I think all my life I was being prepared to finally end up in Texas.
I was born in Wyoming, and lived in various small towns until I was about 3. That's not saying much. All towns in Wyoming are small. Most people in Wyoming are white. Wyoming is white, bland, and empty. Not much happens in Wyoming. It's big, a slow, cold, and not one really thinks of it until they're stuck in snow while driving through it, then they remember it for a lifetime as "The time I froze my butt off changing a tire/had to pee like crazy/snow chains, etc. I love Wyoming. Even though I moved around lots growing up, and did not live there the majority of my life I will always consider that lonely, windy state my home. My parents claim Wyoming. Both are UW graduates, and proud of it. They raised me with Wyoming-isms, such as "pop" and a slight prejudice towards all things Utah (mostly because BYU and UW are big rivals) and all things Texas (I think because they think they're the most "cowboy" state in the union... neglecting Wyoming's contribution to the cattle drives DOWN to Texas) And of course UW's mascot, The Cowboy's.
After living in Wyoming we moved to Tucson, Arizona. We moved in with my grandparents for a little bit, while my dad went to school again. I remember the first winter there it snowed. Four year old me was so excited watching the flakes come down and land in Nanny's backyard. Until ten minutes later, it stopped. Nanny took me out to make a snowman with her. She had to get a shovel to scrape the miniscule amount of snow off the ground, and when we finished, the shrimpy guy didn't have enough head for any amount of face. I cried pretty hard.
Right before second grade I experienced my first Near Texas Encounter as we moved from Tucson to Hobbs, NM.
Hobbs is about 8 miles from the Texas border. And it is UGLY. It's dusty, dry, no mountains, very few trees, and the view from a car window to a 7 year old girl consists of weird dinosaur things that go up and down (oil wells). Once we settled in, and before school started, my parents had a family home evening, with hopes to prepare me for the strange accents, and new customs they knew I would experience on the first day of school. My dad told me;
"Here, adults expect you to say 'Yes, Sir and 'No, Sir' and 'Yes Ma'am' and 'No Ma'am'. I haven't raised you that way, call me 'Dad', but when another adult, like your teacher, tells you something, you are to reply with 'Yes, Sir' or 'Yes, Ma'am'. It's polite."
I took his words to heart, and I did try, but the words felt strange on my tongue, and I felt like I was lying, or in trouble every time I said 'Sir' or 'Ma'am'. I never got the hang of it, a few teachers corrected me on the matter, but most of them probably just thought I was the terrible ruffian child who replied nonchalantly with 'Okay'. Oh well.
Most people had a bit of a Texan drawl, but I got used to it. I got used to the different idioms, and words such as 'ya'll', 'fixin' to', 'big ol' and 'grab a bite to eat' These were things my family didn't say, and eventually they snuck into my own vocabulary. In fourth grade, my teacher sent home a note to parents with 'fixin' to' typed in the note. My English major mother sent a note to Mr. Ware, reprimanding him for using poor grammar.
After being in second grade for a few months, we went on a field trip to the county fair. We spent the day looking at cows, sheep, pigs, horses, and the art, and quilting projects. Towards the end of our trip, my teacher observed a bunch of tired, thirsty second graders.
"Who wants a coke?" She generously announced
"I do! I do! Yay!!" Were the collective responses of my class.
Except me. I didn't drink Coca-Cola. My family didn't drink Coca-Cola, and I had been taught it wasn't something I was allowed to have. I panicked.
Somehow, someone noticed my distress, and asked me what was wrong.
"I'm not allowed to drink Coke." I sniveled.
"Well, I'm sure the vendor has water, we'll ask, it's ok." They assured me.
I was led up to the counter, where before my savior had a chance to explain, the vendor bellowed,
"What kinda Coke do you want?"
Kind? I didn't know there were different KINDS of Coca-Cola. Maybe I could have a different kind... I didn't just want water, when everyone else had a sugary, bubbly drink!
"What kinds are there?" I asked
"The usual kinds of Coke!" He said incredulously, "Sprite, Root beer, 7up..."
I stared. Sprite wasn't Coca-Cola.
The person helping me asked me if I would like a Sprite. I nodded, slightly confused, but happy, and downed my Sprite in a heartbeat, then went to join my friends who were talking about the different kinds of "Coke" They got. There I learned the biggest culture change of my Wyoming upbringing to Near Texas Encounter. 'Coke' is 'Pop'. Not Coca-Cola.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
I can't be afraid of alligators because I know nothing about them
We are moving to Houston, TX in less than 3 weeks. I'm over the majority of the nervousness of moving, and on the excitement and readiness to live in a big city with fun things to do. Except for one thing. I recently found out Texas is home to approxiamately 500,000 ish alligators.
Alligators. That's right, the big 8, 9, 10+ foot long lizards who have massive jaws and eat people. The one the Crocodile hunter chased and tried to tackle. The ones who hear about ending up in Florida swimming pools. The things that have the "Alligator death roll" which sounds like a horribly painful and scary way to die. (Although cool at the same time. I think people talk about their deaths as ghosts. Conversations go like this:
"So... How'd you end up, ya know... here?"
"Just woke up here. In my sleep I guess? You?"
"ALLIGATOR DEATH ROLL"
Yeah. That dude's probably got the death story of the century...
But, back to my silliness.
The point is, I was really being unecessarily nervous. I don't know much about alligators. I seriously thought they ONLY lived in Florida. Forget the fact that all those other southern states have the same climate, and alligators were here before suburbia, in my mind, they ONLY EXISTED IN FLORIDA. And especially not Texas. Texas is still far from Florida. They do live in Texas, and according to a map I saw last night, put out by the Texas Wildlife Board, they're for sure in the Houston area, and even all the way up in Dallas.
Around the time I discovered alligators are in Texas, we were planning a camping trip to Texas to hunt for a place to live. (Thankfully, we found a place via the Lords of the Internet, and will not have to camp there) As soon as I found out about the alligators I didn't want to camp. My over-active imagination was maing up all kinds of scenarios where the alligators pulled a grizzly and ate our faces off while we slept. (Can you tell I grew up in the west?) I had dream where alligators jumped out of trees puma-style and attacked hikers. Alligators were hiding in the leaves by our picnic table, and Christian got eaten in one bite when I put him down to crawl... Things like that.
I mentioned my imaginings to Kason while we were out shopping one day.
"I wanna go running in the mornings. What if there's an alligator RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PATH?!?"
"Well just do what the 'alligator etiquette' guide said, and turn around and go back the other way"
*thinking* Yeah, but with my luck ith will be 500 feet into my run, and that's a lame run... OR if it's farther in, I'll turn around and there will be ANOTHER that came up after I passed, I'll be trapped, and then more alligators will be up on the side... closing in!!! eep!! Or, the alligator will look like he's sleeping, and I'll get a sudden dose of stupidbrave, and I'll take a running jump over him and BAM!! Keish goes down gazelle style, and Alligator Death Roll death brag... *shudder*
"That won't work. They'll chase me. They can go up to 30 miles an hour for short distances. Do humans run that fast? I know I don't"
"Just turn around, Keisha. They won't eat you."
"Yeah, but can't they get up on their hind legs and tackle me?"
Kason laughs. For about 10 minutes straight.
*gasping* "Dear, you've been watching too many cartoons!!"
At this point I realized I was being ridiculous, and my husband made me feel stupid, reminding me the last alligator I'd really seen was named 'Louis', played the trumpet, danced, disguised himself as a human jazz musician, talked, sang, and I think at one point used his tail as a propeller for a speedy escape. I didn't know anything about alligators other than what I learned on a few episodes of Crocodile Dundee, and Disney movies. I had no reason to be afraid. Stupid Disney.
Although... I guess maybe that's a reason to be all the more paranoid... Crap. Our new apartment has a pool. I hate alligators.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Expectations
It's all said and done. I had my baby. I am now a mommy.
I love it. It's a million times better than being pregnant. My son is amazing. He's close to three months old, and things are really beginning to get interesting. Not that he wasn't the most interesting thing to happen to me, but now his personality is really starting to shine through. He's a stinker. It's no surprise, my husband and I were both handfuls as children, and are still energetic, so we were expecting a goon eventually. But we still love him. Even through his fussy eating and seemingly endless supply of poop, we can't get enough of him.
I have high expectations for myself as a parent. While I was pregnant I read several parenting, and child psychology books. I also followed fellow mom blogs and collected kid friendly ideas for food, music, games, toys, and just about every other imaginable idea out there. So far, I'm fostering goals to establish independent play and creativity as opposed to TV time, I'm all for homemade baby foods and learning Baby Sign Language, and as much Spanish as I can so Christian's language skills won't suffer.
Maybe it's a bit much. Maybe I'm a bit of a Tiger Mom. As he grows up, he'll be expected to be courteous and polite, well-rounded, and entertaining. I think I have things figured out... but all this will probably backfire. I dream of a well-behaved, smart, attractive little boy who is musically talented, as well as athletic, gets good grades, and is well-liked by his peers. Hopefully I can be a good mommy and achieve such a child. But, Even if I'm as good a mommy as I think I can be, I'll still love whoever Christian turns out to be :)
I love it. It's a million times better than being pregnant. My son is amazing. He's close to three months old, and things are really beginning to get interesting. Not that he wasn't the most interesting thing to happen to me, but now his personality is really starting to shine through. He's a stinker. It's no surprise, my husband and I were both handfuls as children, and are still energetic, so we were expecting a goon eventually. But we still love him. Even through his fussy eating and seemingly endless supply of poop, we can't get enough of him.
I have high expectations for myself as a parent. While I was pregnant I read several parenting, and child psychology books. I also followed fellow mom blogs and collected kid friendly ideas for food, music, games, toys, and just about every other imaginable idea out there. So far, I'm fostering goals to establish independent play and creativity as opposed to TV time, I'm all for homemade baby foods and learning Baby Sign Language, and as much Spanish as I can so Christian's language skills won't suffer.
Maybe it's a bit much. Maybe I'm a bit of a Tiger Mom. As he grows up, he'll be expected to be courteous and polite, well-rounded, and entertaining. I think I have things figured out... but all this will probably backfire. I dream of a well-behaved, smart, attractive little boy who is musically talented, as well as athletic, gets good grades, and is well-liked by his peers. Hopefully I can be a good mommy and achieve such a child. But, Even if I'm as good a mommy as I think I can be, I'll still love whoever Christian turns out to be :)
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Things I would love for nursery decor
http://flavorwire.com/197232/minimalist-posters-for-your-favorite-childrens-stories/15#post_body
I just discovered the link option... Kind of lame... haha! But here are some really awesome posters that I would LOOOVE to use as decorations in the nursery once we're in the 2 bedroom apartment. I already have several book covers I made into framed pictures that my mother helped me make (Librarian grandmother!) But these would complete the bookish environment I plan on raising my children in. Plus they look so classy! Not all loud and cluttered like Disney paraphenalia.
I just discovered the link option... Kind of lame... haha! But here are some really awesome posters that I would LOOOVE to use as decorations in the nursery once we're in the 2 bedroom apartment. I already have several book covers I made into framed pictures that my mother helped me make (Librarian grandmother!) But these would complete the bookish environment I plan on raising my children in. Plus they look so classy! Not all loud and cluttered like Disney paraphenalia.
Pregnant pictures
http://lifeofhours.blogspot.com/2011/07/kason-and-keisha.html
Above are pictures of me being pregnant, If you care to observe!
Above are pictures of me being pregnant, If you care to observe!
