On the eve of my twenty- . . . uh, third birthday

Wow, I can't believe I'm already going to be twenty-three.

My close friends and family know what a big deal birthdays are to me. More specifically, my birthday. I whole-heartedly embrace the birthday month approach with a special focus on the birthday week. It has been a pretty sweet week. I love spoiling myself and letting others do the same as they see fit. It's the little things . . . like when I was frosting the brownies the other day, I was going to hand the spatula over to my husband to lick. But then I came to my senses. "Birthday week," I thought to myself. And we all know what happened next. (Except for my husband who had no idea there was ever a frosting spatula to be had.) And I slept in a day or two this week, took extra long showers, had a Coke, spent time with some close friends, had my hair done, and watched Leave it to Beaver whenever I felt the urge. All of this and it's not even my birthday. I can't wait to see what I have in store for myself tomorrow on my actual birthday.

This year for my birthday, I got a house. At least that's what my husband keeps telling me. And I tell him that I can't wait to see how he plans on topping that next year. Tomorrow we will have been in the house for two weeks. It has been an exciting, tiring, frustrating, and blessings-filled two weeks. We feel really lucky to be in this house in an area that we really love. It's not perfect, but it's wonderful. Being the planners that we are, we've been planning for and looking at houses for two years. And, just like everything else in my life, I had plan A in mind all along and ended up with plan B, which is exactly what we needed. It's amazing how quickly this house has felt like a home. But maybe that's just because it's something I share with the person I love where other people we love come and visit.

I love yard-work husband. I see him tooting around on his lawnmower, digging all around with the shovel. I hear power drills and roto-tillers running on evenings and all day Saturday. I love it. And he does, too, which is great. It reminds me of my dad, and for some creepy reason, I love that my husband reminds me of my dad. Now I just need to get him some Hawaiian shirts and a straw, wide-brimmed hat for the summer and the resemblance will be uncanny.

I'm actually having fun working on the inside of the house. I hate decorating; it stresses me out. But the place is getting really clean and organized. And every once in a while I find myself able to buy a decor item and place it without too much stress.

The biggest problem in organizing the home is trying to figure out what to do with all of my books. I think I counted over ten boxes of books when we moved. And then . . . there are all the boxes of my teaching stuff. More and more boxes of other books.

As I was packing the books at our apartment, I came across this book, coincidentally during the same week of Maurice Sendak's death.

I love this book, always have. But I really love this particular copy of the book. This was the first book that a teacher of mine ever gave to me. It was Mrs. Casteel in first grade. I loved her so much. I still have such vivid memories of her face, her clothes, her words, and how she made me feel (and that one time I got in trouble for talking when all I was doing was telling the people by me to stop talking). In my mind, she was the world's greatest teacher. 

She gave me this book as a reward for reaching my goal of reading 100 books . . . I think that was in one term. I don't remember for sure. But for the sake of making me seem like a brilliant six year-old, let's say it was in one term. I read that book over and over and over and each time I read it, I would remember the pride I felt in reaching my goal. I imagined that my teacher had gone to great lengths to purchase and choose this book for me. Though, after teaching school myself, I realize it was probably a freebie book she received from the book orders. But again, let's choose to remember the glorified version of the story. 

I love Where the Wild Things Are. I love it because it reminds me that I love reading, school, teachers, and the positive impact that teachers can have on children. Mr. Sendak may have been sick of the book and sick of being known for the book, but I love it. I love books, all ten+ boxes of them.

Choose Your Own Adventure

What is happening in the following pictures?

A) TMIM broke out in some strange jungle rash.

B) TMIM is taking part in a traditional in-law rite of passage exercise.

C) TMIM thought it would look cool to have small, 

circle "hickeys" all over his face.

D) TMIM is experiencing Fisher Price acupuncture. 

E) These were posted without the consent or permissions of 

TMIM and I am going to be in big trouble. :)

The Same, But Different

As I write this, I am sitting in my "childhood" bed at my parents house, alone. Somewhere in a parallel outdoor universe, my husband is probably lying in a sleeping bag, or two, or three, or four, shivering and wondering why he and his friend ever thought snow camping was a good idea. (he, he) The funny thing is that I grew up in this room. I slept in this bed for 18 long years. I'm under the same blankets, with the same pillows, surrounded by the same book shelves and pictures on the wall, but it feels so odd to be here. I have only been married for about 4 months, but that short amount of time somehow wiped away all the old normalcy of my single life—my life alone.

