a fool-proof disaster plan

janaya: we should talk about these things: http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/HAW2/english/prepare/family_plan.shtml. just in case.

burton: OK. Will do.

janaya: there's probably more things we can talk about, but all the fairfax alerts keep mentioning reviewing your family's hurricane plan. which we don't really have. :) or at least it's been awhile since we've talked about it as a plan.

burton: I have one. Karate chop my way to safety.

janaya: oh ok. then no need to discuss.

burton: true.

discussions while listening to cher

...or actually, as burton is changing the station because he HATES cher.

burton: "i hate synthesizers."

me: "that's not a synthesizer... is it?"

burton: "it's definitely a synthesizer. you think she just sings like that?"

me: "isn't a synthesizer like a keyboard or something?... i guess it is a synthesizer... 'synthesizer'. that's a weird word. it sounds like the name of a gun. 'you've been synthesized!'" [in my best tough-guy voice]

burton: "it should be a gun."

something about my birthday

me [as burton climbs into the car and hangs up his phone]: "who was that?"

burton: "my mom."

me: "what were you talking about?"

burton [with a smirk]: "nothing..."

me: "hey, remember? if you're talking about my birthday you say 'it's a secret'; if it's about church stuff you say 'it's confidential'; if it's about work stuff you say 'i'd tell you, but then i'd have to kill you..."

burton: "how about i make it easy and just say 'it's none of your business'..."

discussions leaving a wendy's drive-thru

me [as we're pulling on to the road]: ok, don't forget to take that new freeway exit.

burton [as he lovingly touches my face]: we have the same brain. i was just thinking the saaaame thing.

me [tilting my head in that affectionate way]: awwwwww.

burton: so you know what that means?... you don't have to tell me what to do. 'cause i'm already thinking it.

[and then i burst out laughing].

who's the boss?

burton [speaking in to his smartphone as we're driving]: "MOV!-IES! 2!-2!-1!-5!-3!"

me: "why do you have to talk so mean to it?"

burton: "... it respects me."

so, i like to repeat myself

burton: "bergen-op-zoom!" [random street name from my home town -- thanks to a very odd mayor who dressed like captain hook during parades... of course]

me: "how come you remember stuff like that, but not important stuff?"

[uncomfortable pause, during which i realize that's not really true... and maybe a little mean]

me [again]: "wait, you remember important stuff. but i mean, you remember my childhood memories, and you don't even remember your own."

burton: "because you tell me your childhood memories 600 times."

[doh]

discussions with a diabetic in the check-out line

burton: "i'm going to change my signature to a dot in a circle."

me: "i bet you a bajillion dollars that your sugar is low."

discussions in traffic

burton: "can we skip this song? it's making me crazy."

me: "how is it that you inherently know when a song is from the 90s?"

burton: "it is?"

me: "yep. tracy chapman."

burton: "that's a woman!?! ... well, that's a big raspberry."

bathroom analysis 101

so there's two bathrooms on the floor where i work now. the kind of bathrooms that accommodate one person at a time, with room for a wheelchair... or a small audience. probably the wheelchair though, 'cause there's also one of those handrails. which i assume is for getting in and out of the wheelchair and on to the toilet... or for leaning on if you get bored. if you wanted to. ANYway.

so each bathroom has a sign on the door. each is a cartoonized (that's a word... trust me, i work with artists. jk... i don't think that's a word) -- where was i? -- cartoonized bull. one is red and the other is blue. so here's the issue. and this issue is no reflection of the intelligence of my coworkers who put the signs there, as i can already attest to their talent and brilliance; but this is more a reflection of my insane ability to be paranoid. so the issue... red? and blue? does this mean girls and boys? i mean not to assume that all things female should be pink (a memo i would like to send to all makers of women's golf clubs), but red? burton wears red. and i, for the record, sometimes wear blue. these aren't really defining colors. unless, perhaps, one bathroom is intended for all BYU fans, and the other is for all Utah fans. but we're in DC... so... Or maybe they're going for gender neutral and i don't need to wait for the red bull bathroom to be vacant... i could use the blue bull bathroom. i mean, i've used a mens bathroom before anyway. i say if you need to go and there's a long line of women ('cause you know there's always a line) and the mens single-occupancy bathroom is available... it's fair game.

so anyway... i know they say there are no dumb questions... but "what does the red bull and the blue bull mean on the bathroom doors?" seems pretty dumb. so... red bull it is... unless there's a line, of course.

oh, but i'm not done yet... you thought i was done, huh?

in addition to the 'which bathroom do i use?' dilemma, i've also found that i have this weird inability to remember that i've dead-bolted myself in. i do my thing, wash my hands (as you should... ALWAYS... you people who just run your hands under the water for a second... i know you're out there! i've heard you!), dry them with the paper towels, check myself in the mirror (don't lie, you do it too), and hit the handle to leave. doh. i wish i could think of a sound effect for what a door sounds like when it's trying to be opened by someone who forgot that they dead-bolted it. so getting out of the bathroom has now become a conscious effort... wash hands, towel dry, check the mirror, hand nears the handle... wait... stop... dead-bolt. aaaand we're out.

ok, now i'm done.

yep, you're in traffic.

news flash heard on NPR this morning: traffic congestion in los angeles has been gradually improving over the last two years; unlike washington d.c., where traffic congestion has actually been getting worse.

awesome.

every morning i get up, get ready for work (today's get-up: flipflops, capri's and a care-bear t-shirt... of course), get in my car and wonder "so... let's see how long it's going to take me to get to work this morning." it can vary from 23 minutes to 90+ minutes. so depending on how things go and when i leave, i could be an hour early or an hour late. it's brilliant. i love it. :P not to mention the anomaly of leaving at 8:40 and arriving at work at 9:10, and so then leaving at 8:15 and STILL arriving at work at 9:10. what the... !? how?

and to top it off, NPR's traffic report = so lame, i want to punch my stereo. every morning. Art Andrews, the traffic guy, makes me crazy. this might as well be his traffic report:

"do you see cars in front of you? then you're in traffic. no cars in front of you? you're going to be just fine."

thanks Art. so helpful.

maybe it's just me, but it's not even the traffic that makes me crazy. it's the not knowing what's causing the traffic that drives me bonkers. come on Art! just tell me WHY?! at least tell me there was an accident so when i arrive to my meeting 20 minutes late i can say "well, there was an accident on 395 at Seminary Rd and so traffic was murder! sorry, i'm late." but no, instead i'm left standing at the doorway 20 minutes late to a meeting with nothing to say but "sorry i'm late... there was... more people on the freeway today..."

tap tap tap... is this thing on?

uh... hi.

three months. that's a long time. but i have good (and lame) excuses.

1. i got a new job in february. arnolddc.com.

2. we bought a new house a month ago. did i mention it's like 2 minutes from costco?... ya, i know, right?

3. we decided the new house needed a few tweaks... so we landscaped (WE landscaped... as in, i got dirty and sweaty and stuff. burton has never been more in love with me), and we installed new closet shelves and such, and installed a cupboard in the bathroom (heaven forbid anyone ever takes it off the wall and sees the mess we made to get it up there), and put up shelving in the storage/laundry/tool room, and installed a microwave over the stove, and added an electrical outlet outside, and the list goes on... and on... and on...

4. my commute jumped from 5 ft to 45 minutes each way. (if i could blog and drive at the same time that would be perfect... but alas, i cannot)

5. my brother and his wife had a baby boy two weeks ago. (ok... not an excuse, but still pretty sweet)

6. my parents sold their house in nanaimo... and are going on an adventure for 2 years. destination unknown. and since they live on the opposite side of the continent, i'm sure you can see why that's kept me pretty busy...

7. it's been raining. non-stop. for like 2 months. ok, not really. but kinda. and that's also not really an excuse... but whatev.

