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Sunday, October 31, 2010

Ten in Ten--Day 1

Okay, I've decided that computer voting is WEIRD. I mean, fer reals, how is it humanly possible to earn 500 votes in an hour when you haven't moved for days? Is it plausible to jet from #24 to #11 in between Sacrament Meeting and Sunday School? 

Just saying.  

But this is what I'm up against. And I'm in it now. In it to win it. I know I can do this job, so let's GET Em!

I'm still fluctuating between #20 and #21. If you're new to this contest, I just need to stay in the top 20 until November 10th. I'm hoping this Final Countdown Giveaway will give me a little more exposure. Enough to keep me hanging in there for 10 more days.   

First I want to express my deep gratitude to each of you who have been faithfully voting for me and rooting for me. My stone cold heart has never been closer to cracking.  

And can I tell you a secret? Please don't tell anyone, but remember that day I threw that tantrum and almost chucked a spatula at my hub? And then I ran away? To my bedroom?Without any shoes? And waited for him to come after me and apologize for being a man? But he didn't?

Well the word he said that made me snap was . . . can't.  I hate that word. can't. Isn't it ugly? Especially when combined with the words make and it. My mom only made $5,000 a year, raising seven children, alone (in the snow) (uphill both ways), and I never heard her say those words. She probably thought it all day long, but she never said it. 

I grew up thinking I could

If I wracked my brain and figured it out. 

I grew up thinking there. is. always. a. way. 

Well, I've never told you this before, but I've always harbored this sneaking suspicion that my hub didn't think I could. At least when it came to my dream. And making it pay off.  

The pay off is so important. To some. 

For me it's not about the pay off. I just neeeeeeeeeeed to say what I need to say. Can't is not an option. 

Yesterday morning I woke up feeling kinda down about the odds and the obstacles in this dagnam voting race. I'm not going to say the "ch" word, but how do you combat certain strategies?  

As I laid there sulking my hub looked at me and said the most beautiful words. He said, "you CAN do this!" 

He said the word can. And it sounded so lovely. I think he has finally figured out my primary lub language.  

When I first started this competition he didn't say much. His silence was like an eyeball roll to the soul. But then he started seeing my votes adding up and multiplying. He saw that people were supporting me and moving me and pushing me forward. His co-workers started coming to him and telling him that I was funny and that they liked my blog.  And he started changing. . 

Now he's saying things to me like, "If this doesn't work out something else will. You're going to make something happen. You're going to make your dreams come true. People are behind you. You can do this."  

THAT is the most priceless gift you guys have ever given me! MAHALO!

So, let's give it a try. And if it doesn't work, let's give something else a try. 

Today let's just start by pounding the pavement and getting the word out about this opportunity in my lap. 

If you want to know deets and rules about my giveway click this link.

In short, alls you have to do is post this link http://www.sam-e.com/job/entries/506 to your blog or facebook page or twitter to get the word and ask your peeps to click on it and cast a vote for Debbie. (AKA Crash) (eeek. I'm blending my identities. That's kinda weird, huh?) 

Once you post the link, make sure you leave a comment on either my facebook wall or here in my comment box on the blog so I can enter you in the drawing for the prize of the day. If you post the link on all three venues you get three entries.

Todays giveaway was generously donated by my good pal in real life, Anjeny, from Ramblings of an Islander.

She donated two darling homemade letter boxes. One of a kind, peeps!

Each box includes four regular size greeting cards w/envelopes, four note-cards with envelopes, and four tags. Inside the flaps there is a little address book attached and a little pocket for storing postage stamps and and a pen in its holder.





Made with lub and aloha. And she said she'd throw in some Caramacs to boot!




Saturday, October 30, 2010

Ten in Ten Giveaways--The Final Countdown

Okay, my Final Countdown Giveaways start tomorrow. Unless you're reading this tonight and then the giveaways start on Monday.

It's a ten in ten kinda deal. Ten days left to vote and ten items to giveaway.

You do the math.

(It's one per day, in case you can't do math.)

As many of you know I am trying to win a stinkin' job as the next Good Mood Blogger for SAM-e Complete. It's a 6 month gig in which I would have to write 5 days a week about all the things that make me smile. And what doesn't make me smile, right? My mom says she could never think of that many things that make her smile, but it's only like 140 things! I could name 140 things that make me smile off the top of my head.

I would do it right now if I wanted to.

But I don't want to.

I have to get into the top 20 by November 10th to make it to the finals. Luckily for me I am in the top 20, but it's fierce and ferocious in the top 20 and some people have the power to move up 300 votes with a twitch of their nose. In fact I knocked a guy down to #21 last night and when I woke up this morning he was at #5.

I know!

I don't wanna get bumped at the last minute, hence the reason for my ten in ten Giveaway.

In other words I need to get the word out.

If I make it to the finals I make a video and voting starts all over again from scratch. Thankfully voting is only worth 20% in the finals.

So, here's the ten in ten dealio.

--Alls you have to do is post a link to my blog AND also to my VOTE FOR ME PAGE on either your blog, Facebook or Twitter. Tell your peeps about the ten in ten giveaway and ask your peeps to vote. For me. (If they vote for someone else it doesn't count.)

--Leave a comment in my comment box to let me know when you've completed the linky lub. If you post my link on all three venues you get three entries into the giveaway.

--Also, make sure you mention my ten in ten giveaway to your peeps.

There will be one giveaway per day until Nov 10th, (maybe two if I gather enough cool stuff).

Yes, you can enter every single day.

So here's a preview of some of the generously donated items:


Shanna Ormond, who goes by Just SO on her blog, Thesegolilypad is giving away a free photo shoot. She also has a photog blog called The Photog Blog.



It includes an hour long shoot at a location of your choosing. (SO is located in Utah County.) You will get a disc with all of your photos, editing included. It can be a family shoot, couple, senior or infants. No large, extended family, please.

Who needs Christmas card photos? I do! I do! Am I eligible to win, or would that be unfair?


Annette Lyon, that famous author extraordinaire, who gives really good conference presentations about heroes and who talks intriguingly fast, is generously donating a FREE copy of her long awaited chocolate book. Mmmmmmm. (Are you supposed to capitalize Mmmmm, Annette?) (She's a grammar goddess, that one.) She's funny too. You can tell by the title of her book:



If you don't win it, you can buy it here.

And then you can go to Annette's book signing in Orem on Saturday the 6th. I will be there too so if you want me to sign Annette's book I'm down with that. I'll give you the deets when I do the give away.


My good pal in real life, Anjeny, from Ramblings of an Islander, has donated two darling homemade letter boxes. One of a kind, peeps!

Each box includes four regular size greeting cards w/envelopes, four note-cards with envelopes, and four tags. Inside the flaps there is a little address book attached and a little pocket for storing postage stamps and and a pen in its holder.





Made with lub and aloha, peeps! And she said she'd throw in some Caramacs to boot!


And one of my favorite favorites in the music world, Cubworld, is donating a signed CD and T-shirt. Click my Today is Cubworld Day post to read my glowing thoughts about him.