Pregnant pictures
A friend of mine asked me to model for her budding photography studio. I was quite flattered and agreed, even though I didn't ever plan on taking pictures of myself pregnant. She did a wonderful job, and here is her link if you care to take a look!
lifeofhours.blogspot.com
lifeofhours.blogspot.com
Almost done!
I have a month and one day until my wiggly little boy should enter into this world! Hopefully it will be less! I am so excited. I can honestly say I feel more excited to be a mom, and just have my very own baby than I feel about labor. I'm not too nervous for childbirth. It's gotta happen, and it's been happening to women since the beginning of time. It seems a little silly to be nervous, if you ask me.
Concerning baby preparations, my husband and I decided to try and save as much money as possible for the baby. We're staying in out little 1 bedroom apartment until December or so, when our lease is up, then we will move into a bigger 2 bedroom place. During the last few weeks of June, and the very first part of July, I "nested" like crazy. I am thrilled with my efforts. I was able to clear out all the closets of unnecessary junk, and make room for a used washer and dryer! (I now make amends to the washer and dryer god, as it is so nice to own a set and not use the apartment complex's or a laundromat :) I also upgraded a fair amount of our furniture, and only spent a total of $60 on a new couch, dresser, and TV stand. The TV stand looks nice and is super baby proof. The dresser is a little smaller than my old one, but is upright and gives us more space in the bedroom for a cradle. We've also gotten rid of internet, made our netflix account to DVDs by mail only, and gotten rid of Melaleuca. That saves us a fair amount of money each month. Once the baby is born, we're going to downgrade to just 1 phone, and hopefully that will lower our phone bill. Other budget cuts involve me leaving the apartment during the day so we don't have to run the AC and make our electricity bill outrageously high. This is hard because it's been SOOOO hot! I just go hang out at Barnes and Noble, visit friends, or go swimming.
Once the baby is born we'll be using mostly cloth diapers. A friend has convinced me of their cheapness, and I'm quite excited! I think the cloth diapers they have now are really cute, and I think I've figured out a method to stay on top of them and get the most out of them. The washing machine will come in VERY handy during this time!! We really will be saving lots of money, and I'm happy about not doing as much damage to the environment. We've been recycling more, and now I feel horribly guilty when I throw something away that can be recycled :/
Another thing I'm really looking forward to regarding the baby is getting to teach him!! I laugh sometimes, this poor kid has two teachers for parents. A Spanish teacher, and a music teacher (and possibly future English teacher) my children are doomed to hear about the education system, as well as be expected to do their very best, especially in those subjects. Not to mention he has a librarian for a grandmother! I hope I can make it enjoyable for them. I refuse to homeschool. I've met too many weirdo homeschooled kids, and I want socially wise children. Plus, I feel I need the time away from my kids for a bit. I will be very actively involved in their educations and I plan on volunteering as much as I can once they are in school. I believe THAT is the role of the parent in education. The teachers should not do everything.
In regards to educating my child. My husband and I have decided to raise our children in a bilingual home. This was initially my husband's idea (obviously, Spanish teacher!) At first I figured he could just do all the Spanish speaking and I'd do English, but now realizing, I'll probably be the ones my children see most, since I plan on staying at home, I'll need to learn some Spanish! I found a great podcast called Coffee Break Spanish. They go nice and slow and repeat a lot. We're also going to buy lots of Spanish books and I'll be able to read those to him. I'm learning with my baby. I've been doing research on Baby sign language, and we're going to do that too. It enhances language development and helps understanding between languages when used in conjunction in bilingual homes. I'm excited. I want smart babies. Plus, boys tend to develop slower than girls in language and small motor skills. I've seen this, and I am determined to combat it.
A few little rules we've decided to establish in our home.
*Regular established bedtimes and bedtime rituals
*No TV until 2 (but I might see if we can make it to 3)
*No sleepovers until 10
*No PG movies until 5, and after that they still need to ask until age 8
*Homework comes first
*Everyone gets equal amounts of chores!
Some of the rules are maybe a little strict, but I'm not a fan of TV. We will probably never have cable or satellite. there are simply other things I'd rather spend my money on, especially when we will be living on a teacher's salary. And children don't need to spend time in front of the tube. Knowing me and my husband, the kids will probably be just as hyper and energetic as us both! So if they don't get the right amount of activity during the day, the bedtime hours will be a nightmare!!
I'm very very VERY excited to become a mom and meet the squirmy little boy inside my belly right now. He is truly a miraculous creation and a special child of God. I can feel it. I love him already!!
Concerning baby preparations, my husband and I decided to try and save as much money as possible for the baby. We're staying in out little 1 bedroom apartment until December or so, when our lease is up, then we will move into a bigger 2 bedroom place. During the last few weeks of June, and the very first part of July, I "nested" like crazy. I am thrilled with my efforts. I was able to clear out all the closets of unnecessary junk, and make room for a used washer and dryer! (I now make amends to the washer and dryer god, as it is so nice to own a set and not use the apartment complex's or a laundromat :) I also upgraded a fair amount of our furniture, and only spent a total of $60 on a new couch, dresser, and TV stand. The TV stand looks nice and is super baby proof. The dresser is a little smaller than my old one, but is upright and gives us more space in the bedroom for a cradle. We've also gotten rid of internet, made our netflix account to DVDs by mail only, and gotten rid of Melaleuca. That saves us a fair amount of money each month. Once the baby is born, we're going to downgrade to just 1 phone, and hopefully that will lower our phone bill. Other budget cuts involve me leaving the apartment during the day so we don't have to run the AC and make our electricity bill outrageously high. This is hard because it's been SOOOO hot! I just go hang out at Barnes and Noble, visit friends, or go swimming.
Once the baby is born we'll be using mostly cloth diapers. A friend has convinced me of their cheapness, and I'm quite excited! I think the cloth diapers they have now are really cute, and I think I've figured out a method to stay on top of them and get the most out of them. The washing machine will come in VERY handy during this time!! We really will be saving lots of money, and I'm happy about not doing as much damage to the environment. We've been recycling more, and now I feel horribly guilty when I throw something away that can be recycled :/
Another thing I'm really looking forward to regarding the baby is getting to teach him!! I laugh sometimes, this poor kid has two teachers for parents. A Spanish teacher, and a music teacher (and possibly future English teacher) my children are doomed to hear about the education system, as well as be expected to do their very best, especially in those subjects. Not to mention he has a librarian for a grandmother! I hope I can make it enjoyable for them. I refuse to homeschool. I've met too many weirdo homeschooled kids, and I want socially wise children. Plus, I feel I need the time away from my kids for a bit. I will be very actively involved in their educations and I plan on volunteering as much as I can once they are in school. I believe THAT is the role of the parent in education. The teachers should not do everything.
In regards to educating my child. My husband and I have decided to raise our children in a bilingual home. This was initially my husband's idea (obviously, Spanish teacher!) At first I figured he could just do all the Spanish speaking and I'd do English, but now realizing, I'll probably be the ones my children see most, since I plan on staying at home, I'll need to learn some Spanish! I found a great podcast called Coffee Break Spanish. They go nice and slow and repeat a lot. We're also going to buy lots of Spanish books and I'll be able to read those to him. I'm learning with my baby. I've been doing research on Baby sign language, and we're going to do that too. It enhances language development and helps understanding between languages when used in conjunction in bilingual homes. I'm excited. I want smart babies. Plus, boys tend to develop slower than girls in language and small motor skills. I've seen this, and I am determined to combat it.
A few little rules we've decided to establish in our home.
*Regular established bedtimes and bedtime rituals
*No TV until 2 (but I might see if we can make it to 3)
*No sleepovers until 10
*No PG movies until 5, and after that they still need to ask until age 8
*Homework comes first
*Everyone gets equal amounts of chores!
Some of the rules are maybe a little strict, but I'm not a fan of TV. We will probably never have cable or satellite. there are simply other things I'd rather spend my money on, especially when we will be living on a teacher's salary. And children don't need to spend time in front of the tube. Knowing me and my husband, the kids will probably be just as hyper and energetic as us both! So if they don't get the right amount of activity during the day, the bedtime hours will be a nightmare!!
I'm very very VERY excited to become a mom and meet the squirmy little boy inside my belly right now. He is truly a miraculous creation and a special child of God. I can feel it. I love him already!!
Thursday, April 21, 2011
the true flavor of yellow
I generally do not choose to eat lemon flavored candies or desserts. Even some lemonades get swooped into the "inedible" category as deemed by myself. However, yellow sweet tarts are the best flavor among all the sweet tarts. I eat them first before moving to the green, then blue, then purple then red. For some reason sweet tarts got right combination of lemon and sugar to make it purely awesome yellow treat.
I do love good lemonade. I don't think there's any better lemonade than freshly squeezed lemons right off my grandmother's lemon tree. That's some good lemonade. And if you like my version of a lemonade recipe (skimp slightly on the sugar) Then I'm sure you'll agree. I guess I like the yellow sweet tarts best because they taste closest to lemonade. I call this flavor "The True Flavor of Yellow".
It seems there are two ways you can mess up achieving The True Flavor of Yellow. You can add to much sugar, which turns the natural sunny, tangy, zing of lemonade into a sappy, weak blend of nothing special. It's like comparing two little girls, one who is truly smily, happy, honest and bright to the one who sugarcoats all her actions, is not truly happy, and only has an outward display of sweetness. This is what lemon pies, custards, puddings, and bars taste like to me. Fake. Not truly lemon. Lemon is ridiculously sour and pies, cakes and cookies that add all the sugar and frou-frou to a lemon dessert sap that tartness away. It's not sunny, lemony, zing anymore. It's covered up and hidden.
The other way to destroy The True Flavor of Yellow is by somehow chemically morphing it into a cheap, mass produced treat that is more bitter than tangy or sweet! Now I know you're probably thinking "well she's dump, sweet tarts are mass produced, and cheap" Yes, but they taste good, so it's beside the point. Lemon drops, skittles and lemon starbursts all taste slightly bitter to me. They taste like the girl who not only pretends to be sunny and nice, but isn't at all and really says nasty things about people behind their backs.
Thus is my analysis of The True Flavor of Yellow. When the right amounts of sugar and lemon are involved, yellow tastes sunny, bright, happy, tart, energizing, exciting and zingy. Bananas and pineapples evoke other shades of yellow in their right dimensions, but lemon yellow has very definitive properties, that when messed up only portray the wrong ideas, and of course color. To me, eating too sweet lemon tastes more dull gray, and too bitter lemon is just painful highlighter yellow. But lemonade with just the right amount of sugar is the perfect pretty shade of sunny yellow. :)
I do love good lemonade. I don't think there's any better lemonade than freshly squeezed lemons right off my grandmother's lemon tree. That's some good lemonade. And if you like my version of a lemonade recipe (skimp slightly on the sugar) Then I'm sure you'll agree. I guess I like the yellow sweet tarts best because they taste closest to lemonade. I call this flavor "The True Flavor of Yellow".
It seems there are two ways you can mess up achieving The True Flavor of Yellow. You can add to much sugar, which turns the natural sunny, tangy, zing of lemonade into a sappy, weak blend of nothing special. It's like comparing two little girls, one who is truly smily, happy, honest and bright to the one who sugarcoats all her actions, is not truly happy, and only has an outward display of sweetness. This is what lemon pies, custards, puddings, and bars taste like to me. Fake. Not truly lemon. Lemon is ridiculously sour and pies, cakes and cookies that add all the sugar and frou-frou to a lemon dessert sap that tartness away. It's not sunny, lemony, zing anymore. It's covered up and hidden.
