like eggnog? As long as I don't think about what it is, I love it.
6. Favorite gift received as a child? One of those push sweepers.
7. Hardest person to buy for? It's Peter and everyone on his side of the family.
8. Easiest person to buy for? Me. I like cheap stuff. Not to mention, I know what I like.
9. Do you have a nativity scene? A couple. One puts away like a puzzle into the Manger and I hand painted it myself
10. Mail or email Christmas cards? I'm not into cards, sorry. I think its a Hallmark conspiracy.
11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? A dollar store unicorn balloon that you wear on you head for a party hat. Jason said I would think it was funny later, good thing he was right.
12. Favorite Christmas Movie? I absolutely hate Christmas movies unless they are about Christ. I did however cry during Elf..."I Believe." (I think that's what they said at the end)
13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? As late and gradually as possible
14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? You tell me.
15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? uh, candy cane?
16. Lights on the tree - white or colored? I like colors as long as they don't blink too fast and give me motion sickness. (I can't help following the lights around and round...)
17. Favorite Christmas songs: the ones in the hymn book, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, but my favorite is O Holy Night
18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Stay home. Unless Hawaii is an option ;-)
19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer? Yes, including Olive.
20. Angel on the tree top or a star? I guess you could call it a star. It's pointy.
21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? We open presents made especially for us from extended family Christmas eve drawing. The rest on Christmas morning. (Ha Ha! I just used Kristin's answer)
22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year? Christmas movies. Bah! Humbug!
23. Favorite ornament theme or color? I like the ugly ones they make you make in school. I've never used so much yarn in my life.
24. Favorite for Christmas dinner? Funeral Potatoes, because we're celebrating a birth here, and ham, because what would Jesus do?

True Thanksgiving

Today, I am grateful for everything obvious and the least obvious of them all.

First, the obvious. I am grateful for my wonderful husband who is the only one who at least halfway gets me. I am grateful for his love, for his amazingly helpful attitude, and for how hilarious he makes life.

I am grateful for the gospel and all things related to it. The scriptures, prayer, the Holy Ghost, Jesus Christ and his atonement, Heavenly Father, resurrection, Joseph Smith, the restoration of the gospel, and covenants.

I am grateful to live in America and for the freedoms I enjoy. I am grateful for the food I so easily obtain and for Peter's job, health insurance, and for a roof over my head.

I am so grateful for so many other things, but I won't bore you with the list.

The most unobvious of them all is that I am grateful for the greatest trial I have ever faced. I am grateful for last summer when my world fell apart. So many things happened that I can't even talk about, but it was much more trying for me than anyone outside of my immediate family knew or will ever know.

My brother and his wife died. That was excruciatingly tough. I loved them both so much and it was so hard to mourn the loss of two people you love that much. Your mind plays back memories of one and then the other like a tennis match. You think about their last moments and what they were thinking, what they felt.

That was tough, but it only got tougher. As someone who has never had children, and the real possibility of never having them, I felt strongly impressed to take on raising their three young children to whom I was very close. I was soon faced with people stating my biggest fear, they didn't think I was good enough. Things were said that I have had a hard time forgiving for, but it wouldn't be fair for me to talk about because this is a one sided story.

So, after imagining having children in my home and having that strong feeling that I should do that, I was faced with the toughest decision of my life. I had to give them up. I did it to maintain peace in our family. For months I was plagued with the question of whether it was right. I knew it was, but the question lingered. I could only turn to the scriptures and remember the women who fought over a baby. When they were told the baby would be split in half, the real mother gave him up for the baby's benefit. It wasn't that I thought I would get them if I gave them up, it was I had to make a decision to do what's right even if it means I would really have to follow through with giving them up.

Beyond that, at the same time I was faced with another family trial, the one I won't talk about, but it was a doozy. Combined with the others, this made up the worst time of my life. It's times like those that make you wonder what you did to deserve it. The answer was nothing. Every trial began out of my control. The only control I had was the way I reacted to it.

I was able to humble myself more, and I prayed so much more for help, for comfort. I found out how strong I can really be and I learned to let the Lord direct my life. This trial period was one I will never forget. I am grateful for it and the way it shaped me and my life. It became a great awakening for me spiritually and it strengthened my character in ways unimaginable.

Thus ends the, however many, days of gratitude.

Wednesday's Gratitude

I'm grateful I'm almost done with listing what I'm grateful for...just kidding. Today I am grateful for a dirty word I call infertility.

Man I hate that word. It sounds so personal, and it is.

Peter and I have tried to have a baby for years...over seven. It's tough because unless you went through it, you don't understand it. You suffer through people's insensitive comments and misunderstandings. People have stood in Sunday School and said, while looking directly at us, "It is a commandment to multiply and replenish the Earth and nobody should put it off for any reason." Yeah, that's awkward. And then there are the comments that backtrack..."Oh, yeah, it's great to be a mother, but I think that those women who can't have them are strong enough that it is a trial they don't have to go through." (Said while rubbing my back in a soothing manner.) That was even more awkward. It was a sweet thought, but honestly, I don't need to be defended.

The worst are comments like, "Oh, someday you'll understand when you're a mother." Or "You don't understand because you don't have kids." As if I've never been near a child or watched my own family. "Oh yeah, but it's different."

Beyond the outside world, into my own heart, is my own feelings. I'm broken. Something about me won't preform this basic commandment. Maybe if I was a better person. Maybe I've done something wrong. Maybe I can't be trusted with a child. I'm not good enough. I can't give Peter a child. He probably really wants one. He would be amazing.

I have friends with this problem and they are at a stage of immense anger and bitterness whenever someone get pregnant. Suddenly they are the judge for who shouldn't have children.