You can also read about him here on Wikipedia. (He has his own Wikipedia page!!!) You will LUB his smooth velvety voice. (And I knew him when, btw.)


I have also secured some Kohls Cash and some major scrapbook supplies.


And can I ask you guys a question? Would anyone like a free ticket to the Bloggy Boot Camp in St. George on Nov 13th? Or is everyone already going? I can't go because my hub wants me to go to Colorado with him, but would that motivate you guys to post my big ole' obnoxious badge on your blog or Facebook page? Cause I don't want to offer it if it ain't no big thang.


K, as soon as the sabbath ends, let's bring this train into the station!


Vote for Me
Good Mood Gig from SAM-e

(That was a figure of speech, btw.)



Friday, October 29, 2010

Visitor Passes

The worst part about trying to win a job with votes is that you start to forget things. Things that don't pertain to votes.  Like Laundry.  And like yesterday I forgot my daughter had gone to Hawaii. I served her up a heaping plate of chicken curry and set it on the table with the rest of the plates. 


When she didn't show up for dinner I was like, "Where IS that stinker?" And my kids were like "Uhhh . . . she's in Hawaii," and I was like, "But she LUBS chicken curry!" 


Then today I was making flubber in one of my kids classrooms and I TOTALLY forgot to pick up my 14-year-old from school. My 14-year-old who can't take the bus because he attends a school out of bounds. I pick him up every single day, but it didn't even cross my mind today. 


Until my hub called and said "Did you pick up Zach?"  


"Who's Zach?" I said.  


By that time I was already 40 minutes late. I drove to the school. And back. And up and down every street in our town on the off chance that he decided to walk. Then I drove back to the school and went searching. There was a dance going on in the gym, so of course I went in and started tapping kids on the shoulder. 


"Have you seen this boy?" I asked everyone. 


"What boy?" they said. 


"This boy," I told them, pointing to my face. "He looks exactly like this." 


No one had seen him, but while I was searching the dance floor a little pipsqueak ninth grader asked me to dance. I was just about to start busting a move when my son called. 


"Where ARE you?" he said.  


"I'M. AT. YOUR. DANCE!" I screamed into the phone. (It was kinda hard to hear over the Monster Mash.) 


"What are you doing at my dance!?" He screamed back. 


"LOOKING. FOR. YOU!" 


"Why would I be at a dance?"  


Turns out he was at a basketball game. 


"You didn't tell anyone you were my mom did you?" he said.  


Oops. 


So my daughter called tonight!  She went back to her old high school today to see all of her old friends.


So do you wanna hear the funniest story EVER! Iwa, are you ready for this? 


If you know anything about Kahuku High School you know that their motto is Red Raiders for LIFE. At least that's what the t-shirts say. 


For LIFE!  That's a long time, right?  That's like until the day you die, right?  


When we moved from Hawaii, school had just started. My two oldest kids wanted to go to school one last time to say goodbye to their life-long, childhood friends and teachers, but Kahuku High wouldn't allow them a visitor pass because they had attended the school previously.


"But they really want to say goodbye to all of their school friends and teachers." I told the secretary over the phone.


"They'll have to say goodbye to their life after school," The secretary told me back.


 Silence


"Sooooooo . . . do they get to keep their Red Raiders for LIFE t-shirts?  I said.


Click.


"Just sayin'."

So today my daughter went to her old school with her best friend and guess what! They STILL wouldn't give her a visitor pass. 


HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA


How heelarious is that?


They turned her away.


 They TURNED. HER. AWAY!  Because she attended Kakuku High School at once time. They told her she's not a visitor, even though technically she flew across the ocean to VISIT. 


Tell me that's not the funniest thing you've ever heard! 


My daughter didn't go away, of course. If there's one thing she knows, it's who she is. SHE'S a VISITOR.  She don't need no pass to tell her that.


So about the contest. It's FEROCIOUS, peeps! Crazy fierce competition. I don't know how people can get hundreds of votes within a matter of minutes. How do you fight that? But I'm fighting. I mean, YOU'RE fighting for me. Thank you kind blog peeps. 


My daughter said that everywhere she went on campus today people said, "Hey, I'm voting for your mom!' 


That made my eyeballs steam up a little bit. 


Thank you kind Hawaii peeps!


I want to win really really really really bad, but if I don't win then I'll just make my own good mood blog. And I'll buy myself a new computer and pay myself $30,000 to write about the things that make me smile every day. 


I'll have to take a loan out to pay myself, but if I pay myself with interest just think of how rich I'll be. 


Does that make sense? 
 

I'm going to start doing give-a-aways next week so if you would like to get a little air time and you have something to donate, please contact me at ctddiaires@gmail.com.


MAHALO for VOTING! 

Vote for Me
Good Mood Gig from SAM-e


Thursday, October 28, 2010

Quantum Physics

Remember that time I gave my daugther a ticket to go back to Hawaii for her 16th birthday?


Well she left this morning. (EEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee)


She called me from the Honolulu airport squeeling about the tropical flowers and the balmy breeze and the friendly sun in the bright blue sky and the intoxicating plumeria scent wafting through the air.


She may not have used those exact words, but I can translate.


It's so HOT!" she exclaimed.


Her exact words may have included sweat and armpits, but HOT was the gist of it.


My exact words would have included sweat and eyeballs. That's where I needed some anti-perspirant. I was just soooooooo happy for her. Happy that she gets to go back, and remember who she is. And where she came from.


But I was a teensy bit sad for me. That I don't get to go back. And remember who I am and where I came from.


I came from Utah, so I guess I'm already back.


It's funny how things go. And come. And then go again.


Or is the other way around what's funny?


Whatever.


It's like we have these little air pockets in our soul where the memories get stuck. For the most part we know how to manuever around them, but once in a while they come up and pop. And then there they all are, 17 years of your life, in your face.


Do I really live in Utah? It seems impossible. I had a whole life carved out for myself and my family in Hawaii . . .


But every morning I wake up here. In Utah. With a beautiful golden retriever sprawled out on the floor next to my bed.


Is that like quantum physics?


Am I getting too deep?


Speaking of deep, yesterday I went shopping with some of my young women from church so we could stuff stockings for soldiers. While we were driving my Laurel advisor said, "I had a deep thought today."


Of course we all leaned forward to engage in the intellectual stimulation about to pour forth from her mouth. In other words, we were ready to hang on her every word.


"Why is the snow white?" she said. "Why isn't it purple?"


Dead silence, followed by lively laughter.


"Can I blog this?" I said.


She granted me permission.


You know there are still boxes that I haven't unpacked. I've tried, but it sends me into a fit of tears. I haven't hung my pictures or photos or paintings yet either. I haven't even emptied my son's back pack from his last day of 5th grade at Laie Elementary.


I just can't face it.


Yet.


Do you guys want to unpack it with me? Together?


Maybe tomorrow.


