Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire...and a giveaway

First, if you didn't enter to win Aubrey Mace's new book My Fairy Grandmother yet, you should. Just drop down to yesterday's post and read the last paragraph for instructions. It's hard work in the form of requiring a one word answer, but you can do it. I know you can. If you've ever had an opinion about anything, and can type one word, this is the contest for you. Go on. Enter.


See? Not so hard.


Now to the lying part. I'm not posting pictures of my shoes, so if that's what brought you here today...sorry. Maybe tomorrow. No weeping or wailing. Gnashing of teeth is fine, as it's less noisy. If it makes you feel better, I'm trying to get my husband to use his expensive new camera and budding amateur photography skills for good. Like, say...a photojournalistic essay on my shoes. But he's not going for it.


Instead, here are a bunch of pictures of me looking washed out and like I don't quite know what I want to do with my mouth. Just know that underneath that uncomfortable, slightly frozen look, my heart was aflutter with joy. Flap, flap.

I'm starting with this one because I love the expression on my face. And Aubrey is never going to speak to me again after this, but I swear my expression looks like, "Watch your hands!" And I'd like to say here and now that there should not be any falsehoods spread through the blogosphere. Aubery is a perfect gentleman. I mean, lady. I mean...I just have a stupid look on my face for no reason.

Are you still talking to me, Aubrey?

I like this one because Kimberly looks like she's thinking, "Please make her stop. She never STOPS. The talking...it just goes on and ON!"


I like this one because Don looks like he doesn't mind being seen with me.

I had to bend over about 42 inches just to tower above Josi and Annette by a mere half-a-head. I never felt so tall in my life. It felt especially weird since these are two of my heroes who have helped me with multiple questions along the way.

The rest of this post shall be taken up by a conspicuous absence of shoe pictures.

Ah, white space.

What's in a name?

Before I start, I probably ought to crack open my electronic thesaurus and look up all the synonyms for stupendous that I can find, because I'll need them to describe this weekend. I almost don't even want to write this post because I know I'm going to forget someone, but that's what the comment trail is for: you guys can tell me when I screw up.

Anyway, I built in an extra day to my LDS Storymakers trip so I could catch up with old friends. And new ones. I had breakfast with Charrette and got to listen to her babbling brook. We ate slices of French toast bigger than our heads and sat on the grass, oblivious to traffic, and visited. It was awesome. I have such a deep awe for her wisdom and strength. (P.S. You didn't hear it from me, but she's a tiny little thing.)

Later I ran into Kimberly and Eowyn at dinner, and it was such a kick to see them. I mostly was really happy to see them together because I know how much they enjoy each other and it made me happy to see them hang out.

Friday morning, I went to a critique group Boot Camp and made super sure to sit at Annette Lyon's table. I would hang out with that woman any time. It was so much fun to spend that time with her and listen to her thought processes. She's as good of an editor as I expected and I learned SO MUCH! She's is MUCHO divertido.

Throughout the day I ran into Don (thanks for finding me!), L.T. (Lexicon Luvr) who was easily one of the nicest people I have EVER met, Carolyn my possible cousin (I need your URL!), and so on. And on. And on. Josi, who cheerleaded for me. And Julie Wright, who was full of energy and enthusiasm. And Janette Rallison who came and found me so we could have a great chat after a fly-by in the hallway.

Saturday I had more awesome Boot Camp and then my friend Aubrey Mace showed up. You know...my critique partner? We got to hang out all day. I was so excited to give her a present. I pulled out my one pound box of See's chocolate to give her--and she pulled out the exact same thing to hand to me. Awesome. The best part of Saturday came later, but I'm saving that until the end of the post.

Elodia Strain stopped me to say hello. I wrangled a promise from Stephanie Fowers to stay at my house for a few days so I can secure her future for her. She knows what I'm talking about. I bought new books that I can hardly wait to crack open. I laughed all day long. I saw old and new friends win in the first chapter contest.

Oh, I met Luisa/Novembrance. How cool is that? That is one together lady. I so want to go hang out at her house.

As for the conference itself, it's the best writing conference I've been to. Not only was the content great, the people who presented it were comfortable speaking and it makes all the difference. I went to the RWA national conference last year, and I thought Storymakers was far better. While I didn't hear anything new in the classes, I got some wonderful refreshers that motivated me to return to my writing with renewed determination and vigor. By far what helped me most was the Boot Camp in the morning. It helped me with my writing, of course, but it also really helped me to understand how a critique group should function. Oh, and I had a fantastic meeting with the editor I wanted to meet.