The other way to destroy The True Flavor of Yellow is by somehow chemically morphing it into a cheap, mass produced treat that is more bitter than tangy or sweet! Now I know you're probably thinking "well she's dump, sweet tarts are mass produced, and cheap" Yes, but they taste good, so it's beside the point. Lemon drops, skittles and lemon starbursts all taste slightly bitter to me. They taste like the girl who not only pretends to be sunny and nice, but isn't at all and really says nasty things about people behind their backs.
Thus is my analysis of The True Flavor of Yellow. When the right amounts of sugar and lemon are involved, yellow tastes sunny, bright, happy, tart, energizing, exciting and zingy. Bananas and pineapples evoke other shades of yellow in their right dimensions, but lemon yellow has very definitive properties, that when messed up only portray the wrong ideas, and of course color. To me, eating too sweet lemon tastes more dull gray, and too bitter lemon is just painful highlighter yellow. But lemonade with just the right amount of sugar is the perfect pretty shade of sunny yellow. :)
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Happy news!
Oh dear. This blog is becoming more Mormon Mommy... *sigh... But I need to share my happy news first! And I voice another opinion at the same time.
We found out on Friday we'll be having a little boy. I'm very excited. I was hoping for a girl, even thought I felt in the back of my mind it was a boy all along. I have three younger sisters, and I know what to do with a little girl, so a little boy just scared me some. I don't like bugs, I don't understand half of Kason's silly antics, and I was so terrified I'd be a terrible mother to a little boy. Miraculously, I'm not so nervous about a boy any more. I'm still nervous about being a mother, but looking rationally at how I react to kids, I don't think my disciplining is too harsh, but it is firm, and my opinions/judgements do not change. My primary class still likes me even after I tell them to behave, so I think I'll be okay.
We have decided on a name. Kason and I actually have all the names we like picked out. We're boring like that I guess. This little boy will be Christian Andrew. After his two grandpas. My father, and Kason's. Christian is also my grandfather's name, but he goes by Raymond. It's a good, strong name and he'll have 3 wonderful men to look up to and to fill shoes. His initials will also be similar to his father's. I like family names. It's nice to use them when possible. Not all the other names we've picked our family names, but they are still special.
A name is an important thing. I feel this name is pretty solid against any name-bullying that may come about from evil other children. It's not too weird, or old-fashioned, and hopefully his name will hold significance to him, so he'll carry his name with honor. Hopefully this name will keep him a good kid who wants to serve the Lord and lead a righteous life. Because I love this squirmy little booger to let him lead any other kind of life!
On a slightly different topic, people keep telling me to "be prepared" because my "kid's going to be so hyper and crazy" "just like his dad"! Personally, I truly hope he is an energetic, imaginative booger! It's better than some boring bum of a kid, who watches TV all day. I don't care how many doctors we fund expensive cruises, and lavish dinner parties fixing up his broken bones and stitching his scrapes and gashes. We'll have fun doing it. Plus, if this kid is crazy, he gets just as much of it from me too. I may be the one who currently keeps my husband calmer than before, but I was a bouncy, crazy little girl, and I still have copious amounts of energy and spark. Remember, this kid is half mine! I'm a booger too!
We found out on Friday we'll be having a little boy. I'm very excited. I was hoping for a girl, even thought I felt in the back of my mind it was a boy all along. I have three younger sisters, and I know what to do with a little girl, so a little boy just scared me some. I don't like bugs, I don't understand half of Kason's silly antics, and I was so terrified I'd be a terrible mother to a little boy. Miraculously, I'm not so nervous about a boy any more. I'm still nervous about being a mother, but looking rationally at how I react to kids, I don't think my disciplining is too harsh, but it is firm, and my opinions/judgements do not change. My primary class still likes me even after I tell them to behave, so I think I'll be okay.
We have decided on a name. Kason and I actually have all the names we like picked out. We're boring like that I guess. This little boy will be Christian Andrew. After his two grandpas. My father, and Kason's. Christian is also my grandfather's name, but he goes by Raymond. It's a good, strong name and he'll have 3 wonderful men to look up to and to fill shoes. His initials will also be similar to his father's. I like family names. It's nice to use them when possible. Not all the other names we've picked our family names, but they are still special.
A name is an important thing. I feel this name is pretty solid against any name-bullying that may come about from evil other children. It's not too weird, or old-fashioned, and hopefully his name will hold significance to him, so he'll carry his name with honor. Hopefully this name will keep him a good kid who wants to serve the Lord and lead a righteous life. Because I love this squirmy little booger to let him lead any other kind of life!
On a slightly different topic, people keep telling me to "be prepared" because my "kid's going to be so hyper and crazy" "just like his dad"! Personally, I truly hope he is an energetic, imaginative booger! It's better than some boring bum of a kid, who watches TV all day. I don't care how many doctors we fund expensive cruises, and lavish dinner parties fixing up his broken bones and stitching his scrapes and gashes. We'll have fun doing it. Plus, if this kid is crazy, he gets just as much of it from me too. I may be the one who currently keeps my husband calmer than before, but I was a bouncy, crazy little girl, and I still have copious amounts of energy and spark. Remember, this kid is half mine! I'm a booger too!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
My dishes and Grandma
I eat dinner off of fairly new stoneware I received from my relatives for my wedding. I chose the style of dishes to match my future “dream kitchen”. The dishes have a blue center with a yellow border. In the yellow border are little blue flowers. I remember choosing a more casual dinner sitting as opposed to fine china, because I wanted to have nice dishes to use every day. I also wanted to find a unique and more special pattern for my china. I figured I wouldn’t be using china for several years, or at least until I start hosting my own Thanksgivings. So it could wait to join my budding dishes collection.
These plates and bowls may seem slightly silly to hold in such high esteem. As a poor, married college student, I probably shouldn’t expect to eat of brand name stoneware, and should be content with eating out of plastic mismatched utensils, just like my husband. I also probably should avoid concerning myself with determining my future “dream kitchen”. Especially since more important things need to be worried over.
But these dishes are special to me. They hold significance in my life and they connect a number of important factors together. My grandmother on my mother’s side has always been very close to me. I like to flatter myself that we are very much alike, and I inherited her expensive taste and knack to make her home appear sophisticated, yet budget friendly. (The future home in my mind is much closer to this than my current scatter-brained apartment). These wedding dishes begin my own collection and also remind me of older memories with dishes.
My relatives purchased the dishes for me, namely my grandmother and aunts on my mother’s side. My grandmother organized the contributions to purchase these dishes. She owns several different kinds of dinnerware, and continually collects more. She loves to cook, she is an impeccable housekeeper, and thoroughly enjoys entertaining with her fine china and dishes. She cooks generous meals for those who are friends, family or simply guests. She believes good dishes makes things even more civilized and enjoyable.
My beautiful grandmother, to whom I am her oldest grandchild, bought me my very first tea set. It was off-white with pink roses in the centers. It was real china, with matching candelabras and two little pink fake candlesticks. I received them on Christmas morning when I was about six years old. Previously that year, I got caught admiring my grandma’s first tea set she had as a little girl. It was displayed openly on her hutch. She decided it was high time I have my own tea set to distract me from potentially breaking hers. I saw that first tea set as a way we were now similar. My own dishes collection just began, and one day I hoped to have beautiful dishes just like grandma.
I cherished that tea set. I was never the girliest of girls growing up, but something in that tea set sparked my inner girly. I had so much dressing up my dolls and little sister, decorating our little wooden table my grandfather made for us, and throwing a tea party with water and saltine crackers (that was all my mother permitted us eat in our bedroom). If we felt especially mischievous, we would bust out the hidden stashes of Halloween treats and enjoy delicate tarts with the tea. The meals were always fancy. Something about pick roses insist that everything must maintain the highest possible standard of fanciness to a little girl. During the summer time it was essential that our pretty table have a vase with flowers from the garden to sit in between the pink candlesticks.
It was thrilling to dress up and pretend to become the most polite Lady Sarah and honorable Madame Lucille. We held eloquent conversations in our supposed British accents. We discussed the weather and the poor health of our dolls. We wore the laciest, frilliest dress-ups in the box, and made sure to take turns using the pink clutch that looked like it had diamonds on it. When things got dull we would consider and plot how we could possibly sneak into mom’s makeup. When that seemed fruitless the imaginative roles would alter and the plot shifted to the backyard rope swing, where we inevitably morphed into lost British ladies in the Amazon, who lived in a cave and swung across a huge lake to gather pecans that fell from the generous tree above. Eventually, fairies and unicorns wandered into our storyline, and we would be far from the original tea party by dinnertime, only to remember it right before bed while we picked up our mess.
I grew up before too long, and by the time my younger sister got her own tea set, I was a little too old for those games. Her tea set had a checkered tablecloth and a cute carrying basket, and she resorted to engaging the next sister in the fantasy world we first created. Eventually all three of my sisters received their own teas sets before long, and I know all three have made up their own parties with each other and their dollies. Their plots seemed wildly elaborate, but they still clunked in mom’s old heels and argued over the prettier dress-ups, just like me and the oldest of my three sisters.
Returning to my wedding, and the grown up dishes I now own. I was married in the Albuquerque, New Mexico LDS Temple. I upheld a longtime Mormon tradition, by being married in this sacred building. As the oldest grandchild on my mother’s side, I feel I set a huge example to not only my younger sisters, but all my younger cousins as well.
Families are important in the Latter-day Saint religion. The events of my wedding spanned a weeklong event where dozens of cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and bosom friends came to celebrate. The closest of these watched us marry in the temple, and many, many others celebrated with us at the two separate receptions held in our honor. One reception took place in Portales, New Mexico in my parent’s backyard at sunset. The second took place in my husband’s hometown, Carlsbad, New Mexico at the local LDS chapel. Both were equally lovely, although I admit I preferred the Portales reception, because my family and friends attended. In Carlsbad, mostly my husbands friends, and family, attended, and most of these attendants I met for the very first time.
My mother’s fours sisters, my aunts, took charge of the decorating at the first reception. My colors were yellow and light blue with daisies being the main flower. The decorations were a success, even with the ever-persistent prairie wind that fluttered the tablecloths, ladies skirts, and the labored decorations.
Paper lanterns bordered the fence to the garden, daisies were on every table, and homemade blackberry ice cream was served with the cake. The blackberries were even fresh from my family’s garden! The pale colors and daisies highlighted the essential fresh country look I wanted. In fact, in some of the pictures form the reception; you can see my family’s chickens pecking bugs and seeds within the fenced garden.
My aunts used two displays as part of the decorations. One was a small quilt they made with a picture of the temple in the middle and fabric matching my wedding colors around it. The second display was my dishes. The dishes I chose months before. They matched my wedding colors. I did this on purpose, so I would always have a reminder of that special event.
They set the dishes on the same wooden table, my grandfather made and I used growing up for those first tea parties. I believe they chose that table because it was convenient and the right size, but the two together symbolized a powerful binding of memories. Amidst the hugs, smiles, laughter, and delicious ice cream, I noticed that table under my new dishes, and my smile widened.
When the sun was an orange, fiery ball along the waves of grass, my reception drew to a close. For the beginning of July, the weather was extremely cooperative and happily allowed us to celebrate in a comfortable temperature. The breeze gusted generously, but merely added a charming flutter to the decorations. The sunset altered the colors of the reception ever so slightly, and my dad lit the floating candles in the goldfish pond, much to the delight of my young cousins. Fewer people arrived, but many still hovered around for hugs and conversation. The ice cream began to melt, and finally I decided to toss the bouquet and signify my reception was beginning to end.
When the guests remaining were mostly family, my grandmother finally found time to talk to me. She was the one who organized my extended families contributions to purchase my dishes. Even though I chose the dishes and knew exactly what they looked like before tonight, she wanted to make sure I loved them. I walked with her over to the table and picked up the plate.
