Dave ('s camera) Took This...

Week 3 It's so tragic when you have to settle on the family pic. The boy was in no mood to get his picture taken, so this one of him sitting and semi-smiling/semi-freaking-out was rare in the batch we have. My nephew who took it (a different nephew) offered to photoshop my face off and put a different one in its place. Eh, I don't care that much... But I really should've lightened it up before posting it. OH WELL. I had to resize it too, because it was taken in raw format, so the original is HUGE. Kinda like my mouth!! :)

This is a neat (?) double exposure picture which Dave wanted to be this weeks contribution. So, since this is HIS feature, I'll post it. It's sort of philosophical...

And on the first day, there was rest.

The weekend was fun. It feels like we were constantly on the go, though. Today we'll sit back, relax, and not concern ourselves with the world outside our house. Okay, but to be fair, my family always spontaneously comes up with things, so my plans of nothing might just go awry.

Here's a question I ask just to humor myself. But I DO expect a reply! *angry eyebrows*

If you were God, or had god-like omnipotence, what would you change about THIS day? This one, right now?

Discuss.

Counting down...

There is 40 minutes until the afternoon session of gen conf. Okay so we're totally playing a drinking game while watching it. Who's with me??? :)

Black Celebration

Crappy picture taken by my temporary replacement phone.

This represents only part of what's left of my phone. There are probably another 4 or 5 pieces which Eric is trying to pull information off of.

So here we meet to honor the short life of my LG. It's been through a lot with me this past year. It's been present and witnessed joy, pain, drunkenness, love, boredom, and so many more experiences. It's rainbow lights flashed with every phone call or text message it received. Those rainbow lights always made me smile. The vibrate function made me smile too, and its' power is unmatched (Get your mind out of the gutter!! Our relationship was strictly plutonic.).

I'm sure I'll love my upgrade phone too, eventually. But it will never be the same as this one.

Rest in peace (or in pieces!) in the trash, sweet LG. You'll never be forgotten.

Well, shit...

I love my cell phone. My cute little LG with the rainbow lights. My cute pictures. My cute saved/locked text messages. My cute videos of the baby swan-diving off the couch onto some pillows. And videos of other stuff too *cough* which I won't go into detail about. It's all very precious to me, vain though it may be.

I seriously get panicky when I don't have it. After visiting my brother's house this evening, I realized that I didn't have it. I couldn't go back over there because the kids were in bed. So I had Eric go over there after he got off work. He and my brother looked all around the house for it. They couldn't hear it ringing, and they scoured the place in search of it.

So here's what they found: my cute little rainbow-lighted phone in several pieces on the road in front of his house. Like, irrepairable. Like, gone. I'm physically depressed about this... Time for chemical solace.

Things To Do On a Friday Night: The Sequel

I've had 4, FOUR, separate hits tonight of people who googled the words "what to do on a friday night". I figure it's my duty to help these poor, bored souls out... These have all been tried and tested by ME!

*Take a friend and stuff them into the trunk of your car. Do it in a highly conspicuous area, and make sure their hands/feet are hog-tied, and there's sufficient duct tape on their mouth. Make sure other people see your struggle. Drive away laughing your guts out and yelling "You better shut it back there!!"

*Take rolls and rolls of butcher paper up to your local mountain/hill and use it to spell the initial of your preferred college. Anchor it down with rocks or else it'll blow away.

*Dumpster Diving. 'Nuff said.

*Skinny dipping, hiking, or possibly streaking, though make sure you don't get arrested.

*Billboard dancing. Climb up on the billboard of your choice and dance away. This might possibly get you arrested too, so be careful.

*Drive to somewhere with legalized gambling. Here in UT we'd go to Wendover, NV or Mesquite, NV. Don't take any money. Hit on the hottest guy you've ever known, and spend the night in his hotel room with him. Remember his name and his Armani suit 10+ years later. *sigh*

*Hop fences into peoples back yards and use their hot tubs. Although, now as a homeowner with a hot tub, I'd kick your ass if you hopped my fence. So beware and be quiet.

*Sneak into movies.

*Get hypnotized on stage by a comedian. Make ass of self.

*Karaoke. Any time, anywhere, anybody. Ah, sweet karaoke. My friend.

Ok well if you haven't figured out something to do by now, I don't think I can help you much. Take special note here: none of these things involve alcohol, and most of them will get you into trouble. Be well...go forth...

Jealousy

Since Chanson and I are going to fight over JLO, I decided I'd talk about my shortcomings over here, instead of hogging her comment space.

Regarding my earlier post about certain beliefs I have, there's another subtopic I want to discuss. I said, "The way I interpret others' actions is based on my own life experiences and insecurities, and is therefore biased." This is something I really have to tell myself over and over again, because I've found that I'm somewhat of a jealous person. I guess I always have been, but I've never acknowledged it until recently.

I don't get jealous in the sense of envy or bitterness; I don't guard things vigilantly; I'm not jealous like "god", intolerant of disloyalty or unfaithfulness. So how am I jealous?? I found the definition of jealous that best describes me, and it most certainly has to do with my insecurities:

"Fearful or wary of being supplanted; apprehensive of losing affection or position."

I suppose I feel like I'm easily replaceable, not so very unique, and teetering precariously on the edge of oblivion. In my logical mind I know that no one else can make these feelings disappear. I know that I have to find validation within myself. This is something I seek, every day. Self-worth. I seek the voices inside myself that tell me I'm a rockin lady on my own merits, not by borrowed qualities.

So there you go! How's that for an insightful peek into La...and all that entails? (sorry to borrow your creativity, Rebecca! ;-))

Thoughts about Life: part 1

I believe that "god" is a collective energy. Humanity. In the musical Les Miserables it says: "To love another person is to see the face of god." I believe this is true in a figurative sense. When we love others, we are most plugged into Humanity. We feel happiness. We are most receptive to feeling the collective energy of those around us.

I believe that we as humans have no pre-set purpose for existing. "Why are we here?" is a moot, generalized question. Why does that deer exist up there on that mountain? Why did that serf exist in 1344? Irrelevent, all of it. We are part of the circle of life, just the same as billions of humans before us, just the same as all living things. And so, because I have no specific guideline or reason for existing (other than simply "I exist"), I set for myself a purpose. And that purpose is to experience all walks of life and culture. My self-determined reason for existence is to find and cherish the Best of Humanity. (subtopic for another time: how to define the "Best of Humanity")

I believe that I am responsible for my own actions. I can choose to do something, or not choose it, and my reasons are my own. The way I interpret others' actions is based on my own life experiences and insecurites, and is therefore biased. The way others interpret my actions is based on their own life experiences and insecurities, and is therefore biased. No one can truly and exactly understand another human being. But I find I'm most at peace with myself and am positively connected to the collective energy of Humanity when I'm actively engaged in trying to understand others. I believe that relationships are most functional when the parties involved care enough to put themselves into their partner's place and look at things from their point of view. It's a journey, a path, but one without destination. Just walking the path of Trying To Understand is courageous and speaks volumes as to one's priorities.

I believe that attacking others based on your own personal preferences or opinions of how life ought to be is destructive and counterproductive. I believe to do so actually pulls one further from Humanity, and creates a harder time of plugging back in.

The Interview

We didn't think we would survive the trip, I have to admit that much. We had been gone from the house for nearly 2 hours when we remembered that both of us forgot to pack Eric's suit into the car. There were 2 other major crises, but we made it. Thanks to our dear, amazing friend Sideon and to Eric's sweet, generous family, we really were able to enjoy our short trip to the East Bay.

The interview went well, according to Eric. It's for a company that does construction project management in the Bay Area. They are looking for someone who can do most everything, especially brochure writing/marketing. Eric is the type of person who would be able to do ANYTHING and do it well. He just has to be given a chance.

So we're waiting to hear. This is the crappy part, for sure. We both really liked the cities we visited, so it would be great if it works out. We'll be sure to keep y'all posted! :)

Dave Took This...

Week 2

Dave was in San Diego this past weekend at the Utah/San Diego State football game. In honor of me also being in California, though not in SoCal, here is this week's picture deluxe, Coronado bridge and all. From Dave:

"Do you know what kicks all ass? The U.S. Naval Fleet. I was told by the San Diego cab driver that this is the USS Kitty Hawk, although I had thought that ship was forward-deployed in Japan right now. If it's true, I kind of feel lucky that it was in port while I was there, as it is an important part of history and still an important part of our fleet. The USS Kitty Hawk is currently the oldest active ship in the U.S. Navy (commissioned in 1961), and it is also the most decorated. This is taken with a very long zoom across the harbor but I hope you get a sense of the size of this thing."

Ping! Oh no, depth charges!

Hello from sunny CA!

Just a quick hi to my blog friends. We're in california for a job interview for Eric. We'll be back in Happy Valley tomorrow, and I'll write about how it went. Or Eric will. :) I hope all is well with y'all.

Okay, that's SERIOUSLY the last straw... (or rather, last pair of panties)

I hope the ASPCA isn't reading this because I'm about to kill my dog...

He eats my goddamn underwear!! Panties, bras, all of them. GRRR... I mean, I know they're hot. And Eric says I'm tasty ;) , but there has GOT to be a way to curb this.

I don't have the money to keep replenishing this snack for him. Give me a break!!

Faith on Friday

From The Devil's Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce, as introduced to me by my friend JLO.

FAITH, n.
Belief without evidence in what is told by one who speaks without knowledge, of things without parallel.