I'm not there anymore. Yes, I cry sometimes, but not so often. I've learned that through my trial, I have been brought closer to my Heavenly Father. I really learned that I need to trust him. He knows what is best for me. If it happens, it happens. But if not, then I can be happy knowing that I did my part and someday I will be blessed with that opportunity if I live righteously. I'm okay with either scenario.

It has also brought me closer to my husband. I get to spend so much time with him with out getting a babysitter. We get to lie in bed in peace on Saturday mornings. He buys me cool things and I get to listen to him without interruption.

I don't have to change diapers everyday, or potty train (well, too much). I don't have to listen to my child scream at me in public (just my nephews) or tell everyone all the embarrassing details of my personal life. I don't have to remember what takes crayon off the wall, or marker (I hear bread works for something). I don't have to make emergency room trips for the skittle they shoved up their nose. I don't have to be at their beckon call to give them food while I am famished. I get to be a little more selfish. I still eat the last cookie. I don't feel trapped at home, and quick trips to the grocery store aren't huge chores.

Don't get me wrong. I love children. I want children very much, and I admire the mothers out there that do such an amazing job. I just have learned to love the freedom I enjoy. I appreciate the money we get to save. I also have way more energy and desire to play with my nieces and nephews. I get to be fun. Then I get to send them home.

So, though infertility has been a major trial for me, I am grateful for it. I'll be grateful when it's over, but right now, I love my life. Dreaming of having a child is much easier and more romanticised than actually doing it.

Tuesday's Gratitude

Today, since I didn't mention this crazy little ritual yesterday, I am thankful for Dungeons & Dragons.

I only wrote it and you will never catch me saying it out loud. But, yes, I am thankful for dungeons... because they keep the bad people put away in a nice dark depressing prison. And I'm thankful for dragons because they are so darn cute and hilariously funny. Have you ever seen Pete's Dragon?

So with dungeons, Even if it is a good person stuck in the dungeon...Let's say a cleric, a lawful good human cleric, level 5, who only chose to be that for the good of the team (cause let's face it, they are boring). So, let's say he is put in that dungeon while on a campaign gone awry. Will he punish the guilty that wallow in their own filth in the dungeon for the sake of justice? Will he try to breakout for his own good, or will his criminalization of self interest hold him captive in favor of seeking justice for the other lowlifes in prison? Will the other members of his party save him? How will they save him? How much longer will this campaign go on? What will his crazy dungeon tattoo look like? All these complex answers and pivotal points can be answered with the simple roll of a dice.

So, basically, dungeons are cool because they create a safe barrier between us and the bad guys, or they may create a side adventure that can take days to accomplish.

With Dragons, forget that they're hilariously funny, that they are almost impossible to kill, and that they are pyromaniacs (Well, the red ones are), I am grateful to them because they create a horrifying challenge. I mean, seriously, the last time you even saw a dragon, you messed your pants, right? How could something so big, so terrifying, so fire breathing, be killed with a few rolls of a dice? Yes, there is strategy and all that, but honestly what else can be more empowering than to say, "Why, yes, Gary and Dave, I did slay that dragon. It was easy. It's all in the wrist. Just a flick of the wrist and a chant to the demon gods I call the Wizards of the Coast." "Did you use a sword?" "Nope." "Battle axe?" "Nope." "Quarter staff?" "No, I used a pair of dice." "No way? That rocks!"

So, basically I'm thankful for Dragons because they make you feel like you can accomplish anything...and if you don't, your toast.

So, to put it all together now, I am thankful for Dungeons & Dragons and they way they make you laugh, boost your self esteem, and create a crazy long and often entertaining story that only weirdos remember in detail.

Monday's Gratitude

Today I am thankful that my whole family is made of nuts.

Seriously, I think every family has a silly person, but mine is all way too crazy. The funny thing is they think they're sane.

One of my family members, (names withheld to protect the mentally ill) he counts things. It doesn't sound so weird, but it is. Anything in a room he has to count. The number of pictures on a wall, number of points on a cardboard crown, number of light bulbs, etc.

Another one types words. If you say a sentence, they will make small movements with their fingers, typing out a word that stuck out to them from that sentence.

You can't tell just by watching them that they are nuts, they have to let you in on their secret.

Someone very close to me talks to stuffed animals, and they "talk back" using a totally less than heterosexual voice and the toys are fully animated when he moves the toys arms, tentacles, or whatever.

An older relative talks back to those machines that call you about your interest on your credit card accounts. Yeah, he tells them off. He complains that I don't talk back to him when he gets my voicemail.

A brother uses phrases like "you mean wall candy?", "Speaking of words that sound like ______(insert random awkward body part here)..."(hint- nothing was ever said that sounded remotely like said body part), and my favorite "it tastes like an angel peeing on your tongue".

So, it only makes sense that I act the way I do. I come from a family of crazies.

What do I do that is nuts? I guess it's only fair since I just outed my entire family. So here it goes, and if you still like me after this, then maybe it's because you're crazy too.

I put peanut butter on the floor to prove a point, talk to myself (It's not always what I say, but how I say it), I play along with other crazies delusions...and stuffed animals, I really do think dolls talk and move when I'm not in the room (I spend my spare time trying to convince them that the jig is up and they should talk to me. I promise I won't tell anyone. Yeah, Toy Story was a trip.), I shout violent things at the television when there is a fight or a football game (Get him! Kill him! Kick him in the shins! Knock him unconscious! Break his arm!), I will do anything to get out of going out with another couple (I'm super antisocial), I often check how long my tongue is (can it touch my nose today?), I answer people without realizing it and most of the time it's the wrong answer, I like to read books upside down, I think that Listerine cures almost everything and if it doesn't crackers will, and the number one crazy thing about me is... there is always a part of me that thinks no one else really exists, you are all a figment of my imagination. Sometimes I don't even exist. I don't connect with my body. I am just an observer. Even my past is just a memory put in me, not something I lived.