It feels weird to think that my I don't know exactly what my husband is doing and saying right now. It almost makes me laugh out loud, because anyone who knows me well knows that I thought I'd never want someone to be a part of my life at all times. So, I pathetically wish that I were with my husband tonight, rather than alone at the home I know so well.

All this has got me to thinking. Why is it that I love being married to T.M.I.M.? Well, for your reading pleasure, here are just a few of the reasons:

• There is always someone who wants to listen to me talk about my day, and finds it genuinely interesting. (Unless of course he is playing his DS, or thinking about camping)
• I always have someone to hold the other half of the hymn book and it doesn't have to be awkward.
• I don't have to throw away the other half of my Cafe Rio salad.
• There is always an opportunity to hear voices, quotes, and imitations when I least expect it and most need a laugh.
• I have someone to share my hopes and dreams with who won't think I'm crazy. 
• Mario found her Luigi. We can now take over the gaming world!
• There is someone to confirm that I do NOT snore, when I've been wondering for so long.
• I have someone to camp for me so I don't have to.
• I don't have to push myself when I stand on the bar on the grocery cart and I can now float down the aisles with ease. 
• I have an insect killer at my beckon call, a role which I'm pretty sure my parents were tiring of. 
• I have a warm body to cuddle with instead of my body pillows.
• I have a life-sized Ken to dress.
• I have someone to sit real close to at church when it's freezing cold.
• I can wake up someone nearby during the middle of the night when I have bad dreams, like all five year-olds do.
• I have someone to laugh at really lame commercials and sitcoms with.
• I always have confirmation, although forced, when I say that a certain girl is not cute.

These are just a few of the things I can think of at the moment, with my less-than-alert mind. I'm sure I would list less silly and more sincere things after a full night's rest. But that's not why you read my blog.

There goes the neighborhood.

As I was just driving home from work, at 4:30pm, I saw a car pulled over by two trooper cars on the side of the interstate. This young man was doing the whole walk on a straight line and touch your nose with your fingers thing ... at 4:30. Wow. I have to admit that a small part of me was proud of this man. It takes a lot of guts to get plastered in the middle of a week day. If I were the drinking kind, I might have been in the same position he was on a day like today. But when I came to my senses, I realized it probably wasn't the highlighting moment of that man's life.

I'm pretty sure my neighbors are drug dealers—two doors down. There are multiple cars at their place, which are gone at the strangest times. Mysterious people are often at their door with shifty eyes... and a grown man with a backpack. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure my neighborhood is about to be featured on the next episode of COPS.

Shopping Fail

Just thought I'd let you know that Walgreen's in Kaysville is completely sold out of Cadbury Mini Eggs ... for the season. Or so I've heard.

"The advice is priceless, and the book is free."

Many of you have probably seen this before. But it's always worth a replay.

In a recent discussion with my husband where we listed all the things we'd rather buy instead food, gas, insurance, and other necessities, this clip came to mind.




So, until I become a billionaire, the wish list of things we'd like to buy will have to do:

Hover house, hover car, money tree, my personal yoga studio and instructor, stock in H&M, Muddy Buddy dispenser in my car, tredmill desk to work off the Muddy Buddies, house on the coast with a wrap around porch, my grandma's old house restored to the exact position it was in when she was still alive, a baby grand piano, robotic arms or legs, someone to follow me around and tell me I look cute all day, a personal jet to take me to see Jen, Shae, and Lara at will, someone to shave my legs for me (at least weekly), etc.

A girl can dream...

Top 10 Things Overheard From Various Children Last Weekend

10 "Oh, I almost put uh these buttons in my eyes."

9 "Hey, Gran.... Hey, Dan."

8 "My dad doesn't like those kind of movies. Have you ever seen him watch that funny movie? I don't think so."

7 "Don't be scared; I'm right here."

6 "I'm no henchman, I work for myself."

5 "I was talking to Megan."

4 "Oh, Dan, you're soooooo funny."

3 "Do you want to know my real name? First, everyone has to guess. [Guesses are made] Okay, it's Indiana Jones. But my parents made me promise not to tell anyone."

2 "I don't like to say kind of bad words." (In response to me saying "Chicken butt.")

1 "Tooty, fart!"

The Verdict is in...