8. i'm lazy.

so... maybe this means i'm back. we'll see how it goes. you know... with the rain and all.

watch the "x"... it'll getcha

so i know i haven't blogged in two months, and THIS is what i'm choosing to come back to the table with... but i need to know if i'm the only one out there who does this at least 3 times a day, without fail.

so, there are two widely accepted ways to notify a person you're chatting online with that you'll be gone for a quick moment:

brb = be right back

just a sec = obvious

i tend to lean to the "just a sec" option because not EVERYone using instant messenger knows what "brb" means, and so if you use that one you risk not being able to dash away from your computer because "brb" may be quickly followed by "what's brb?" which requires an answer, or you're really just ditching them without an explanation. ANYway...

so, imagine, you're instant messaging with someone... perhaps it's your spouse, perhaps it's a long time friend, perhaps it's a coworker, maybe even your boss... possibly even your father... and you're mid-sentence and something comes up that you need to attend to for "just a sec"... but curse the creator of the keyboard who conveniently decided that the "c" and the "x" should be positioned next to each other, and under your palm where you can't really see and so you have to make a really precise estimate of location or you end up with "just gimme a sex". and while that may be funny to your spouse who happily replies, "i'll give you all the sex you want"... it's hard to imagine an appropriate response from your coworker or your boss... or your father.

literally, my friends... this ALMOST happens three times a day, at least. (most of the time i catch it... but holy awkward when i don't).

and then of course there's my failed attempts to type "... about it", but the "t" miraculously jumps to the "it" and we have another awkward IM moment on our hands. i'll let you put that one together yourself... i don't even want to know the search terms that will get people to this blog post as it is.

dun dun dun duunnnn

holy crap, it's here. like a thief in the night, today came and stole my twenties. luckily, on thursday i went and colored my hair (for the first time in 6 months. heaven help me, it's freaking expensive) so at least i don't have the grey hairs mocking me today. though, there are some perpetual bags under my eyes, and some wrinkles that definitely weren't there when i entered the 3rd decade of my life.

the thing that's really making me feel old these days isn't what you might think though (aside from the fact that today i turned 30)... it's new kids on the block. that's right. nkotb. 'cause they're back, you know? like, performing concerts and people are talking about them and actually saying things like "their show was really good. donny is so hot." ('cause donny IS so hot, you know... thank goodness i'm married or i might have to pull out the poster again). BUT... did you know they're almost 40? not that 40 is THAT old or anything (or at least i'm trying to convince myself of that since it's only 10 years away). but when you're thinking about people who used to plaster your walls... that you may or may not have stared at and daydreamed about... 40 hits like a ton of bricks. could i possibly be old enough that nkotb is 40? little joe mcintyre... over the hill? (but still singing falsetto, i might add).

anyway, for the record, my twenties were great. i've tried a couple times to sit down and sum it up, but it's tough. i start with a list of the monumental things that happened during this decade of my life, but "graduated from college, met and married my husband, moved across the country", just doesn't seem to do this decade justice. when i think of my 20s, i think of great friends. truly great friends. laughing a lot. boys. broken hearts. more boys. falling in love. silly pictures. immigration (blah). roommates. provo. lots of provo. rent. buying my first car (she was cheap and got me where i needed to go), and my second car (ah, my love), and my third car (the practical one). marrying my missionary (ah, fer cute). well... i'll stop. but my 20s were good. so bring on my 30s! i'm ready. i can take it. (pass me the hair dye and my wrinkle cream).

it's called jetlag

whitney tagged me 'cause i "need stuff to blog about"... which is true. so thanks whit. so the idea here is that you pick the 4th picture, in the 4th folder of your photo library. and this is it. nothing embarrasing or scandalous. but this does have a bit of an unexciting story to go along with it. and since i have nothing else to blog about, you get to read it.

but first, i have to make a comment. do you ever wonder whose pictures you end up in? i mean, take this guy talking on his cell phone. i'm sure he's looking at himself in the glass while he talks ('cause you know that's what you'd be doing...) and he's so wrapped up in his phone call and his reflection that he's not paying attention to what's going on on the other side of the glass. or is he? ...is he looking at me? is he thinking mid-sentence "why is this silly american (he would assume i'm american... but little does he know...) taking a picture of me? great! now i'm going to end up on some silly mormon girls blog a year and a half from now, and there's nothing i can do about it." ('cause of course he'd know i'm mormon...)

anyway... so this picture is taken from inside the eurostar travel information area which is inside london's waterloo station. burton and i had just arrived in london, and were hung-over with jetlag. holy cow, that first couple hours sucked. i was in a daze and even though we were in england, where people speak english... i couldn't understand anyone. partly because i was drunk on jetlag and partly because they talk a thousand miles a minute and say words like ... hmm ... i don't know, words i didn't understand. anyway, after an hour or so of trying to feel normal, eating lunch at a pub, surrounded by cigarette smoking brits (they must have seen those commercials in the 1950s... and never got the memo that smoking will kill you), and listening to burton ramble on about the book he was reading to try and keep me from falling off my chair, we decided to go somewhere a little less stressful. and so we found this visitors area. the area wasn't intended for people to fall over and die, but that's what we did. well, burton did. i slipped in and out, because i was too paranoid to die and miss the train.

anyway... that's the story. see, i told you it wasn't exciting.

oh ya, now i have to tag people. i hate this part. hmm... i'm going to cheat. if you read this, TAG! you're it.

pass me a cigarette, this fresh air is killing me

while looking for vintage voiceover samples for a project i'm working on, we came across these wonderful examples of fine and honest 1950s advertising.





silly surgeon general... don't you know that cigarettes are as cool and as a clean as a breath of fresh air?... i mean, who needs real fresh air, when the finest leaf tobacco makes your mouth feel clean and your throat feel so refreshed? what more could a young girl swinging happily from a tree ask for?

who doesn't love a good fairytale on IM?

TWO posts in one day?! well... how could i possibly resist posting this IM conversation i just had with my sociopathically (yes, i made that up) hilarious husband...

burton: i just had a mormon in my office

janaya: really?

burton: yes

janaya: who?

burton: he actually works on our GIS team, but he works in the SLC office. he is just out here for some meetings.

janaya: they have a SLC office?

burton: yes

janaya: did you know that already?

burton: yes

janaya: how come you're not working there? :)

burton: there are only like 15 employees

janaya: oh. gotcha. so did he already know you were LDS?

burton: no

janaya: you're not a very good story teller :)

*** and i should have seen this coming ***

burton: once upon a time, there was a lovely young mormon boy from logan, utah. as a boy in his mid twenties, he attended a university in the top of some mystic mountains. the university was called utah state. it is the home of the blue aggies, a rare and magical breed of cow. after graduating from utah state, he got on a magic carpet and came to washington dc to work. while there, he lived in a land filled with milk and honey. it was called alexandria. he worked at [insert the company burton works for... my blog isn't the place for burton's resume] for three and a half years before deciding that he and his wife missed their loving family back in utah. from that time forth, this lovely young mormon boy named eric worked in the SLC office of [insert the company burton works for] doing projects for the evil bureau of land management. one day, he had to meet a fair damsel in virginia and so he flew out to the headquarters of [insert the company burton works for]. there he needed a desk to sit at and so went searching through the enchanted forest of offices and found one empty desk next to a handsome prince named burton. the prince and the lovely young mormon boy began talking. once eric divulged that he worked in the mystical mountainland of SLC, the prince's ears perked up because he was from that magical land. the two talked as if they were good friends from times past. they also determined that they were both mormons, which are kind of like hobbits, but they are rumored to have horns. the two eventually said "good day" and eric left to go rescue the fair maiden. they both lived happily ever after. the end.