So, yes, I am glad I come from a Family Nut Tree. It makes me feel better about how strange I am. It also lets me know who feels close enough to let me in on their little secret. Maybe all of you "figments of my imagination" really are all nuts too. I just haven't gotten to that revelation in my delusion yet.

Sunday's Gratitude

Today, I am thankful for a certain broken television.

It gave it's life that I might have faith.

So, here's the story:

One day, when I was a teenager, I was talking to my friend. She was talking about her family life and how hard it was to always be good. So, just off the top of my head I suggested that she try to watch less TV and see if it makes a difference. It evolved until together we decided that we both would not watch TV for a week.

I went home that night and prayed for help in my effort. The exact phrase I used was "...help me to not watch TV..."

So the next day I went to school which obviously presented no temptation. When I got home, I went to my room, flipped on the television and started on my math homework. I had completely forgotten.

It was a couple minutes later that I looked up from my books. The sound was on, but the screen was black. I was totally confused and started to play around with it, but no matter what I did, the screen was completely black, with the sound on.

The words of my prayer came to my mind, "...help me to not watch TV..."

My prayer was answered, very specifically, I might add. Heavenly Father broke my TV. It never did get better. (No, it wasn't just the tint, color, or brightness settings messed up.)

Through this broken television, I knew that my Father in Heaven listened to my prayers and was willing to help me. It gave me the faith to know that no matter what I asked, he would answer.

It also demonstrated to me that I needed to be more specific on what I ask for. I now include an idealized plan of attack for whatever I pray for and I detail the things I don't want to happen in order to get what I'm asking for. (example: no breaking things, people dying, etc.)

So, yes, I am grateful for a broken television. It was way more valuable to me broken than working anyway.

Saturday's Gratitude

Today, I am grateful for all those little challenges your church leaders give you.

I think it was a couple years ago that President Hinckley gave us the challenge of reading The Book of Mormon by the end of the year. I'm a slow reader and really have a hard time understanding the scriptures. I read the challenge in the Ensign, but I quickly ignored it thinking no one else would pay attention to it either. Apparently I was wrong. Within a month the whole church was buzzing about it and I was a month behind. I did it...barely.

About a month ago I was given a challenge by my Young Women President, passed on from the Stake Presidency, which was given the challenge by the General young Women's presidency. The challenge was this: Read The Book of Mormon with the Young Women in mind for at least 5 minutes each day, Pray each day, and Smile.

So each night I postpone my reading. I don't know why I do this, but I do and so I usually end up doing it pretty late when I'm getting tired. It sounds awful, but it isn't. I have never felt like I've gotten so much out of the scriptures. It's quiet and I don't get distracted once I start.

I think the key to my success is that they gave us one of those free Book of Mormon's (They scrap booked a cute cover) and told us to mark it up. I have. I know it isn't a coloring book, and I don't have a pattern to why I mark them the colors I do, but it makes me pay better attention to mark words that stick out and to write what I'm thinking it means in the margins. I would never do this with my nice scriptures, but I feel good about doing it with these.

Last night I felt icky so I decided to lay down for a couple minutes. I fell asleep and woke up around 1:30 or 2:00 in the morning, realizing I hadn't done my reading. So I got up did some other things I needed to do (put Peter's lunch together, he had overtime), and then said my prayers and began reading.

If it hadn't been for this challenge given by my leaders, I wouldn't have done it. My excuse is there's always tomorrow.

What's the difference if it is today or tomorrow? Let me tell you. It is the obedience that makes the difference. It is them giving you a challenge, you following it, then you being tested on that challenge (The temptation to skip one night...after all, you have a good excuse). The blessings come when you prove faithful to that challenge. When you let the Lord know you take it seriously, that is when His Spirit can be felt more strongly and your understanding is quickened.

So, even though I might want to groan when I'm given those challenges that add another thing to my to do list, I am grateful for those challenges and the opportunity it gives me to prove myself to Him and to myself.

Friday's Gratitude

I am so grateful for my old dirty tennis shoes.

When I got them they were a pretty white with a little bit of light blue trim. They were sturdy and advertised as running shoes. They were perfect!

Today they more brownish gray and some of the pretty blue trim is a dingy blue and threatening to come off. The heel inside is worn, and the fabric around the ankle is not only worn, but torn. The laces are tattered and dirty. The label on the tongue is worn enough so the size is unidentifiable. Permanent wrinkles embedded with dirt line the toe and sides. The tread is worn down so that I slide easily across surfaces and, like the trimming, it also threatens to come off.

If you showed me a before and after picture, I wouldn't believe you.

So, why do I love them so much? Nice and broken in, they mold nicely to my feet. They are comfortable and I know that what ever the task, unless it's fashion, they are up to it. With them I've hiked with the girls at girls camp, played volleyball, sat around the house and watched TV, mowed the lawn, gone on major shopping trips, and just about everything else you can think of.

I know these old tennis shoes were advertised as running shoes, but they are so much more to me. They are my comfort and reliability. I've grown accustomed to their hideousness, their leaks in puddles, and their tendency to make my feet sweat if I keep them on all day.

Yep, I am grateful for my old dirty tennis shoes and dread the day I have to give them up for something unfamiliar, rigidly unbroken, and too white to risk dirtying up doing normal everyday things.

Thursday's Gratitude...and Counting

Today, I am thankful for car accidents.

No, I'm not trying to be insensitive, and I hope I'm never in one, but I am grateful for them and have a lot of respect for how easily and fast they can turn peoples life around for good or unfortunately sometimes bad.

About an hour or so ago, I got a call from my dad. First thing he says is, "David is okay, but..." So right off, I know something isn't okay. David is my youngest brother and he is serving a mission in Texas. He is everybody's favorite just because he is so easy going. He took all the good character traits from his siblings and none of the bad.