On days when my understanding was less than pristine, I often turned to the primary song "Faith" to reassure myself. It says:

Faith is knowing the sun will rise, lighting each new day.
Faith is knowing the Lord will hear my prayers each time I pray.
Faith is like a little seed, if planted it will grow.
Faith is the swelling within my heart: when I do right I know.

*I know the sun will rise based on it happening every day for the span of my nearly 29 years.
*How can one ever KNOW the Lord will hear your prayers, for a fact? I think it's more likely to HOPE for the Lord to hear your prayers, and leave the faith/knowledge out of it.
*Obviously a little seed needs proper care in order to grow. But they say that faith does too. What about those one seeds that grow without intentional care? What are they?? And how about weeds? And can my faith seed be of the hemp variety?
*I think the "swelling" being felt is something primary kids shouldn't be singing about...
*When I do right I know. When I do wrong I know. When I don't care I know. When I drink coffee I know. When I use the bathroom I know. So what???

< /ramblings >

Fury, thy name is La

In 4th grade the children learn about Utah's history. They learn about the formation of the state, the pioneers, the native americans, the dinosaurs, etc. They learn about Utah's natural resources, about the industries.

Today my friend is on a field trip with her son's 4th grade class. Where would be a neat place to learn about some Utah history? State capitol? This Is The Place state park (where they can see how pioneers might've lived)? How about Kennecott Copper Mine? Even a local Pow Wow would be pretty cool to get some culture and history all at once.

This particular 4th grade is on their field trip to the Church Museum of History. That's right, folks. Church owned and operated, cute missionary couples and all. Mormon propaganda centrale.

Every exhibit in that building, whether historical or artistic, has blatant reference to the church or its' doctrine. What kind of secular education is that? My poor friend is chaperoning and she's formulating the complaint letter in her brain this very minute. And don't even presume my feelings on this topic have anything to do with me leaving the saints. No, I would've felt this very same way during my most active, believing days as a Mormon. This is wrong. Period.

Just a Reminder

Don't forget to check out Know Your Blogger at it's new home, a new eric. :)

Oh, great!

You always worry that your kid will be that kid. You know. The kind with the helmet.

We've known for a while now. Yep, our greatest fears have come true. Take a look at this:

When will the crazies all find an island to go dwell on??

Some people kill their children. Some people kill to get children.

I really cannot say I "don't understand how people can do this". We all manifest Crazy in our own ways, and sometimes hormones (do NOT underestimate them), environment, and other influences make the Crazy take over.

Let's just take, for example, the story of Stephanie Ochsenbine. She was attacked last Friday in Missouri, and her throat was slashed. If and when I ever get my throat slashed, and multiple stab wounds on top of that, I hope I have the presence of mind to walk to my neighbors house for help. But I digress...

Stephanie was just being nice (allegedly) when she invited a strange woman into her home to borrow the phone and use the bathroom. I wonder if the woman looked creepy, and her Crazy was showing through. If you can tell someone has the Crazy, they're far enough gone that they should be avoided at all costs.

Stephanie's infant daughter was abducted. I think that event might've killed me, had I been the victim here. I probably would've finished the throat slashing myself. Did I mention that hormones, especially post-partum, should not be underestimated?

I just feel sad for all the people involved here...

Alex Took This...

Week 1

Welcome to my new weekly feature: Alex or Dave Took This...

My brother just purchased a great camera. We're sitting here making fried chicken--which by that, I mean we're sitting here doing the NY Times crossword puzzle and talking--and the idea came to us that we need to publish Dave's awesome pictures. The camera is so good that it deserves public recognition.

Sometimes, the pictures will be taken by my nephew. He is 11 years old and he takes pretty great pictures, I have to say.

Imagine no possessions

We don't need no stinkin reasons!

A Sunday morning, especially post night-of-severe-partying, would be a good day to sleep in later than normal. But sometimes kids, barking dogs, phone calls from crazy mothers, and cold feet (literal!) hinder much-needed sleep, and cause Sunday morning blogging instead.

I like anniversaries!

Anniversaries were invented for people like me, who like to remember events and dwell on the past. Or maybe they're for those who just want any little excuse to party! Seriously, any day can be a celebration of something or other. For instance, today we could throw a party in honor of the signing of the US Constitution in 1787. Or we could plan a birthday party for the city of Boston, MA. Hell, if we were really desperate, we might remember this as the day Jim Morrison sang "Girl, we couldn't get much higher" on national tv or the airing of the first episode of M.A.S.H.

See? The possiblities are endless.

Today my brother (who incidentally was 18 days old when the Jim Morrison/Ed Sullivan debacle happened) is coming over and we're making Fried Chicken. I think we'll do it in honor of the birth of Bryan Singer. We missed him in X3, damnit.

So if you were going to celebrate this day, what would be your reason?

Favorite cartoon, EVER

My friends are the world's best, just so you know

For only the third time, last night I "came out" about my disaffection for mormonism to a friend. There are several friends that I intentionally avoid telling, for various reasons. I've found that I only tell the ones I trust explicitly.

The friend I told last night I've known since I've had the ability to know. I mean, I was just out of diapers when we started playing together. My early childhood memories almost ALL have her in them in some capacity. When our group of friends sees each other now, we can laugh for hours at the nonsense and havoc we created.

But last night we didn't reminisce much about the old days. Mostly we talked of our own self-discoveries, life, family, and relationships. It was such a grown-up conversation! :) I'm glad that we were able to get to know each other a little better and that we both have a solid interest in the others' peace of mind.

Living Room Window

Sheets of rain blow past me
Leaves tumbling to and fro
Low rumbling of thunder
Earth is renewing itself.

And then it stops.
It is quiet.

Reflections of reflections

MMM...no better way to start the morning than with a nice hot cup of Hazelnut Creme coffee, sweetened with monkey placenta and non-fat creamer.

Okay all you nay-sayers out there: I don't care about where stuff comes from. Rebecca has tried to scare me into not eating meat products. Was she successful? Is President Bush's approval rating rising? Oh say can you see the McDonald's two cheeseburger extra value meal...

The idea of my friend, Splenda, coming from the embryonic sac of primates just makes it all the more interesting. Who knew monkey placenta could be so versatile? You can use it in drinks, because it dissolves like a mofo, and you can use it in baking! The best part? Picturing a little monkey in my cup, wishing me a pleasant day.

Reflections

MMM... no better way to start the morning than with Hazelnut Creme coffee. Toasty warm, sweetened and creamed.

I think--and this is purely a theory, though it's not based on evidence--that scientists will find a link between Splenda and ebola virus. Or hepatitis. Or poison ivy.

Splenda is too good to be good for me. That's where my theory comes from. It's sort of like the whole red M&M thing back in the 50's. Those little candies, delicious to the taste buds, had cancer-causing ingredients in the red candy coating. So therefore I will die from Splenda.

There are just some things that make life worth getting out of bed every day. Hot coffee in the morning, dragonflies, and hot tubbing on a cool evening, under the stars and full moon (BOTH kinds of full moon!). An early morning cheers to the awesome things in life...

Token Blah-g

It's a really slow day, and I'm lying in bed because my stomach is bothering me. So I'm just writing a post for the helluvit. There's nothing going on today...

I should try that carnival of the veil sometime.

Do you know what will probably not help my stomach? The egg salad I'm working on making. But it sounds so GOOOODD!

Did everyone see my post about the Party next year? I didn't get appropriate enthusiasm or support, so I think I'll just keep nagging you guys.

K leave a comment, cause that's a nice thing to read while I'm here in bed. :) The snazzier the better, I always say.

Love of a child

I had a moment of REO earlier. (That's random emotional outburst, for those not in the know)

My 6 yr old daughter and I were watching the dateline special about United flight 93. She had learned about the significance of this date in school today, so she was interested in hearing more about the story.

Jane Pauley would talk and interview family members of the passengers, and I'd explain to my daughter in words she could understand. I cried through the whole second half of the show. At one point, I asked her if she knew why I was crying. She said she didn't.

"What would you do if we got a phone call from daddy, saying that he loves us and telling us goodbye," I asked her. "What if he called us, knowing that he would die in the next few minutes?"

She got quiet. She looked to the television, then back to me. "Mommy, when will daddy be home from work? Will I be awake?" Gut-wrenching.

For a moment, in her innocence, I had the realization that all my anger is uncalled for and my opinions of how children should behave are superfluous, and I need to think of her as a human being. At any moment we could be ripped apart from each other, and I don't want her memories of me to be someone who was bugged by her presence. She's teaching me so much about life.

It's a Party!

Next year is a milestone year for me. As such, I'm throwing a big huge party on Halloween. That's right, folks, plan for it. Halloween 2007.

As of right now, the party is being planned for here in Utah. If by some miracle we get a better opportunity elsewhere, we'll just say, "Hey we moved. Party is now in _____." You have over a year to plan, and we'll give you sufficient notice if it changes. :)

Party. Utah. Halloween. 2007. Come to it.

Why do I still have my scriptures?

Recently we had a friend over at our house, just hanging out and chatting. We were in my living room, where I have 2 small bookcases. One of the bookcases is full of fiction books we regularly re-read, and the other is full of non-fiction books that we sometimes peruse. Well, it used to be full of non-fiction books. But then I left the church. I didn’t feel it necessary to keep all my old study manuals and general authority books around, so I tossed them. The top shelf now only has a family history book, a FARMS book that I want to keep because of its ridiculousness, a CES conference summary manual and my set of large print scriptures.

Our friend casually asked us why we have the scriptures there on the shelf. This is a very good question to ask! Why do I keep my scriptures right there, highly accessible, when I never read them anymore? Why do I keep them in the first place?