I can't think about it today. I'm too pooped out from basketball games and practices and carpooling to and fro and here and there, plus trying to find someone to install new windows and fix the leaky roof and install new rain gutters. Plus I'm wondering how we're going to swing property taxes. Plus yesterday I spent most of the day at Primary Children's hospital with my hemophiliac son for his annual check up.


When I fell into bed it became clear to me that I'm not living in a Thomas Kinkade painting afterall.


Kinkade cottages don't leak!


And you never have to shove laundry off the bed in order to sleep.


But I do get a charge out of hospitals. It's seriously like a bolt of electricity for me. I would rather go to a hospital than to church.


Is that bad? That I feel more in-tune with the Universe when I walk the hallowed halls of a hospital?


While I was there yesterday I got some cool ideas for my magic quilt project. I also got pumped about turning Lulu into a magic dog so she can bring joy to all the sick kids.


(I also got some fun ideas for my SAM-e video if I can get my bootie up that ladder.) (I mean, if you can get my bootie up that ladder.) (Finally passed cleavage lady, btw.)


Hey, if you're not going to vote for Pedro, will you vote for me! Again.

(And again and again.)

UPDATE: I'm at 2188. #18. But people in the top 20 move up in spurts. Sometimes HUGE spurts. I am moving steadily--like 10-20 votes an hour. I'm getting about 400 votes a day, but I'm thinking I need to get 500 votes a day to stay in it.

Will you guys help me spread the word by posting a link on your blogs either to my blog or to my SAM-E page. MAHALO!


Vote for Me
Good Mood Gig from SAM-e





P.S. Just think how many hits I'm going to get from science students after this post is published . hee hee




P.S.S. I'm going to bed without editing. Sorry 'bout that.

Tally Ho!

I woke up early this morning and just laid there in the dark.


Only it wasn't as dark as usual so I pulled back the curtains of the 8 ft. sliding glass doors in our bedroom (nani nani) to find that my world was covered in snow.


For once I felt what it must be like to live inside a Thomas Kinkade painting.


FINALLY!



Do you have any idea how long I've dreamed of living inside a Thomas Kinkade painting?


Almost as long as I've dreamed of living inside a Robert Doisneau photo.



I mean, don't you ever wonder what goes on in those little cottages?


I think I might be right about one thing. Inside every Thomas Kinkade painting there is a beautiful golden retriever sprawled out next to my bed.


So I laid there for a while listening to my golden retriever breathing, and you know what my mind kept wandering to? My favorite bishop (sniff). And Herman, our best friend from college (sniff). And Stan, our first magic quilt recipient (sniff sniff).


A little tear slid down my cheek because they're not here anymore. And that's just weird.


But then I felt something for a second. It was a warm feeling, like they're not here, but they're not gone either. They're just living inside this beautiful painting.


Maybe with my dad.


(At least I hope my dad's there. What if he's on the outskirts of town in the Thomas Kinkade ghetto?)


I wonder if they've met yet? The four of them. Wouldn't it be weird if my bishop met my dad? I wonder what my bishop would say. I'm trying to picture it. Would he be like, "Hey, I know your daughter. I lived next door to her for 1o years. We used to coordinate Christmas lights and she served as the Relief Society President under me. She had a little hard time for a while, but no worries, I helped her through it."


I wonder if my dad would be like, "Really? So what is she like in real life?"


My friend Herman would probably say, "Well she's really crazy about sweet and sour chicken. Especially when I cooked it. And she picked a great guy. Her hub, he's been good for her. Very patient with all those holes you left in her soul."


And then Stan would probably say, "Alls I know of her is she gave me this magic quilt. And then she asked me to send her aloha to you." Then maybe he would hug my dad, and give him a lei.


As I laid there in that Thomas Kinkade moment, I felt comforted somehow. Maybe by the snow.


Or maybe by the impression I got that my lubbed ones are voting for me too.


And that they want me to step up (FINALLY) and take my place in the writing world.




Speaking of voting . . .


I hate to say it but things are kinda weird in the top 20. For instance, the guy in front of me, he just sits there, but if you get within 5 votes of him he can shoot up 150 votes in an hour. And then he'll just sit there again and I'll tick, tick, tick away at his votes until I'm close again and then BAM, off he goes. It's a tortoise and hare relationship we got going.


And WOW, Annie from New York just shot up over 300 votes in like 2 minutes. One minute she wasn't in the top 20 and the next minute she was number 15. HOLY COW! Maybe she's got the x-factor instead of me.


But I guess alls fair in lub and war. And blogging contests.


So they say.


And they usually gets the last word. (Along with anonymous).


Unless I can help it! I'm back at #20, but there's still two weeks to go, so let's pray slow and steady really does win the race.


As the Robinsons would say, let's keep moving forward. Tally ho~


(Was that the appropriate usage of tally ho?)


(Just googled it and yes, it's what the Brits say when they see a fox while hunting.)


(p.s. I hope I make it because I am pumped about the video.)


(p.s. s. I still haven't passed cleavage lady. But only 20 votes away.)


(p.s.s.s All my doctor tests came back normal. My hub read the results and said I'm in perfect health and that everything looks fantastic.)


(Do you think he's just saying that so I will live longer in order to finish raising his kids?)

Vote for Me
Good Mood Gig from SAM-e


Tuesday, October 26, 2010

The X Factor

Can I just make like my mother-in-law and say, Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness! Oh Gad! Honest to Pete! I'm in the top 20.


The TOP 20, baby!!!


Your voting power makes me verklempt. It's true what they say--EVERY vote counts. Every little tiny measly vote makes the last vote bigger and better and more powerful until united they stand, like a chorus of voices, swelling across the universe singing that Jack Johnson song, what is it again? We're better together?


Votes are definitely better together.


I think I should write a poem about that.


I'm not celebrating yet because it's dog eat dog in the top 20. Everyone is racing to get in and I'm just barely in. I need to get MORE in, you know? People are coming up from behind and from below and there's a lot of scratching and clawing going on. There's a guy in front of me who can get 150 votes in one hour if he so desires.


If I look up I can see the cleavage lady at the top of the page so that's where I'm shooting. Top 15. Two weeks left to vote so LET'S GET 'EM!



So I was trying to think of what to do for my video IF I keep my place in the finals. Like what makes me special? What makes me different than all the other candidates?


And then I came across this photo:



My son is clearly an X-man, right


So that makes me a mutant, right?


Does that mean I have the X-factor?


Ba-BAM

Vote for Me
Good Mood Gig from SAM-e



Monday, October 25, 2010

The "C" word and the "V" word

My silly goose daughter keeps checking my blog to make sure I properly disposed of that post about her first date. She seriously sat in Sacrament and listed all the reasons why it was not a date.


Oh, girlfriend, denial ain't no river in Egypt.


That's alls I'm gonna say 'bout that.


So guess what I've been thinking about lately? Besides votes. I've been thinking about loss. Again!