infertility bites

it's a delicate balance between divulging too much and explaining too little. in my personal interactions, i tend to fall hard on the side of divulging too much. i'm an open book, as they say. i generally lack what some might call a "filter". but when it comes to my blog, i tend to keep things pretty private. sure, i'll tell you all about my escapades back in the day... kissing a boy(s), cheating on a test(s), stealing a fruit roll-up (that only happened once). but it's pretty rare that i share a really solid insight into what's going on with me. mostly because i don't know who is currently reading or may some day read my blog and despite my general lack of filtering, i like to control who i open the flood gates with. ANYway... screw it. here's what's up...

so, we've been trying to get pregnant. for a little over three years now. for most of those three years, we've taken people's advice about just letting things happen. but after three years of things not happening, no matter how much "letting" we did, we started seeking answers. i'm not going to go into the specifics of those answers (hey! look at me filtering! i'm so proud of myself), but i will tell you that after way too many way too invasive tests on both of us, we know the problem. and it's not that we're too stressed. it's not that i'm not ovulating. and no amount of elevating my hips is going to resolve it. (oh... there i go not filtering again...)

as it stands, there's still a chance (not a great chance... but a chance) that with some medical intervention the issue could be fixed. but that will take more time. and more waiting to know if it worked. possibly another year. and while some might say "just adopt"... we're not there yet. so don't say it.

and so this is where all the reasons i haven't been blogging come. mostly, i really just don't know what to say. i have so many moments where i feel so sorry for myself and it's hard and all i want to do is cry or curl up on the couch with a good movie and a hot chocolate and think about something else. but then i have moments where my faith is strengthened, and i know it will all be ok. that it's all happening for a reason... i truly believe that. that there are things i'm learning right this very second that i wouldn't learn any other way. and years from now, when i have screaming children and diapers to change and neverending laundry to do... i'll look back to this time in my life, and i hope that i won't feel like i wasted it waiting for the future to come. i wish i could say that i'm not doing that right now. but it's a battle. really. a battle between doubt and faith. discouragement and motivation. tears and smiles.

so, that's that. we wait. we try to make our life fulfilling while we anticipate what we hope will come. however it comes. whenever it comes. and we pray. as i know you are. and we love you for it. thanks.

i should have been a bear

do you ever have times in your life when you just want to crawl in a hole and hibernate for awhile until things work out the way you want them to? i do. and it's not just cause i love sleeping. though... i do love sleeping.

can you hear me now?

working from home has its advantages... yes. i've discussed many of these advantages in past blog posts. a 10-step commute. moderately flexible hours. working in bed, if i so choose. but it also has its disadvantages. socializing is limited to IM and email. no coworker lunches. 4-hour conference calls. FOUR-HOUR conference calls! and yard workers. yes, yard workers. each and every tuesday morning, it begins. i hear the faint roar of a lawn mower in the distance, and i remember... tuesday. curse tuesday. curse the yard workers who seem to take extra special care of the small patch of grass just outside my office/guest bedroom window. on tuesdays, i can generally be found on the floor in the hallway (the furthest i can get away from the lawn mower, aside from sitting on the toilet), cordless phone hung between my chin and my shoulder, laptop propped on my legs stuck straightout in front of me, trying to converse with clients and coworkers who i'm praying can't hear the obnoxious weed-wacker that might as well be cutting the carpet in my livingroom. "i'm sorry, can you say that again? i didn't hear you... oh no, i know it sounds like a chainsaw is hacking away at my phone, but it's just a riding lawn mower." ah yes, working from home. the glamor of it all.

survivorman vs. bear

i've said it before, and i'll say it again... anyone who thinks that survivorman is tougher than bear grylls is CRAAAZY! and i know i'm friends with a few of you. but seriously... survivorman?!

burton and i have been discovery channel fans for awhile now. we love ourselves some mythbusters (though, deadliest catch, how its made, and dirty jobs need to beat it), and we're big fans of man vs. wild. we've been faithful fans, even through the admission that his camera crew aren't just silent observers all the time, and that he has stayed in hotels mid-episode when supposedly he's roughing it in the jungle. but even with that all out in the open now and the overall format of the show changing to be more openly inclusive of assistance and human contact, i still think that bear grylls could DEFINITELY kick survivorman's trash!

having seen bear grylls drink the juice from elephant dung, stick his head in a dead zebra to get rotten meat that he proceeds to eat, cut the head off a rattle snake (and looking no more shaken than i do when i have to smack a cricket with my shoe), pee into the skin of said rattle snake as backup in case he finds himself dehydrated, drink said pee when he eventually does find himself dehydrated, catch a live skunk with a trap and then cut it's head off and cook/eat the meat which tasted like "someone's taken your steak and rubbed it in dog feces"... it's hard to compare it to survivorman's discovery of a berry bush. i mean sure, bear isn't winning popularity contests with the vegetarians of the world, and i can't say i don't prefer berries to skunk tail... but berries and sticks... for SEVEN days?

if you've ever watched survivorman, then you know that his mission is to leave nature the way he found it. which makes good sense if you're at scout camp or yogi bear's campground... but if you're in survival mode, i think there's room for an exception. he also holds true to the "if you find yourself lost, just stay put" philosophy. and while, again, that might make good sense... does it really make good television? watching this guy, spend an entire day sewing a sleeping pad out of dry grass in the arizona desert, only to discover at the end of the day that he's kinda hungry, but will look for food tomorrow... riveting, i tell you. anyway, burton and i can't help but laugh that the episode of "the office" where michael decides to go film his own survivorman show, and tries to make a lean-to out of his suit pants is so close to how the actual show really is it's hardly a mockery.

so that's it. i just had to publicly state my opinion that bear wins... that being said, can you imagine your husband coming home with elephant dung on his breath? mercy.

a well spent 6 minutes and 46 seconds

i promise. i laugh out loud everytime. enjoy. you can thank me later.

i passed out today, how 'bout you?

literally... if i blogged everyday, this is what every entry would say: "worked today. didn't want to make dinner. still not pregnant." not that i'm saying that so you'll feel sorry for me that we're still not pregnant... i'd actually prefer sympathy for the fact that i never want to make dinner anymore... but i'm just saying, these are the three most consuming thoughts in my day pretty much everyday. except saturday, when i have to think about the food i have to buy for the dinners i don't want to make. ANYway, THIS is not the point of my blog post. i'm just explaining why i hardly ever blog anymore. and until i don't work anymore and can do fun things all day, or make some really awesome dinner i must share with the world... or have some really exciting news about the fruit of our loins... i have to wait for weird or interesting things to happen to me to feel excited about writing a new blog post. and lucky for all of you who have been sitting on the edge of your seat waiting for me to post again (... silence...) i went to the dentist today and passed out.

now, i normally don't make a habit of passing out in general, much less at the dentist... but today me and the anesthetic decided not to be friends. i went in 30 minutes early to get numbed up... another long story about how i have this weird overly high tolerance to anesthetic and so they have to give me lots of it (quote my oral surgeon: "i gave you enough anesthetic for a 250 lbs man!") and let it sink in for a long time. the dentist (GREAT dentist, by the way) came in and stuck the needle in my jaw... moved the needle around (i'm sure there's a reason they do this... but i really can't imagine pretty much anything more nauseating than sticking a needle anywhere and moving it around), and then he left to let me soak in the numbness. i had come prepared from the waiting room with a "people" magazine featuring britney's mom (of course), so i returned to my spot on the page and started to read, only to soon realize i felt incredibly nauseous... and the thought occurred to me, "i think i'm going to pass out". i've really only passed out a couple of times before... the most notable, being in the shower... and i hit my head on the faucet on the way down. so i haven't really chosen the most convenient places to pass out, but i knew the feeling. and so i put the magazine down, and i started to close my eyes, and the next thing i knew i was coming to, with my head hanging over the side of the dentist chair. :)

the dentist and his assistant walked in just as i was coming to and clearly realized there was a problem. i might not have much color in my face normally... but they were pretty concerned with my lack of untanned-pasty-hue. and i was pretty concerned with the fact that i had instantaneously sweat through my clothes. anyway, turns out that anesthesia in your blood stream = your heart starts to race, which can then = your body goes into emergency shut down mode. so with a cool cloth and the assistant holding my hand and glancing at the britney article on my lap, i regained my composure. and half-smiled. and then endured an hour or so of tooth drilling, temporary-crown fitting, rinsing and spitting. curse my crappy provo dentist and his crappy cracked filling.