I loved the scriptures. This is not to say that I read them every day or that I knew them backwards and forwards. But I did love them. I loved cross-referencing. I loved making sense of things by comparing stories in the scriptures to my own life. I loved thinking of the scriptures historically. I especially loved reading the Book of Abraham, the Book of Mormon, and the Old Testament, in that order.

Just because I left the church doesn’t mean my feelings for certain things have gone away. I still think back on my days of teaching early-morning seminary fondly. I still love the stuff I learned at the CES conference I attended a few years back. And I still have residual love of the scriptures.

I guess the simple answer to my friend’s question is that I keep the scriptures just because. I don’t feel a need to purge them from my house or my life. I don’t take them as divine word anymore, but I still like them for the stories. Also, I guess you could call it a cultural decision. Our society is affected by the bible on so many levels, and to not understand it is ignorance.

I’m not bitter or angry for the 28 years I spent entrenched in the church. Some days I get a little sad, but mostly I’m looking forward.

Stay By Me

by Annie Lennox

Stay by me

And make the moment last.

Please take these lips

Even if I have been kissed

A million times.

And I don’t care if there is no tomorrow

When I could die here in your arms

Even if the stars have made us blind

We’re blind, we’re blind

So blind in love.

So blind in love.

Sweet darling

Don’t you know

That we’re no different to anyone?

We stumble

We falter

But we’re no different than anyone.

And all the winter snow has melted down

Into a pool of silver water

And we were standing in a thundercloud

Dark as your hair

Dark as your hair.

So blind in love.

So blind in love.

Things to do on a Friday Night (no life? read on...)

Blog

Check blog stats

Text message friend in NYC who has uber-life.

Put kids to bed and drink with husband, who's blogging from his PDA.

Beg various friends to come over and chill in the hot tub.

Upon rejection from said friends, get in hot tub with husband and fool around.

Think of ways to increase traffic on blog.

Collapse into bed, hoping for a better tomorrow.

The 12 Suggested Steps of Bloggaholics Anonymous

1) We admitted we were powerless over blogging--that our lives had become unmanageable.

2) Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. Such as, but not limited to, Marijuana.

3) Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him. But since what we understood of God is wrong, disregarded that decision, and just said “Fuck it”, and recommitted to Marijuana.

4) Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves, our stash and our blog.

5) Admitted to Marijuana, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our excessive blog intake.

6) Were entirely ready to have Marijuana remove all need to blog.

7) Humbly asked Blogger to remove our login information.

8) Made a list of all blogs we had read, and became willing to delete them all from our Favorites. Until realization how long of a list that would be, so instead, made cookies and drank beer.

9) Made direct farewell comments to linked blogs wherever possible, except when to do so would be too much trouble for us to go to.

10) Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it while we taped our fingers together, making it impossible, if not just really really hard, to type.

11) Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our various Contacts for Pot, as we understood Them, praying only for knowledge of Its location and price per half-ounce.

12) Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to bloggoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs. ALL of them, extra-marital or otherwise. Even carried the message to the kid that bags the groceries and the old lady picking up her thyroid medication. Kinda got annoying about spreading the message.

Wake Me Up

"here comes the rain again

falling from the stars
drenched in my pain again
becoming who we are

as my memory rests
but never forgets what I lost
wake me up when september ends

summer has come and passed
the innocent can never last
wake me up when september ends

ring out the bells again
like we did when spring began
wake me up when september ends"

-green day

Alfalfa

Alfalfa is a short green bushy plant, maybe knee-high. When it blooms, the flowers are a deep purple. If you're looking at it from a distance you can't see the flowers; it just looks like a rich green field. You have to get closer to see the purple tops.

Picture a big green field spread out in front of you, lush and thick, with popcorn popping above it! It's a funny sight! It looks like popcorn, but really, it's hundreds of white butterflies, dancing as they pollinate. Watching them is like watching a fire; you could just stare and stare and lose all track of time.

Horses love fresh alfalfa. We used to have a fence lining our property, and the other side had horses. I'd go outside seeking quiet, and I'd approach the fence. This one horse would see me and silently make his way to our usual spot. He was tan with a black mane and tail, and he knew what I was there for. He knew I would give him a treat. I'd pick bunches of alfalfa (this was before my parents landscaped) and rub his nose as he chomped away. Have you ever had a horse look you in the eyes like he knew you? Like he and you were connected? It's amazing.

Anyway, back to alfalfa. So then the farmer comes and harvests the crop, leaving it in cut pile lines. After it dries, a baler comes and bales it. And then it's hay. Weird, huh?

D'ya ever get that urge??

You know, the desire to just get up and go. Leave. Choose a random place, or not, and just get lost? It reminds me of that song by Lonestar, called "What About Now". It's about a guy who finds a cheap car for sale, and is imploring his woman (?) to drop everything and just drive with him. No destination.

"Let's take that spin that never ends that we've been talking about"

*sigh*

Maybe someday, huh?

Compartmentalization

Tucking things (ideas, events, facts, memories) away, recovering them on an as-needed basis.

I cannot do this. I'm trying, because it seems like a decent coping mechanism. I wish I could find a spot for hurts or pains or ends. But I tend to dwell on things. Situations stay forefront in my mind until something else comes along to replace it, or with time it just becomes less vivid.

For people like me, leaving the church is an abrupt and concise journey. When I first learned about the Book of Abraham being funeral writings, the rest of the doctrine crumbled from there. I had no basis for rationalizing any of it. Piece by piece it fell, until all my beliefs laid scattered at my feet, and I was naked and vulnerable. I don't presume that my journey was any more traumatic than anyone else's; in fact, it was probably way less traumatic. But early on I desperately sought after reasons, ways to rationalize it and tuck the truth away. It just didn't happen.

Now here I am. I dealt with the pain, the grief, and the end of my mormon life. I'm moving on. A new life has replaced it, though the new life is still awkward and fumbling. I have new pains now, ones which I'm dwelling on. They, too, will fade. I'll be okay.

Farewell, Crocodile Hunter

Steve Irwin died. Can you believe it? He was filming for a show called "Ocean's Deadliest" and, irony of ironies, he got killed by a sting ray.

Crocodile Hunter was a show our whole family enjoyed, back when we had cable. Steve Irwin was so funny, but it's not easy to explain why. I guess it's his excitement, his passion for things that most people stay far away from. He gets like a little kid when he actually finds what he's looking for. Anyhow, he had a uniquely endearing charm, and I'll miss knowing that he's out there.

So far, so so

I survived the weekend, and no one got into any fights. We have one more gathering tomorrow, and with various non-relatives that will be there, I'm pretty sure we'll all be on our best behavior.

Things I learned at my half-brother's baptism:

1) The Holy Ghost's method of communication is equivalent to, or at least comparible to, dropping a nail onto a chalk board tray. If you're making fun of the object lesson with your older sister, you won't be able to hear the Holy Ghost.

2) When you have 2 voices talking to you--one telling you to obey your mother and go inside, and the other telling you to keep playing because it's fun--the one telling you to obey is the Holy Ghost. I thought, at first, that it was fear of beatings by said mother, but I was wrong.

3) The Holy Ghost will help us to choose the right. Without it, we're pretty much incapable of making good decisions.

That's all I learned. I wish I'd paid more attention...

Joys of Family

My half-brother is getting baptized today. I haven't stepped foot in an LDS chapel in, oh, 8 months now. But I get to today!

I'm dreading today a little bit. My oldest, and TBM, brother is in town, and apparently he's having issues. He's been acting cranky and he snapped at me a couple of times. I am not going to make any further effort to see him while he's here, but he'll be at a couple other family events, including today's baptism, so I can't avoid him altogether.

Part of me, the part that used to fight my non-mo brother and condemn him to hell, wants to fight about the NON-truthfulness of the church. But I'll go against my nature here, because really, the thought of that just makes me tired. He will either accept me as I am or not, and why put any energy into swaying his decision either way?

Here's one thing I've noticed though, but I can't prove that it's directly related to my exit from mormonism: I'm more able to see his point of view and adjust my behavior accordingly. After being allowed to calm down, vent with my sister, and talk with my husband and a friend, I realize clearly that my brother has other, extraneous issues that could be fueling his crankiness. I think I'm an easy target here because he knows I left the church and doesn't know how to deal with that.

Now, what do I wear? I don't own a dress. Skirt it is....

A flashback

My nearly 2 yr. old son is trodding about the family room wearing his dad's size 12 Adidas tennis shoes. The tongue of the shoe comes up mid-shin on my son. He's also putting his arm down the hole of a thermal, non-skid, slipper sock. He's sucking on the other hand's thumb.

I'm having a moment.

God, I remember the pain of his birth. I had an epidural, but for some reason it didn't work. That Indian anesthesiologist was clueless. I didn't cry from the pain, nor did I scream, but I certainly was vocal and had to force myself to focus on breathing and relaxing. Of course, that didn't help alleviate anything, but it was something to pass the time.

It only lasted a half hour, maybe an hour tops. They turned the lights down during the birth, except for the big spotlight illuminating everything private. That kid's head was ginormous. Most of the pushing was to get his big ol' head out. As soon as I'd accomplished that, everything felt different.

Euphoria. That's what it was. I was swooning, the pain was GONE, and we had our little boy in our lives. He was smushy faced and chubby. My daughter was brought back into the room, and she developed the bond with him right then. She held him and loved him and was SO sweet.