Another lubbed one passed away last week. (WHAT THE WHAT?) He was one our dearest friends from college. Herman, from Kiribati. He was a baker and a chef. He threw us an anniversary luau bigger than our reception (which technically wasn't that hard since we didn't have a reception). He flew to the mainland and made my brother's wedding cake. We helped him plan his wedding and we were there for the birth of his first two children. He even named his first son after my hub.


Cause of death: diabetes.


SIGH!


I'm sick of lubbed ones dying.


And then Lulu almost choked to death on a raw hide bone last night. Luckily I was still awake because I had to shove my hand down her throat and pull it out of her throat.


If lulu goes, I go! Fer reals!


But I don't wanna go. I wanna stay. Please let me stay.


I haven't gotten any of my test results back from my doctor's appointment yet and today I had to go get a sonogram because of some concern. The sonogram lady kept probing and probing and whenever I asked, "Am I gonna die?" she'd just smile and say "We're all gonna die someday, sweetie."


Okay, I fabricated that conversation, but what if I have the "C" word? The one that rhymes with answer.


Will you guys make me a magic quilt?


Will you guys vote for me NOT to have the "C" word? You've been such good friends thus far . . .


Speaking of votes . . . OMGOSH, you guys, can I switch gears? Put on your seatbelt so you don't get whiplash.


We are THIS close. Page FIVE! Number 23 in the race.


We are moving like a freakin' freight train here, which, in my humble opinion, feels sooooo dang much better than driving 25.


But now the heat is on and I've got to watch my back. I'm no longer the underdog. I'm on the radar, and I'm the girl to beat.


It's dog eat dog from here on out.


KEEP VOTING! Puleeease!


But keep voting clean. I have been told there are ways. Ways to slide in extra votes from one IP address, but the rules clearly state ONLY ONE VOTE PER DAY PER IP ADDRESS. I would really hate to get disqualified after coming this far this fast.


I've raised the bar and I'm now shooting for page 2--top 10. To be safe.


There's one girl in particular I really want to pass. The one whose profile pic is just her cleavage. She's got a great strategy, I'll give her that, because I know cleavage puts a lot of people in a good mood.


My own cleavage doesn't brighten a room so I'm calling all flat-chested girls everywhere to UNITE!


Vote for me and I'll bring flat back!


So, if I'm in the top 20 by Nov 10th then I'm officially in the finals. YEEEHAAAWW! I then have to make a video and the voting starts all over again. From square one. The playing field will be leveled. In the finals the voting is only worth 20% and the judges opinion is worth 80%. That means I have to BLOW. IT. UP. with the video!


But how? What the what would I do for the video? Besides cleavage!?


I really don't want to come in 2nd place. All my life I've always been a bridesmade and never a bride. Except for that one time I was a bride. But it was at my own wedding so that doesn't count.


I always almost win. In high school I almost won the drill down--2nd place. And I almost won Homecoming Queen--2nd attendant. And Martha will remember when I almost won the Turkey Trot--2nd place behind Cassie Rathgeber. And one year at BYU-H I almost won teacher of the year, but nope, I ended up as honorable mention. Darn that Merilee Webb.


The only time I didn't almost win was when I went to the National Cross Country meet in Fresno California. There were 376 runners and I came across the finish line in 375th place.

I almost lost.

You see my dilemma?

I'm sick of almost winning (or losing). I want to know what it feels like to take it to the hoop!


As FloRida would say, "Let's GET Em!"


(I just lub it when he says that.)

Vote for Me
Good Mood Gig from SAM-e




Sunday, October 24, 2010

I wish for cake

Okay, here's the cutest story ever told.



Remember that time my brother Stephen tested the universe? It was right after he read The Secret and consulted with Mr. Google to see if it was true. Mr. Google told him to visualize a purple feather arriving into his life within 48 hours, which he did. And it didn't.



The very day I read about this failed test on his blog I drove to Tooele to visit my twins at Hemophilia camp. I found them in the craft tent making masks. As I sat and watched them I suddenly noticed that sitting right in front of me on the table was a purple feather.



WHAT ARE THE CHANCES? I know!



Of course I snatched up the feather with the intent of driving past my brother's house and lodging it under his windshield wipers, but I didn't even have to do that because the very next day he dropped by my house unexpectedly on his way to a movie. I could hardly believe my eyeballs. Fer reals. He never drops by unexpectedly. Ever.



While my brother wasn't looking I slipped the purple feather into the front seat of his truck and then giggled like a school girl all night long because I had a secret. I was the cohoots with the Universe.



My brother thought it was cute that I interceded on the behalf of the Universe, but he didn't find it particularly significant. My daughter, on the other hand thought it was awesome.



"That's how the Universe works!" she said. "It doesn't just drop purple feathers from the sky. The Universe needs us to run it's errands."



Here comes the cute story part . . .



So remember a few weeks ago when Jiminy Cricket was trying to send me a message? But I just didn't get it? And remember when my daughter was going through that whole tennis fiasco and I turned into a gangsta rapper while she turned into Mother Teresa?


Four of her young women leaders were particularly supportive and compassionate after that incident so one day she came home from church and made them each a cake. While we were driving around delivering them we found one of the leaders outside taking a Sunday walk with her family. We pulled over, rolled down the window and handed her the cake.


She later told me this story:


She and her husband decided to take their kids for a Sunday stroll after church. Her three-year-old was riding in the umbrella stroller when he suddenly said, "Stop, mommy. I need to tell you something. So she stopped.


"Look!" he said, pointing up. "There's one star in the sky. I want to make a wish on that star."


"Okay, what do you wish for?" she asked him.


He thought for a minute, then said "I wish for cake!"


Just as they were finishing their walk my daughter and I drove up and handed them a cake.


How cool is that?


I mean SERIOUSLY, who has chicken skin right now? Raise your hand.


Me too!



There's a moral here. There's a definite moral here: Be careful what you wish for because someone might pull over, roll down their window and hand it to you.



(Oh, I hope that goes for me too. I hope I get what I wish for. I hope, I hope, I hope!)


(Keep voting. I'm on page seven now. Number 34 in the race. Three more pages and I'll be in the top 20. WOOHOOO!).


Vote for Me
Good Mood Gig from SAM-e





(P.S. shhhhhhhh I have to say this real quiet like . . . I had to take that last post off because of my silly goose daughter thinking chocolate fondue don't count as a date. But we all know better, don't we.)

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Here's to you, Mr. Robinson

You know that old adage about how there's no use cryin' over spilled milk? (Or is it spilt milk?) Well today I was at the check stand at Walmart and the guy in front of me dropped a whole gallon of milk. And boy did it spill.


It spilled and it spilled and it spilled.


And I didn't even cry--probably because I knew the old adage like the back of my hand. He didn't even cry either. He just stood there and watched that milk spilling and spilling and spilling. Finally I jumped in and yanked that milk up off the floor so it would stop making such a mess. I felt like a regular hero, but he said nothing. He just stood there as if he'd never seen that milk before in his life.


I've seen that look before, about a month ago, when I watched a guy on a bicycle do a crash test dummy into the hood of an oncoming car. I was at a stop sign at the time. (Really I should write a book about all the things I see at stop signs.) The crasher got out of the car, wearing purple scrubs and a ho hum look, as if she hit boys on bicycles everyday and was bored to death of it.