who needs hair gel?

amid all the hype and hoopla of both the democratic and republican national conventions... THIS was by far my favorite 15 seconds! :)

seven years ago today

august 29, 2001... "the whole day was kind of a countdown. eight hours left. four hours left. an hour left. it sucked that way. we went to the mall to pick up some things with sherrie [burton's mom] and the three of us ate lunch in the food court. sherrie talked about how poor they were when she and clark were first married. it was fun to listen to her talk.

dinner was tough, 'cause we ate kind of late, so by the time we were done it was almost time for me to go. we had decided that i should leave before he got set apart, so i arranged for emily to come pick me up. both burton and i were getting pretty glassy-eyed sitting at the table. finally, we just went downstairs and cried. we stood in his room, hugging and sobbing. we sat down and just talked and cried. it was awful, but beautiful.

we eventually went upstairs and sat outside on the bench in the front yard. we just held hands and talked through tears. then emily's car pulled up. my heart just beat a million miles a minute. we went inside and i gathered my things and then we hugged. we hugged for so long. burton sobbed. his parents, whom i just hugged seconds earlier were both standing there watching - they were both pretty teary-eyed too. after one of the longest good-bye hugs i think i've ever had, corinne and clark came up and i hugged them and then gave burton one last hug and kiss and walked out the door. i could hardly bear to look at burton for fear my heart would rip out of my chest. he was still sobbing. i got in the car and completely lost it. as we drove out of the driveway, i looked back and could see through the front doorway window. burton was hugging his mom, and then turned to his dad and was just hunched over his shoulder crying. it was so hard to leave him."

what a day!! so many unknowns. so many emotions. i recall being SO excited for burton to serve a mission, but it didn't really make the day any less difficult. we said our good-bye's and hoped for the best. we were truly best friends who happened upon each other under unlikely circumstances. we hadn't spent more than a week apart in over 6 months, and now we were looking at two whole years. we wrote every week. he put his whole heart and soul into serving a mission, and i did as he asked and tried not to simply wait around. seven years later, it's quite amazing to look back and see how often the Lord whispered in my ear that burton was the one for me. that somehow, it would all work out. that no matter how the story ended, He was aware of us and we would be alright. and so today, i just thought i'd share a little bit of the story... and acknowledge how grateful i am for this man in my life who laughs with me, inspires me, works hard with me, talks with me, cries with me (though, it's not easy to get this man to cry), and is in this for the long-haul with me.

happy 7 years since you entered the MTC burton! :) thanks for coming back and marrying me. i love you much.

total intimidation

so... i've been asked to sub for a primary class this sunday. they're 10. and for some reason, this fact kind of terrifies me. 10?! when was the last time i even spoke to a 10 year old? what do 10 year olds look like? hahaha. no seriously. how is it possible that i really have this huge social gap in my life? give me a bunch of toddlers. great. give me a bunch of old ladies. i can teach them... probably even make them laugh a bit. give me anyone over the age of 19 or under the age of 4, and i'm in my element. but 10? what do 10 year olds like? i think i still played with barbie's at 10... i'm pretty sure i was at the hitting boys because i liked them phase. what's funny to a 10 year old? oh! it just struck me that they're in 5th grade. i've seen "are you smarter than a 5th grader"... but are 10 year olds really like that? i suddenly just had flashbacks of grade 5... 10 year olds are mean. are they still mean? or was that just an 80s thing?

ok... help me. somebody has to know something about 10 year olds. do they bite? :)

i heart crazy people

well... it's official. i had my first real crazy person encounter worthy of a blog post since moving to the east coast. or maybe it's just the first time i've been unable to avoid the craziness, and thus could do nothing more than stare and take notes. 'cause let's be honest, when you blog... sometimes it's critical to take a few notes about the crazy people so you don't forget the really good details. :)

so, just to recap the insanity of my day up to that point. i had woken up at 4:30 AM, got myself showered and dressed, left for the airport at 5:30 AM, left on the plane at 6:30 AM, arrived in newark, nj at 8:12 AM, caught a taxi that got me to montclair, nj at 9:00 AM, met with a client all day, took a break to bring in some indian cuisine, met some more, played a computer game we built for the client with the client, got sufficiently schooled by said client on said computer game, left for the airport again at 7:30 PM, boarded the plane at 9:30 PM (i'm feeling exhausted just recapping this day)... and this is where the crazy lady enters.

it was one of those little planes. the kind with two seats on one side, and a single seat on the other. i took my place in seat 4A, with two empty seats next to me across the aisle. everyone had boarded, but this one little old hispanic woman. she had pin straight, stringy bright-white hair, pulled back in a ponytail with a little blue scrunchy. she was carrying a purse the size of a small suitcase in one hand and a grease soaked chili's to-go bag in the other as she boarded the plane, and was mumbling something in spanish as she threw herself down into a seat across the aisle from me. the male flight attendant had tried to make this slightly frazzled woman feel a little more comfortable by throwing out a few spanish phrases as she walked passed him and on to the plane, but it was clear something was bothering her. all of a sudden she turned to me and said something that i could only imagine was "do you speak spanish?" and i responded "no, i'm sorry." she suddenly jumps up out of her seat, mumbling much louder and i definitely heard her say "they think i'm crazy!" (why she knew this phrase in english and nothing else, i'm not quite sure) and frantically barrels down the aisle towards the back of the plane asking if anyone spoke spanish. apparently no one did. she runs back up to the front of the plane where the flight attendant had just closed the door and sent the walkway thing (that's a technical term) away, and she starts yelling in spanish about something that seemed to have to do with her luggage that had been checked at the gate. the flight attendant wasn't as cool with his fancy spanish phrases this time, so he calls someone to come to the plane. they bring the walkway thing back, open the plane door again, and an airport employee who speaks spanish comes on to the plane. they have a very loud discussion in spanish right next to me, and the crazy lady calms down (sorta). the flight attendant is clearly getting paranoid about having this crazy woman on the plane, and tells the airport employee to pass along the following information VERY CLEARLY: "once we are in the air, under NO circumstances can she get out of her seat, as there is a federal regulation prohibiting anyone from moving about the cabin within 30 minutes of our nations capital... if she does, we will divert the plane and she will be arrested on the spot when we touch down." she relays the information, the crazy lady shakes her hands and laughs "oh no no no!" and nods in agreement that she understands. yes. i have total confidence that this crazy woman understands.

everyone takes their seat (oh wait... just the crazy woman. the rest of us had been patiently waiting with our seatbelts securely fastened for some time now), the door closes, and the plane taxis on to the runway where we wait for an hour to take off. i love newark. blah.

so while the crazy woman sits, sprawled between the two seats, her 72-hour survival kit (aka purse) on one side and the random chili's bag on the other, i watch her. i can't help myself. she is mesmerizing. her tiny little legs dangling above the floor. her dark brown plastic flip flops, that clearly met their match with a bedazzler at some point, just hanging on her big toes. she is fussing with her 3 boarding passes. she takes them out, flips through them. examines them. flips through them again. puts them away. a few minutes pass, and she goes through it all over again. i'm not sure if she was having trouble remembering where she was. or where she was going. or what planet she had landed on. but she was definitely obsessive about the boarding passes. at one point, the flight attendant walked passed and noticed she didn't have her seatbelt on, and commented to her that she needed to wear it. she proceeded to amaze me. who knew, people!? for YEARS i have made fun of the flight attendants for showing all of us "idiots" how to use a seatbelt. i have been known to say on more than one occasion to the person sitting next to me (which is usually burton)... "seriously... who doesn't know how to put on a seatbelt... and if they don't, how in the world do they have money for a plane ticket?" well folks... we had a winner. she took the same two ends of different seat belts and like a square peg and a round hole, tried to make them fit together. at this exact moment, i smiled and suddenly loved her. throughout the duration of the 32 minute flight, she shifted between seat 4B and 4C a few times, but nothing worthy of diverting the plane. she continued to check and recheck her boarding passes. and she continued to talk to herself in spanish... i'm sure mumbling about the crazy white girl to her left who was trying to sleep with her legs curled up on the arm rest in front of her and scribbling notes in the dark every few minutes.

p.s. if you're ever flying into DC, fly in at night and fly in to reagan national, and sit on the left side of the plane. holy beautiful view, batman!

ah, the memories

so i realize i'm completely cheating by going three weeks without blogging and then coming back with a "tag", of sorts. but i'm all about memories. and i'm about as sentimental as they come. and since this is the latest "hot tag" on the blogsophere (or at least the mormon one), and so many of you are so willing to confess how much you miss me as it is (haha... no, but seriously... i miss you too)... here goes:

1. as a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and i had together. it doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember!