Here's a pic capturing those moments, and who the H cares if I look crappy. I just gave birth! :)

Thursday To-Do List

* put baby down for a nap

* watch "Take the Lead" while baby is sleeping

* write blogs, check emails, finish story, and make shopping list while watching the movie

* after baby wakes up, go to the store and buy some freakin food

* pick up older kid from school

* invite friends over for a relaxing evening in the hot tub

Days when Eric has work off are so smooth and nice. I'm sure it's because he generously lets me sleep in and relax a little. Days off are a good thing!

This is why I would never go back to church: Sundays are precious to me now. Sunday used to mean stress and preparation and exhaustion. Now they mean a guaranteed day off, get up when we feel like it, shower, or not, and basically chill. I look forward to Sunday now! What a funny world this is...

Something I've Been Forgetting

A few months back, I posted about wanting to give myself positive affirmation (if you follow the link, make sure to read Sideon's comment; it's good!). I've been distracted since then, because I forgot about its importance. I still need to do it, because I've yet again been reminded that "if you love yourself, then you can hear others' love too".

Have you ever stepped outside yourself and asked yourself "If I wasn't me, would I be friends with me?" In other words, do I really like myself.

I think I'd be friends with myself. I'm pretty funny. I listen well, and try (though sometimes futilely) to gain understanding. I like to get people to take a look at themselves, get to the root of the issue. It's true, I struggle doing that with myself, but I'm willing to try.

How about you? Would you be friends with yourself?

Time in a Bottle

"If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day
'Til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you"

-Jim Croce

I don't remember anymore where I was when I heard that Amy was dead. I've lived more life now without her than I lived with her. There was a time I thought of her every day. Then it was every week, then month. Now I think about her a couple of times a year. In June, I remember her birthday. I've conveniently forgotten her death day.

Amy was goth, before goth was a word. She was really into The Cure, Violent Femmes, Edie Brickell, and other alternative music. I remember her favorite shirt had Robert Smith on it. She was my rebel friend. If I wanted to not only skip church, but skip church and do bad stuff, she was the person I'd do it with. Her mom died when she was young, so her older brother and sister were mostly in charge of her. But they didn't really raise her, they just allowed her to follow in their footsteps.

She had long, straight, beautiful brown hair. She was short and little, and she had a great smile. I was never sure why she liked me, because we were very different. I think we just liked each other. You know, a connection. She had an entirely separate group of friends, but we lived in the same neighborhood so we'd hang out fairly often. In the summer at Girl's Camp we'd always sneak away and do things that were against the rules. In fact, she was on the infamous midnight hike where we toilet-papered the Lone Tree along the rim of the Mia Shalom valley. Oh, good times!

We all knew she was depressed. Her father wasn't around after her mom died. Her mom had been the entire workings of their household, a really great lady, and he didn't know how to cope with anything after she was gone. Amy's siblings were older and had already started on their downward paths. She had no one really to bolster her up, to keep her afloat. And then they moved.

She still went to the same junior high school as I did, but because she lived far away we never hung out. We'd say "hey" in the halls, and sometimes we'd stop to talk. But we drifted apart. Oh, I just remembered where I was when I heard what happened. I was at my friend Karen's house. Her older sister had been on the phone when we walked into the room, and she looked at us with a sickly pale face.

"Amy Yergensen just committed suicide", she told us. Of course Karen and I didn't believe her.

"No way, Jodie, that's not even funny," was Karen's reply.

If only we'd been right.

I was angry and sad and confused all at the same time. I yelled at her; I yelled at the universe. Only 13, I challenged God and his reasons. I went to her viewing and saw her in atypical white clothing, looking fake and frightening. I had my first emotional meltdown later that night. My first ever. Sobbing uncontrollably, unable to form words, scared to death of death.

Amy's death and funeral shook me for many years, in many, many ways. I was scared of the dark; I would have conversations with the dead Amy; she haunted my dreams; I wouldn't let her go.

Slowly, over the years, I did let her go. Now she's a childhood memory, and one that I love thinking about. I remember her forcing me to listen to "What I am" by Edie Brickell over and over again. I remember peeling her back after she got way too sunburned in a tanning bed. I am so happy she was in my life, if only for a few short years.

SD State Referendumb HB 1215

There is one abortion clinic in the entire state of South Dakota. One. Planned Parenthood opens for business one day every week, and the surgeon from Minnesota flies in to perform elective abortions just for the day. The average (from 2004 figures) is roughly 15 abortions per that one day.

Such a small, simple clinic in Sioux Falls doesn't seem like it would be a hot bed for politics, but it most certainly is. The voters of South Dakota now get to decide if they support their state legislature and the extreme religious right.

The SD state legislature passed a bill making abortion illegal, a felony to be specific, in every case, unless the mother's life is at risk. Yes, friends. Raped? Lousy one night stand you'll forever regret? You still have the option to take the morning-after pill, assuming you A) can get access to it and B) know to take it in the first place. Otherwise? You’re having that baby, sistah.

So yes, the bill passed. The governor signed it into law, back in March. It is technically illegal to have an abortion in the state of South Dakota. The people who designed the law (read: Pro-Lifers) never really intended it to be implemented. They expected the state would get sued, and the case would be taken all the way to the US Supreme Court where they could finally get Roe vs. Wade overturned. But there was an unaccounted-for loophole.

There’s an old law that allows voters to overrule laws by referendum. Thus, our friend, HB 1215 , the referendum which the voters shall support or overturn.

Both sides of the issue are flowing money into the state for advertising. As of now, polls show that it would probably not pass today. But keep a watch out this November, folks. This is a big issue, and its outcome will be historical. As someone who firmly believes my body is my own, I’d like to be able to make decisions for myself. Prove to me, in a court of law, that my body belongs to God, and maybe I’ll rethink my stance. Until then…

I call "time!"

I need to take a little break. I'll still be around, reading all y'all's stuff. Peace out...

"Why is life so precious and so cruel?" -Erasure

“You have a beautiful face.”

“You have really pretty eyes.”

“God, I love your breasts!”

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

“You’re just so dang cute!”

I’ve been hearing comments like this pretty regularly lately. I still haven’t gotten used to it though.

Before six months ago, I never would hear things like this. I always heard comments about my sense of humor, and sometimes people would remark about my long eyelashes. But I never, ever heard positive praise growing up. From anybody. So it’s hard for me to take a compliment.

I’m like my mother, and she’s like hers. I’m sure my daughter will be like me too. Nothing is good enough. We demand more and better. We don’t give praise lightly. Hugs and kisses are rewards (actually they weren’t even that with my mom; I never got hugs and kisses from her), not just a regular part of life.

I crave male attention. My dad was the kissy, huggy one in our family (not saying much) but he was hardly ever around. He was either at work, at the temple, home teaching (or some other church related thing), or he was reading the newspaper in the living room. Sometimes he’d humor us when we’d pester him to come outside and watch us play. He spent many summer evenings lounging on the front lawn. I loved those times! I actually liked Sacrament Meetings because I got to snuggle with my dad, and I'd play with the veins on his hands.

My brothers were all busy with their own lives to pay any attention to me. I looked for that attention elsewhere. I think it was as early as 8 years old. But the problem is, when you’re seeking attention from males that aren’t related to you, it most likely will be sexually natured attention you get. And it was.

So for me, compliments equate desire. Beauty precedes acceptance. And the funny thing about all of it, is that I can give compliments without them meaning desire. I can appreciate someone’s beauty and not have that be criteria of my acceptance of them. In other words, the standards I hold myself to do not match the standards I hold everyone else to. I’m a fucking hypocrite.

Random Friday thoughts

It's an indoor day. We've got lightning and thunder, and various downbursts of rain. It's a good day for cleaning my kitchen, folding the stacks of laundry (shh...don't judge). Then later it will be put-the-kids-to-bed time and R & R-for-Mom time.

Maybe my bottle of White Zinfandel will be my friend tonight. You know, I don't think I'll be drinking the whole bottle this time, fun as that was before. But a glass or two and I'll be warm and toasty.

I guess because of school starting, I'm looking forward to Fall already. Fall is my favorite time of year. Cooler temperatures, apple cider and pumpkin pie, changing leaves, holidays, and the feeling of winter looming. Fall feels very much like a transition, and I find comfort in its dying embrace. Bah! Screw it. I just like Fall, alright? ;) Happy weekend, everyone.

Bishop Rick is a funny guy! :)

He's overtaken the blog world! He's fooled us all...

You got us, BR. Kudos! Tougher though, for next time.

Phantom Bride by Erasure

I'm feeling a bit hormonal and depressive today, so it's a good idea for me to put in the ol' Erasure cd. Here's what I'll be listening to:


She was a shy girl from the lonely street
She had no job to do and no friends to meet
She'd sit in silence in her rented room
Dream of her childhood and invented truths

And in her mind she'd drift away
A secret place to steal away

Don't you cry, don't you cry
Let me wipe away the tears from your eyes
Don't you cry, don't you cry
Let me wipe away the tears from your eyes

He was a good boy from the upside of town
Said he could treat her right, said he could win her round
Her morning sickness and the kick inside
The phantom kisses of the phantom bride

And in her mind she'd drift away
A secret place to steal away

Don't you cry, don't you cry
Let me wipe away the tears from your eyes
Don't you cry, don't you cry
Let me wipe away the tears from your eyes

Race

Weekly Anamnesis # 36

"Crap," I thought, "I'm going to be late!" I slammed the car door shut and yelled a distracted "Bye!" to my dad. My backpack was bouncing as I ran over the trodden snow-covered ground.

It was January of 1989 and I was in the 6th grade (shh...all you oldies). January is historically a bleak month in Utah. The temperature was bitterly frigid and any snowfall we got was dry and didn't make good snowmen or snowballs. January is the month of crunchy, feet-high snow drifts. As a kid, I'd get dressed to play outside, only to have my face stinging from the chill within minutes. January was mostly spent indoors, for me.