The crashee popped up, brushed himself off and rode away. The crasher then shrugged, returned to her car and drove off into the sunset, whilst me and all the other witnesses with quarter sized eyeballs were scraping our jaws off the pavement.


Well that's the kind of moment I was having with the milkman. I spotted some industrial sized paper towels at the check stand next to us so I jumped into the nearest phone, threw on my red cape and began mopping up the mess.


You'd think that man would have tried to kiss me upside down or something, but no, he just turned and strolled off with that same ho-hum look on his face. Only difference was he wasn't wearing purple scrubs.


So I was thinking, maybe they should change that old adage to something more specific and instructive, like: There's no use crying over spilled milk, but there is some use in cleaning up your spillage, or at least helping the lady in the red cape behind you clean up your spillage. An upside down thank you kiss would also be appropriate.


...............................................................................

Okay, so the cutest thing EVER happened today. My boys came home from school and started campaigning for me to win this Good Mood Blogger gig. One of my twins, bless his heart, wanted to make fliers and take them around to all the ward members. hee hee hee Oh gosh, the embarrassment makes me blush.



My fourteen-year-old got on Facebook and spent at least two hours messaging all of his friends and posting stuff on his wall like, "HELP MY MOM WIN HER DREAM JOB!" I haven't seen him like this since he wanted to win History Day so darn bad. Do you guys remember that? The whole Jackie Robinson thing? Ironically, we went up to Snowbird tonight and on the way home I glanced up and there he was. Jackie Robinson. Hovering there on a billboard that read, "Here's to you Mr. Robinson." Exactly like this:



Look closely at this photo. Now move to the right. Further. Further. Further. Now move to the left. See how his eyes follow you? It's like one of them trick paintings at the temple. Well that's how it was on the freeway. He didn't take his eyes off of me for 30 seconds. And they were trying to tell me something. Something important.


But what?


If I can do it, YOU can do it?


It was like a sign or something.



Well, it was a sign. Literally. But it was like a figurative sign too.



Okay then, Mr. Robinson, here's to you! And here's to my boys!


Vote for Me
Good Mood Gig from SAM-e


Please vote again today and tomorrow! (OMGOSH, I have the cutest story to tell you tomorrow, btw.) Today was an OUTRAGEOUS voting day. Almost 200 votes. If we can keep that momentum up, we just might be in this race.

And if you want one of these ginormous buttons for your own blog you can grab one at the voting booth. I'm pretty sure there might be a give-a-way involved eventually.



Thursday, October 21, 2010

I think I can, I think I can . . .

Raise your hand if you're wondering how my hub took the blow.


The blow about the Utah cops sneaking into my room at night to watch me sleep.


He took it remarkably well, all things considered. I had to do some fancy wordsmithing, but he didn't file for divorce.


"Honey, remember how you always used to dream about fast cars and fast women?" I told him. "Well guess what! You're living your dream!"


And I'm living proof that the universe works in mysterious ways.


Yesterday when that lady cop pulled me over she asked me if I was in a hurry.


"Is anyone in a hurry at 30 mph?" I said.


She gave me an attitudinal adjustment. In the form of a ticket. Then she told me to be safe. And have a nice day.


I told her I was on my way to the doctor for my annual check-up, of which I haven't had in nine annuals. "Is that being safe enough for you?" I said.



On my way to the doctor I saw a boy I kissed in college at the stop sign. He smiled and let me turn in front of him.



I didn't even feel a flutter.



Okay, that's a lie. He didn't smile. I don't think he felt a flutter either. I don't even think he felt a glimmer of recognition. (But then I had really big hair in college.)



It was the first time I've gone to the doctor here in Utah so I was nervous. It was also the first time I've had a "complete" physical (if you get my drift) since I had my twins, so I was extra nervous. I get kinda weird when I'm extra nervous.



My new doctor was recommended to us by my old doctor in Hawaii so I thought that might be a nice conversation starter as I laid there getting everything sampled and drawn and smeared.


"So how do you know Doc N?" I asked.


"I was his little league coach," he replied.


"Oh." I said. "That's neat." (Neat? Who says neat anymore?)


Silence.


"Ironically Doc N. gave me my first pap in Hawaii," I told him.


More silence.


"And you're giving me my first pap in Utah."


Still more silence.


"Ain't life funny like that," I continued, my eyes on the ceiling. "I bet that thought never occurred to you while you were coaching Doc N. in little league."



"What thought?" He said.



"The thought that the two of you would give the same girl a pap--twenty years apart."



Screeeeeech! Can someone please smack me!



But fer reals, I was nervous and I had all sorts of questions going through my brain. Like, what if I have cancer. I DON'T WANNA DIE YET! At least not before I clean my bathrooms.


And what if Lulu is off somewhere getting herself knocked up with the neighbors Bassett Hound? I don't think Bassett Retrievers would sell very well, do you? Yes, Lulu's in heat, And YES, I've been wondering why they don't make doggy kotex.


Other things I fretted about as I laid there all vulnerable-like: I hope the bishop doesn't figure out I'm overqualified to be the YW prez. I really really like all the other leader ladies. And the girlz are okay too. I kinda lub hanging out with them. Right now the girlz are planning the entire Young Women in Excellence so last night we met with the class presidencies to help them make sashes. Each girl's parents had to come up with one word to describe their daughter and then we wrote the word in glitter across the sash.


I had a heck-of-a-time coming up with one word to describe my daughter. So I wrote a list and took it to her for approval.


"Refined," I said.


"Oooh, that sounds like an old lady word!" she said.


"Okay, hows about Genuine? or Authentic? Or Too-Legit-to-Quit?"


Silence.


"Corageous?"


"Mom! I don't want to know what word you're picking!"


"Sassy?"


"MOM! Just pick a freakin' word! But don't tell me what it is!"


I ended up chosing Brat.


(Mwuahahahaha.) (That evil mad scientist laugh is so yesterday, isn't it!)


So, now it's time for a commercial break.


The following message is a paid advertisement for Sam-E Complete and the Crash Test Dummy. Brought to you by The Little Train That Could:


A few days ago my daughter turned 16 and started looking for a job.


"OOOH, OOOH, OOOH, pick Smoothie King," I told her. I LUB Smoothie King. Even more than Jamba Juice. So while she was applying on-line we came across this other job for what is called the Good Mood Blogger. The gig is for Sam-E and entails blogging every weekday for 6 months about what makes you smile.


"I CAN DO THAT!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, because seriously, what doesn't make me smile, right? I got super excited about it and started telling my kids "I WANT THIS JOB. I have to win this job!" over and over.


But then I got kinda shy about it because it's a popularity contest and I hate popularity contests.


I almost gave up the idea, but then my fourteen-year-old son said "MOM, you have to try. You're always telling us we can do/be/get anything we want if we try hard enough."


"But someone already has 2,000 votes," I said. "I can't beat that."