So anyway, I don't know all the details, but it seems David and his mission companion were in a car accident, or I guess I should say truck accident. His companion was driving apparently and they rolled over a couple times (or so it sounds).

He was taken to the hospital and I guess his legs hurt, but he is alive and trying to walk around.

Car accidents are a reminder how precious life is. They can be accompanied by miracles and/or disasters. Sometimes it is both.

When my brother and his wife died, it was like that. It was tragic and it hurt me so bad. Then again, it was a miracle they both died together and none of their young children were with them. I mean, how often do couples with young children go places together without their kids. They had an amazing few days together, celebrating their anniversary and driving past the site of their first kiss, and I know they were happy.

Anyway, I don't take car accidents lightly, but I am thankful for them and how thought provoking they are. They make you think about how precious life is which I think a lot of us forget. (Some people drive like they're invincible.) On the obvious side, I am so grateful that David is okay and hope and pray he heals fast.

Wednesday's Gratitude

I am grateful for the monster headache and nauseous feeling I have right now.

My last 24+ hours have been spent making two checkered cakes and a whole bunch of Oreo truffles for our Young Women's in Excellence tonight. We had a Black and White theme. I messed up the middle layer of one cake, but I pieced it together anyway. As I frosted the cake, it got all crumbly and spotted my nice white frosting. I used Oreos chunks to hide it.

So, why do I have a headache? Because running around like a chicken with it's head cut off makes it hard to eat anything good for you. All I have had is the part of the cakes that I leveled off.

No Breakfast + No Lunch + Cake - Dinner= Monster Headache + Nausea

I'm grateful that I have nausea and a headache because it means my body is strong willed and won't put up with my abuse. If I am not eating right, it lets me know and believe me, this feeling can not be ignored.

It's nice to know my body resorts to violence when it doesn't get it's way... just like me!

Second Tribute to Gratitude

I am thankful for the scar on my chin.

When I was little, my parents went on a date and left my second oldest brother, Jason, in charge. (Apparently the oldest wasn't responsible enough.) They left one specific instruction: "No playing tag in the house."

So what did we do? That's right, we played "Hide and Go Seek Tag" in the house...in the dark. Jason was "it" and I thought I had a good hiding spot in the basement, but he saw me so I bolted for the stairs. They are wooden stairs which makes them not just hard, but slick. I could feel him on my heels and was afraid he would swipe at me at any moment. Almost to the top, I slipped and landed hard on my chin. I remember crying and Jason cleaning my wound in the bathroom. He wouldn't let me see it in the mirror, so I knew it was bad.

I cried myself to sleep waiting for my parents to get home. When they did, they took me to the hospital for stitches. I remember being shoeless and telling my dad that I had forgotten my jellies (shoes) and they wouldn't let me in. He laughed and told me they wouldn't even notice.

I got stitches and it actually tickled.

I don't remember my parents saying one thing about us disobeying them, but did they really need to? No, the scar on my chin is a reminder that sometimes someone knows better than I do.

Luckily the scar is on the bottom of my chin and people barely notice it. I actually like it now. It's my war wound. It's my reminder that if I choose to do wrong, there may be consequences that last a lifetime. So, yes, I am grateful for that inch long scar on my chin.

Thanksgiving in Review

My mother-in-law had a great post on what she is grateful for. I am inspired and hope to share one thing or experience each day, until Thanksgiving, that I am truly grateful for.

I am grateful for so many things. All the obvious things, the gospel, family, roof over my head, but I really want to express my gratitude for the not so obvious.

Tribute to Gratitude #1

I am grateful for the time in middle school that I got a really bad case of tonsillitis.

It was awful at the time. I couldn't swallow anything. I really do mean anything. I had a cup next to my bed that I spit in because I couldn't even swallow my own spit without crying. It was the only time in my life that I really thought I just wanted to die. I spent day after day for a week, just lying in bed in pain while I starved myself. I became dehydrated and weak. On the rare occasions that I forced myself to drink some water, the pain was unimaginable.

It was a Friday when I had finally been able to swallow things without it hurting so bad. It still hurt, but I was getting better. I was home alone with my oldest brother while everyone else was at school.

Let me just explain, that my oldest brother used to chase me with black widow spiders. We had a few years age gap, and I didn't like him. I thought he was a bully.

So that Friday, I realized how starved and weak I was. I needed food, but I had no strength to make anything myself. It was that day that my brother did something so simple, but it changed our relationship forever.

He took me to McDonald's. He had never taken me in his car anywhere. He didn't really even talk to me much, let alone buy me anything. But he did that day. He bought me my usual at the time, a strawberry shake, fries, and a cheeseburger.

That was the day that I learned to love my brother. I found out how compassionate and fun he really was.

Not long after, he went on a mission and I missed him terribly. A little over a year ago he and his wife died in a car accident. I hate to think how I would feel if I hadn't had a good relationship with him.

I hated being sick. I hated the pain, the starving, and spiting into a cup every thirty seconds. But I would never give up that experience. It was that experience that showed me my brother's other side. It showed me his compassion.

Though at that time I never would have thought it would ever be possible to say this, I can now say that I am truly grateful for tonsillitis.

I Want to be a Senior Citizen Too!

Have you noticed how good old people have it? Cheap movie tickets, discount meals, parking spots right in front of Shopko, not to mention Social Security benefits and free health care. Another year older, but not old enough.

Proposition 8? HA! I say that the gay rights activists are fighting to change the definition of the wrong word. Change the meaning of Senior Citizen! They have way better benefits than plain old married people. Yeah, let's change the age to 26, in a year, you can change it to 27.