I lived 2 blocks up the road from my elementary school, so normally I walked with my friends. This day, however, I had to be there early. I was a part of Scera Park Singers, a school choir made up of 5th and 6th graders. We were having a before-school practice for some reason. Mrs. Greeves (the mean 5th grade teacher!!) was the director and we all did what we could to avoid her wrath. She literally looked like a witch. She was olive-skinned with piercing green eyes, salt and pepper hair, and very sharp features. I used to imagine the different models of brooms she must've kept at her house.

Being late meant that you didn't get to sing, simple as that. Missed practice and you missed performance too. That knowledge drove my strides as I raced the clock to get there on time. But there it was, the gym door, and I was almost there! No sooner had I relaxed my run than I misstepped on the craterous snow beneath my feet. I landed smack on my right arm, in the snow. It hurt! My fingers felt jammed and I couldn't wiggle them very well. "Oh well, I have to go sing," I told myself, and I stood up, brushed myself off and made it to the gym in the nick of time.

Throughout rehearsal I gradually got movement back in all fingers except my right pinky. It was starting to look funny too. It was kind of purplish, and it was the same thickness as my ring finger. I was starting to worry a bit. I didn't dare raise my hand and interrupt Mrs. Greeves, so I waited until my regular class started. My teacher was dear Mr. Kelly, and because he was genuinely concerned for me, he sent me to the office. So I called my dad at work.

"Dad?" I sniffled. I could never call home sick without crying buckets. "I think something is wrong with my pinky. Mr. Kelly thinks I need to see a doctor."

Dad was always the one who could get away from work to deal with my problems, so soon he was back at the same curb, this time picking me up. And this time I walked across the courtyard.

It turned out that I broke my pinky on the growth plate, right at the first metacarpal joint. Because of this, even though the fracture was small, the doctor put a cast on my arm. I couldn't move my wrist at all. For six weeks I taught myself how to write with my left hand, which I can still do fairly well to this day.

Aahh...first day of school!

My daughter started first grade this morning. A full day of school! School lunch!! She's getting so big now...

She went to bed early last night, and woke up with no alarm clock well before she needed to. I remember the excitement of the first day of school too. But she seems uber-excited!

Last year, as the first time I had a child in school, I signed up for everything I could. Room mother, Thursday classroom helper, Thursday home reading book switcher-outer, PTA, and to bring items for several parties. This was a mistake, I learned pretty quickly.

This time around I signed up for Wed. home reading, and as a "cutter". No, this does not involve superficial flesh wounds on my forearms. I just have to help the teacher cut things out for class. No biggie. This year will be much easier.

So now my days are free again--well as free as they can be with a toddler in tow.

As the government's allocation for education funds turns...

...so are the days of my life. Well, it's official. We are in a sucky tax bracket. We make too much money to qualify for significant financial aid, but we don't make enough to actually pay for school. So I'm taking a step back; taking a look at the bigger picture.

I dropped my classes for fall, and will spend this time applying for various grants and scholarships. I'll register for spring as soon as I'm able to. I will not apply for a student loan, not this time around.

If you were Satan's Pawn, what would be your purpose??

I like the thought that I'm being used by Satan to lead astray the children of god. Seriously, that's pretty funny.

If I am truly a pawn of the devil, my purpose is to deflect the spirit. Emphacize cynicism. Encourage lightmindedness and carnal behavior. Stand at a window of the great and spacious building and dissuade my family and friends off their "path".

Actually I have more of a "to each his own" attitude about religion right now. But I still wish Satan were manipulating me. Maybe I'll get lucky someday...

I love my own bed!

Details? Details. Ok.

Well, we took my mother's RV down to Yuba Lake, getting there mid-afternoon on Saturday. We parked right on the north beach. Our friends (four other couples) had all been there the night before too, so they already had the camping "look". :) Three more couples arrived shortly after we did, but only one of those couples stayed the night.

The water level is much higher than it was the last time we went there. With 2 winters of great snowpacks, it's no wonder! We didn't really want to go out on the boat, so instead we put the baby to sleep in the camper and enjoyed some quiet time. The sun was out, the water was comfortable, and I was on the cusp of a sublime experience. Unfortunately, I had downed two beers pretty soon after arriving, and that moment kept getting interrupted by violent bathroom urges. Oh well, it was still a nice time.

The nighttime was spectacular. You could see every damn star in the sky. The Milky Way was prominent, as there were no clouds to confuse it with. Amazing. My friend was feeling a bit down, so she and I took a tequila shot, stripped down naked, and walked casually into the dark water. Yet again, here was a moment which should have been extremely serene and sacred. But soon it became a novelty. More people joined us, it became sexually natured and I lost the moment for the second time that day.

I'd like to say it was just a party the whole time. Unfortunately there was drama and drunkenness and a baby around to keep it from being perfect. We still really enjoyed ourselves, and we want to go back again soon, with both kids, for a day trip or something. It's the perfect temperature right now: nice and warm in the day and cold at night. That temperature. :)

On Too-Short Hiatus

Y to the U to the B to the A .

Yeah we're heading south to Yuba Lake for a while. Our gang of local exmos is spending the weekend down there, sans children. We'll have our youngest, the devil toddler, with us because we can't think of anyone who deserves to watch him for a whole day. So our recklessness will therefore be capped. Perhaps that's a good thing?

I can't even begin to explain how much a break is needed right now! This will be good.

Okay bloggies...have a good couple of days.

The 4000th visitor to my blog is:

Simeon!

K dude, you're in CA, and I'm in Utah. You're a guy, and married too. So, my thoughts about a prize are pretty boring. How about I send you some beer? :) I'll work something out...

And how cool is this??

I just got my first visit from someone at Church Headquarters in SLC. I'm in the big leagues now...

Who will it be?!?

Today I'll reach the mark of 4000 visitors to my blog. I should give a prize, huh? Ok, the prize will depend on 3 things:

1)whether the 4000th visitor is a male or female

2)where the person lives

3)if I know who they are or not, and under what context

What a party-rific Friday, eh, folks?

Nighttime thoughts

Thanks to Chanson, who reviewed a book (which I want to read!) about a woman who's ex-husband is gay and the after-marriage life she's dealing with.

I've been thinking a lot lately about sexual orientation. What determines it? How come some people are attracted only to the opposite sex, while some are attracted to both sexes, and yet others are attracted only to the same sex. It's just odd, and insanely interesting.

Another thing: how come you can sometimes know for certainty what someone's sexual orientation is, and then other times you might think you know but you aren't quite sure, and then sometimes you haven't a clue. Weird! Although I guess it could be argued that you never know for sure. But you get what I'm saying.

If I believed in God I'd pray about these things.

One Friday afternoon in June

"With this Garment I give you a New Name, which you should always remember, and which you must keep sacred, and never reveal except at a certain place which will be shown you hereafter. The name is Sarah," the nice lady smiled as she pronounced it.

"Sarah," I repeated. In my mind I was thinking of a friend of mine named Sarah who used to annoy me a lot. At least, I justified, I would always be able to remember it. Plus, it was a special, just-for-me name, and I really enjoyed Sarah in the bible. It would do. I would not protest.

As we finished our first endowment session, my husband (though not eternally at that point) stood behind the "veil" and repeated what the guy told him to say. I only can recall the part where I gave the First Token of the Aaronic Priesthood, or the New Name. I told Eric my new name and immediately wanted him to whisper what his was. But the temple worker kept on going with the ceremony. Then Eric, as the "Lord", guided me through the white polyester curtain. "Heaven" sure looked like a back-stage. A white one.

In my mind I kept stewing over Eric being the "Lord" in that scenario. But I tucked those thoughts down because the Celestial Room was pretty and I was concentrating on not letting my "robe" touch the floor.

It was dusk as we got in the car to leave. The sound of crickets and cicadas rang in our ears, and the horizon was a dull purple-blue. "Well that wasn't so bad," I declared.

"What'd you expect? Blood-letting?" joked my oldest brother.

I laughed, "Yeah sure. But the initiatory was weird. I didn't know she was going to touch me. Oh well, no biggie." My thoughts trailed off and we drove on with only superficial small-talk.

It wasn't until 5 years later, having removed my garments for the final time, that I remembered my first temple experience. Though it didn't stand out as traumatic, and I didn't realize anything awry at the time, I definately had an out-of-sync feeling that night. Quiet, yes it was. Peaceful, absolutely. Weird, you'd better believe it.

My voice is GONE; that proves how cool Journey is!

I'm sulking and being grumpy because of how much Journey does NOT suck. We heard Faithfully, Don't Stop Believing, and Separate Ways. Yeah, it was quite a flashback to my sibling's high school days... I was way too young to appreciate them at their peak! (ok, so yes, I've resorting to throwing age around. I'm petty, aight?) :)

No I just like a lot of different kinds of music. I'll mostly listen to whatever. But deep down, I'm a rocker chick. Hasn't that been established already? I love classic and hard rock. I like great rockin-out guitar. Maybe that's why I like Def Leppard so much, because they use the word rock in almost all their songs. That reminds me, they have a new album out called Yeah (creative genius, eh?). Last night they played a song from that album, a cover of the Badfinger song "No Matter What". It was cool.

I'm so sorry for over-talking about this. Geez, I'll change the subject now. Hmm... Exmormon. Bitter. Angry. Sin! Misery. Blah. :)

I'm hot, sticky and sweet...!

Ok that freakin rocked.