“I love these, Nanny. Thank you so much!”
“I’m glad you like them. They suit you, and you have good taste! I remember when I bought your first tea set. You were so excited to open it up and play with them that Christmas morning. Do you still have them?”
“ Of course! Well, they’re all packed up in a box, but I have them. Every piece too, I think. And look! My new dishes are sitting on that wooden table Papa made for me a long time ago!”
“ Really? Oh they are. That’s neat. Take care of these new dishes too so your family can eat good food off them even when you are my age. And perhaps you’ll have a daughter someday who can take that tea set out of the box.”
“I hope so. And I hope I make good food! And don’t worry, Nanny, I’ll take very good care of them.”
“I’m proud of you today. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
My grandmother left me to look at my dishes. Yes, they were just dishes, but they were another special gift from my grandmother. These dishes continued my beginning collection of dishes that would be used to share future food, and family traditions. These dishes connected two memories, and two women. My childhood and my newlywed life, myself and my grandmother bonded over those dishes.
Monday, February 7, 2011
REAL food
There have been countless times where my father has inserted his opinion on the reason my family is all super skinny. And I say super skinny, because we are. I'm not bragging, it's just a fact. One of his ideas is that my mom has always believed in cooking homemade food for us. She cooked wholesome meals within a reasonable budget, and made sure they were always well balanced and nutritious. She never busted bank, and we didn't eat everything organic, they were just good wholesome meals. But most importantly, they were homemade.
Homemade means this:
Hamburger helper.... is not homemade
Kraft macaroni and cheese... is not homemade
Neither is cake, bread, muffins, cookies or brownies from a box
We weren't starved from such things. Making cake from a box is MUCH easier and a lot less fail proof. But it is not homemade. Yeah, you made it at home... but I don't think it deserves the same praise and glory as a cake made from scratch. Especially if you use fake frosting. We would also occasionally eat Mac and cheese if we had a babysitter. But one mom found a really good recipe for Macaroni and cheese, we were all hooked on that.
Now, my father's reasoning I believe lies in the ingredients. Check the ingredients on a package of any store-bought processed meal or snack. Processed foods contain more fat, sugar, and salt. They might not blatanly tell you that, but they do. High fructose corn syrup, sodium, dextrose, anything -ose. Not to mention the unpronouncable "others". Preservatives, colorants, texture enhancers, flavor enhancers... The list goes on!
When my parents first got married, my mom told my dad that she did not make breakfast. If he wanted a big breakfast, he had to make it himself. I grew up on pancakes, literally almost every morning. I would eat 3-4 pancakes before soccer games, swim meets, school, and track. Cereal made rare appearances in our home. When we went to visit grandma she would call beforehand and buy our favorite cereals for us to eat during our stay. We would happily binge on Cocoa Pebbles for a few days, but always happily return to eating daddy's pancakes. He makes the best!!
So. We ate well. We had large breakfasts every morning, and wholesome, preservative, Red #40, and carageenan free meals. And all of my siblings and my parents have healthy weights, low blood pressure, and regular digestive systems.
I plan on cooking this way for my children. If I can afford it, I'll add some organic fruits and vegetables to the mix (I've been sold on organic apples. They actually have flavor, and appropriate skin thickness! That's really the only reason) I'd want a big garden and fruits trees around my yard. And someday I'll learn how to can!
I think mom cooked this way because it was cheaper. Making homemade meals is not always convenient, but I believe the long term benefits were far more convenient than anything else. :) Plus, the results taste SO MUCH BETTER!!
I'm off to enjoy a meal I just made of homemade chili, cinnamon rolls and a rare trat of fresh squeezed lemonade from my grandparents lemon tree!
Homemade means this:
Hamburger helper.... is not homemade
Kraft macaroni and cheese... is not homemade
Neither is cake, bread, muffins, cookies or brownies from a box
We weren't starved from such things. Making cake from a box is MUCH easier and a lot less fail proof. But it is not homemade. Yeah, you made it at home... but I don't think it deserves the same praise and glory as a cake made from scratch. Especially if you use fake frosting. We would also occasionally eat Mac and cheese if we had a babysitter. But one mom found a really good recipe for Macaroni and cheese, we were all hooked on that.
Now, my father's reasoning I believe lies in the ingredients. Check the ingredients on a package of any store-bought processed meal or snack. Processed foods contain more fat, sugar, and salt. They might not blatanly tell you that, but they do. High fructose corn syrup, sodium, dextrose, anything -ose. Not to mention the unpronouncable "others". Preservatives, colorants, texture enhancers, flavor enhancers... The list goes on!
When my parents first got married, my mom told my dad that she did not make breakfast. If he wanted a big breakfast, he had to make it himself. I grew up on pancakes, literally almost every morning. I would eat 3-4 pancakes before soccer games, swim meets, school, and track. Cereal made rare appearances in our home. When we went to visit grandma she would call beforehand and buy our favorite cereals for us to eat during our stay. We would happily binge on Cocoa Pebbles for a few days, but always happily return to eating daddy's pancakes. He makes the best!!
So. We ate well. We had large breakfasts every morning, and wholesome, preservative, Red #40, and carageenan free meals. And all of my siblings and my parents have healthy weights, low blood pressure, and regular digestive systems.
I plan on cooking this way for my children. If I can afford it, I'll add some organic fruits and vegetables to the mix (I've been sold on organic apples. They actually have flavor, and appropriate skin thickness! That's really the only reason) I'd want a big garden and fruits trees around my yard. And someday I'll learn how to can!
I think mom cooked this way because it was cheaper. Making homemade meals is not always convenient, but I believe the long term benefits were far more convenient than anything else. :) Plus, the results taste SO MUCH BETTER!!
I'm off to enjoy a meal I just made of homemade chili, cinnamon rolls and a rare trat of fresh squeezed lemonade from my grandparents lemon tree!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
maybe exciting news will instigate more followers...
So I decided to share some exciting news on my blog! Mainly because I'm pretty sure no one read it, and we're to the point of sharing with everyone anyway.
I'M GONNA HAVE A BABY!!
That's right! in September, our life is going to be blessed with a mini-one-or-the-other, making this an official Mormon Mommy Blog. I like to think it's not THAT official yet, since I don't really become a mom until the baby is born... so I guess it's a Mormon Mommy in Training Blog. whee.
Another reason I wanted to blab the good news, is because I've been having some wacky dreams. So wacky and realistic, I made sure to double check at my ultrasound that there was only ONE baby in there and not three... The latest baby-related dream was very funny... and also ominous, because I'm sure this is bound to happen with my luck.
In my dream I had a bouncing baby boy. He appeared to be about 7 months old and I was changing his diaper in the dream. This particular diaper had not held the released contents of my son's bowels effectively. There was poop all over the boy. While changing his diaper he managed to kick his little feet free and stick them into his poop. Eventually, I managed to wipe up most of the mess and left him on my bed while I went to run a bath for him. I left him lying on the bed un-diapered (he was going straight to the bath) and returned in time to observe the conclusion of his urination. So now pee was all over him AND my bed! I was obviously upset in my dream at now having to find time to wash my bed linens. I stuck my baby boy in the tub and proceeded to wash him. While he happily splashed in the bath, I forgave him a little. He looked super cute! And then he pooped. Again. In the tub.
Now. If you do happen to read my blog. Don't be stupid and comment on my facebook wall. If you must, message me, or comment on the blog. I haven't made the "Facebook Announcement" I'm waiting until the end of February for that. And I'm not going to put an ultrasound picture up. It's my uterus, and in experience looking at someone else's "baby" or so they say, is always confusing. It was super exciting to see our baby, and got those pictures, but I don't wish to force a view of my uterus on all my facebook friends. And I doubt I'll post a picture of me and my belly. It's all exciting, and I can't wait to show, but I think the only way you get to see my big belly is if you have the priveledge of seeing me in person. Those are just my opinions. I don't condone others who put those pictures up. I understand all the excitement! Its just not for me. :)
I'M GONNA HAVE A BABY!!
That's right! in September, our life is going to be blessed with a mini-one-or-the-other, making this an official Mormon Mommy Blog. I like to think it's not THAT official yet, since I don't really become a mom until the baby is born... so I guess it's a Mormon Mommy in Training Blog. whee.
Another reason I wanted to blab the good news, is because I've been having some wacky dreams. So wacky and realistic, I made sure to double check at my ultrasound that there was only ONE baby in there and not three... The latest baby-related dream was very funny... and also ominous, because I'm sure this is bound to happen with my luck.
In my dream I had a bouncing baby boy. He appeared to be about 7 months old and I was changing his diaper in the dream. This particular diaper had not held the released contents of my son's bowels effectively. There was poop all over the boy. While changing his diaper he managed to kick his little feet free and stick them into his poop. Eventually, I managed to wipe up most of the mess and left him on my bed while I went to run a bath for him. I left him lying on the bed un-diapered (he was going straight to the bath) and returned in time to observe the conclusion of his urination. So now pee was all over him AND my bed! I was obviously upset in my dream at now having to find time to wash my bed linens. I stuck my baby boy in the tub and proceeded to wash him. While he happily splashed in the bath, I forgave him a little. He looked super cute! And then he pooped. Again. In the tub.
Now. If you do happen to read my blog. Don't be stupid and comment on my facebook wall. If you must, message me, or comment on the blog. I haven't made the "Facebook Announcement" I'm waiting until the end of February for that. And I'm not going to put an ultrasound picture up. It's my uterus, and in experience looking at someone else's "baby" or so they say, is always confusing. It was super exciting to see our baby, and got those pictures, but I don't wish to force a view of my uterus on all my facebook friends. And I doubt I'll post a picture of me and my belly. It's all exciting, and I can't wait to show, but I think the only way you get to see my big belly is if you have the priveledge of seeing me in person. Those are just my opinions. I don't condone others who put those pictures up. I understand all the excitement! Its just not for me. :)
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
music majoring
There are some in this world I know who don't appreciate music. They feel it their duty to let musicians know they "are wasting their time" or not "producing anything worthwhile to society" It's very upsetting to meet these people. I read an article on Yahoo! about the best majors to pick in college for the best job market and lucrative income. Music related careers were listed as the ones where they made the least amount of money and also the most cut back as teachers in public funding.
Both statements are true, but only to a point. Yes, unfortunately, a performing musician usually doesn't make much money. But a very talented musician makes more. It takes practically a lifetime to get there for the normally talented musician, but eventually, you can make a comfortable income. The best way to guarantee a livable income is to be a music teacher. And yes, even more sad is this ridiculous notion that music is not an essential subject to be studied. Because of this, music jobs are cut, choir and orchestra programs are non-existent, or get the boot. (It's this way with all arts). Because of this there is a lack of needed positions. But does Yahoo! Have to come out and bash all hope out? They could have used a little more tact. But, Yahoo! is pretty tacky...
I do not plan on making bank with my education choice. I really don't care, or even want to make bank. What matters is I am doing something I love and I'm good at. Being a music education major doesn't make me stupid, either. I have a wonderful father who told me before I left for college, that I had the capacity to be anything I wanted. I believe him. I know how to study, I learn well, and I work hard. That's all it takes to make it in any career. I just happened to choose music.
Now. To those music naysayers. Without music teachers, and performers, who would write the music for the American Idol singers you blast on your iPod? What about all those commercial jingles that persuade you to go buy, buy, buy all your gadgets and doo-dads to play music on? And when you get super rich from your "useful" "productive" and "beneficial to society" job, who's going to provide background music for your lavish cocktail parties, or wedding? A string quartet? Hmm...