I know, I don't see it happening either, but when the new proposition fails, I can't wait to see their protests against the senior citizens. I don't see the elderly taking it lying down.

Watch out for canes (or as I like to call them, camouflaged beating sticks) and elderly drivers (They drive that way on purpose. They learned it from the Japanese. It's their kamikaze). Graffiti their fence, and you'll end up whitewashing it while they shake their fists and recount stories of the good old days.

Remember World War II? Of course you don't... yet.

The Sanctity of the Peanut Butter Cup

Okay, I have no idea if this even makes sense to anyone but me, but I wrote this anyway because I'm weird and I'm just putting off scripture study.

The Sanctity of the Peanut Butter Cup
There once was a Chocolate. Chocolate met a Peanut Butter. As everyone knows, every Peanut Butter loves Chocolate. They fell in love in Hershey, Pennsylvania when Peanut Butter hugged Chocolate. Chocolate melted and soon Peanut Butter had Chocolate wrapped around her little Peanut Butter self. They became one and together they were pronounced Chocolate and Peanut Butter. This union of Chocolate and Peanut Butter, they called a Peanut Butter Cup. Together they made something good, something they could not make on their own.
One day a different Chocolate fell in love with another Chocolate. They wanted what the first Chocolate and Peanut Butter had. Chocolate and Chocolate wanted a union together and they wanted to call it the same thing. They wanted to call it a Peanut Butter Cup.
We tried to tell them that Chocolate and Chocolate don't make Peanut Butter Cups, but they cried discrimination. How can it be discrimination if they still had every right to get with a Peanut Butter and have a Peanut Butter Cup just like everyone else had a right to? They set out to try and make laws that would change the meaning of the word Peanut Butter Cup, instead of coming up with their own word.
The land was fraught with two Chocolates and two Peanut Butters that wanted a Peanut Butter Cup, they just didn't want half of the formula of a Peanut Butter Cup. They wanted to just be two of the same ingredients, which actually just makes them blobs of one ingredient, unless they have cool styling skills and can make Chocolate sculptures out of themselves.
When Chocolate and Peanut Butter listened to their friends cries, they wavered out of sympathy. Chocolate and Peanut Butter still loved the Chocolates that wanted to be with Chocolates, and they loved the Peanut Butters that wanted to be with Peanut Butters. They didn't want them to be unhappy or to feel cheated, but as Chocolate and Peanut Butter thought about their little Peanut Butter Cup, they knew it was still not the same thing.
To call two Chocolates a Peanut Butter Cup or even to call two Peanut Butters a Peanut Butter Cup would change the definition of what they had together. Peanut Butter Cup would no longer mean Peanut Butter hugged in Chocolate and even the flavor would not be even close. They had to stand up against their friends and let them know they were wrong and that what they had was not a Peanut Butter Cup even if other Chocolates and Peanut Butters would be mad at them and key their wrappers for encouraging others to help them keep their Peanut Butter Cup's integrity.
Peanut Butter and Chocolate got a law passed to define Peanut Butter Cup as a union between Chocolate and Peanut Butter, but it's not going to be over. There are still going to be Chocolates and Peanut Butters that will never understand and will fight to change the meaning of Peanut Butter Cup.

All who have a Peanut Butter Cup or who will ever want a Peanut Butter Cup, and all those who understand the reasons we have a definition for Peanut Butter Cups will need to forever stand up and fight for the sanctity of the Peanut Butter Cup!

Peter "Makes" Dinner

Yeah, tonight while Amber had chicken cordon bleu, this is what happened at my house.
At about 5:00 I tell Peter that Grandpa is going to my parents for dinner. I was about to ask him for dinner suggestions, when he said he wanted to use the hamburger patties in the freezer.
I say, "Great, I'll leave dinner up to you."
He says, "That's fine." Then he asks if we have cheese.
"No. And we don't have buns either, but dinner is up to you and I know you can do it."
Then he asks, "Do we at least have nacho cheese?" Hmm this sounds interesting. I check and tell him we do.
He agrees to make dinner and I go back to reading my latest book. I try to give him time. I waited till a little after 7:00 and still heard no signs of life, let alone dinner.
Finally he comes into our room where I'm reading my book.
I ask him, "How's dinner coming?"
"I don't know what to make."
I take a deep breath, trying to forget how I hadn't eaten since ten this morning. "You said you wanted hamburger patties."
"Yeah, but we don't have buns." He says this like I hadn't already pointed it out.
"Well, see if there is any French onion soup you can cook them with. You don't need buns for that."
He leaves for about ten minutes then comes back.
"Did you find the Onion Soup?"
He replies, "No. I don't know what it looks like."
Then I say, "It comes in a can."
He kind of grumbles. Then I say,"If you don't find that then get some cream of mushroom soup to cook the hamburgers with and we'll use the rest of the rice from last night."
Then, in a desperate voice, "Let's just go to Sonic."
I tell him how that is not cost effective and that he can make dinner, I trust him.
"But I'm so hungry now." Again, he's desperate.
I take a deep breath trying to not tell him what I'm thinking which is, "Well so am I and if you started it two hours ago when you said you would, we wouldn't have this problem" Again, I didn't say it. Instead I said, "I think there is some Pizza in the freezer."
He gives a victory smile and I hear him go to the freezer in the garage. At least he's making it, right?
So then about fifteen minutes later I come out to see if it's ready. The oven is preheated, the pizza out of the box, but he is just staring at the pizza as if it is some foreign object.
"Why isn't the pizza in the oven?"
"I don't know where the pan to put it on is."
I ask, "Did you read the directions? You put it directly into the oven."
Finally I give up. I take the wrapper off the pizza and put it in the oven, but he is still in charge. Normally, I set the timer on the oven, but he sets a timer on his watch. I go back to my book. I come out one time to ask him how long it had been in there. It had been twelve minutes and it needed to be in there for twenty. I go back to my book, wondering, "Would he dare not tell me that it's ready? Would he eat it by himself?"
So I think he probably will just eat first and then tell me it's ready, 'cause he is so hungry. I waited for a long time. Finally when I finish a chapter, I go and ask, "Is the pizza ready?"
Peter looks at his watch, "Oh shoot, it's been thirty minutes."
So, I run to the oven and take it out while he hovers over me.
I slice the pizza and get out the plates, and after it cooled a little, we ate it and it wasn't really burned.
So here's the kicker. I finish the last page of my book, and Peter comes in to watch Heros.
I say, somewhat mindlessly, "Thanks for making dinner."
"You're welcome."
And then it hits me, I made dinner. I thought of pizza, I unwrapped the pizza, I put the pizza in the oven, I took it out, and I sliced it.
Is it just me, or do guys like to take credit for things they don't do? However, in talking to him, I realize he honestly does think he made dinner.