Journey opened, and we got there late so we only saw like 3 of their songs. But it was great. Then Def Leppard came out and rocked the crap out of the place.

They encored with Love Bites and Pour Some Sugar on Me. KICK butt. I'm telling ya.

Tomorrow I'll think of something more interesting to say, I'm sure. :)

Pour your sugar on me... :)

Woo-hoo!!!

Def Leppard tonight, baby!! Ooh, gotta throw my hot jeans in the wash. Hang on. K there.

So tonight we're heading up to Usana Ampitheater to see Def Leppard live in concert. I bet you I'll be disappointed. I always am with live shows. Plus, the only music I know of Def Leppard is their album Hysteria. Did they do anything else?!? ;)

Ok as of now I'm dropping all expectations and I'm going to have a rockin' time.

Excuse

Weekly Anamnesis #35

The rain beat on the car roof like a child banging a pot. It was loud. There in the darkness we had to speak louder to hear each other. I laid my head on his lap, and we stared at each other as we giggled and explored with our hands. His blue eyes pierced me, even in the dark. When he smiled, his eyes twinkled. It was just like those moments you hear about: it only lasts for a short time, but it feels like forever.

I had seen him at work before. He was in charge of making bread, I think. He'd come into our shop every morning to drop off the loaves, and he'd hang around to talk and flirt with me and Jessica. His name was Rob. He had surfer blonde hair, was a thick build and he drove a white dumpy pick-up truck. He had just moved here from Arizona.

One Sunday at my singles ward I saw him there. I guess I was suprised because I hadn't associated him with mormon or church up to that point. After sacrament meeting, we met behind the pews and he asked me if I was going to sunday school. "No..." I replied, because I never liked auxillary meetings at that ward. He asked if I wanted to go out with him for lunch instead. Having not dated a lot, I got excited and said sure.

In his truck we drove up to Salt Lake valley. Neither of us could decide what we wanted to eat so we went to the mall and hung out for a while. He made me laugh. He complained about church, and his honesty was refreshing for me. We finally were hungry enough to go eat, and it was then, walking through the parking lot, that he reached out and held my hand.

The meal was mediocre. I think it might have been at Village Inn or Denny's or something. Somewhere in Sandy. I still think about him when we drive past the 106th south exit. I digress. We continued our conversation, but we also were frustrated with piss-poor service at the restaurant. We were both relieved when we were done and leaving.

We spent the rest of the day together. We came back to Alpine and drove around the hills a bit. I showed him the water tank, a gigantic white cylinder set into the hill, which you could sit on and have a spectacular view of the whole valley. After dark we drove back to my house. I could typically get around unnoticed and ignored, so we hung out in my back yard. My parents had spent a small fortune landscaping that yard. It was lit up by the moonlight, and the greens of the yard and trees looked a deep black. We sat holding hands and looking at the stars. He leaned over and kissed me, and though it was really nice, it was clear then that I didn't click with him.

Over the next couple of weeks we went out a few more times. But I was formulating my excuse to call it off. He just seemed distant. Seemed interested in the physical, but didn't really seem to care about me or my needs. I felt like a time-filler, since he was new to the area.

So there we were in his truck in the rain. We had been kissing (I'm a sucker for kissing) and I was laying on him. He had his big arms wrapped around me and he'd brush my lips with soft kisses. He put one of his hands up my shirt, in an effort to slip it off me. Though I was savoring and reeling from the sweet moment just before, it was then that I sat bolt upright and told him I couldn't do this. I told him that I wanted to stay pure (or some such nonsense) and that I was waiting to be married before I went further with a guy. I reminded him that he wore his garments, and that they were supposed to be sacred and private. This pretty well ruined the moment. He straightened himself upright and took me home. Sometimes having the church dictating my life came in handy.

A song that I listen to over and over again in my car, just belting out the words :)

Since the day before Rebecca left, I've been listening to the soundtrack of the play Chess. As Becca can probably attest, I know every goddamn word on that cd. Ok, well, most of the words. There is a song called Noboby's Side, in which the main character, Florence, is realizing that her current love, the American chess champion, is a prick and he doesn't care one bit about her. Only the game matters to him. It's a pivotal point in the play. (By the way, I really need to see this play live someday.)

The 3 verses from Nobody's Side:

Everybody's playing the game
But nobody's rules are the same
Nobody's on nobody's side
Better learn to go it alone
Recognize you're out on your own
Nobody's on nobody's side.

Never make a promise or plan
Take a little love where you can
Nobody's on nobody's side
Never stay too long in your bed
Never lose your heart, use your head
Nobody's on nobody's side.

Never take a stranger's advice
Never let a friend fool you twice
Nobody's on nobody's side
Never be the first to believe
Never be the last to deceive
Nobody's on nobody's side.

On some levels, I pity Florence because of her hardness. I feel like she's choosing to not trust. She's deciding to close herself off. But then I can also understand why she would want to put up the walls. I think that the more I age and the less I rely on feelings to decide things for me, I can see her motivation. And, truthfully, I can see myself choosing those very same things a lot lately.

I guess probably the most healthy way of approaching this is to know when to distance yourself and when to open yourself up. I guess there are certain times for each trait. After all, she sings this song, and then goes on to open herself up to the Russian chess champ. But that doesn't end well, either, just so you know. :)

Question for ya:

*My 110th post and my 4th post today! Woo-hoo!*

Is anyone coming to Utah for the exmo conference in October? We'd like to get a head count so we can decide whether or not we need to skip town that weekend or stay and be social exmo butterflies. And really I only care about bloggers. Who gives a crap about those RfM or Exmoso peeps?? Just jokin. A little bit.

Yeah, uhm, thanks! But no thanks.

So Matt is nice enough. He's got quite a printing setup. I was relaxed, confidant (thanks to those who encouraged me!), and dressed nice casual. He made me wait for a bit, but that was fine.

Here's the thing: he wants a full-time employee to do grunt work for $7 per hour. He'll raise it to $8 if they are a good worker and they catch on well. And he said he'd work with me on my time. But I'm sorry. To work full-time I'd definitely need day-care for my son, and after taxes and day-care costs, I'd probably be only taking home $400 a month. Yeah. Uhm, so no.

But. This has inspired me to see what else is out there, and maybe look into working this semester and starting school in January. Oh well... NOW it's time for that beer! :)

Yikes!

The guy, Matt, whom I am visiting later this afternoon wants my references, so he can verify work ethic from previous employers. This is scary to me! I haven't worked in nearly 7 years, and back then I just took a job to keep busy. Most of the places I've worked before are closed now, or at least the people I worked for are gone.

K now I'm a little nervous. Looking at my resume, I am a boring, immature kid. I want to bring up my church service and seminary teaching. Seminary teaching took a lot of time, work, and dedication to do well. And it wasn't a "calling". It was an appointment. Anyway, I'll just go with the flow here... Maybe I'll have a beer before I go! Ok, just kidding.

Change of plans?

A few weeks ago over lunch, I announced to my brother and some co-workers of his that I need a job. I have 2 motivations for this: 1- more money! and 2- time away from home. Since then, I have successfully begun to fulfill #2 by registering for classes. But this scenario is actually draining from us, not adding.

Last spring when we filed our taxes, the computer crashed before my husband had a chance to print our returns out. So I've been having issues trying to fill out my FAFSA. In fact, I don't think we'll have a copy of the return before the deadline for tuition payment. Anyhow, that $1200 will have to be paid out of pocket by us, which is not an easy thing. I will, however, get the returns back in time to request financial aid for the Spring '07 semester.

My point? There's a guy my brother knows who runs a printing place. He does 90% of the promotional printing for the company my brother designs for. He needs someone to help him get organized and tighten up the ship. So when he heard that I was wanting part-time work, he told my brother to have me go visit him. I hesitated, because of having registered for school, but the tuition thing has me worried enough that I am now reconsidering. Extra money? How can I say no to that???

I'll go visit the guy today, and see how it feels.

Blog removal...Grr...!

So. Yet again, JLO's blog has been removed. Hm.

I can guess the circumstances, and I hope everything is well with you, J. I wish we could meet for coffee... Mattman? Your cue. :) Friends are good at times like these.

I'm a lucky gal. I can think of about 5 different ways off-hand that my situation could've been different, and my life could've been hellish. I just feel really sorry that people have to struggle so much. In fact, I think it was JLO who said "leaving the church is not for the faint of heart". When I read that, I wondered if I was not faint of heart. I don't feel brave, not about this.

I hope the weather in Texas clears up, the clouds part, the suffocating humidity relents, and the crisp, hopeful sun shines through. :)

Labels

All this talk about feminists and pornography and definitions has me trying to slap a label on myself.

I've never voted Republican, and am registered Independent. I think I'm pretty liberal on most issues, but there are little threads of conservatism flowing deep in me.

I am a feminist in that I desire the same opportunities and rewards for women as for men. But I absolutely believe that men and women are inherently different, and those differences should be celebrated. Women are good for certain things, and men are good for certain things. Now, of course, this is a great big generalization. I guess what I'm getting at is that I'm a supporter of Individualism, regardless of gender.

I get "turned on" by many kinds of porn, including male/male sex. But really, it's intimacy that turns me on. I'm not so very interested in the stranger or one night stand ideas. Give me two (or more!) people that have some feelings for each other, and that's HOT! :) I like to think of myself as more than tolerant. I want to be more than accepting.

So what do we have so far? Liberally moderate feminist, open-minded but as yet inexperienced ALL-sexual (as opposed to homo or bi). What else? I don't want to get into some personal stuff, but there are other ways that I'm probably radical, too.