He thought for a minute. "Well, you can make an announcement in Young Women on Sunday," he said. "And I can tell all my friends. And we can call all the family. And what about your blog and Facebook!"


"But that would be like campaigning and I hate campaigning. What if nobody votes for me and I look like a loser?"



That's when my youngest twin (by 1 minute) piped up.



"Those who have never failed have never tried anything new. Albert Einstein."



Oh golly, he got me there. So I'm trying it. For my kids. (And for the $$$$.) But mostly so my kids don't think I'm a hypocrite. (And for the $$$$.) (Fame and glory wouldn't be so bad either.)



So VOTE for me. And I promise there will be longer lunches and more recess. And no more homework.


http://www.sam-e.com/job/entries/506



See that link up there? Click on it. Every day. Until November 10th. PLEASE, please, pretty please. For the kids. (And the $$$$.) I need to get into the top 20 to make it to phase II--the video, and I'm at least 500 votes behind as we speak.


What are you waiting for? You can vote once a day, on every computer in your house. And at your office. And in your school computer lab. You can make up little slips of paper with the link and pass them out to all of the students you advise (Look to it Martha.) And you can force your students at gunpoint to vote for me for extra credit. (Look to it Miles and Keola and Lisa.)


MAHALO everyone!







Wow. I think I just overcome my fear of public speaking! YAY!

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Be safe. And have a nice day!

That's what the cops always say to me when they pull me over.


It's sweet and all, but do they really need to pull me over to tell me that? Couldn't they just text me?


I don't know what it is about Utah cops but they totally dig on me. It's almost creepy--like I'm Bella and they're Edward. They can't keep their eyes off of me. They probably sneak into my house at night and watch me sleep too.


I bet it drives them crazy that they can't read my mind, but I kinda wish they could because then they would know that I have a rare form of narcolepsy--I fall asleep if I drive 25 mph.


Fer reals. I have to go at least 30 mph or I slip into a coma.


So its official, I'm a five-mph-over-the-speed-limit kinda girl. And I'mma repeat offender. A triple threat. I'm once, twice, three times a lady.


A lady who can't drive 25.


What do they say again, third time is a charm? I hope my hub sees it that way when I tell him because I think three strikes is grounds for divorce in Utah.


What I don't get is how come my hub always gets a warning when he gets pulled over, but me I get tickets. If I were a cop for a day I would pull people over and give them cool tickets, like to concerts and stuff.


"Miss, can I see your drivers license? I need to know if you're 18 because I'm going to have to slap you with two tickets to see The Black Eyed Peas. "


When I saw the flashing lights this morning I told myself I HAD to cry--my cute-face cry, not my ugly-face cry. I HAD to work it. I've never been one to exploit my feminine charms on officers of the law, especially ones who want to suck my blood, but like all good little wives I was willing to compromise my standards for the sake of my marriage.


But the officer was a woman!


I can't do my cute-face cry in front of another women!


The upside is I get to go back to school.


Again.


I'll be able to complete a double major in traffic violation, which, if you think about it, makes me that much more credible when I tell the Bishop I'm overqualified to be the Young Women President.


Or maybe anonymous will help him figure that out for himself.



Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Direct Quotes, straight from the horses mouth.

HA! I got my way.


HA!


HA!


HA!


I finally got my way!


We prolonged our vacation 18 hours. And alls I had to do was hypnotize my hub and my kids and my IL's with some homemade chocolate chip cookies and some homemade chicken vegetable soup (laced with Ambien).


(J/K, I never use Ambien to get what I want.)


Oh, and I had to turn on the waterworks a little bit too. hee hee


(J/K. I never cry to get what I want either.)


Alls I really had to do was promise my hub I would get up early and drive my kids home @ 6 a.m. so they could make it to school. Easy Peasy.


I was so excited to spend one more night doing nothing that I suddenly had the urge to catch up on my cooking and my reading and writing and my movie watching. So I started cramming.


After I swam and slept, I started reading and cooking and writing. And then I pulled out the movies I checked out from the public library and we turned off football and baseball and stretched out for a movie night. All eight of us.


We decided on Elizabethtown--where love is a trip.


"Set against the backdrop of an incredible Soundtrack, Elizabethtown is an amazing trip of love, and loss and laughter," I read aloud to the family from the back cover.


My three favorite topics, right?


"Ebert and Roeper gave it two thumbs up," I assured all the boys-to-men in the family when they protested that they weren't gonna watch no chick flick.


So you know how I was watching my FIL closely this weekend? Just in case? Well I thought I'd let you watch him closely too. Just in case. So I pulled out a notebook and wrote down all the things he said during the movie.


hee hee hee


I lost several lbs just from deep belly laughing because OH MY GOODNESS, it was funnier than that Christmas in Maui when we forced my IL's at gunpoint to watch The Office.


Okay, so picture my IL's sitting each in their own recliner rockers eating a bowl of ice cream when the movie begins with the main character, played by Orlando Bloom, losing his job. He goes home, kicks all of his earthly possessions to the curb and rigs a butcher knife to his stationary bike so he can reenact the shower scene from Psycho, without that creepy Norman Bates.


Just as he's about to start pedaling, his cell phone rings. It's his sister and she has bad news. His dad had a heart attack and died while visiting his brother in, you guessed it, Elizabethtown. Orlanda Bloom postpones his suicide to jump on a plane and retrieve his father's body.


My FIL, sincerely: Is this a commercial or is this the show?


(One thing I appreciate about my FIL is that he takes John Mayer's advice to say what you need to say very seriously.)


A few minutes later:


MY FIL: Did I miss something?

My MIL: That's just how I feel. Did I miss something?


Later, after Orlando Bloom meets Kirsten Dunts on a plane:


My FIL: This is dumb. I don't get anything.

My MIL: Oh honest to Pete! Neither do I! Can you hear what they're saying?

My FIL, his voice escalating: I haven't heard anything to hear!


After Kirsten Dunts makes a camera out of her hands and pretends to take a picture of Orlando Bloom as he walks away through the airport.


My MIL: What did she do that for? I don't get it.

My FIL, his voice escalating even more: I got it, it's a camera, but SO WHAT!


It was all down hill from there as Orlando deals with his dad's funeral arrangements while simultaneously falling for Kirsten during a string of cell phone conversations.


My FIL to my MIL: You ought to love this show. It's a cell phone adventure!

My MIL: What? I don't talk on the cell phone that much! And anyway this is as slow as your cowboy shows!

MY FIL: There would have been five killings by now in my cowboy shows.


I wrote three more pages of notes, mostly containing Oh my gads and Oh dears and This show makes my cowboy shows look hilarious,which culminated in my FIL's grand exit to go watch Glenn Beck.


But not before he uttered those famous last words, Has anyone ever seen a program as dumb as this one? Who picked this show anyway?


It kinda surprised me how fast my hub ratted me out. "Dummy did," he said as his pointer finger made it's way in my general direction lickety split like. (He always took the blame for my dumb stuff when we first got hitched.)