I can't imagine a world without music. It's all around us. No matter how hard we try, it's inescapable. Music is in the wind, traffic, wind chimes, and in people talking. It's just unorganized. Music as we think of is simply organized pitches, timbres and rhythm. All blended together in a dizzying array of sequences, forms, patterns, chords, modes, scales, arpeggios, in a million different, complex, ways.Not to mention how music has been in society since the beginning of time. And since then songs have flowed through humanity, defining us, changing us-for good or evil, even. Music contributes to society just as much as a lawyer condemning a criminal of his crime.
So, don't dis us music people. If you hate music you might as well volunteer to lose your hearing to avoid it. Music is a mind boggling beauty God gave us to enjoy. So always sing your hymns in Thanksgiving to music and your ability to hear it!
Both statements are true, but only to a point. Yes, unfortunately, a performing musician usually doesn't make much money. But a very talented musician makes more. It takes practically a lifetime to get there for the normally talented musician, but eventually, you can make a comfortable income. The best way to guarantee a livable income is to be a music teacher. And yes, even more sad is this ridiculous notion that music is not an essential subject to be studied. Because of this, music jobs are cut, choir and orchestra programs are non-existent, or get the boot. (It's this way with all arts). Because of this there is a lack of needed positions. But does Yahoo! Have to come out and bash all hope out? They could have used a little more tact. But, Yahoo! is pretty tacky...
I do not plan on making bank with my education choice. I really don't care, or even want to make bank. What matters is I am doing something I love and I'm good at. Being a music education major doesn't make me stupid, either. I have a wonderful father who told me before I left for college, that I had the capacity to be anything I wanted. I believe him. I know how to study, I learn well, and I work hard. That's all it takes to make it in any career. I just happened to choose music.
Now. To those music naysayers. Without music teachers, and performers, who would write the music for the American Idol singers you blast on your iPod? What about all those commercial jingles that persuade you to go buy, buy, buy all your gadgets and doo-dads to play music on? And when you get super rich from your "useful" "productive" and "beneficial to society" job, who's going to provide background music for your lavish cocktail parties, or wedding? A string quartet? Hmm...
I can't imagine a world without music. It's all around us. No matter how hard we try, it's inescapable. Music is in the wind, traffic, wind chimes, and in people talking. It's just unorganized. Music as we think of is simply organized pitches, timbres and rhythm. All blended together in a dizzying array of sequences, forms, patterns, chords, modes, scales, arpeggios, in a million different, complex, ways.Not to mention how music has been in society since the beginning of time. And since then songs have flowed through humanity, defining us, changing us-for good or evil, even. Music contributes to society just as much as a lawyer condemning a criminal of his crime.
So, don't dis us music people. If you hate music you might as well volunteer to lose your hearing to avoid it. Music is a mind boggling beauty God gave us to enjoy. So always sing your hymns in Thanksgiving to music and your ability to hear it!
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Beauty
I truly believe every individual is beautiful in their own way.
Some just have to learn better ways of flattering their unique looks.
I've worked as a lifeguard for the past 4 summers. Sadly, I've become highly critical of what kinds of people should wear certain kinds of swimsuits. And unfortunately, I've come to the conclusion that 90% of the Americans should just not wear the swimsuits they wear. Not just because of the obesity issue that regulary swamps our media, but because a lot of the swim suits are flat out tacky and unflattering. They also reveal everything tacky and unflattering about a person. Yes, I think very heavy people should not wear a thong bikinis. Doesn't everyone? But if you have marijuana tattoed on your arm... maybe you should cover that up while at a public pool. Having your name tattooed across your stomach also seems a little strange.
Maybe I'm the swimsuit nazi, but when one gets bored watching people not drown... well you think of these things. And all I want is for people to be aware of their tackiness, and then be aware of how to show off their true beauty, realistically. To the fat thong lady... Maybe just hang it up in your room as motivation, Buy a suit to hug and caress your curves, not expose them. To the marijuana armed man: consider expressing your love for drugs in a more politically correct manner. To the tatted tummy: show off your waist with objects that won't stretch out and be ruined when you potentially get pregnant with triplets.
But really, everyone IS beautiful in their own unique way. But everyone CANNOT look like the fake people we see in the media. If we all learned to accept and appreciate our own bodies, then we wouldn't have to try and appear like their bodies. If it is individuality and personalization you seek in your style, consider embracing the mind, and make that the highlight of your wardrobe by going against the grain. Embellish that which gets undermined by the ubsurdity of sexual promiscuity being the epitomy of beauty. Reveal the beauty of your mind.
Some just have to learn better ways of flattering their unique looks.
I've worked as a lifeguard for the past 4 summers. Sadly, I've become highly critical of what kinds of people should wear certain kinds of swimsuits. And unfortunately, I've come to the conclusion that 90% of the Americans should just not wear the swimsuits they wear. Not just because of the obesity issue that regulary swamps our media, but because a lot of the swim suits are flat out tacky and unflattering. They also reveal everything tacky and unflattering about a person. Yes, I think very heavy people should not wear a thong bikinis. Doesn't everyone? But if you have marijuana tattoed on your arm... maybe you should cover that up while at a public pool. Having your name tattooed across your stomach also seems a little strange.
Maybe I'm the swimsuit nazi, but when one gets bored watching people not drown... well you think of these things. And all I want is for people to be aware of their tackiness, and then be aware of how to show off their true beauty, realistically. To the fat thong lady... Maybe just hang it up in your room as motivation, Buy a suit to hug and caress your curves, not expose them. To the marijuana armed man: consider expressing your love for drugs in a more politically correct manner. To the tatted tummy: show off your waist with objects that won't stretch out and be ruined when you potentially get pregnant with triplets.
But really, everyone IS beautiful in their own unique way. But everyone CANNOT look like the fake people we see in the media. If we all learned to accept and appreciate our own bodies, then we wouldn't have to try and appear like their bodies. If it is individuality and personalization you seek in your style, consider embracing the mind, and make that the highlight of your wardrobe by going against the grain. Embellish that which gets undermined by the ubsurdity of sexual promiscuity being the epitomy of beauty. Reveal the beauty of your mind.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Why football?!
I just don't get it.
WHY?!?
Why do people like football? As I write this post, I'm sure all football players/fans will be thinking of ways to pommel me into the ground, but really? Why on earth does anybody like this sport?
Reasons it makes no sense:
1. All the pauses. The clock will run for a minute straight. Tops. Then we need to stop it so everyone can get situated to run at each other again and try to get to the other end of the field. Sure it sounds fun, but it's unbelievably boring to watch. You get your hopes up and then boom. Wait around for 3 minutes for a whopping 30 second of play. Then by the time "15 minutes" of the first quarter have gone by it's really been an hour. So, you end up wasting 4ish hours, in freezing cold, behind the fat, smelly beer-burp man, who is yelling for the opposite team.
2. It's football... and yet they mainly toss, throw, and catch... with hands...
3. Weather. Sometimes it's favorable... it you live in Texas, or the south. Anywhere else it's freaking cold, and the metal benches do not help.
4. Other people. You're around all these people who momentarily lose any sense of humanity. Ever seen the mess left behind after a game? It atrocious! Not to include the leaky, smelly bathrooms. Plus, there are so many people, you inevitably have to sit next to one of the following: Drunk, fat, hot-dog fart man(essentially the same as aforementioned beer-burp man). Slutty, middle-aged, fake boob mom. Her son is some lunk of a guy on the team. Frat boys, drunk, naked and profane. Family-with-whiny-children-that-parents-ignore.(The kids have it figured out. It's cold, loud and boooring!) Female students wearing inane amounts of perfume, heels of death, and too-little clothing. They scream at the wrong times, or gossip the whole time. Or the band. Collection of louder than loud, nerdy students.(I can say that. I am one).
5. On a more pronounced tone, the football team is notoriously the money sucking vacuum in any scholastic organization. Some schools are worse than others, and the football team avoids program cuttage before art, music, Science, English, Math, and all other sports teams. (usually in that order, too). More people make it into professions completely unrelated to anything football related, and even fewer make it to a professional football playing career.
6. All the advertising. My stance on how evil advertising is remains steadfast and unshakeable. So, in combination with all the breaks and pauses in football comes a flurry of advertisements. Even stadiums are filled with a mishmash of "supporting" companies. And super bowl commercials are famous. I know people who watch the super bowl for the commercials alone. Tell me, America, how is that NOT brainwashing?
So again, to the 90-something percent of Americans who adore football for some strange, baffling reason; could ya calm down? It's really not that great.
Also, please do not even attempt to change my opinion. I've felt this way since I was five years old and couldn't figure out why my daddy was glued to the screen during the autumn. Once I'm done with marching band, I will probably never even go to a football game ever again.
WHY?!?
Why do people like football? As I write this post, I'm sure all football players/fans will be thinking of ways to pommel me into the ground, but really? Why on earth does anybody like this sport?
Reasons it makes no sense:
1. All the pauses. The clock will run for a minute straight. Tops. Then we need to stop it so everyone can get situated to run at each other again and try to get to the other end of the field. Sure it sounds fun, but it's unbelievably boring to watch. You get your hopes up and then boom. Wait around for 3 minutes for a whopping 30 second of play. Then by the time "15 minutes" of the first quarter have gone by it's really been an hour. So, you end up wasting 4ish hours, in freezing cold, behind the fat, smelly beer-burp man, who is yelling for the opposite team.
2. It's football... and yet they mainly toss, throw, and catch... with hands...
3. Weather. Sometimes it's favorable... it you live in Texas, or the south. Anywhere else it's freaking cold, and the metal benches do not help.
4. Other people. You're around all these people who momentarily lose any sense of humanity. Ever seen the mess left behind after a game? It atrocious! Not to include the leaky, smelly bathrooms. Plus, there are so many people, you inevitably have to sit next to one of the following: Drunk, fat, hot-dog fart man(essentially the same as aforementioned beer-burp man). Slutty, middle-aged, fake boob mom. Her son is some lunk of a guy on the team. Frat boys, drunk, naked and profane. Family-with-whiny-children-that-parents-ignore.(The kids have it figured out. It's cold, loud and boooring!) Female students wearing inane amounts of perfume, heels of death, and too-little clothing. They scream at the wrong times, or gossip the whole time. Or the band. Collection of louder than loud, nerdy students.(I can say that. I am one).
5. On a more pronounced tone, the football team is notoriously the money sucking vacuum in any scholastic organization. Some schools are worse than others, and the football team avoids program cuttage before art, music, Science, English, Math, and all other sports teams. (usually in that order, too). More people make it into professions completely unrelated to anything football related, and even fewer make it to a professional football playing career.
6. All the advertising. My stance on how evil advertising is remains steadfast and unshakeable. So, in combination with all the breaks and pauses in football comes a flurry of advertisements. Even stadiums are filled with a mishmash of "supporting" companies. And super bowl commercials are famous. I know people who watch the super bowl for the commercials alone. Tell me, America, how is that NOT brainwashing?
So again, to the 90-something percent of Americans who adore football for some strange, baffling reason; could ya calm down? It's really not that great.