Ah... I got it! I'm a HIPPIE!! :) Now who's got the joint...?

Ramblings of one crazed with boredom....

It's a Friday night. Ah, Fridays. I used to think Friday was better than Saturday, because I could party all night Friday then sleep in on Saturday. Back then I couldn't stay up all night on a Saturday because I'd have to wake up early for church on Sunday.

Now? Saturday rocks. Saturday kicks Friday to the curb. Friday doesn't stand a chance.

Can't wait for tomorrow night. It's bound to be better than tonight... ;)

That Stinks!

So I was reading the "paper" a while ago, and the article described how the security guidelines for airline flights has again changed. Because of the foiled terrorist attack yesterday in London, now liquids/gels can no longer be brought on board. The passengers (at BWI, Dulles and National, as this was an article in the Post) stood in line for hours and then they had to throw their toiletries in the trash.

I read of people crying because of having to dump their designer perfumes and hair care products. No mousse, gel, perfume, deodorants, nothing. I would've been one of the ones crying, I'm sure. I have sympathy for these people because I hate waiting in lines and I LOVE my smelly lotions, etc. Not that I buy the high-end stuff, but what money I do spend I value.

Is this stuff ever going to end? I guess not. I guess this is our new existence, huh? Just like we all have microwaves and phones and email addresses, I suppose we just have to live with mostly ineffective uber-security at airports now. *sigh*

My Top 5...

I always talk about my Top 5 most beautiful people, so I decided it's about time to actually compile that list. These are not ranked, they're only in order of which popped into my brain first.

Nicky Hayden
Milla Jovovich
Charlize Theron
Jude Law
Rachel Weisz

Ok, well this list can certainly be added upon, so feel free. I also want to give Ewan McCutehead and Scarlett Johluscious an honorable mention. They were this close to the top five. :)

3 Conversations with My Dad

**I just wrote this for the sake of saying it, but I think I'll change it a bit and use it for Weekly Anamnesis # 34. Not the best stuff I could do, but it's applicable.**

Dad was the more spiritual influence in our family. Sure he had a bad temper, but he also had a love of the scriptures. He did his best at instigating family home evening, family prayer, scripture study, etc. I think those things failed because the rest of us, including mom, were just completely non-supportive and would sleep through most of them

As I matured in age and testimony, I would talk with my dad about things I'd be learning in Seminary or Sunday School. I think I was 15 or 16 when I first found out about the priesthood being withheld from black men, and I took issue with it. So it was to my dad that I went. We had a conversation, scriptures in hand, about the curse of Cain and the flood and the mark and all that other BS. I don't remember feeling like I got an answer, or a good one at least, but I do remember liking that I could talk to my dad about stuff like that. I think I was the closest to my dad in that sense.

After I graduated and left home, dad shocked all of us by slapping a divorce on my mom. He called me on the phone to tell me. I couldn't breathe when we hung up. Eric had gone to work, so I had to repeat the conversation over again with him. I went to my job as a waitress later that day, but was no use to anyone. I would go off and find a corner to cry in, and I didn't have the strength to care what people wanted to eat. Within 7 months the divorce was final, and within 2 months after that, my dad was remarried. The respect I had for him dissipated fairly quickly and completely.

My dad then had a son with his new wife. A year later, when my oldest was born, my dad actually said to me, "Thank you for giving me a grandchild who's younger than my son." STILL creeps me out... His son, who's name is Moses (no need to say anything, I KNOW), is turning 8 in a couple of weeks. Dad mentioned something about a baptism, "if he passes the interview". That was funny to me, but dad didn't understand the real reason why.

My sister and I have envisioned the day we tell him about our leaving the church. Dad will approach us to casually mention that he and his new wife have been sealed in the temple. Our part of the conversation will go something like this: "Well, dad, it's too bad we couldn't have been there. We resigned our membership from the church, though, so even if you had invited us they probably wouldn't have let us in." I don't know how he'll take that news. I'm sure he'll feel guilty and possibly angry. He might try to challenge any information we've found out. He might just be sad and weepy. It's tough to predict my dad, I've learned. The only thing we know for sure is that after it's all out in the open, we're going to go have a big party.

A thought or three

Don't you hate it when you read other people's blogs/stories/writings and the power of their words or their images makes you feel totally inadequate? Sometimes that happens to me. But part of my growing up process is to take their words and let them shape me. Let them affect me. In essence, recognize and validate other people's strengths while not self-diminishing my own.

**Tangent Alert**
Ew! I was just sitting here and a gigantic fly landed on the moniter. It crawled upwards and creeped me out because it reminded me of the fly on the movie The Ring. I hate that movie. It makes me cry from fear, and that big fly comes out of the tv. Yucky!!! And that reminds me how much I do NOT want to see the new movie The Descent. It has darkness, enclosed spaces, and lack of air. No, no, no.... Not going to see it. (I have to be obstinate because my family finds humor in renting freaky movies and watching me cry when the creepy, choppy girl crawls out of the tv and kills people by doing something which the audience isn't quite clear on...)

Okay, back on track. So writing. Is eloquence learned or inborn? I want that. Eloquence, I mean. How can I write a post about strip malls and make it sound like poetry? Just kidding. I have to say, I think I'm pretty dang lucky to have a lot of English majors around to help and influence me. Will some of you do my homework for me too? Just kidding!!! Geez.

Well, I'm off to bed. Hope tomorrow is humptastic for all...

Just Another Mandoo-ic Monday

I would like to give a heart-felt apology for monopolizing the blogosphere today with my mention of writing erotica. Sorry all you people (Doug) haven't had the floods of hits/comments today like you do on normal boring days. Ok really I haven't had that many hits today. Not any more than normal, anyway. Oh well.

Today I bought my Def Leppard outfit. We're seeing them (and Journey) in concert on the 16th, and I needed something rocker-chick. So I bought a bunch of stuff, including a shirt with a dragonfly on it. TOO cute. Rebecca told me randomly today that my eyes are exotic. I've always wanted exotic eyes... I'll post a pic as soon as my techno husband can resize and cut and stuff.

Oh I have to dedicate a portion of this post to my lovely sister in law, Mandoo. She's TBM and bootie-licious. She is a faithful reader and learner-about-Laura, and she accepts me and my exmormonness even though it's hard. So that makes her the best EVER. It's good to be accepting, and I'm going to try and stop making blanket statements because they're inaccurate and dumb.

Ok, now it's time for more erotic story writing. P.S. I'll save Mandoo the disgust of reading a non-joking account of smut written by me. Even though she'd like it. ;)

One Small Step for La

I'm following in the footsteps of my dear blogging friends and I'm trying my hand at erotica. But I'm a little nervous to post it here. I need to finish off this last part of my story, so it's not quite done yet. I just thought I would announce to the world that I'm giving it a go.

I think everyone should do some erotica writing. Go ahead!

Oh, and as a side note, I saw Brokeback Mountain today. And Donnie Darko. It was a Jake Gyllenhaal fest! :)

I know it seems like...

...I drink every night and probably am an alcoholic. If you think that though, you'd be wrong. I don't drink that much. Once, maybe twice a week at most. It's just that every time I DO drink, I feel the overwhelming need to blog about it.

Last night I went way out of my comfort zone, and then back into it again, then back out, and so forth. I drank Guiness Extra Stout as I ate deliciously warm chocolate chip cookies. Sideon insisted it is a perfect match, on par with chocolate and strawberries. The beer wasn't that bad actually. It wasn't as bitter as I expected it to be. But then I took a bite of my (BEST EVER) cookie, so when I returned to the beer, it was much more bitter. The sweetness of the cookie made the beer more bitter! It's like drinking orange juice after you brush your teeth. It just didn't work.

By the end of the beer, I was so buzzing (yeah, on just one!) that I didn't even care about the flavors anymore. It was really good by that time. So were the salsa and chips I was chowing on. Ok, to be fair, maybe the salsa flavor had something to do with my conflicting tastes. Oh well, they were movie snacks! Rebecca came over and we watched The Island. Can there be a better combination than Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johannsen and Rebecca? Lovely, beautiful people, all.

Uhm, my next alcohol post will be about wine. That's my next conquest. I had chardonnay recently and really enjoyed it, so I went and bought a bottle (I will NOT be drinking the whole thing, lest I identify with the term "wine-o"). I also bought another white zinfandel, and a bottle of riesling. So stay tuned to the Adventures in Alcohol---quite the after-school special.

Happy Weekend!

Like, totally, man!

You Belong in 1976

If you scored... 1970 - 1979: Bold and brash, you take life by the horns. Whether you're partying or protesting, you give it your all!

What Year Do You Belong In?

I was all mad that I scored in the 70's. I should've scored in the early nineties!!! Or at least late eighties. But then I read the description, and yeah, that's sort of like me. So I accept 1976, even though I wasn't born yet (yikes!!!).

Why I was talked about in Bishopric Meeting

Chanson, I'm a sucker for talking about myself, and it's not really a great story. But I do pride myself on the fact that I was, indeed, talked about in a negative way in Bishopric meeting.

A tiny bit of background:

We moved from Raleigh to Orem in 2002, with the intent of Eric going to school. We lived in the basement (huge, btw) of my mom's condo, and so we attended her ward. It is, I believe, the oldest ward in Orem, in history and median age. Anyhow, we were "lucky" to have an ex-BYU football player (from the early 90's) as our bishop. You probably heard his story (though I have no desire to name him): he gave up his NFL contract because he refused to play on Sundays.

This bishop made it his personal goal to perfect all his saints.