...People lie on my polls.
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The answers are anonymous, kids. So next time, feel free to say who you really feel is the weaker gender. :)

P.S. The coworker next to me just blew her nose, and I had to stop myself from saying "Bless you." I am so kind.

The Monster in Me

Sometimes I feel like a complete whiner. Today is one of those times. I have the best husband in the world, a loving, fun family, fabulous friends that make me smile, a job that pays the bills, a strong belief system that could lift anyone from the dumps... yet in moments like these I just want to crawl into the corner and cry like a little school girl. Hey, I'm only human.

When I was a senior in high school, I learned that there was a monster in me. This monster would remain for the rest of my life. It took away my senior year of high school while we tamed it and forced me to grow up over night. Then I spent the next few years re-learning life with a monster in me. Through college and a few years after, it seemed like I could keep the monster dormant if I just lived my simple, routine, riskless life. I could deal with the monster by myself. I didn't want help from others and I certainly didn't want people to know.

But for some odd reason, when you're in a marriage-bound relationship with someone, they figure things out. I revealed the monster to my pre-husband. Life went on. I had always dreaded marriage... for a lot of reasons. But, if I'm being honest, mostly because it would be hard to share my life with someone else and with the monster. These past few months have been hard as I've figured out how to let my husband in to that part of my life, and to let someone take care of me (this is surprisingly difficult when you've spent so many years taking care of yourself). And, as luck would have it, the monster has decided to awake from hibernation at a time in my life when there are already a trillion other changes happening. It's hard. Really hard. And sometimes I cry... which I never do.

But I mostly feel bad for my husband; he is a saint. There are a lot of things that I can't do and a lot of things that I'll never be able to do. He says he's okay with this. I am a big time-consumer in his already busy life—get this, help me with this, talk to me and cheer me up. He is a saint. I want to be normal. But is seems like the harder I try, the more the monster fights back. The monster's been particularly stubborn lately... rejecting medication, costing $$, causing me to fall behind at work, and just making me feel crummy. I hate the monster. And I don't feel bad for myself because I know I can take the monster... he's just a huge pain in the ass right now. But we all have our monsters. It wouldn't be life if we didn't... and fighting our monsters makes us a little stronger everyday, even if we don't realize it. And, you know, I'd rather be dealing with this monster than many others that I see people deal with everyday... bless their hearts. I just really, really hate my monster today.

I might be over it tomorrow... or the next day... better give be until next week. But I promise, I'll be over it. There are too many good things going on to let something silly like a monster keep you down.

Lies My Father Told Me

"Hard work is it's own reward."

I guess it would be if I were working for free. But I'm not. I don't work hard and take on more responsibilities just for the sake of feeling good and chipping in. I guess that's always the initial motivation. But as time moves on, you'd like to see fruits of you labors (and by fruit, of course I mean cash). And the corporate, non-government world is where those dreams can come true—where your hard work will finally be rewarded! NOT. I was under the impression that leaving the public sector and working for a private company would allow me to progress in my job so far as I had the ability to. I am standing proof that this is not the case. You see kids, sometimes adults work hard, and nobody cares about how hard you work... it's never enough. Oh, you learned what skill and streamlined what process? Great, we'll reward you by sending more responsibilities your way. And then to top it off, we'll slap you in the face and give you a swift kick in the pants. Welcome to adulthood. And boy am I glad to be here.

Also, when your dad actually notices a change in your hair for the FIRST time in recorded history, you know it's not good. Monday morning I was feeling brave and asked my sister to cut me some real bangs. Monday afternoon I was feeling remorseful and was quickly reminded by the mirror reflecting my short bangs that I have an ugly face. I know that sounds dramatic, but that's how I felt. Now that I've calmed down, I know I don't have a completely ugly face, maybe just not the face for real bangs. Plus. as I've been styling them, I'm having flashbacks to 5th grade... and the Utah claw bang that I used to sport, courtesy of my two-inch Conair curling iron. Those were dark, ugly times in my life. But when I stopped by my parents for lunch today, Norm said, "About your bangs, I really like them. They make you look a lot younger." Which is just what a 26 year-old who typically can be found wearing hoodies and pony tails needs.
So, let me ask you this bang inovators (Sig, Lindsay, Cambria, etc): How on earth do you style them to look not circa 1992? Round brush gets them too round, and flat iron too flat. What is a girl to do?!