2. next, re-post these instructions (minus my smarty-pants comments) on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. (apparently...) it's actually pretty funny to see the responses. if you leave a memory about me, i'll assume you're playing the game (<-- sort of didn't know this was a game... but if it makes you more excited to do it, then we'll just call it that) and i'll come to your blog and leave one about you. if you don't want to play on your blog, or if you don't have a blog, i'll leave my memory of you in my comments.

deal? deal.

idiocy challenge: dmv vs. simply wireless

so, i'm not certain which is worse: waiting three hours to talk to an idiot... or talking to an idiot for three hours. lucky for me, i've recently become well acquainted with both. (strap yourselves in... it's a long one).

it all started with the decision to go to the dmv (dept of motor vehicles) on a saturday morning. i'll whole-heartedly refer to myself as an idiot for thinking this was a good idea. THIS was not a good idea. although, we thought the line looked long when we tacked ourselves onto the back of it just outside the front door, we could not have prepared ourselves for the image of 300+ people on the INSIDE of the building each holding a ticket to be seen at one of about 8 windows. we got to the first checkpoint where we explained that we were there to get a new VA title for our vehicle, new plates, new registration, new drivers licenses, etc. the gentleman rattled off a list of items he expected us to have in order to proceed with the transactions and we agreed we had all of them. he handed us the forms to fill out and two tickets. we moved our way into the maze of chairs and people to find a seat. we started filling out the forms and the paranoia set in. "what if we don't have what we need? what if we wait all this time and they make us come back 'cause we're missing something?" you can take your positive thinking theories and shove them... i can't help myself. my brain is wired to think of all possible scenarios. and aside from the scenario where everything works out perfectly, the remaining scenarios all consist of something not going right. so, there i sat. waiting and worrying.

i will point out that i had a good reason to worry. we had discovered that morning that the only piece of "acceptable" mail we had to prove burton's residence in virginia was a comcast bill with our neighbors address on it. (another really long and annoying story about how our apartment lease listed the wrong apartment number, so we had all our mail forwarded to our neighbors apartment, and it's been one big long nightmare to get it fixed.) so even though only an idiot wouldn't be able to see that we were clearly married, that we were clearly not living next door to one another and that we were clearly living in virginia regardless of the apartment number... i was nervous.

and so the seconds, minutes, yes... hours, ticked away and there we sat. "A093 to Window 12. B145 to Window 10. D989 to Window 2. C286 to Window 6." there is no doubt in my mind that this system makes sense to SOMEone. but mostly it just made me want to scream and punch people. our numbers were C303 and C304. although the "C" seems insignificant... trust me, it's not. "C" means that you end up in a different que than those lucky jerks who have something other than "C". which means while the A's, B's, D's, E's and F's are all filing through the windows like a happy visa card commercial, the C's are all in a que with the other idiots who thought saturday would be a good day to come to the dmv and do a long list of things like get new licenses and register their cars. the breaking point for me was when i saw the people who had been behind us in line, walk out the door with a smile on their faces... an HOUR before my number was even called.

anyway, while the frustration of waiting 2.5 hours to talk to someone was painful and driving me to the brink of total insanity, actually dealing with the dmv employees was almost worse. i'll just jump to the part where they wouldn't give burton his drivers license with the correct address on it. instead, what they were willing to do... HAPPY to do... was give him a drivers license with our neighbors address on it. sure, we were stupid for thinking we could convince dmv workers that there was no logic in this... but we tried. burton got that look on his face... the look that comes when i know he's about to go from really calm and collected to "i hate stupid people" mode. he explains in the are-you-stupid? voice, "so you're willing to knowingly give me a drivers license with the wrong address on it... issue me an official state document with the WRONG address on it... when i am telling you that it is not correct?" unfortunately for our sanity, that answer was yes. ironically, the dmv employee i was working with nearly printed a totally different apartment number on my drivers license, due to human error... perhaps if we'd switched idiots we'd have been totally fine. (is that mean? because really... honestly... someone explain to me how these people were anything but that word.)

so as i was wrapping everything up, the woman helping me asked "do you want to register your car for one year or two?" and i asked if there was any benefit in doing it for two, since there seemed to be no apparent financial benefit... she responded, "well, you don't have to come back here for two years" ... i replied, "don't take this the wrong way... but sign me up for two." and so after 45 minutes of dealing with dmv lemmings, we got to stand in another line and wait for our drivers license pictures to be snapped. then we waited another 30 minutes for burton's drivers license to get printed (after asking three different dmv employees multiple times why everyone else's was taking 30 seconds). and we finally walked out... just over three hours later.

as we were walking to the car i looked at burton's drivers license and burst out laughing. they spelled our street name incorrectly. and as we expected, according to the state of virginia, burton lives with the mexican family next door.

this is getting long, but i hope this is as entertaining for you as it is therapeutic for me.

so, last night... was the simply wireless experience. in hindsight, if only we'd known the ACTUAL sprint store was just around the corner. to make a painfully long story a little bit shorter... we were given the impression, by a sprint store employee at a different mall, that we could get a new "instinct" phone for free, with all our credits and discounts and rebates. these phones are tough to find right now, but we located two at a mall about 30 minutes away. we got there, they only had one. the girl, who was nice... but young and an (is there a nice word for idiot?), spent some time on the phone tracking down another one of the phones at a different store and said she'd be happy to go pick it up while we went to ikea for a couple hours. and so we left. a couple hours later, we returned and began the process of switching our numbers over. she estimated it would be about 20 minutes (cue hysterical laughter). after 2.5 hours of listening to this girl and her crazy haired coworker (literally, a black kid with hair that looked like my grandmas wig in the 80s) flirting and fighting about how to make this all happen, i was losing my patience. the mall had long since closed by this point and the only person left was a strange female security guard riding around on a segway with a helmet on (very intimidating, i must say).

so, they got our phones switched over, we were playing with the cool new features of the phone as they fought over how to ring everything up (they LITERALLY called their manager at least 25 times... who, although i only know through the other side of a series of phone conversations, was clearly an idiot as well), and the total came to $700 (which they assured us multiple times we would be getting back as a rebate in the mail). this was not how it was supposed to go down and the numbers just weren't adding up. as we tried to explain that this amount was AFTER our two $150 discounts... and the two $100 rebates we would be getting back in the mail still left us paying $500 out of pocket (i had to draw it out for them on a piece of paper)... it finally clicked and they said "ya... that's right... you'd still have to pay $500... you didn't think you'd be getting these phones for free, did you? 'cause that would never happen! these phones are cool." at this point, it was about an hour passed our bedtime... we were still 30 minutes from home, and we were PISSED. so... needless to say, we still have our crappy phones.