An Author By Any Other Name...

Call her Janette Rallison, call her Sierra St. James, call her whatever you want, I still think she's hilarious. Under the name Sierra St. James, she wrote one of my favorite books, Masquerade.
It's considered an adult book, in a good way ;-) She's LDS.

Under the name Janette Rallison, she wrote the teenage chick flick How to Take the Ex Out of Ex-Boyfriend. Yes, I actually read it even though it it is obviously written for teenagers, or perhaps more embarrassingly, written for middle schoolers. I could say I read it because I was trying to find good books for my Beehives, but I won't lie, I read it for me and I loved it. The author has a sense of humor that just speaks to me and though it might make me immature, I still think she is hilarious.

It feels like I'm reading the Disney channel, but I love the Disney Channel.

So if you are ever sick of reading Pride and Prejudice or some other sophisticated piece of literature and you just want to have a good laugh, then totally check out her books. They are definitely for girls, love and all that junk, but sometimes it's nice to read something that doesn't make you think too much. (I get really bored with all the stupid descriptions of settings and situations in so many books.)

Twilight

Playing Favorites

I have to admit that every General Conference, I try really hard to pay attention, but by the end, I don't remember who said what. That doesn't mean I didn't pay attention. I do have my favorites.

I remember how much I loved Elder Wirthlin's talk, and I'm sure I remember what he said, It just is jumbled with a bunch of other talks. Is he the one with the story about the daughter with the blind date? I loved that one.

My favorite apostle of all time has got to be...drum roll please...

Elder Eyring!!!!

He has got to be the happiest person I have ever seen. If you saw the press conference with him and Elder Cook a while back, when he was put into the Presidency, you had to notice how much he glowed. It was then that I decided he was my favorite. He's so very wise and you can see him pause momentarily before he speaks, as if he checking with the spirit about what is to be said. I can't help but feel the spirit when I look at him or even think of him. He is just made of awesome!

Look at that smile. Isn't he the Best!

Oreo Truffles

Who doesn't love Oreos? I certainly do. Even better are Oreo Truffles. These are so easy!
So here's how I make them:

1 package of Oreos
1 package of cream cheese (actually I use Neufchatel)
Chocolate almond bark (don't use your fancy chocolate, that's disgusting)

Crush the whole package of Oreos (minus the packaging) until it's a fine powder. I use a food chopper for this. Then add the cream cheese and mix it good with a mixer. Create little balls with the mixture. Melt the almond bark in the microwave, just follow the directions, it's simple. Line a cookie sheet with wax paper. Dip the balls into the almond bark, using forks to help the excess run off (but don't stab them, they didn't do anything wrong). Then place on the wax paper. Refrigerate until the "chocolate" hardens, about ten minutes. Eat, of course. Store any extra in the refrigerator. Makes at least 40.

These are so easy. I love them. I told Peter not to eat so many of them, "It's like a heart attack in a little ball," but he saw me buy the Neufchatel and asked why that instead of cream cheese. When I told him it had 1/3 less fat, he decided these were healthy.

The Hitch...is broken

It's your lucky day. I give to you now....The Hitch.
The day before the wedding, with a million stores to go to and a billion things to do, started off like I expected and then got worse. We were supposed to pick up the Wedding Dress the day before, but when she tried it on, we noticed they missed hemming one of the layers. So We ended up having to cram it into the already predictably hectic day of Friday. On the way to drop the dress off at my grandma's, Eva called my brother to see what he was up to. She had a confused look and then hung up the phone pretty quickly. She told me he said something like, "Hold on, I'll call you back."
That was weird, but he always was a little strange. He finally called back when we were close to my Grandma's. I tried to listen to their conversation, but I don't understand Malagasy.
Eva handed me the phone and Ken tells me that Grandpa is okay, but he was in an accident. They were setting up for the reception, my grandpa was driving his truck, a Toyota Tundra, with a load of table and chairs.
They had emptied the truck and my grandpa was backing up. He went about six to eight feet when suddenly the truck jerked and then accelerated uncontrollably (unintended acceleration, they call it). Driving backwards, mind you, he went over the side walk, through a fence, over a tree, back over the street, hit an electrical box, and then slammed into a nice big Dodge truck that was sitting in the driveway, T-boned it. It knocked the truck clear off the driveway and my grandpa's tires were still spinning when my brother ran up to it, turned it off and helped my grandpa unbuckle his seat belt. He had a few cuts and hit his head, it's still sore.
So I know lots of people would suspect, he's old, he hit the gas, thinking it was the brake. Not so. The officer who investigated said that he would have been knocked off the gas when he hit the fence, but the marks he saw indicated constant acceleration the whole time.
This poor 85 year old man had the scariest ride of his life, backwards. He said he's never been that scared, even in World War II.
So just his truck alone is $9,000 to repair, a lot of backend damage. The other truck is probably totaled and it was pretty new.
Anyway so the havoc this wreaked on the day was crazy. I lost a good four hours that I desperately needed. We ended up working on things until after 3 am. I had to go to Walmart, a good half hour away, at 1am to get some stuff that we needed that night so we could finish the center pieces. I was Eva's escort so I had to be up at 6:30 am so I could get ready and take her to get her hair done. That isn't a lot of sleep.
So, in conclusion, be careful anytime you walk infront or behind a car, especially a Toyota. It might just take off uncontrollably, and it isn't because somebody has a hit on you...or maybe it's like my Grandpa said, "I don't know, all I can think is that the Japanese are trying to get back at me." I told him next thing, his tv will explode.