Here we see Megan attempting the very popular full-bang, but not completely succeeding.

 We also note that it looks as if she's picking her nose... it was an itch. 

And, yes, that is absolutely chipped, black nail polish.

I'm too old for this stuff...

Tonight, while strolling quickly through the aisles of Walmart, and trying to not touch anything unnecessarily, my husband and I came across a classic from my childhood. We are about to watch it. I'm a little more excited than I would like to admit. I haven't seen the flick since I was about seven. I will give a full report after the movie. So, without further ado, I give you...

ADVENTURES IN BABYSITTING!

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Post Movie Review:

A million apologies for keeping you all hanging in suspense since Saturday night.

It was scary how well I remembered minor details like the colors of the little girl's outfit, and the hook on the trucker's arm. What was even more shocking was that I didn't recall that there were two F-bombs, a Playboy magazine theme throughout, and several innuendoes. 

So my suggestion is this: If you have low movie standards, see this and prepare to laugh your head off (mostly at how awesome we once thought the 80s were). And if you do have high standards, see it anyway. But have your friend or spouse prepared to cover your hears or eyes at any given moment.

Next up for flashback movie: 

Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead
& Troop Beverly Hills 
(Thank you, Stacy!)

Therapy Session with Dr. Crazy

Dear blog, sometimes I feel funny and I write things that I think are funny... and hopefully make a few simpleminded folks laugh. And sometimes I feel all soft inside, metaphorically speaking (although it probably applies quite literally lately), and I write things with feeling that get a lot of kind responses from people. But today.... well, today I feel like the beast within has taken over. I watched way too much basic cable tonight and I'm feeling all sorts of fired up. It must have something to do with Amy Pohler's platinum blonde hair and Steve Carell's dip in the hot tub in his undies. Or, perhaps, it's the Billy Joel songs playing in the background as I write this: "She's Got a Way..." ... of thinking really horrible things about people. That's right. That's what today's post is. I'm going to vent about everyone who has crossed me in the last decade. And I'm going to do it in code.

Seriously? There is a fine line... and you have crossed it. Not only have you crossed it, but you hopped over it and kept on trucking all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. I wanted to say Pacific Ocean, because it's my favorite. But the Atlantic Ocean is further... so... yeah. And in your mind, you are sitting on the line, still. I can't believe people like you really exist.

And you... YOU. Where do I begin? Why do you care so much about that. It's all you think about, talk about, worry about. What ever happened to spending time, effort, money, care, emotions on things that actually matter! How can you be so shallow?

You are a horrible friend. I just had to say it. The world does not revolve around you.

You smell. (Directed to no one in particular) Just felt like saying it.

You are mean to people.

You are an actor. I can't tell when you're being you and when you're acting.


Okay. Now I have some nice things I would like to say, also in code. Because I am spineless.

I admire your hard work and dedication to your job.

I think you are really, really intelligent. One of the most intelligent people I have ever met. Which makes you really witty and funny.

You have great hair. And you always have adorable outfits on.

You are so kind... to everyone. You keep things to yourself, and never join in when those around you are talking about other people.

You are the most selfless person I know. I don't know how it's possible for one person to think of others so often... AND to come up with nice things to do for them. I'm hoping you'll rub off on me.

You make me smile and laugh every time I talk to you. And you don't do it on purpose. You're just a happy, fun person. You have been this way all the years I've known you.

You always do really sweet, serving things for me and make me feel taken care of. I miss you. And I love you.

AND one for the road....

I'm sick of only talking about you every time we talk.

Good night Salt Lake! I'm here all week....

End of a long, long, loooooooong week.

Thursday:
I had dinner with one of my closest friends while my husband was at class. We laughed for at least a straight hour and talked about all sorts of things girls shouldn't talk about. And I encouraged her to say and do all sorts of brave and embarrassing things regarding boys she encounters in her single life. I can't wait to hear the results! ;)

Friday:
I took half a day off from work to sleep—because 7 1/2 hours the night before wasn't enough.

