HOLY COW!

Remember my mad cow joke yesterday? And how I said it was the best laugh I EVER got? Well it really was. I enjoyed it more than any laugh I ever provoked because it made me feel like my son and I, we had a thing. A cow thing. Like we had connected on some kind of cosmic . . . cow level.

So after school yesterday we were just chillin' on the couch and I was like, "DUDE, if you were a cow, guess what kind of a cow you'd be?" And then there was that comedic pause thingie, where he gave me a what-the-what? expression, you know. And after the pause I was like, "A holy cow!"

Nothing! Nada! Not even a crack in his stone cold face.

So I was like "Get it? a HOLY cow! Cause you're always wanting me to read scriptures to you and stuff." And he was like, "That's not even funny, mom!"

So much for our cosmic cow connection.

"You're actually more of a holier-than-thou cow," I told him.

(Was that rude?)

And I am actually the holy cow. As in HOLY COW, my daughter has been deemed eligible to play tennis again!

She can play!!!

I am the holiest cow in the pasture now because I have been down on my knees all night long sending thank you notes to those who signed my petition to the Universe. (BTW, if any of you have anything you want to say to Jackie Robinson or John Adams just let me know.)

Do you guys mind if I just send ya'll a group thank you for signing the petition? Just to save time?

MUCHOS MAHALO PEEPS! LY 4 Evah!!!!!!

(Can you feel my sincerity in all those exclamation points?)

I'm off to watch her first eligible match right now. But P.S. here is the photo I promised to post yesterday:

This is how my daughter answered her Homecoming date. With a personalized JB song, and one of six JB posters they sell at Walmart. (And did you know they also sell six (SEPARATE) JB Barbie dolls?) Walmart's got the fever.

She mounted it on cardboard and stuck it in his front lawn. His front lawn on Topspin Way. No lie, he lives on Topspin way, which is a cross street of Forehand street and backhand street, just above Crosscourt way and Ace Lane.

Like I said before, NO. LIE.

It's kinda destiny that she's eligible again, don'tcha think?

P.S. HOLY COW, one of my twins got his first kiss yesterday. On the cheek. A cute girl came up to him in the cafeteria, grabbed his face, and . . . well, planted one on him. For his 13th birthday.

If I were a cow . . .

I'd be a mad cow.

Get it? MAD cow?


That's the line I gave my 15-year old son last night when he was trying to get descriptive about anger in a short story he was writing for English class. He laughed when I said it. Out loud. He laughed and laughed. And laughed


Oh, man! It was the best laugh I EVER got!


So my son's guardians are out of town right now so guess who gets to babysit. That's right, me who! Woowhoo! (BTW, no, my hub and I didn't split up, it's a school boundaries guardianship.) But you know what? You gotta be careful who you let raise your kids cause he's kinda spoiled now. He's been asking me to read scriptures and make him a home lunch.



The last time he asked for a home lunch I just stuck a jar of Nutella in his back pack. That's how I roll.



And the last time he asked me to read him scriptures I opened up to Mosiah and read one verse.


"Is that it?" He said. "Read more."



So I read it again.



"Wait! That was the same verse!"he protested.



Can you believe he actually noticed??? I pull that prank on my twins all the time and they don't even bat an eyeball.



In other news, my daughter got asked to Homecoming!!! By Justin Beiber!


At least that's what she calls him.



Did you know Justin Beiber was the prom king at American Fork high? And the fastest runner on the cross country team?



Me neither! But he is. At least that's what my daughter tells me. Anyways, my daughter and I stayed up late listening to JB songs trying to change lyrics and come up with a cute reply. But you know what happens when you stay up late listening to JB songs? You catch the fever. The Beiber fever. (What a cutie patootie, right?)


Does anyone have some extra-strength Tylenol I can borrow? Anyone? Anyone?

Other than feeding my fever I haven't been doing much besides throwing parties and going out to lunch with visiting relatives from out of town. Oh, and last Friday I got to help with a funeral at the church because I'm on the compassionate service committee now.

So. Much. Fun. Fer reals. I love working with the old women as much as I loved working with the young women. Plus I have a soft spot for funerals. Not just because you get free funeral potatoes and Jello, but because people at funerals are so humble and thankful.

Loss can be flattering if you wear it well.

Capiche?

One of the fun things about working with the old women is that it's a lot like going to charm school. Setting a table for a funeral is not at all like setting a table for four teenagers who slurp their spaghetti. You gotsta be proper about it. You gotsta think about napkins pointing in or out, and silverware left or right.

I'm kind of an expert now, after getting my hands slapped a few times. Alls you have to remember is that the knife always runs away with the spoon because knives and spoons are republicans. They sit to the right of the plate. To the left sit all the forks, because they ain't afeared of same sex marriage. In other words, a fork always runs away with a fork.

Capiche?

(Notice I'm saying capiche now since I finally saw Pirates?)

Anyways, I don't have time to give anymore charm school lessons because it's my twins birthday today.


Gotsta go!

P.S. JB photos to come!

Thinking things through logically

My hub is on this crazy kick right now of thinking things through logically (except when it comes to raising chickens).

He keeps saying, "You know, if you really think things through logically, nothing makes any sense!"

This all started last weekend while spending time in St. George with his parents.

Not to be rude, but my MIL, bless her heart, is not a particularly logical person. I mean, she's fun, she's entertaining, she's a sweetheart, but sometimes she doesn't make a lot of sense.

Just sayin'.

Like, for example, when she does things like knock on our bedroom door at 8:30 a.m. to tell us not to worry about getting up yet because they are still sleeping.