It's Official!

My brother finally got married. Sure, we only had, less than a month to plan, but it was a long few weeks, trying to get everything done. We had a few hitches. If your lucky I'll tell you about them later. But, all in all, it went quite well. Here's the happy couple.

Congratulations, Ken and Eva!

Aren't they sweet?

Cute as a Button!

So my parents got back from Madagascar a few weeks ago and they took this picture of a cute little girl. I loved the small story behind the picture.

They were walking down the street, and they saw this little girl. When they initially saw her she was all bent over at an uncomfortable ninety degree angle, with a pop bottle on her back and a blanket in her hand. Balancing the pop bottle seemed quite athletic to my dad at that moment in time. She would balance it and then try to swing the blanket around her back, but the pop bottle would fall and she would pick it up and place it on her back again and swing the blanket around her back. They soon realized that she was playing “MOMMY” and the pop bottle was the BABY! Most of the women that have young children in Madagascar carry their babies on their backs. My dad hurried as fast as he could to get his camera out to take a picture, but he was a little slow. By the time he took the picture, she had straightened up, and was attempting to wrap the blanket around her again. The bottle was visible, but had snuck up by her neck as he took the picture. The photo is not one of the greatest photo’s that he has taken, but it still shows the adorable face of this little Malagasy girl, and because of the story behind the picture, it definitely is one of my favorite pictures from their trip!

She was probably really surprised to look up and see white people staring at her.

Midnight Sun

I am so sad, and so happy all at once. One of my favorite novels is Twilight by Stephenie Meyer. I won't describe it really, but I definitely recommend it. Anyway, Midnight Sun is the same book, but told from Edward's view (the other is told from Bella's). Stephenie Meyer has been working on it, but some chapters were leaked and spread around. She felt so frustrated that she decided to put off writing the book, indefinitely. That is the sad part. I really am disappointed. The good Part? Well, it seems Mrs. Meyer is such a nice person, in spite of the whole betrayal thing, that she posted the partial draft on her website, all 264 pages, in order to help keep her fans from being dishonest and downloading it elsewhere.
So now I'm reading it, actually devouring it, and I think I like it even better than Twilight, which I still love by the way, but this is even better. I doubt by how many pages it has that it is even close to complete and I will always wonder what more she would have written. So anyway, I have this sick twisted pleasure reading it early and at the same time I'm so disappointed there won't be more. I have this guilty pleasure and it frustrates me.
Well, enough of my rant, if you want to read hers, here's is the link, and the partial draft of Midnight Sun should be a click away at the bottom of her post.
http://stepheniemeyer.com/midnightsun.html

Tagged

I was tagged by Amber so here are my answers and the rules: Answer the questions using only one word. Then tag four other people....but I don't know four people that haven't already been tagged and I don't mind answering but I don't like the weird chain letter effect. So, sorry, I'm a party pooper.
1. Where is your cell phone? purse
2. Your significant other? phenomenal
3. Your hair? flat
4. Your mother? beautiful
5. Your father? silly
6. Your favorite thing? pajamas
7. Your dream last night? sad
8. Your favorite drink? piña colada
9. Your dream/goal? motherhood
10. The room you’re in? big
11. Your hobby? sports
12. Your fear? skunks
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? house
14. What you’re not? perfect
15. Muffins? Costco
16. One of your wish list items? hedgehog
17. Where you grew up? farm
18. The last thing you did? invitations
19. What are you wearing? nothing...j/k ring
20. Favorite gadget? camera
21. Your pets? dead
22. Your computer? slow
23. Your mood? stressed
24. Missing someone? always
25. Your car? dead
26. Something you’re not wearing? shoes
27. Favorite store? See's
28. Like someone? Peter
29. Your favorite color? brown
30. When is the last time you laughed? Heidi's
31. Last time you cried? car

Little Bridal Shop of Horrors

So I have a new best friend. She is amazing and catches on to things quickly. Her English is pretty good. This last week we went wedding dress shopping. She looked gorgeous in everything, but is only a size two and as short as me. So every dress we saw would have to be altered. We were trying to get around having to hem a dress so the lady that worked at the bridal shop suggested that she try on a slip with it. My soon to be sister-in-law looked confused. The lady told her that if she wore a bigger, poofy slip, that maybe the dress would come up some. Her eyes were big and she kind of looked scared. I tried to explain it and showed her what the lady was talking about. She agreed and tried it on with the slip. It worked at first, but they started to straighten it so then it didn't make much of a difference. I helped her put the dress back on the hanger and she started to laugh as she told me, "In Madagascar, a slip is this." She tugged at her underwear. "So when the lady told me to put on a bigger slip..." Ha, ha! No wonder why she seemed so horrified, the poor girl thought we were going to make her wear big poofy panties.
I love teaching her new words. I taught her premonition, bad juju, cockroach, underwear, and bra. She taught me Kadradraka (cockroach) in return. I can't wait 'till she gets to try the game I taught her. Watch out K.C., she's gonna get you.

Babel Fish Rocks!