Also, please do not even attempt to change my opinion. I've felt this way since I was five years old and couldn't figure out why my daddy was glued to the screen during the autumn. Once I'm done with marching band, I will probably never even go to a football game ever again.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Wow. I just found this. My old high school blog. I couldn't remember the password to get to this so I made a whole new blog. I'm married now. To a wonderful man. He's not what I expected, but the most important things matter, and that is that he is a loving, supportive and active member with an unshakable testimony. He does make me laugh. He's just as energetic and active as I am, that's a plus. And yes, I do share a bed with him. It's not as "ew" as I would think. It quite comforting to have another warm body next to you. I'm usually cold. He has truly become my best friend. He knows more than just what I'm thinking, but knows how to deal with me and help me reach my goals. He takes care of me, and lets me take care of him in return. I'm happy! Marriage truly is about being equal. I guess I was so afraid it would end up being a cliche 1950s home where the wife has little to no say in matters. But it isn't. And I doubt it will ever turn out that way.
I am now a music major with a secret life as an English guru. I figure, I can always read, and write on my own time and not for a class or job. Yet I still have SO much to learn about music. I don't think I'll ever learn it all. I read every book either, but I cannot perform my French horn with out being the very best I can at it. And I want to perform.
I'm thankful for the experiences and friends I had growing up and in high school. I'm thankful for my family and everything my parents taught me. Being a cheesy Mormon is inevitable with my background. I'll always probably fight that, but one day I'll be glad it was always in my blood.
I am now a music major with a secret life as an English guru. I figure, I can always read, and write on my own time and not for a class or job. Yet I still have SO much to learn about music. I don't think I'll ever learn it all. I read every book either, but I cannot perform my French horn with out being the very best I can at it. And I want to perform.
I'm thankful for the experiences and friends I had growing up and in high school. I'm thankful for my family and everything my parents taught me. Being a cheesy Mormon is inevitable with my background. I'll always probably fight that, but one day I'll be glad it was always in my blood.
Friday, April 4, 2008
another wannabe song
During each lifetime we open doors
To let certain people inside
For better or worse; blessing or curse
They change us or help us find-
Something new
Some make us laugh, some make us cry
Others teach, others lie
Many love, and many hate
In us they create-
Something new
To let certain people inside
For better or worse; blessing or curse
They change us or help us find-
Something new
Some make us laugh, some make us cry
Others teach, others lie
Many love, and many hate
In us they create-
Something new
Sunday, March 30, 2008
'Doctor Drinks Yucky Drug in the Name of Science'
This was the name of an article in the newspaper. I kid you not. It made me laugh so hard that I HAD to give my own story. They were asking for it.
Doctor Glomroff was a young and eager doctor. That is, he was until he drank Zooflogh. He had his whole life ahead of him, a young doctor, recently married and with a beautiful wife expecting their first son. He wasunfortunatly caught up with a terrible scandal in Throft Medical University. A scandal accusing him and several other young doctors, of one-upping the older doctors. The men were caught in the act of bribing, and bullying the patients of other doctors to become their own patients. Experts called it "Medical Mutiny". He felt the only way to regain his medical reputation was to submit to human testing for the new "wonder drug" created by fellowcollegue Professor Hilda V. Snodtrapp. One of the doctors who would have been affected by the outrageous mutiny. Zooflogh was the name of the drug and it was designed to lessen allergy symptoms from animal-induced allergies. Snodtrapp's theory, was if one was a partially weakened animal, the allergies would simply not occur. The idea was brilliant, well-represented and fresh.Glomroff , who had experienced extreme animal allergies since youth promptly volunteered, in the name of science, to be the first human test. His hope was to be able to erase his reputation of taking part in what he called "the wrong crowd".
Snodtrapp was enthusiastic for Glomroff's support, and praised the man who once tried to rob her of patients for his bravery.
On Friday, November 13th, Glomroff bravely walked into Snodtrapp's dim basement laborotory. With friends, media, fellow doctors, scientists and eager onlookers, Glomroff swollowed the thick, pink medicine, and was ushered into a room previously arranged to house a plethora of animal allergens.
Over the microphone, Glomroff reported his observations as the first allergen was introduced - dog. "The medicine should be flavored," he noted, "it shouldn't have to smell like wet dog."Glomroff sat in the room for a full five minutes, praising the fact he wasn't experiencing any of his usual symptoms when he was normally around dog allergens which included itchy hands, wheezing, and a runny nose. "I can usually tell there's a dog nearby, because my nose starts drooling." he joked.
Glomroff was in the control room for a full 3 hours until the problems started. His nose started to drool. Proliferously. Snodtrapp was pleased and made a note to up the consistency dose. "I gave him a weakened dosage. I needed to see how long it would last." she reported.
Glomroff was about to be escorted out of the room when his countenence suddenly contorted. He began snarling, and drooling, from the mouth this time. His features strongly reembled a dog's as tufts of hair suddenly spouted from his back and arms. He ripped off his shirt and howled. When security tried to contain him, he growled and lunged, biting three men. Then heesaped into the lab wounding another eight men, and four women. Including Professor Snodtrapp, who dropped the antidote. Glamroff's figure increased by more than six times his original size! A security guard finally tranquilized Glomroff before he was bitten.
Glomroff is currently detained, but is raging in a secure cell on Alcatraz. The injured victims are being closely monitered. Snodtrapp is by far the most injured. As the ambulence took her away she was hysterical and was heard to cry "I fear I have created the werewolf!"
Further investigation is taking place to see what treatment is available and if these wolfish side effects can be avoided.
Doctor Glomroff was a young and eager doctor. That is, he was until he drank Zooflogh. He had his whole life ahead of him, a young doctor, recently married and with a beautiful wife expecting their first son. He wasunfortunatly caught up with a terrible scandal in Throft Medical University. A scandal accusing him and several other young doctors, of one-upping the older doctors. The men were caught in the act of bribing, and bullying the patients of other doctors to become their own patients. Experts called it "Medical Mutiny". He felt the only way to regain his medical reputation was to submit to human testing for the new "wonder drug" created by fellowcollegue Professor Hilda V. Snodtrapp. One of the doctors who would have been affected by the outrageous mutiny. Zooflogh was the name of the drug and it was designed to lessen allergy symptoms from animal-induced allergies. Snodtrapp's theory, was if one was a partially weakened animal, the allergies would simply not occur. The idea was brilliant, well-represented and fresh.Glomroff , who had experienced extreme animal allergies since youth promptly volunteered, in the name of science, to be the first human test. His hope was to be able to erase his reputation of taking part in what he called "the wrong crowd".
Snodtrapp was enthusiastic for Glomroff's support, and praised the man who once tried to rob her of patients for his bravery.
On Friday, November 13th, Glomroff bravely walked into Snodtrapp's dim basement laborotory. With friends, media, fellow doctors, scientists and eager onlookers, Glomroff swollowed the thick, pink medicine, and was ushered into a room previously arranged to house a plethora of animal allergens.
Over the microphone, Glomroff reported his observations as the first allergen was introduced - dog. "The medicine should be flavored," he noted, "it shouldn't have to smell like wet dog."Glomroff sat in the room for a full five minutes, praising the fact he wasn't experiencing any of his usual symptoms when he was normally around dog allergens which included itchy hands, wheezing, and a runny nose. "I can usually tell there's a dog nearby, because my nose starts drooling." he joked.
Glomroff was in the control room for a full 3 hours until the problems started. His nose started to drool. Proliferously. Snodtrapp was pleased and made a note to up the consistency dose. "I gave him a weakened dosage. I needed to see how long it would last." she reported.
Glomroff was about to be escorted out of the room when his countenence suddenly contorted. He began snarling, and drooling, from the mouth this time. His features strongly reembled a dog's as tufts of hair suddenly spouted from his back and arms. He ripped off his shirt and howled. When security tried to contain him, he growled and lunged, biting three men. Then heesaped into the lab wounding another eight men, and four women. Including Professor Snodtrapp, who dropped the antidote. Glamroff's figure increased by more than six times his original size! A security guard finally tranquilized Glomroff before he was bitten.
Glomroff is currently detained, but is raging in a secure cell on Alcatraz. The injured victims are being closely monitered. Snodtrapp is by far the most injured. As the ambulence took her away she was hysterical and was heard to cry "I fear I have created the werewolf!"
Further investigation is taking place to see what treatment is available and if these wolfish side effects can be avoided.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
My True Love
I watched Stardust yesterday. It was so cute! Probably one of my new favorite movies. But I got to thinking about this whole "true love" thing. Who is my true love? I guess I'm just being a hopeless romantic, but I decided to make a list of what I hope my true love will do and be like:
He has to have a sense of humor and make me laugh everyday
I want him to be a worthy member of my church, who served a full-time mission and loves the gospel.
It's be really nice if he can cook, and clean.... take care of himself, but he HAS to make amazing chocolate chip cookies.
I want him to know just about everything about me. I have this theory that that's pretty much what true love is anyway. Plus, if he can look at me and pretty much know what I'm thinking/ how I'll react, he's definetly a sensitive guy that any girl would love anyway.
He has to be active, or at least be wholly supportive of my goals to run marathons, tri-atheletes etc. I want to go on hikes or ride my bike with him at least.
I want him to love music. Music is a big part of my life, and the way I see it, is if he doesn't love music, he doesn't love me.
Loves me for my mind and considers my "hottness" to just be a huge benefit. Respects my feminist rants as well as other women.
Easy to talk to. I don't want a day to go by where I feel like I can't crawl into (oh, our bed, I guess... ew.) and tell him everything that happened, and how I feel at the end of the day. Also, I'd like to talk about anything that's going on in the world, debate politics, discuss philosophical, or just things in life at great lengths.
Creativity is essential. I don't want things to get boring in life. His proposal better be amazing, with an original, yet smallish ring. silver. And any dates better not be the same ol' dinner and movie... everytime! It's okay every once in a while, but interesting variety is always really cool.
Puts up with my drama, and mood in the morning/not getting enough sleep(I'm nasty). And buys me fruit during "that time of month" (it's what I ALWAYS crave!) and treats me like a princess when I'm pregnant, because I am SURE I will not enjoy it.
Lets ME spoil HIM. because if he's as amazing as I hope, he deserves it!
Gives me lots of flowers, or ones I can plant. even better! I love flowers!!!
I'm sure the list will go on and on if I let it. But if I do, I'll never get married because the list is too long! Oh well, I just hope that I will have a shining, "happily ever after" true love, husband.... in about 7 years!
He has to have a sense of humor and make me laugh everyday
I want him to be a worthy member of my church, who served a full-time mission and loves the gospel.
It's be really nice if he can cook, and clean.... take care of himself, but he HAS to make amazing chocolate chip cookies.
I want him to know just about everything about me. I have this theory that that's pretty much what true love is anyway. Plus, if he can look at me and pretty much know what I'm thinking/ how I'll react, he's definetly a sensitive guy that any girl would love anyway.
He has to be active, or at least be wholly supportive of my goals to run marathons, tri-atheletes etc. I want to go on hikes or ride my bike with him at least.
I want him to love music. Music is a big part of my life, and the way I see it, is if he doesn't love music, he doesn't love me.
Loves me for my mind and considers my "hottness" to just be a huge benefit. Respects my feminist rants as well as other women.
Easy to talk to. I don't want a day to go by where I feel like I can't crawl into (oh, our bed, I guess... ew.) and tell him everything that happened, and how I feel at the end of the day. Also, I'd like to talk about anything that's going on in the world, debate politics, discuss philosophical, or just things in life at great lengths.
Creativity is essential. I don't want things to get boring in life. His proposal better be amazing, with an original, yet smallish ring. silver. And any dates better not be the same ol' dinner and movie... everytime! It's okay every once in a while, but interesting variety is always really cool.
Puts up with my drama, and mood in the morning/not getting enough sleep(I'm nasty). And buys me fruit during "that time of month" (it's what I ALWAYS crave!) and treats me like a princess when I'm pregnant, because I am SURE I will not enjoy it.
Lets ME spoil HIM. because if he's as amazing as I hope, he deserves it!