"That doesn't make any sense, if you think about it logically?" My hub's eyeballs said to me.

During breakfast she tried to teach us how to stand so that our insides don't fall out. What you do is you cross one leg in front of the other--like you do when you have to go shi shi--and squeeze real hard.

"They say this keeps your innards from slipping out," she told us, while simultaneously demonstrating.

I won't repeat the specific innards they say will not slip out if you squeeze your legs together, but I will say that my hub looked his mom right in the eyeballs, like Eminem recommends, and said, "That doesn't make any sense! And you're grossing me out!!!!"

See my MIL believes everything they say. That's her problem. Especially if they have witnesses.

"It's the truth!" She declares. "There were witnesses."

There were always witnesses. Like the time one of her ventriloquist relatives was being attacked by an Indian. He threw his voice into the plants so it sounded like the plant was speaking, and by darn if that Indian didn't high tail it outta there.

"What did the plant say that frightened the Indian off so quickly?" I always ask sincerely, because honestly, I'm sincerely curious. I want to put myself in that Indian's moccasins and walk a mile with him. Back to his tribe. I want to see the whites of his eyes when he tells his buddies in the teepee, "You would not believe what this plant said to me today!!!"

But the witnesses didn't write that part down because it wasn't important to the story. The important part was that one man's mad skillz saved his scalp.

"That doesn't make any sense if you think about it logically!" said my hub at The Olive Garden in St. George, after his mom told that story.

But my hub has heard that story a million times. He even told that story in one of his primary talks. Why all of a sudden he's thinking things through logically about a talking plant is beyond me. If his mom says there were witnesses, there were witnesses. Even if they didn't write down the direct quotes.

There were witnesses in other stories we've heard before too. Like the one about little Sarah, who walked 5,000 miles across the plains, singing all the way. All of a sudden this does not make any sense to my hub logically, just because there are only 3, 492 miles from coast to coast, and no one in his family likes to sing.

(Except you, Miss Shelby!)

There were witnesses in the story about the ship that hit an iceberg too.

"Was it called The Titanic?" I always ask. But nope, this ship didn't sink, even though they found a hole the size of Vermont below deck. This ship was carrying two Mormon missionaries and the captain had never lost a ship that was carrying Mormon missionaries.

"Well how many ships did he lose that weren't carrying Mormon missionaries?" Asked my hub.

A seemingly logical question, but apparently there were no witnesses to that.

Power to the Peeps!

I can see why my daughter loves her tennis coach so much. He's a 70-year-old, male version of herself! (If she was the senior citizen national tennis champion and the top law student in her class.) He's got sass! And class!

Guess what he did yesterday?

So she wasn't allowed to play her match because the Utah High School Athletics Association is still deliberating over our paperwork to waive the transfer ineligibility--it's not an issue of parents complaining this year--this school is not a tennis threat in the region--it's an issue of we turned in the proper paperwork and now it's going through the proper red tape. So anyways, her tennis coach is like, "This is ridiculous! If she can sit in class and take tests, she can participate in sports! I'M PLAYING HER!"

But he's a lawyer so he did it legally. He forfeited her match and then let her play her opponent "just for fun."

What a stud muffin!

That's why I like playing for losing schools. When you lose, you have nothing to lose. You get me? It's big L's on the forehead all the way around. Here here!

I'm not worried anymore. Whatever happens happens, let the chips fall where they may. We turned in the proper paperwork to the proper authorities and put in a petition to the Universe. And the coach has my daughter's back.

Thank you for all of your cheers for her as well. You're always so supportive.

And thank you for voting for the Nutty Hamster Chick's Turkey Bone photo. She won!!! She actually won! It looked like she was going to lose by a landslide, but the top three contestants were cheating so she crossed the finish line first and now she gets 10th row seats to the Utah vs. BYU game!

If any of you know Nutty, like I know Nutty, you know that she's coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs over BYU football. I swear her blood is bluer than blue and her loyalty is truer than true--I've seen her football player stalking scrapbooks first hand. And I've seen her Facebook profile:

Nutty, did you know LaVell was my hub's home teacher when he was a teenager?

Just sayin.' I'm important. By association to association.

So I have one more favor to ask. I have this really cool neighbor named Katie Terry who was in a car accident when she was a young mom. When she woke up the doctors said, "We have some good news and some bad news. You're pregnant . . . and . . . you're paralyzed."

She went through the whole pregnancy paralyzed and now she's going through her whole life paralyzed. But she's a total trip. Not only is she a mom, she skiis and bowls and (ahem . . . goes to pole dancing class) and she won the Boston marathon, and, and, and . . . the list goes on. Fer realz! She does more without legs than I've ever done with legs.


And she even looks better in a swimsuit than I do. And I have this exact same swimsuit so I would know.

Katie is running for win Ms. Wheelchair Utah 2012 because she wants to be a public speaker, and part of the gig is winning the essay contest.

You only have to vote once (thank ye lard), so alls you have to do is:

1. click on this link

2. cast a vote for essay #1

That's it! You don't even have to read the essay, I'll tell you what it says. It says my life is great and being in a wheelchair ROCKS! yada yada yada!

She would be a spectacular representative for the disabled in Utah! Think of all the downtrodden and disabled people out there in Utah who need a voice--someone to look to and say "I can do that!"

And we've got the power! Nutty's votes went up by over 200 points in a few hours--GRACIOUS! Let's catapult Katie into the public speaking circuit.

(Plus, I'm her visiting teacher and I can count this as my visit.)

(J/K proper authorities, J/K!)