so... you decide... who wins? and you can't say us. :)

can't we all just get along

it's hard to believe, sometimes, that i left canada more than a decade ago. 11 whole years. the first couple of years, i was still surrounded by my canadian friends. we were defined by our quirky canadian accents and constantly asked about the cariboo and igloos and free health-care and canadian bacon (which i had never even heard of until coming to the US, by the way). each year, when our canadian holidays would come around, we'd have parties and dinners and get-togethers to celebrate. we were often land-blasted with questions like "so, why is thanksgiving in october?... what are canadians thankful for?... canada day? why do they celebrate independence? independence from who?... what's with boxing day?" i will state, for the record, that these questions were typically asked by freshmen in college... who had little experience or knowledge about their own countries traditions, much less those of other countries... but i still hear them occasionally.

so, somewhere along the way, during the last 11 years... i lost my accent. my canadian friends all got farther and farther away. and we slowly stopped throwing parties and dinners and getting together to celebrate our holidays. and now... i live in the capital of the united states of america. so i assure you, no one cares in the slightest that today is canada day. but i do. i found myself humming "o canada" while making lunch, and i decided to dawn a red shirt today. if i'd been thinking ahead, i'd have planned a bbq or dinner or something... but again... pretty much me, myself and i are the only ones who care around these parts. and so... in three days, i'll go to the district of columbia and watch fireworks from the steps of the jefferson memorial and feel a sense of pride for my two countries. because really, that's how i feel. i found myself having a difficult time getting through "america the beautiful" without choking up in church on sunday... and while some canadians might have issue with my feeling of pride and love for the country in which i now live, and some americans might have issue with my feeling of pride and love for the country from which i come... frankly, i love them both. and that's just how it is. :) i'm a canerican! .... hahaha .... that was seriously stupid.

so, happy canada day! and happy early 4th of july!

non-smoking, please

so... burton and i went out to dinner the other night to celebrate his completion of the GRE! and when we got there, there was a huge line (of course) and so we decided just to sit in the bar 'cause you don't have to wait, you just take a table.

so...

in utah, there's no smoking in restaurants, period. i think that's the same in a lot of places. but in virginia, apparently there is no such law yet. though it did seem to be confined to the bar section. ANYWAY, as much as it urkes to me that it's not totally and completely illegal to smoke next to me, i recognize that i chose to sit in that section and so there is something i can do to control the situation... but because of my lack of exposure to smoking in public places in recent years, i've had very little exposure to something else that surprisingly made me want to get up out of my chair and smack two full-grown adults... one of which could have easily beaten up burton (who is, of course, my bodyguard)... they were BOTH smoking, with their little girl sitting at the table with them. is it just me, or should they be locked away?!

i was SOOO close to saying something. i mean seriously... kill yourself. smoke away to your hearts content in the privacy of your own home. marry someone who smokes too and kill each other. i don't care. but bring a child into this world and into a home full of cigarette smoke and you might as well say "happy early birthday sally! a nice little present called lung cancer will be on its way in 40 years!"

i imagined that if i did actually say something that it would end up with a response something to the effect of "none of your effing business!" ... so that's the part that prevented me from speaking up. that and they were speaking icelandic or something. but i was surprisingly pissed off. i couldn't stop commenting to burton (in that "i'm a chicken, so i'll say it loud enough to make myself feel good but quiet enough that they probably won't hear me" voice) that i was sort of shocked how mad i was getting. fuming!

but i didn't say anything. we just finished our food and eventually left. sooo... would you have said something? am i being too judgemental for wanting to say something in the first place? have i just been in utah toooooo long? :)

we're not in provo anymore

may you get as much joy from this future clio award winning commercial as i did...

holy hell!

now... i know that seems like i just cursed... but believe me, that is where i am right now. and the only thing between me and what can only be described as such, is a thin piece of cheap glass. when i think of hell, i imagine sweating bullets right through your clothes, wanting to pass out, feeling like your skin is going to burn and peel right off your bones... well, my friends... welcome to northern virginia. :) who knew i moved to the core of the earth? i'd have understood why my moving truck took two weeks, if i'd known it was THAT kind of a move. but seriously people, i'm completely unprepared for this. i'm practically hiding in my apartment. listening to my over-worked air conditioner work his little guts out to keep me from complete suffocation. i actually opened my door to the outside today and gasped. like, gasping for air at first and then gasping because i can't believe it's only JUNE!! 102 degrees... 60% humidity. i live in the amazon rainforest!

in other news, we're having fun here. :) really. honestly. despite the heat (heat = major understatement) we're almost unpacked and starting to feel a little more settled. oh! and p.s. i thought packing was the worst. it turns out, that UNpacking is actually the worst. but our place is looking cute, even if the tv and the couch don't line up perfectly (sorry burton) and everything that should be in a storage room is stacked in the corner of our "2nd bedroom". and despite the fact that we were completely spoiled in our last apartment, we'll be just fine in this place.

now, if i can just leave my apartment without an oxygen mask, i could get some good blog material. oh! speaking of leaving my apartment. burton and i locked ourselves out of our apartment the other night (apprently, automatic locks on the front door are not idiot proof). AND, you want to guess how we got back in? not the maintenance guy, 'cause apparently they don't offer that service. not a spare key. not a locksmith. nope... it was a bunch of thugs with a credit card. :) so, i told burton that i think we need to make friends with said "thugs", so instead of being slightly worried now, i can feel safe that they're watching our back or something. you know... like they're with their other thug buddies who are about to break in to our apartment and they stop them and say "hey! these are good people. move on." you know... whatever thugs say to each other when they're protecting their "good people" friends. :) .... what....?

oh... and the deadbolt is permanently locked now. so, don't get any ideas all you thugs out there who read my blog.

i'm pretty sure "thug" is a word that old people use... but it's kinda funny... unless you ARE a thug, then maybe it's offensive. i'll ask my new thug friends and let you know.

for skyler

this ones for you skyler. this is only because you're my friend and i really do appreciate the constant nudges to post more often. so here goes... another tag:

how long have you been married? 4 years, this coming august 14th.

how old is your spouse? 26… which is better than botox for an "older" woman such as myself

who eats more? burton. but i’m a “snacky-snackerton” as burton likes to say

who said i love you first? umm... i think it was me. i'm just forward like that. burton would also tell you that i kissed him first and that he was sleeping when i did so... but the jury is still out on that little fact. i mean, seriously? he was sleeping!? give me some credit here.

who is taller? b-dawg. 5' 11 and 3/4" (when you're not quite 6'... you just can't say you're 6')

who sings better? burton, for sure. unless he’s brutally murdering a song i like just to be funny

who is smarter? is this a trick question?

who controls the t.v. remote? it’s more like, “here… you find something to watch…”

whose temper is worse? i wouldn’t say temper… but i’m certainly more emotional… and burton is certainly not.

who does the laundry? it’s been pretty evenly spread between us over the years

who does the dishes? whoever doesn’t cook the meal, so usually burton

who sleeps on the right side of the bed? it’s been a back and forth thing… i started on the right (against the wall, as a matter of fact), then i got the left, and now i’m back on the right again.

who cooks dinner? usually me. or a local fast food restaurant worker. burton fills in when i just can’t take it anymore and he's feeling too cheap to go out.

who is more stubborn? we’re having a competition. i’ll tell you for sure in about 60 years.

who is the first to admit when they are wrong? i’m almost always the first to apologize… though i’ve been known to say things like “i’m sorry you’re frustrated with such and such thing i just did” or “i’m sorry that you think i said that”… which i kind of don’t think really counts.

whose parents do you see the most? burton’s parents lived only an hour away until recently when we packed up and moved across the country.

who has more friends? umm… i’m going to have to say me. but burton is way cooler.

who has more siblings? burton… but i have more friends, so whatev. :P

who wears the pants in the family? we both wear pants, except on sunday.

there you go... everything you probably already knew about burton and i.