Gives me lots of flowers, or ones I can plant. even better! I love flowers!!!
I'm sure the list will go on and on if I let it. But if I do, I'll never get married because the list is too long! Oh well, I just hope that I will have a shining, "happily ever after" true love, husband.... in about 7 years!
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
homlessness
I recently traveled all over my state auditioning for various schools with my French horn. I went through the largest city and was slightly shocked to see two homeless men on the side of the road holding up cardboard signs. Call me naive, but in my small town, I honestly don't know of many homeless individuals. I've encountered homeless people before, but for some reason this time really hit me and I felt like running out of the car giving them all my money and a huge hug. I couldn't look at them.
We passed by the first man pretty quickly, but the second man was by the stop sign and the light was red, so we got to endure an uncomfortable moment while he sat on the corner with his sign, tattered clothes and dirty backpack, and my father and I sat in our minivan.
Several feeling rushed through my mind as we sat there for about 30 seconds. The first feeling incredibly grateful for all I have, and the chances I had been given to make good choices, and for making them. The second thoughts being along the lines of wondering what the man did to deserve his fate. His sign said, "Lost Everything. God Bless." No more explanation. No explanation was needed. It plainly appeared that I had been blessed with middle class fortunate circumstances, while he had the fuzzy end of the lollipop. I was thankful for those blessings.
Sitting at the stop light, the man caught my eye. He saw me watching him and briefly nodded. I gave him a weak smile, and then looked away, because I felt hot tears coming. I desperately wanted to call out to him and help him in someway. I wanted to give him some money, feed him, give him a ride, or just be his friend. I'm sure he needed one of those services. But I really didn't have much money I could give him, and since my dad was my driver and we were almost late for my next audition, I restrained myself. Society helped me rationalize my reasons for backing down by reminding me that there was probably a good reason he was on the street, and I wouldn't have wanted to be raped or cornered into buying him drugs.
Whatever reason he was on the street, my heart went out to him. Whoever he was, I'm sorry, and next time, I think I'll make a better effort not to judge him and help him somehow!
We passed by the first man pretty quickly, but the second man was by the stop sign and the light was red, so we got to endure an uncomfortable moment while he sat on the corner with his sign, tattered clothes and dirty backpack, and my father and I sat in our minivan.
Several feeling rushed through my mind as we sat there for about 30 seconds. The first feeling incredibly grateful for all I have, and the chances I had been given to make good choices, and for making them. The second thoughts being along the lines of wondering what the man did to deserve his fate. His sign said, "Lost Everything. God Bless." No more explanation. No explanation was needed. It plainly appeared that I had been blessed with middle class fortunate circumstances, while he had the fuzzy end of the lollipop. I was thankful for those blessings.
Sitting at the stop light, the man caught my eye. He saw me watching him and briefly nodded. I gave him a weak smile, and then looked away, because I felt hot tears coming. I desperately wanted to call out to him and help him in someway. I wanted to give him some money, feed him, give him a ride, or just be his friend. I'm sure he needed one of those services. But I really didn't have much money I could give him, and since my dad was my driver and we were almost late for my next audition, I restrained myself. Society helped me rationalize my reasons for backing down by reminding me that there was probably a good reason he was on the street, and I wouldn't have wanted to be raped or cornered into buying him drugs.
Whatever reason he was on the street, my heart went out to him. Whoever he was, I'm sorry, and next time, I think I'll make a better effort not to judge him and help him somehow!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
A verse to my song
This is a random verse I came up with last night. I kinda like it and I think I'll add more to it later And btw, it's Mozart's birthday today!!
I know it's a slow song,
But sometimes a slow song,
Is the best way to show how we feel
Perhaps then, a fast song,
A forget the past song
Helps us we all need to
Dance, dance, dance to the music
Dance because music is love!
I know it's a slow song,
But sometimes a slow song,
Is the best way to show how we feel
Perhaps then, a fast song,
A forget the past song
Helps us we all need to
Dance, dance, dance to the music
Dance because music is love!
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
WeirdFears
I also really don't like blood and guts that much. Seeing operations, or gory scenes on TV make me queasy. The prospect of being married and raising a family in the future scares me a bit too.
But, I have some weird little things that creep me out. For instance, when I wake up in the middle of the night with the unfortunate urge to pee, I have to plot out in my head exactly how I can get back into my comfy safe bed before the "toilet monster" eats me. I literally run back/scamper back to my room as quickly as possible because the roar of the toilet in the silence of the night scares me every time. This is something that has scared me since I was first potty trained had to pee in the middle of the night. So don't laugh too hard.
Along the lines of the "toilet monster" I have to run to take the trash out when it's dark. However, where I live a rabid coyote or something could eat me before I get back to the house(which is a mere 50 feet away). So, I guess that's a more reasonable fear. Maybe.
Thanks to an overactive imagination, Jurassic Park and Independence Day, aliens and Dinosaurs are always the evil villain, or monster that chases me in my nightmares. Even if the dream doesn't "feel" scary, the stupid dinosaurs always have the presence of something not-so-nice.
Am I just that weird?
Saturday, May 8, 2010
my letter
Another assignment I got a little too into. I'm section leader (thus revealing more of my nerdiness) and we had to write a letter of introduction to go out to all members of the band and future members. I initially started with a "valiant knight/battle" theme, but then changed it to avoid making the freshman think I was one of those uber nerds that pretend swordfight and religiously attend any medieval event. (which, in even further admittance to my personal nerdiness... sounds pretty fun. I like princesses!) this idea worked with this year's show a bit more.
Mello Agents:
You have been selected to serve in a top secret mission to play the F mello for the Pride of New Mexico Marching Band. Your mission is to infiltrate the organization, learn their ways and methods by mastering the music, and perfecting your marching technique. You will report to the agents Callie Schaub and Keisha Twitchell. You will recognize them by their status as “section leader” and they will present you with your disguise.
Include these items in your armory wardrobe:
• Protection-sunscreen, sunglasses, and hats will not only aid your disguise, but prevent the alteration of your original identity from harmful Las Crucian sun rays.
• Proper attire- nothing to draw too much unnecessary attention from the opposite sex, but enough to blend with the Aggie mass. Proper enough to provide quick reflexes and narrow escapes. Good shoes. No Flip flops. Speedy bike, foot or car chases are a possibility.
• Nutrition- Eat well. Espionage has no tolerance for inadequate nutrition or dehydration.
• Know the blueprints, and plan of attack, bring a lyre and flip folder.
• The Pride band will issue your F Mello arsenal upon arrival. This is your partner. Take care to embrace her full functionality and perfect intonation of the instrument. This IS your assignment. Play her perfectly. Know her pitch tendancies. Take care not to let yourself fall for the enticing tonality of this instrument. She’s only playing with your mind, and does not want to form a lasting relationship. She will leave you at the end of the season.
This is your assignment. Do it well. Report to the “section leaders”. Don’t draw attention to yourself, and learn all information you can. Good Luck.
Agents,
K. Twitch
C. Schwab
P.S. Destroy this message after reading.
Mello Agents:
You have been selected to serve in a top secret mission to play the F mello for the Pride of New Mexico Marching Band. Your mission is to infiltrate the organization, learn their ways and methods by mastering the music, and perfecting your marching technique. You will report to the agents Callie Schaub and Keisha Twitchell. You will recognize them by their status as “section leader” and they will present you with your disguise.
Include these items in your armory wardrobe:
• Protection-sunscreen, sunglasses, and hats will not only aid your disguise, but prevent the alteration of your original identity from harmful Las Crucian sun rays.
• Proper attire- nothing to draw too much unnecessary attention from the opposite sex, but enough to blend with the Aggie mass. Proper enough to provide quick reflexes and narrow escapes. Good shoes. No Flip flops. Speedy bike, foot or car chases are a possibility.
• Nutrition- Eat well. Espionage has no tolerance for inadequate nutrition or dehydration.
• Know the blueprints, and plan of attack, bring a lyre and flip folder.
• The Pride band will issue your F Mello arsenal upon arrival. This is your partner. Take care to embrace her full functionality and perfect intonation of the instrument. This IS your assignment. Play her perfectly. Know her pitch tendancies. Take care not to let yourself fall for the enticing tonality of this instrument. She’s only playing with your mind, and does not want to form a lasting relationship. She will leave you at the end of the season.
This is your assignment. Do it well. Report to the “section leaders”. Don’t draw attention to yourself, and learn all information you can. Good Luck.
Agents,
K. Twitch
C. Schwab
P.S. Destroy this message after reading.
an attempt at poetry
Another retrieved from facebook file. This was an assignment for my Astronomy class. Sometimes with projects like this, I get really into them. And the outcome makes me really excited. I actually got too excited about this project and ended up doing it slightly wrong and didn't get the A+++++ I was hoping for :( But I had fun! And I love Mars!
Mars was so mysterious
Once upon a time ago,
A man, quite delirious,
Percival Lowell took a go
And claimed to see canals on Mars through telescope.
The public went ballistic!
“The Martian’s!” They would scream.
Other scholars deemed “Unrealistic!”
But public favor did over dream
It took years of great revival
To get things settled down
Famous books arose about survival
From Martian wars with much-a frown.
Theories rose and theories fell
On what Mars was really like
Around 1965, Mariner 4, chimed her bell
And told Martian-believers to take a hike.
Photographs of barren land
Rocks and dirt, and dirt and rocks
Lots of craters, made things bland
No civilization or ounce of biological stock
Further explorations went to prove
Mars was dead.
No magma squish to make land move
Iron made Mars dirt red.
The atmosphere was much to thin and chill
And mostly CO2,
To handle life with any frill…
Mars would need more heat to brew
But wait there’s more!!
Scientists can all conclude
The life right now is just a bore.
But could there, would there, in the past
Be a sign of life, that died out last?
More missions sent.
Photographs and data came back
Careful analysis underwent…
Evidence of water? That’s wack!
However possible! It may seem!!
Geological finds are similar to Earthy rock
Suggests some H2O on this reddish rock
Samples of a little pebble
Show similarities of Earth’s hematite-y!
A rock formed here by water:
On a planet named after the lover of Aphrodite!
Life no more, but life again?
What else is new on this red sphere?
A space stations there in 2010!
A future there could soon be near!
Mars was so mysterious
Once upon a time ago,
A man, quite delirious,
Percival Lowell took a go
And claimed to see canals on Mars through telescope.
The public went ballistic!
“The Martian’s!” They would scream.
Other scholars deemed “Unrealistic!”
But public favor did over dream
It took years of great revival
To get things settled down
Famous books arose about survival
From Martian wars with much-a frown.
Theories rose and theories fell
On what Mars was really like
Around 1965, Mariner 4, chimed her bell
And told Martian-believers to take a hike.
Photographs of barren land
Rocks and dirt, and dirt and rocks
Lots of craters, made things bland
No civilization or ounce of biological stock
Further explorations went to prove
Mars was dead.
No magma squish to make land move
Iron made Mars dirt red.
The atmosphere was much to thin and chill
And mostly CO2,
To handle life with any frill…
Mars would need more heat to brew
But wait there’s more!!
Scientists can all conclude
The life right now is just a bore.
But could there, would there, in the past
Be a sign of life, that died out last?
More missions sent.
Photographs and data came back
Careful analysis underwent…
Evidence of water? That’s wack!
However possible! It may seem!!
Geological finds are similar to Earthy rock
Suggests some H2O on this reddish rock
Samples of a little pebble
Show similarities of Earth’s hematite-y!
A rock formed here by water:
On a planet named after the lover of Aphrodite!
Life no more, but life again?