Luckily I have all these notes in case I am ever asked to speak at my FIL's funeral one day. Or in case I'm ever asked to write a movie review of Elizabethtown.


Okay, on a more current note . . . it's my daughter's 16th birthday today and I need to get this post posted in case she reads it in her computer class. Happy Birthday daughter! LY! See last years tribute if you want to know how much I LY. But first go pay attention to your class!


(BTW, she's already got her first date lined up, which she won in a lottery at a party. That's how we do things 'round these here parts.)


It's also my daughter's Hoity Toity Freshman English teacher's birthday (from Hawaii).

Happy Birthday Mariko! I take back everything I ever said about you behind your back.


And last, but not least, it's my ex-door neighbor Martha's twins birthday today. They are practically my twins too, since I could never tell them apart from my own twins. Happy Birthday, Jimmy and Nana.


(Nana, I wrote you a whole post in St. George for you to read for your SFA homework, but we could only get the internet on the farthest right couch cushion for five minutes a day so I never posted it. Maybe I'll post it tomorrow. If I feel like it.)



Sunday, October 17, 2010

Jerk Sauce

Don't panic, I'm not kidnapped, I'm on vacation.


It's Fall break so my hub took his kids and his parents to St. George.


Oh, and he took me too.


And I took everything else, 'cept the kitchen sink. And Lulu.


Waaaahhhh! (I miss my puppy so much!)


But fer reals, I seriously dumped all the contents of my fridge and my cupboards into my car before we left home, just in case I had time to catch up on some cooking. But I haven't had time to do any cooking.


I also brought a dozen movies and books just in case I had time to live in someone else's head. And I brought my laptop just in case I had time to live in my own head. But I haven't had time to any reading or movie watching. And I haven't had time to do any writing.


I haven't even had time to hook up with friends.


Sorry friends.


I've just been too busy. Sitting here. Doing nothing. Nothing is all I've had time to do. And I've barely had enough time to do that. In fact I'm frantically trying to squeeze in as much time to do nothing as I can before we go home.


Why don't we do nothing more often? Inquiring minds want to know.


The great thing about doing nothing is that you're always free to do something when the opportunity arises. If you get an urge to swim or play tennis, you're free. If you get an urge to lay around with your daughter and watch Pretty in Pink, you're available. If you get the urge to stretch yourself out across the grass and let the October sun have it's way with you, you don't have to clear your calender.


My favorite thing to do when on vacation is to figure out how to prolong the vacation. Prolonging vacations is one of my hobbies. Especially vacations with my IL's.


You already know what it's like to vacation with my IL's because I've told you a million stories, but I can never quite pin it down for you exactly, how it feels, like say to drive in a car, down a street you've driven down a hundred times before. With my MIL. Playing tour guide in my ear. It's like deja vu.


"Okay, now this is where they used to have a Sorghum farm. Do you know what Sorghum is? The pioneers used to farm it. I may be wrong though, but I think I read that somewhere."


"And that path right there is the one they took to get the volcanic rock to build the foundation of the temple. I hope I got that right, but I think I've read that somewhere."


"And this is where the flood was."


"And this is the new bridge."


"And this chapel was just built."


"And there's a fence up there."


I always giggle through the whole tour and yesterday she said, "You're probably thinking I'm full of foolery, huh?"


"Full of what?" I said.


"Foolery!" she said. And then she spelled it out.


"Oh, I thought you said "bullery," I told her.


Going to the grocery store with my MIL is equally entertaining. Again, it's impossible to convey the experience with precision, but imagine me going up and down the aisles with Shirley Temple. Then imagine Shirley Temple doing a tap dance in the milk section and saying, "Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness! That milk just moo'd at me."


What are the chances, right? The milk mooing!? But she was right. It did moo. I heard it with my very own eardrums.


Now imagine Shirley temple trying to find bbq sauce but finding jerk sauce instead. Oh golly, I wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't spelled that out for me too. J-E-R-K sauce. But she was right. I saw it with my very own eyeballs. It was Jamaican Jerk Sauce. Maybe they have more jerks in Jamaica than we do in America. Who knows. But next time you need sauce for your jerk, you can pick some up at Harmons for $3.99.


(I bought a few bottles for anonymous.)


J/K peeps. I'm so over that whole anonymous stunt(s). All three of them. I only bought the jerk sauce in case YOU weren't over it yet. That's what writers do, we pretend to have issues in order to help you with your issues.


My favorite thing about sitting around doing nothing is the way my brain begins to hang loose. And I let it. I let it wander in any direction it so desires. Yesterday was my favorite bishop's funeral--and also Stan's funeral (my first magic quilt recipient)--so my brain was wandering around the complexities of lub sweet lub. And loss.


Do you guys ever get tired of my brain wandering around the complexities of lub sweet lub. And loss?


Me neither.


I've been watching my father-in-law all weekend. Closely. He's the only father I've had for the past twenty odd years (and I do mean odd). We've had our share of head butts because he's got a strong head and I've got a strong head. And both of us were used to being Charles-in-charge. Once we got into a fist fight while playing Trivial Pursuit. I was right and he was wrong, but my hub said it didn't matter. He says sometimes it's not worth being right. Sometimes it's only worth being quiet.


My FIL has made my eyeballs sweat on a few occasions while teaching me to play tennis. He's a very blunt teacher, and I'm a very tender student. But he has softened with age, and I have hardened with age, which has made for a perfect father/daughter relationship.


A few days ago I was watching him. Closely. Standing there in the jacuzzi, throwing a football to my boys in the pool with a feeble arm and a brilliant smile. I tried to commit the whole thing to memory--the way he would teeter off balance as he cocked his arm back, and clap his hands together when he'd call for the pass.


Maybe it will be the last time he will call for a pass, I thought. Maybe not, but I paid attention just in case.


Today I watched him break the sabbath at Chuck-A-Rama. (Anonymous, go ahead and alert the proper authorities if you must. It is what it is.) (And I am what I am.) He breaks the sabbath with such precision it's almost poetic--each bite of cake that he slides his fork through is like the stroke of an artist's brush against the canvas of his life. Or at least against the canvas of his wife, who was in the background telling us all the story of how her great grandfather chose his second wife. I marvel at her ability to tell each story as if our ears are virgins, even though her stories have been falling upon our ears for years and years and years.


My hub actually leaned in close to his mom and helped her finish her sentences.


"My great grandmother Eliza was opposed to the 2nd wife," My MIL said. "But one night there was a knock on the door and when she opened it . . ."


"There was an angel standing there," said my hub.


"That's right," said my MIL. "And the angel told her . . ."


"She needed to accept the 2nd wife," said my hub.


"That's right!" said my MIL. "The angel really did say that. And so Eliza let her husband take on the 2nd wife. Because of that angel. I have the whole story written down in a book somewhere."


My FIL kept sliding his fork through the cake as if he and that cake were the only two people on the planet.


And my MIL folded her napkin on her lap as if she had made her point.


But my hub wasn't about to let that angel get the last word.