1644 miles from everything i own

point A - where we packed up everything we own and loaded it on to a HUGE moving truck a week ago tomorrow.

point B - where everything we own is currently sitting in a HUGE moving truck and will be sitting until THURSDAY when the movers will pick up another load... oh, and then ANOTHER load... and THEN will drive to point C... "by the earliest, next tuesday."

point C - where we are right now... waiting... and growling slightly... and almost cursing...

p.s. having a really cool driver named pedro who also happens to be mormon and couldn't get over how funny it is that you both have green cards, doesn't guarantee a smooth cross-country moving experience... but DOES kind of make you feel the urge to wear a "vote for pedro" t-shirt when he delivers your stuff two weeks later.

untimely sneezing

i personally feel there's really almost nothing better than a good sneeze. and i'm pretty certain i'm not alone in this. i have often found myself feeling sorry for the tiny sneezers... the ones who hold it all in and just squeak their sneezes out. if they only knew they were missing out on one of the pure joys in life! perhaps it's because i grew up in a home with an extremely loud sneezer for a father. extremely loud = extreme understatement.

in fact, one time (random side story)... my family had come down to utah for education week at byu, and my friend, melissa, and i had just spent the day out and about, while my parents attended some classes. for some strange reason, we thought it totally possible to just FIND my parents on byu campus. we assumed they were attending a class at the marriott center, but that was just a guess. while walking around the hallway outside the actual arena, we could hear the class being broadcast over the loud speaker. all of a sudden, we heard this obnoxiously loud sneeze echo over the loud speaker. i turned to melissa and said "that was my dad!" she laughed. but i was certain. after the class got out, we somehow tracked my parents down and sure enough, it had been him. thousands of people in that arena, but i'd know my dad's sneeze anywhere. he said that when he sneezed every person within 50 feet of him turned and looked at him. atta boy! :)

so... back to my love of sneezing. so yesterday, burton and i were driving home from boxmart--where we've spent more money than i ever thought a person could spend on cardboard--and i sneezed twice. and while i love sneezing, i've found it's really kind of scary to sneeze while driving. because it means that for more than a split second blink your eyes are closed, and your arms and legs are a little uncontrollable, and it's just not ideal driving conditions. so i commented to burton "i hate sneezing while driving. it's just kinda scary." and burton said "i hate sneezing while peeing." .... and i'll give you a second ....

and then i couldn't stop laughing.

discussions amid paying bills

me: "i'm on a mission to change how i write my capital G's ."

burton: "why?"

me: "because they look like a circle with an arrow on the end."

burton: "sounds like a pretty intense mission."

me: "it is. it's hard to do."

burton: "i'm on a mission to change my signature."

me: "what are you going to change it to?"

burton: "frank wright."

discussions over a sunday dinner

burton: "i love wicker" (saying this primarily because i hate wicker)

me: "blah" (puking noises express my feelings well)

burton: "i think i want a wicker throne" (grape crystal light nearly makes it out my nose as i bust up laughing)

me: "so on your world, wicker will be cool then?"

for the love of a hot dog

today, while standing in line at j-dawg's for lunch, i turned to burton and said "i should blog about this" ... i haven't blogged for THREE WEEKS... and THIS is the first idea that has come to my mind? j-dawg's? but what made me think it was blogworthy was burton's utter and total frustration with the situation. first of all, i must state that a j-dawg's polish dog is basically... well... amazing. but their set up could make the most patient person go a little crazy. see... there's two lines. the "order here" line... and then the "pick up here" line. the problem is, both of them are usually painstakingly long. so after about 15 minutes in the first line, we ordered our 2 polish dawgs and 2 sodas, and then had to move to the other line to wait for another 15 minutes to pick up the dawgs... at which point burton exclaimed "i can't believe we're going to wait 30 minutes for a HOT DOG!" (but babe... this isn't just ANY hot dog... you know better than that). though, it was cold and it did start to rain. but for some reason, there we all stood. construction workers, college students, and business men alike. all there for the mouthwatering "special sauce". so anyway, i'm not sure if this is turning out to be a positive or negative review... but whatever the case, trust me that standing in the freezing cold rain for 30 minutes outside this silly little hut is totally worth it.

tip: don't get your drink between lines... cup full of ice cold diet pepsi = cold hands.

no, you shut up!

you know, i think i have just discovered the cure for blogger-block: walmart. i swear that there is not a single visit to walmart that doesn't result in something overwhelmingly blogworthy; albeit, usually it involves poking fun at people... but blogworthy, nonetheless.

i'm not going to spend much time talking about the lady who parked her car in the middle of the parking lot lane because she had clearly just had an encounter with the bumper of another car pulling out of a parking spot... even though i think most of us can agree that when in a fender-bender in a parking lot, the ideal reaction is not to leave your car in the way of everyone else who has not been in a fender-bender, but now has a slightly increased chance of it while trying to maneuver their way around a silly woman.

but i will tell you about the screaming child in the next aisle over from me. i will admit, although i know full well that some children just can't be contained and sometimes you just need groceries whether your child is the devil or not... i was a little irritated. mostly because i'm particularly sensitive to noise... i would have been equally (if not more) annoyed if i were being forced to listen to a full grown man whistle while he walked around the store... i know this because it has happened and i wanted nothing more than to yell "SHUT UP!" at him from the next aisle over. but yes, i was feeling a little irritated at the persistence of this very loud child. and then i heard someone ACTUALLY yell "SHUT UP!" wow. i wasn't sure at first if maybe this was the mother of the child. we all have our ways of copping; who am i to say that this approach isn't effective (though, i assure you it wasn't). but then i turned down the next aisle, and as my cart neared two elderly women exchanging opinions about the situation, i heard one say "does no one teach their children manners anymore?" and i smiled politely as i walked passed (oh... you are soooo blogworthy and you don't even know it!), only to hear the other one say "i know! it's appauling! i just yelled 'shut up', though it didn't seem to work!" HAHAHAHAH. i love the irony of those two phrases being included in the same cordial interchange without even so much as a flicker of awareness that some might consider yelling "shut up" falling a little outside the norm of so-called "manners" they've clearly been taught. they proceeded to go on and on (whilst i pretended i needed some soy sauce... ) about how they would never allow their children to behave like this in public and force other people to have to deal with such a miserable shopping experience. "if my children were to act like that, i would march them right back out to the car and we would go home!" yes... i see the logic in that. sure. because every mother has the time to pack her kids back in the car, after a completely unsuccessful trip to the world's worst walmart, and come back later, so that cranky women (i will wholeheartedly lump myself into that category for the 30 seconds of hatred i felt for the child) can shop in peace. peace = shopping amid thousands of utah's finest. (<-- that is my attempt at self-restraint right there. just for the record.)

so yes... of course i would prefer a walmart shopping experience minus the child mimicking the most annoying sound in the world. but i'd also prefer not to stand in line to check out for 45 minutes. and i'd love it if walmart employees were actually helpful. and i'd also love it if they carried chalkboard erasers. but THAT is the cost of saving $50 on my grocery bill.

i married a monkey

so... sometimes you're just not really in the mood to blog. and then other times, you get an email from your brother-in-law packed with old pictures of the family... and you run across a picture of a boy who will one day be your husband... and a girl who will one day be your sister-in-law... and BLOG, you must!


i really have nothing to say about this picture, except...

haHahahAHahAhaHAhahahA

data entry with a twist

i'll admit, i've been suffering from some serious blogger-block the last two and a half weeks (holy cow... it's really been that long... wow), and i have been at a loss for what to blog about... until i saw THIS on my facebook homepage...