When we moved to Orem we became complacent in our activity. The only reason I would walk the 20 feet to our chapel was because I got called to be RS teacher. It was a nice break after teaching early-morning seminary in NC. But we liked sleeping in. We disliked dressing up. We liked going to Sconecutter on Sunday.

The less I went to church, the less I cared about what I wore. (I had already ditched the garmies by this time--they only lasted a year) There were some shorts that I'd kept around, mostly because they were comfy, albeit a tad short. I stopped teaching in RS, just because I wanted a damn break from a calling for a minute. See? I was destined to leave...

Someone in the ward, let's just speculate it being the RS president, saw me wearing and enjoying my lack of clothes during the hot Utah summer. She felt it her duty to report this to the bishop in her one-on-one meeting. I guess they were trying to figure out what calling I could have, and she made it a point to mention my un-garment-worthy attire. So then the bishop takes this dire information and announces it in Ward Counsel.

As Eric sat there listening to the bish, taking notes, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Knowing me better than most anyone, he knew that my shorts had nothing to do with my character. He felt that they could've simply said "La isn't available for a calling", but instead had to go into the why and how and the unworthiness. He came home and told me about the meeting, and right there, in my shock and upset, was my first glimpse of the church being a joke. I knew nothing of the church's sordid past. I just knew that I didn't want to be a part of that kind of organization.

The end. (told you, not really that neat... If only it were chastity issues!!!)

And Since I Mentioned Maroon 5...

...I must post the rest of the song.

She Will be Loved by Maroon 5

Beauty queen of only eighteen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else
I drove for miles and miles
And wound up at your door
I've had you so many times
but somehow I want more

[chorus]
I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved

Tap on my window, knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
I know I tend to get so insecure
It doesn't matter anymore
It's not always rainbows and butterflies
It's compromise that moves us along, yeah
My heart is full and my door's always open
You can come anytime you want

I know where you hide
Alone in your car
Know all of the things
that make you who you are
I know that goodbye
means nothing at all
Comes back and begs me
to catch her every time she falls

Tap on my window, knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful

Please don't try so hard to say goodbye
Please don't try so hard to say goodbye

What are your bests?

I think I've said it before... Yep, this is nothing new. I like a beer buzz. I've never blogged drunk before, as I mentioned on 'stache dude's blog one night. And technically I'm not drunk now, either. But I'm nice and relaxed, fo sho.

Best line from a (Maroon 5) song :

"It's not always rainbows and butterflies, it's compromise that moves us along..."

Best beer :

Molson Canadian

Best Burger :

Char-grill in Raleigh, NC

First step; check!

Ok, all done. I've registered for three classes this fall. The english class wasn't available at the right time, so I had to come up with something else.

PHIL 2050 Ethics & Values
PSY 2800 Human Sexuality (I purposely chose the psych class as opposed to the health version)
HLTH 1100 Personal Health and Wellness

No English--sad!--but these all need to be out of the way.

Oh, and let me just bitch about the cost of education here in Utah. 1 credit hour, for a resident, costs $207. $257 with the fees!!! Good grief. My 3 little classes are going to cost me upwards of $1200. I think a move to California is in order. There, even as a non-resident, it would only be $163 per credit hour.

I hate crying!

(Thinking of JLO's post about crying)

When I was a kid, I was a cry-baby. I'm the youngest of six kids, and a girl, and so I learned quickly (however subconsciously) that crying was an effective tool to get my way. Ok, well I don't really know that I used it for manipulation, but likely I did. Mostly, I felt misunderstood.

My next oldest brother and I fought ALL the time. Seriously. He despised me tagging along with him, and I despised him for despising me. We never got along. Oh, except that one time we were on a long road trip and he and I made fun of my mom's love of the Chris DeBurgh song, Lady in Red. That was one day we were united.

So I would cry all the time. Cry to my mom, cry about my mom not punishing my brother, and cry about other stuff that I won't mention because my older siblings read this blog and they'll just call me a spoiled brat. :)

The crying throughout my teenage years was depressive and hormonal. *rolling eyes* I do not miss those days.

But then I stopped crying. Movies didn't make me cry anymore, Hallmark commercials didn't, boys didn't, nothing. As an adult, I cried when my parents got divorced 9 years ago. I cried while bearing my testimony. Yeah, just talking about Christ would get me all worked up. I cried when my best friend's husband shot himself, leaving her with 1 child and pregnant with another. So my adult crying has had some basis, I believe. I could probably work up a cry now, just thinking of those same things. I don't know why, but this is also the time where I really started to hate crying. Despise it. Hide it. Crying = bad. Hmm...

Since leaving the church in spirit last November, I've turned back into that cry-baby. Ok, well not that bad. I guess, while some people are full of anger and outrage, I'm full of depression and remorse. Even knowing that "the church was all I knew", it's still hard for me to understand how I could ever have believed it.

Here's what's funny: 10 years from now, I'll probably look back on this time in my life and roll my eyes. Hopefully I'll be that much closer, then, to balance and peace.

Coolness!

I just got back a little while ago from visiting my academic advisor. She was very helpful, as opposed to the prior ones I've worked with. We had engaging conversation, and she seemed genuinely interested in my success. So that was cool.

Assuming they take my transfer credit, and they should dangit, then I'm starting as a sophmore, and don't have much left to get an General Ed Associates with an English Emphasis. This seems like a good plan--going for the ass. :D--because then I can transfer to another college and enter as a junior, needing no further general eds.

I'm starting this semester just taking 2 classes. Maybe 3. If I can handle the load, and my son does well in day care, then I'll go full time next semester. Remember that post a while back about needing to pick which English class? Well I need neither of those classes! I fulfilled them already! Ok so now I have 1 English class left for the gen eds...and it's Critical Introduction to Literature (it actually fills the Humanities gen ed req). So I'll probably be taking that one this semester. Plus an online health class, and maybe Ethics & Values.

So yeah, a bunch of reading, a bunch of writing, but I think I might just be able to handle it. And I'm very excited, so that makes a ginormous difference. :) :) :) School is cool!

Defending the faith, or lack of it, or whatever...

Something that's been bugging me lately is why I take things so personally. For instance, on my husband's blog, A New Eric, his mom commented that she never "believed he was mormon". (sorry for bringing this up here, but it seems a good forum)

Is it the Sagittarian in me that still pays lip service, to a miniscule degree, to the religion in which I no longer believe? Why do I care? Eric never did get into the church as much as I did, but that's to be expected. I was born into it. It was my culture. Eric did, however, become very active. We went to church every week. He taught the older teenagers in Sunday School. Here in Utah he was one of the upper-level callings, Ward Clerk. That means he got to sit in on all the juicy meetings (the content of some of said meetings actually helped in my exit).

I knew that there was something wrong though. He never "fulfilled his priesthood duties". He didn't give/offer blessings. He didn't lead the family, in prayers, family home evening, or other such mormon mandates. I always attributed his lack of gung-ho-ness (it IS a word) to his never having lived in the mormon culture. He had no example of these things, and so it was new and very strange to him. So maybe there were signs of his non-mormon-ness (again...a word).

For me, though, I never in a million years would've thought this is where I'd end up. Throughout turmoil, throughout changes and moves, the one common denominator was my belief in Joseph Smith and the Restoration. Hindsight, I can see I was much too liberal for mormons. I had bursts of feminism, but I was able to tuck those away and be proud to be a mormon woman, a "queen of Israel".

I can watch that mormon South Park episode and laugh my guts out. It's so clearly false. It's so clearly crap. But then why am I still defensive? I don't like thinking mormon; I've done fairly well at disassociation so far. Then occasionally, these thoughts creep back in, and they piss me off.

What to do in case of erection lasting 4 hours or more:

Call your friends!

Ok so I got some tv watching in tonight. It's all ED drugs and top ten lists and bad reality tv ads. I haven't been missing much, is what I've realized.

Top Ten Movies I have to see:

The Mission (still on the must-see list from like 10 years ago)
Superman Returns
Mission Impossible 3
Lady in the Water (not caring about my bro's review)
Clerks 2
Miami Vice (if only to see the 'stache)
The Devil Wears Prada (yeah, I read a good review)
Pirates of the Caribbean 2
You, Me and Dupree (Owen, the funnier Wilson)
My Super Ex-girlfriend (Luke, the hotter Wilson)

The list could go on and on!! I really need to see some movies.

Brrr...

It's nice and cold today!!! There were some kick-a thunderstorms a little while ago, with some super intense lightning. But now it's calm and serene...albeit overcast still.

Know what's the saddest thing in all the world? When my 20 month old son shivers from fright when he hears thunder. Poor kid. He's such a cutie, and to see him so scared tugs at my heart strings. But then, in steps my wonder-6 yr old. She is a very good big sister. She comforts him and hugs him, and he responds well to her affection. They are a good sibling match, in my opinion. That gives me great joy.

Mood Changers

There are 3 things in this world that instantly switch my mood. Or make it even better. Does everyone have these? All you have to do is see/hear it and suddenly the world is a brighter place. You know me pretty well if you know my 3 things. But I'm going to share one of them with the blog world. Ready? It's really neat...!

Dragonflies.

Here's a cool pic I found at a photgraphy gallery website. It's of a twelve spotted skimmer, or Libellula pulchella.
Isn't it beautiful? A couple of weeks ago I was outside on my deck at dusk. Suddenly a whizzing sound rushed past my head. As I turned my head upward I saw 3 or 4 dragonflies speeding about in circles around our back yard. Dinnertime, no doubt. They were amazing! With their speed and agility, they seem like small birds.

That was a great evening.