Saturday:
I used a blow dryer on my hair for the first time in weeks. And I vow not to wear makeup or a bra today... until I absolutely have to. My mind is racing and I feel the urge to do something big, something brave, something stupid. I am thinking of doing anything besides gathering my thoughts for my talk in church tomorrow.
I sent my husband to got me a Diet Coke this morning because I was ready for a nap at 11a.m.
I'm supposedly starting the Body for Life program on Monday with two of my managers from work. I don't have the heart to tell them that I'll be cheating during all of the 12 weeks. Why would life be worth living if I couldn't bake cookies, make Muddy Buddies, chew Bubble Tape, and enjoy a nice, juicy pot roast with a side of creamy mashed potatoes?? I can workout fine, and I'll make meal adjustments as possible, but I'm not going to kill myself over this. Wish me luck ;) [And if you know me well, you won't be surprised in a few weeks when you read the post that I decided Body for Life was for the birds.]

The end.

Phew....

All I have to say today is that I am more grateful that I can express that I'm not single. Facebook continually reminds me of the single life I was in so recently. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. Well... maybe on my worst enemy. And I pray for my single friends that they will soon find their "T.M.I.M." and be eternally happy. It's funny to think that for so long I thought being single was the best way to be. And only a couple of months later, I can't imagine it any other way. Maybe it's just because it was right for me. Maybe it's because this is the kind of love you can't fake... it's the kind that slapped us both in the face after four years of wondering what on earth we were waiting for (which was probably me... waiting for me to grow up, by the way).

Happily married. Lucky in love. So blessed. And very tired.

p.s. What are the odds that the post about flagellant gym-goers would have more responses than I've seen in years? You people never cease to amaze me.

Excuse you...

Why is it that I am the ONLY person who laughs when someone toots in my yoga class?! There are nearly 20 adults... I can't be the only one who thinks it's funny! Not even my husband supported me in my laughter. He's so mature like that.

My stupid mouth

My good friend (somehow that phrase doesn't do her justice), Lara, was kind enough to remind be I'm two days behind in blogging. I hate to admit I have kept you in anticipation for a rather disappointing update. I have just a couple of minutes to write as I sit here and wait for two cute little boys to show up and "brighton" my day.

Here's my memory from Friday:
I've always known that gossip is a hurtful, hurtful thing. So I've always tried to live by my mantra, "Don't say anything about another person that you couldn't say to their face." I thought that was fair. I thought I was going people a favor. Then, on Friday, I lived by my mantra still and I said what I thought were factual things about another person. But I didn't consider the fact that the person might feel bad just by simply knowing I was spreading these "facts" about them. When I realized that the person I was speaking of most likely heard all the factual information I said, I felt sick to my stomach. So what if it is true—I had no right to talk about her. It wasn't even necessary. I can only imagine how horrible this person must have felt knowing that they were the topic of conversation for others... I can imagine because I've been in their shoes and hated how it felt. I feel so horrible. I can't stop thinking about it. And I am so embarrassed that I did something so junior high. I need to be a much better person, and live by a new mantra: Just stop talking about other people!

Thursday's memory is a bit better: (Yes, I am working backwards)
Sometimes in life we get caught in a downward spiral of negativity. This is easy to do in the winter time, when stress is high, sleep is rare, and other factors are frustrating in your life. I have spent the last couple weeks in this negativity spiral. And then my friends saved me. I can't believe the power of friendship... true friendship. I spent a heart-warming Wednesday night with one of the most true friends I have ever known. And Thursday night with two more of the most devoted friends I have ever known. We didn't do much of anything besides buy fabric, eat, and talk. But I was a totally different person after spending time with these people. I love them so much. I thank God every day for good friends, true friends, who fill a void in your life that no one else could. I can only hope to be as good of a friend to these girls as they've been to me... for years, and years.

I keep looking out the window and my boys aren't here yet. (sigh) But I'm peacing out anyway....

Word.

A First for Everything

Today I watched my very first ever episode of "24."

It reminded me of college student government elections in 2004. I think the show had just come out. Some students had created a whole campaign for Jack Bauer and placed big, plywood signs promoting him all over campus. I can't remember who won. But I don't think it was Jack. The signs were taken down the day after they were put up. Some people can't appreciate a good joke.

I'b Sick Bom

I am forgiving myself for not posting yesterday; I've been sick.

Today I can breathe through one nostril.

I'm so ashamed...

I just heard a song come across my Pandora station that I'm not familiar with, and I really liked it.

So I looked at the Pandora window to give it a thumb's up

only to discover

to my HORROR

that it was

a Bruce Springsteen song.

I am so ashamed!!!

Ugh

Today.... today I am tired. My body wins. My mind loses.

Good night.