WHAT THE...?!?!? besides the fact that i OBVIOUSLY wish that was my body, i was slightly amused by the actual job listing associated with this ridiculously shameless picture: "data entry worker" (funny, yes)... when i think of data entry workers, this is definitely what comes to mind. "no experience necessary" (definitely funnier now). that's right. we don't care if you've ever used a computer in your life. if you haven't a clue about typing or data entry... no need to worry. just so long as you've got rock hard abs and a killer rack... you're just the girl we're looking for. clearly, i missed the part in my advertising classes where they taught that "it really doesn't matter what you're trying to sell, just put a half-naked girl in the ad and you're good to go"... unless you're trying to sell beer or sports cars... or push-up bras... and then of course, that's really your best option.

how much you want to bet that girl didn't think her picture was going to end up next to a want ad for data entry workers? :)

a good cry

i'm sure it's been quite obvious that my blog has taken a backseat in my life the last month or so. i've written a few half hearted entries and contemplated many more, but this month has been strange. for someone who enjoys poking fun at herself and the world around her, it's tough to know what to say when there's so many emotions floating around that have nothing to do with laughter. and so... i decided to write how i'm really feeling. acknowledging that somewhere deep inside, i just need a good cry.

i've been pondering a lot this month. birth. death. babies. grandparents. miracles. faith. it's been one of those months where the list of people in my prayers has gotten longer by the day. and it's been hard to see how some prayers are answered with joy... and some are answered with an almost unthinkable saddness. there have been so many moments this month where i've known so clearly that the life of a friend or family member had just changed forever. at some moments, lives that meant so much to so many were teetering on the edge of slipping to the other side. and in some cases, those wonderful and amazing spirits have left us, leaving us to ponder our faith and testimony in what is to come. and in some cases, we've been blessed with miracles that keep these lovely spirits here, causing us to wonder in awe how it all happens.

i wish there was a way to truly describe how much i love the people in my life. mostly, i am in awe. i am in total awe of the faith that so many have. that a little baby can fight for life despite all the odds working against him. that a 93 year old woman can be so discouraged and ready to call it quits and then talk to her grandchildren and find the strength inside to keep on going. that a mother and a father can find such tremendous strength to endure an inevitable trial of losing their little girl who was never meant to stay. that a worldwide church -- 13 million strong and growing -- can find an almost unexpected joy in the departure of the prophet because they all have such faith that he served well and is reunited with his lovely wife, who he missed so dearly. that a ward is so willing to serve... even people they've never met.

it's sort of shocking to me to think back on the month and realize that i have cried over some of the most heartwrenching of circumstances... and then cried over my haircut. (don't get me wrong... love the haircut... but it was a little traumatic. silly girl moment.) and so... that's me. that's how i'm really feeling. sad. happy. frustrated. determined. overjoyed. heartbroken. loving my new hair. missing my old hair. melancholy. grateful. bored. chaotic. impatient. patient. thanks for sharing your lives with me. and letting me share mine with you. isn't it great we're all in this thing called life together?

and now... i'm going to go watch seinfeld, and get my funny bone back. it's time for laughing again.

separation anxiety

so long, farwell, auf wiedersehen, good bye...

dyed in the wool

here's what i want to know. when people say that they will or will not vote for someone, what are they basing it on? when they say there's plenty of reasons they won't vote for someone, or they just think so-and-so is such a great candidate and would make an amazing president... do they know something i don't know? or are they just saying it based on who they "think" the candidate is?

i consider myself fairly well informed when it comes to the presidential race. i've watched the presidential debates (both sides). i've tried to keep an open mind about it. i've dabbled in MSNBC, CNN, FOXnews, etc. and listened to their responses, to try and keep things as balanced as you can be with the mainstream media. i've talked to people who avidly support candidates from both parties. i've received email forwards (see mrs. dub's post for today about how much email forwards SUCK), though mostly from republicans bashing on democrats... not sure if that's just a coincidence. i've tried to read up on the candidates and the overall party platforms. but... i just don't get it. how are people so committed to one political party over another?

i have pretty much determined, at least for now, that i have two choices when the time comes that i can actually vote (yeah for 2012!): i can either be a democrat who disagrees with a number of issues typically associated with the democractic party, or i can be a republican who disagrees with a number of issues typically associated with the republican party. but in either case, i'm not totally sold. so, does that make me an independent? and am i really ok with that?

so what is it? is it because that's the way your parents voted? is it because it's NOT the way your parents voted? is it really because of one or two specific issues? or are you so well-versed in both political parties and all the candidates that your opinions are incredibly well-founded? how do you decide you love romney and hate obama... or hate huckabee and love clinton... or (dare i say) kind of like mccain, romney, obama AND clinton?!

so... on what do you base your decision about who you vote for and/or what political party you espouse to? and is that it? are you done forever? dyed-in-the-wool, through-and-through member of such-and-such political party come what may?

i'm just trying to get ready for 2012... so bare with me here. :)

have you seen sicko?

so, how did i go more than a week without writing anything!? especially after such a fun post where so many people popped by to say hi. :) this week was insane. work was insane. and then there was something going on every night, it seemed. BUT i did go to yoga TWICE! i'm giving myself a little pat on the back right now and tooting my own little horn and pinning a rose on my nose, and all that fun stuff... but i really am proud of myself.

anyway...

what i really want to talk about is the documentary "sicko", by michael moore. i just watched it last night. i'm not sure how many people have seen it... but i'm curious, if you HAVE seen it, what you thought? i'm not really eager to start some kind of war for or against universal healthcare on my blog (though, i do love a good debate), but i thought the documentary was really really interesting, and i want to talk to people about it. so, i want to know if any of you have seen it. anyone? anyone? and if you have.... what did you think? did it effect the way you thought about universal healthcare? if you're for it, how come? if you're against it, why?

and how many of you are seriously considering a move to france after watching it?

come on... delurk yourself... you know you want to

just when i thought i was finally getting a handle on all things bloggy... i find out about delurker week. who knew? so... i guess the idea is that i say "i see you!" and you come out from your hiding place and say "hi! i'm so-and-so, and i occasionally read your blog." sounds sort of like we're starting a support group or something... but it sort of sounds like fun.

i'm one of those dorky people who looks at their blog analytics to see how many people looked at their site, and where they're from... but i've given up trying to figure out who you all are. until now... i guess i'm allowed to ask now. so, who are you? of course, i know a lot of you... but i know for a fact that there's people in places i've never even heard of who are reading my blog... unviel yourself. say a little hello. tell me about yourself. introduce me to your own blog, if you've got one.

and even if i already know you... say hi. :) it's national delurker week! could we get any dorkier people?! :) yeah for blogging!

decades of deliberation have come to this

we've all been asked this silly question... if you found a genie in a lamp and you could have three wishes, what would they be? (and of course the third one can't be more wishes... but we all wish it could be, don't we?) so, after much deliberation throughout my life, i think i've narrowed it down to three solid answers:

1. i never want to have to stop at a red light or stop sign or even yield to merging traffic ever again. i want all lights to be green when i get there, all stop signs to be for other people, all cars to yield to me. i want to be able to walk out the door, get in my car, turn it on and go. and not have to stop or slow down until i get where i'm going. the eternal green light.

2. i want a soundtrack for my life. i have always wanted that... perfect music to play at the perfect moment. and not just on my ipod... i mean a REAL soundtrack. like hugh grant wandering the streets of london after having his heart torn to pieces while hearing bill withers sing "ain't no sunshine when she's gone", or hearing wreckless eric take over singing "whole wide world" for will ferrell as maggie gyllenhaal suddenly kisses him on the couch. music just makes everything better. it makes the moment more moving, more passionate, more intense... so ya, i want a soundtrack.

3. i want that perfect pair of jeans to last forever. and my favorite shirts to never fall apart. and my favorite sweaters need to not do that weird fluff ball thing or stretch into weird shapes or shrink to the size of a babyGAP sweater... they need to stay looking exactly the way they did in the store. oh... and my favorite clothes need to always fit... no matter how much what i'm trying to stuff in them may have increased in size (is that kind of like sneaking in a 4th wish?)

so... if you found a genie in a lamp and you could have three wishes, what would they be? and no wishing for more wishes... geez.