Tomorrow I get a new sister...Well actually she won't technically be my sister until September 13th when she marries my brother, but still.... So she is from Madagascar and speaks Malagasy and French. I don't. I hear she speaks some English, but not a whole lot. So I got on the handy dandy interweb and Babel Fished a few important phrases. Here they are in all their glory, translated from English to French (They didn't have Malagasy) In no particular order:

-We are going to be good friends. Nous allons être de bons amis.
-Do you want to go shopping with me? Voulez-vous aller faire des emplettes avec moi ?
-What do you want to eat? Que voulez-vous manger ?
-I want rice. Je veux le riz.
-I want water. Je veux l'eau.
-I am tired. Je suis fatigué.
-If he is disrespectful towards you, let me know and I will beat him up. S'il est irrespectueux vers vous, laissez-moi savent et je le battrai vers le haut.
-Do you want to come over to my house? Voulez-vous venir à ma maison ?
-I do not comprehend you. Je ne vous comprends pas.
-It is a cognate. Elle est une apparentée.
-Do you have a wedding dress? Avez-vous une robe de mariage ?
-We can go spend his money. Nous pouvons aller dépensons son argent.
-Now, on your wedding night... Maintenant, votre nuit de mariage…
-Let us go find trouble. Partons ennui de trouvaille.
-If you rub his feet once in a while, then he will never ask for a refund. Si vous frottez ses pieds de temps à autre, alors il ne demandera jamais un remboursement.
-Do you feel you have been kidnapped? Vous sentez-vous avoir été enlevé ?

I love the one about a refund. He had to go there to get her so he could negotiate a price for her. I'm going to have to show her the movie Johnny Lingo. "Mahana-you-ugly! Get out of that tree!" Love it!

Bigger or Better

Tonight we played a game called "Bigger or Better". You split into two teams, each got a penny, and then you go house to house asking for something bigger or better. We went from a penny to a clothespin, to a newspaper, to a big roll of linoleum, to a chandelier, to a toolbelt, to a cordless drill, and then finally ended with a cool three wheel stroller. Something we noticed though was at almost every house, people would say, "I don't know, let's look in the garage." It would have been cool if we got car, but no such luck. Someday I'll get my Ferrari...but it probably won't come from playing "Bigger or Better."

Disneyland or Knott's Berry Farm

I completely immersed myself in a three week vacation, going multiple places. None so exciting as Disneyland... until I waited in line for over an hour for the first ride. So, I was actually only excited for five minutes. I can't blame the crowds for choosing my favorite ride, Splash Mountain, but I soon discovered most lines were close in comparison to length. I'm a patient person, but only getting the thrill of a two minute ride for every hour of waiting kind of puts a damper on things.
So as a native Californian and spending the majority of my summers using it as my little playground, I knew a place that would make everything all better. The place that definitely deserves the title of "happiest place on earth" much more. Knott's Berry Farm. The price was cheaper, the lines shorter, and the rides faster and much more exciting. There I could enjoy Splash Mountain's competitor much more often. By the end of the night, the lines were less than five minutes long.
So for me, I prefer Knott's above Disney, cause the magic only last so long before you realize, you paid $69.99 to wait in line for 14-15 hours for ten rides.
(Warning: Waiting in lines at amusement parks may cause sunburns which may cause skin cancer and eventually death, or ugly dents in your face and on your body from the dermatologist digging out the cancer. Please use sunscreen while waiting in long lines. That's SUNSCREEN, not Sun Tan Lotion...Peter.)

What's in a name?

I was googling the word neener, out of boredom, and I stumbled upon urbandictionary.com. Apparently my nickname has some unpleasant meanings, but some aren't so bad. I'll share a few.
Here they are, all supposed definitions of the word, neener:
1) An interjection typically used to taunt, ridicule, or boast.
"No thanks to you, but I was able to score the last tickets to the show tonight, and you're not going with me, so neener!"
2) A generally silly person. "You are a neener. "
3) A slang or urban term used to describe a 9mm handgun. originates from southeastern Virginia in the Norfolk, Hampton, and Virginia Beach region.
"Yo, flash that neener and peel a cap on them fools!"
4) Sister, Like a sister, best friend
'Your my neener.' or 'My neener is coming over later'
5) A word used to describe something that you dislike greatly.
"You stupid neener head, I hate you!" "My homework is a neener!"
6) People who fall off the back end of a horse drawn carriage
"That neener got a concussion because of that fall"
Some get real specific like these ones:
7) A little boy in bright green spandex.
"Are you a bunny rabbit?" "I'm a neener!"
8) the kind of person who tends to become an engineer. they have no social skills and are highly competitive. usually chronic pot smokers. always try to be better than their best friend. usually ignores everyone else. only talks about themselves. when they don't like something you just did they will say, "so neener neener neener!" on text message.used to be a keener but now they are not.very similar to wiener except they don't have sex anymore.
"besides you're leaving me and moving to fort mcmurray so neener neener neener!"

Okay, that's enough. I don't think that last one describes me. I think someone has a personal problem. The labels on that one were: loser, chronic, i'm jealous of you, i hate my husband, jerk, and anti-social closet lesbian.
Admittedly, I am anti-social, but I love my husband and I couldn't even get in the closet if I wanted to (too much junk). I think definition numbers 2, 4, and 6 are actual descriptions of me and my nickname. Well, I haven't fallen out of a horse drawn carriage yet, but I'm sure I would, given the opportunity. Not much of a Cinderella, I guess.

I'm Giving In

My husband Peter keeps telling me to blog, even though I have nothing in particular to blog. Apparently even his mom is doing it now, so, I give up. I'm going to try, but don't expect mine to be as great as everyone else's. In fact, just move on to the next blog right now, cause your time is valuable. Are you gone yet? ....Phew. Now I can breath. Its about to get a little weird in here...