"Do you wanna hear the ending to that story?" said my hub, looking directly at my kids. "I've read that book too. Eliza left her husband because she couldn't stand that 2nd wife."


"No," said my MIL "You're ruining the story. Eliza left her husband because she couldn't stand the 3rd wife."


"Of course," said my hub. "There was no angel for the 3rd wife."


"Right," said my MIL. "And he didn't ask permission for the 3rd wife."


SIGH!


Poor Eliza. I wish I had been there to offer her some sauce with that jerk.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Once You're Alive . . .

Here's a friendly update on the latest . . .


About my gangsta rapping phase . . . I'm over it. But I'm worried about Lulu. She takes things harder than I do.


And she's acting weird.





It started innocently enough. With Bob Marley.



But you know what they say about Bob Marley; he's just a gateway musician to B.O.B.


Raggae today, Hip Hop tomorrow.



Before you know it she'll be huffing and puff-daddying like the Big Bad Wolf.




While I was in my gangsta rapper phase I decided that ridiculous is my favorite gangsta rapper word. I lub it when rappers say ridiculous. It makes me feel like they really get me, you know. And they get life.


I did a lot of my gangsta rapping on the road, because I spend so much time in my car. If you want to know what a dummy like me looks like when she raps in the car, go to 2:07 of this video.






I'm not sharp with the words, especially the swear words, but my eyeballs make up for it.

About my daughter's tennis dealio . . . Remember when she played Alta in the region championship? Well Alta swept state! WOOHOO! Told ya they played like champions. And guess what else? No other team got 5 games off of Alta like my daughter and her doubles partner did.


So you know what that means, right? Technically that means my daughter and her partner took 2nd in state, right? I mean, if anonymous hadn't been so concerned about her transferring schools and all, right?


Anyways, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.


About my next door neighbor and bishop in Hawaii . . . It's weird. How everyone handles death differently. My daughter immediately wrote an email to Bishop Reid's wife. (She probably would have baked her a cake if their wasn't a body of water in between us.)


My fourteen year old was quiet. For a long time. Then he popped his iPod into the speaker dock and blasted his Hawaii playlist all night long.


My twins spoke in ANGRY voices.


"WHAT? BUT HE TALKED TO US!"


"AND HE BOUGHT OUR COOKIES!"


As if talking and buying cookies exempts you from dying.


Me, I scooped some ice cream into a bowl, poured macadamia nuts all over it, squirted chocolate syrup all over it, then watched Letters to Juliet. And then I called my doctor to make an appointment for a physical.


Life is so weird. And death is even weirder. One minute you're there and the next you're gone. POOF! Just like that.


But in a way you're not gone at all. As Emily Dickensen would say, you're "absent, yet present."


And as Tim O'Brien would say, "Once you're alive, you can't ever be dead."




a

Monday, October 11, 2010

Until We Meet Again . . .


This post goes out, along with my heart, to my favorite Bishop and next door neighbor of 10 years in Hawaii, Ernie Reid.


I am sitting here in stunned silence, with tears sliding down my cheeks, after receiving word that he passed away last night. I don't even know the hows or whys. Alls I know is that I lubbed him so much.


He helped me through a really tough time in my life. And then I had the honor of serving under him as Relief Society President. He taught me much about serving with mercy and grace and compassion as I watched him constantly govern with the spirit of the law.


Oh, Bishop, MUCH MAHALO to you and Ena for everything. We will all miss you something fierce.


Aloha Oe . . . and safe passage . . .


Until we meet again.



LY!!!!



A moment of silence and a group hug for all my Hawaii peeps!



Friday, October 8, 2010

Chicken Soup for the Gangsta Rapper's Soul

Yesterday was a chicken soup for the soul day. Chicken soup, plus a little gangsta RAP. Uncensored, baby!


Amazing how much a few swear words can help ease your pain.


That's right, I get the whole RAP appeal. Give me a little uncut Fort Minor Remember the Name once in a while and I'll give you a forty minor Molly Mormon mommy who knows how to get jiggy with it.


Yesterday was the state tennis tournament. In which my daughter and her partner were seated 2nd. Before. But not after.


That's alls I'm sayin' because around here the rocks talk and the trees whisper. Behind your back. Anonymously. And the proper authorities are always alerted.


I just don't want to be turned into stone, you get me? But if I do get turned into stone I hope I'm getting jiggy with it at the time.


When I was a teacher I used to show my class Robert Doisneau photos. He was that 20th century French photographer who wandered around the streets of Paris capturing photographic evidence of human nature. I like this one in particular:



This photo reveals the dichotomies of life in a nutshell. The simultaneous happy sadness of it all. The side by side fortune and misfortune. And the turning away. It's true that sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is ignorance too.


Even though I did get a little jiggy with it over what went down with my daughter, it has made my stone cold heart swell to watch her muddle through it with so much grace and dignity.


See what I mean, even her shadow is bigger than her body.



The night before states my daughter went to Walmart and bought candy bars for all of her teammates. Their favorites. Then she bought more candy bars and made posters that said, It's Crunch time, Zero fear! She also wrote them each a personal letter. (All the while she was getting nani nani boo boo texts from a boy in the ward.)


Yesterday she went with her teamates to the state tournament and cheered them on. She came home with a headache, made a bowl of cake batter and retreated to the basement to watch reruns of Ghost Whisperer. All the teams she and her partner beat made it into semi-finals.


She then picked herself up and drove back to Walmart and bought a cake for her coach. And a tennis ball to have the whole team sign. This morning she woke up at 5 a.m. and went to the temple. Afterwards she bought French Toast from Kneaders and drove it to the one girl on her team who didn't make it to the semi-finals.


If she was still living the before she may have been too busy celebrating and congratulating herself to think of all that.


You get me?


My hub says this photos doesn't demonstrate the right form, but I think it's beautiful form, nonetheless.


It's funny. Whenever I start getting jiggy with it the Universe always feels bad and sends me an email. Or gives me a phone call. By proxy. (I think it's because the Universe doesn't like uncut rap music.)


First off, the Universe sent me two kind Facebook messages from two of my favorite students. That really took the edge off. And then Martha called and had her kids blow out my eardrum by screaming into the phone, "We just saw Justin Beiber on the beach!"


For some reason that took the edge off too.


Can I provide photographic evidence? Of course I can.



Wait, is that really Justin Beiber?




OMGOSH! It really is!



And the rumors are true. He really does use a pink and white striped towel.



You heard it here first, peeps.


I also got my first sponsor for my Blog Across America! Woohoo! It's a drug rehab center in Florida. How cool is that? Heck yea, I want a drug rehab center sponser. I'm all for drug rehab.


And finally, I got an email from Amanda, who nominated our first Magic Quilt recipients, Stan and Lila. Her email reached right past the gangsta rapper in me and poured chicken soup all over my troubled soul. It's about Stan. He is done with his battle. He passed away yesterday morning. Please come to my Magic Quilt blog for the a moment of silence for Stan, and to read the touching email.