What else is new on this red sphere?
A space stations there in 2010!
A future there could soon be near!
my peanut butter chronicles
I am an avid fan of peanut butter. Here are some of my afore-written odes and essays. More will probably follow if I am ever inclined to share my feelings on how marvelous peanut butter is again:
SO my lovely roommate requested that I take out my passions online instead of her.
Peanut Butter is fantastic. It has the amazing nutty aroma and the perfect zang of stick to your mouth goodness. And Jelly is even more superb. It's many varieties of smished fruit combine with the nutty smear of peanut butter make the perfect balance of what I can imagine how acids and bases balance each other out in a chemical reaction. And then the bread. Two solid slices of carby delisiousness keep the chemical balance together. The bread is solid, the peanut butter and jelly smooth and rich... like edible mud. All together the Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich is the Perfect Sandwich. It's like stepping into a pile of wet earth and feeling it squish between your toes, With wee bits of stable green grass poking through keeping the mud in place. It's stress relief after a day of rigid high heels. Peanut butter and jelly take the place of the aromatic earth, as it leaves a youthful oder of a room of elementary children during lunch. PBJ sandwiches are youthful. They keep us young and alive. Embrace the PB&J in you and keep it close to your heart. And may the kisses to your loved one be sticky, reminding you of your 3 year old childhood.
So I love Peanut Butter. I think its something I got from my grandpa who also loves the delectable condiment, as well as anything containing peanuts. But I wanted to write a note on a brand new Peanut Butter idea that I came across, and wanted to share and see if there were any other Peanut Butter lovers who also think this idea should come to pass. Here's the story:
My boyfriend, Kason, and I were giving our dear friend Angel a ride to a church dance. Angel got the hiccups and announced that the only way to cure her hiccups was for her to eat Peanut Butter (She's a Peanut Butter lover too). After this announcement a conversation ensued on what the best possible way to get emergency Peanut Butter to Angel when a case of annoying hiccups arose. Somehow, the conclusion was to make small packets of Peanut Butter, similar to small packets of Ketchup, or Mustard, or Mayonnaise that you get with hamburgers. Then you could also pair them with packets of jam or jelly and have instant healthy snacks on crackers. Or, you could save yourself from washing a spoon when digging in the jar for a smackeral of Peanuttiness. Plus, the biggest benefit, they are small enough for Angel to carry around with her and to whip out and stop her hiccups. Another great benefit! Ooh! FLAVORED Peanut Butter Packets!! or NUTELLA packets for the chocolate inclined!!
*disclaimer. This was an idea of Kason, Keisha, and Angel combined(not sure who for sure) and if you steal our idea we will sue you for a million jillion dollars and a lifetime supply of gourmet Peanut Butter. Plus stealing is bad and make you an automatic weenie. And if this is already an idea and you know where to BUY Peanut Butter Packets, please let me know!!!
SO my lovely roommate requested that I take out my passions online instead of her.
Peanut Butter is fantastic. It has the amazing nutty aroma and the perfect zang of stick to your mouth goodness. And Jelly is even more superb. It's many varieties of smished fruit combine with the nutty smear of peanut butter make the perfect balance of what I can imagine how acids and bases balance each other out in a chemical reaction. And then the bread. Two solid slices of carby delisiousness keep the chemical balance together. The bread is solid, the peanut butter and jelly smooth and rich... like edible mud. All together the Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich is the Perfect Sandwich. It's like stepping into a pile of wet earth and feeling it squish between your toes, With wee bits of stable green grass poking through keeping the mud in place. It's stress relief after a day of rigid high heels. Peanut butter and jelly take the place of the aromatic earth, as it leaves a youthful oder of a room of elementary children during lunch. PBJ sandwiches are youthful. They keep us young and alive. Embrace the PB&J in you and keep it close to your heart. And may the kisses to your loved one be sticky, reminding you of your 3 year old childhood.
So I love Peanut Butter. I think its something I got from my grandpa who also loves the delectable condiment, as well as anything containing peanuts. But I wanted to write a note on a brand new Peanut Butter idea that I came across, and wanted to share and see if there were any other Peanut Butter lovers who also think this idea should come to pass. Here's the story:
My boyfriend, Kason, and I were giving our dear friend Angel a ride to a church dance. Angel got the hiccups and announced that the only way to cure her hiccups was for her to eat Peanut Butter (She's a Peanut Butter lover too). After this announcement a conversation ensued on what the best possible way to get emergency Peanut Butter to Angel when a case of annoying hiccups arose. Somehow, the conclusion was to make small packets of Peanut Butter, similar to small packets of Ketchup, or Mustard, or Mayonnaise that you get with hamburgers. Then you could also pair them with packets of jam or jelly and have instant healthy snacks on crackers. Or, you could save yourself from washing a spoon when digging in the jar for a smackeral of Peanuttiness. Plus, the biggest benefit, they are small enough for Angel to carry around with her and to whip out and stop her hiccups. Another great benefit! Ooh! FLAVORED Peanut Butter Packets!! or NUTELLA packets for the chocolate inclined!!
*disclaimer. This was an idea of Kason, Keisha, and Angel combined(not sure who for sure) and if you steal our idea we will sue you for a million jillion dollars and a lifetime supply of gourmet Peanut Butter. Plus stealing is bad and make you an automatic weenie. And if this is already an idea and you know where to BUY Peanut Butter Packets, please let me know!!!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Dream Spidey Loo
I love Spiderman.
He is by the classiest and most original of all superheros. He's not extreaneously rich. He doesn't have millions of doo-dads and hum-haws. He leads a moderately normal life in his secret identity, and has emotional baggage no more complex than mine. (Mary Jane is annoying.) He can beat up bad guys with ninja agility and has rippling muscles. He IS the coolest superhero, and my mind will never change about that!
My infatuation with Spidey began in high school when the movies first came out. I didn't have a crush on Tobey Maguire. I had a crush on Spiderman! I actually thought James Franco was a lot cuter. Anyway. I bought Spiderman sheets for my bed in 10th grade. My friends began giving me miscellaneous Spiderman stuff for birthdays and Christmas. For high school graduation, my mom's family gave me an entire pool table full(the pool table in the basement was covered) of spiderman stuff. That's right. stuff. I was in spidey heaven.
In college, I decorated my side of the dorm room in blue and red. I had a huge Spiderman poster above my bed. My school supplies were all Spiderman. Pencils, pencil bags, folders and even back pack. I had spidey towels and washcloths. It was awesome.
Then I got married. While My husband likes Spiderman as well, I can't really stick a spidey poster above our bed, as it might make him jealous. Or people who visit our teeny apartment and get the 10 second tour would think we have really strange fetishes or marital issues. So the glorious spiderman poster has been rolled up and stashed in the closet.
I miss him. I miss coming home and seeing Spiderman's muscles. He protected me from the dorm weirdos, and always sparked fun conversations with my roommate's friends. So, today I decided that I would have Spiderman decoration in my house.
Now. The problem with spiderman stuff, is that 90% of it is geared toward five-year old boys. I don't have a five-year old boy. Nor a five-year old girl I could brainwash into Spidermanphillia. I don't have a kid. And when I do have a kid, I'm not so sure I want to share my Spiderman towel with him. There's a shortage of mature, classy looking spiderman decoration and stuff on the market. And I'm afraid to google "mature spiderman attire" THOSE kinds of people really do have weird fetishes and marital issues... or aren't married.
Nah. I've opted for the bathroom. Because reasons being, if I'm taking a dump, I like to be surrounded by pleasant things. I like it to be friendly. Spiderman is both pleasant and friendly. And if people use my bathroom during a social gathering of friends, they can come out of the loo and we can have a pleasant conversation about how "Spiderman freaking rocks, and makes much better bathroom decor than batman" I imagine bright colors and heroic displays of muscle awesomeness. Plus, I already have a spidey trash can.
The five-year old boy barrier strikes again. I can't seem to find anything of worth. I mean I don't want a silver spidey soap dish and wool-cotton biggie spidey towels. But the only things I can find are obviously for five-year old boys' bathrooms. For parents who have one five-year old son and feel the complusion to decorate his bathroom with cheap spidey crap when he will probably grow out of his spidey fetish in one year when he decides sports are much cooler.
I'm not a five-year old boy! I'm a 20-year old woman, and I want classy spidey in my bathroom! I probably will like Spiderman when I'm 50, because I plan on being a cool grandma.
I'm on the hunt for really cool Spiderman fabric, that looks like the vintage comic strip. And I'll make my own Spiderman shower curtain.
He is by the classiest and most original of all superheros. He's not extreaneously rich. He doesn't have millions of doo-dads and hum-haws. He leads a moderately normal life in his secret identity, and has emotional baggage no more complex than mine. (Mary Jane is annoying.) He can beat up bad guys with ninja agility and has rippling muscles. He IS the coolest superhero, and my mind will never change about that!
My infatuation with Spidey began in high school when the movies first came out. I didn't have a crush on Tobey Maguire. I had a crush on Spiderman! I actually thought James Franco was a lot cuter. Anyway. I bought Spiderman sheets for my bed in 10th grade. My friends began giving me miscellaneous Spiderman stuff for birthdays and Christmas. For high school graduation, my mom's family gave me an entire pool table full(the pool table in the basement was covered) of spiderman stuff. That's right. stuff. I was in spidey heaven.
In college, I decorated my side of the dorm room in blue and red. I had a huge Spiderman poster above my bed. My school supplies were all Spiderman. Pencils, pencil bags, folders and even back pack. I had spidey towels and washcloths. It was awesome.
Then I got married. While My husband likes Spiderman as well, I can't really stick a spidey poster above our bed, as it might make him jealous. Or people who visit our teeny apartment and get the 10 second tour would think we have really strange fetishes or marital issues. So the glorious spiderman poster has been rolled up and stashed in the closet.
I miss him. I miss coming home and seeing Spiderman's muscles. He protected me from the dorm weirdos, and always sparked fun conversations with my roommate's friends. So, today I decided that I would have Spiderman decoration in my house.
Now. The problem with spiderman stuff, is that 90% of it is geared toward five-year old boys. I don't have a five-year old boy. Nor a five-year old girl I could brainwash into Spidermanphillia. I don't have a kid. And when I do have a kid, I'm not so sure I want to share my Spiderman towel with him. There's a shortage of mature, classy looking spiderman decoration and stuff on the market. And I'm afraid to google "mature spiderman attire" THOSE kinds of people really do have weird fetishes and marital issues... or aren't married.
Nah. I've opted for the bathroom. Because reasons being, if I'm taking a dump, I like to be surrounded by pleasant things. I like it to be friendly. Spiderman is both pleasant and friendly. And if people use my bathroom during a social gathering of friends, they can come out of the loo and we can have a pleasant conversation about how "Spiderman freaking rocks, and makes much better bathroom decor than batman" I imagine bright colors and heroic displays of muscle awesomeness. Plus, I already have a spidey trash can.
The five-year old boy barrier strikes again. I can't seem to find anything of worth. I mean I don't want a silver spidey soap dish and wool-cotton biggie spidey towels. But the only things I can find are obviously for five-year old boys' bathrooms. For parents who have one five-year old son and feel the complusion to decorate his bathroom with cheap spidey crap when he will probably grow out of his spidey fetish in one year when he decides sports are much cooler.
I'm not a five-year old boy! I'm a 20-year old woman, and I want classy spidey in my bathroom! I probably will like Spiderman when I'm 50, because I plan on being a cool grandma.
I'm on the hunt for really cool Spiderman fabric, that looks like the vintage comic strip. And I'll make my own Spiderman shower curtain.
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