At the Whitney Gala, I got to see some more really cool people and laugh at some ridiculous antics. I think all the linky love has worn me out for the moment, so no pictures tonight but I'll have tons tomorrow. And my tons, I mean maybe a half dozen.

Anyway, I saved the best for last. My friend and critique partner (did I mention those two things already?), Aubrey Mace, WON for the Best Romance of the Year. Yay! And in a moment of delirium, she agreed to let me give away a copy of her new book, My Fairy Grandmother, on my blog. I already read it and trust me, you're totally going to enjoy it!

I think the terms of this bloggy giveaway are...hm. Answer the following question in the comment trail: You're living a fairy tale in a medieval castle somewhere. Where? In Aubrey's book, it's Spain. Where would your castle be? I pick...France! Provence, specifically. It's so pretty there.

All right. Give me your answer by midnight Saturday and you're entered in. And this book has no LDS themes so all my non-LDS friends can enjoy it just fine without worrying about foreign vocabulary.

Such a great weekend!

Please ignore the stupid spacing. Stupid Blogger picture function.

This is Ground Control to Major Tom

I'm not putting pictures up because I'm experiencing re-entry to my life after a weekend away, and much like an astronaut returning to earth...

Or actually not at all like that...

I'm trying to adjust to my toddler-to-leg reattachment while preparing healthy homemade chicken nuggets (smoked paprika in the breading is a nice touch), deal with the slight crust of mashed banana in my hair, clean up a newly strewn pile of James's schoolwork all over the floor courtesy of Baby G, and resist the siren call of a box of chocolate (thanks, Aubrey!). And having said all of that, trying to deal with Blogger's picture function will most likely fry my synapses.

Bzzt.

It's like the sound those mosquito zappers make only it would be my brain. Which is, you know...kind of sad. I mean, if it happened.

I have much more to tell you about my bloggy friends I met (L.T., Luisa, Don, Janette...the list goes on!) and I'm not linking them right now for the same brain frying reasons.

Today is just a, "Wassup? I'm back. Y'all."

And tomorrow will be my adventures in Storymaker Land. And the day after that will possibly have something to do with my shoes. I think for my six word epitaph (a post I'm too lazy to link to), it's probably going to say, "Pretty good writer. Dang fine shoes." If other people's blogs are to be believed, anyway. I admit, the pink ones kinda rocked the party. (Hi, Heather of the EO).

I didn't forget.

I have another announcement.

I did NOT forget. It just needed its own entry.

I would like to tell everybody that I....

sat...

on...

SUE'S LIVINGROOM SOFA yesterday.

Yeah, the Navel Gazing one. (She didn't do that yesterday.)

And also, she hugged me.

They're out of kids' toothpaste, by the way.

In case anybody needs to know.

I like Sue.

A lot.

I'm a giver and a taker.

I don't want to make anyone jealous or anything, but. . .

M-kay, no, I do.

Yesterday I ate breakfast with Charrette, saw Kimberly from Temporary Insanity and Eowyn from Refracted Light at dinner, and this morning I hugged Annette Lyon, Josi Kilpack, Julie Wright, Stephanie Black, Tristi Pinkston, and Lexicon Lover (L.T.).

Just so you know.

Truth and Lies

Someone told me frozen Peeps are really good.

Not true.

Someone said the same thing about frozen peas.

Also not true.

Frozen bananas and grapes, though? Delicious.

That's the good stuff

I was thinking about prayers last night and how often I forget to pray for myself. Or at least, my prayers for myself are only in relation to other people. "Help me to be a good mother..." or "Help me to be a better wife...". Those kinds of things.

But in the last week, I've witnessed answers to my husband's prayers on my behalf. I've mentioned being super stressed about this fundraiser night I'm in charge of. I've heard my husband ask in family prayers for people's hearts to be touched to step up and help and I'm sure he says it in his personal prayers, too. And suddenly, people are emerging from the woodwork, people who are strangers to me, who are offering to help with some of the most difficult and time consuming parts of the night.

My only prayer through all of this has been that I'll be handle it and still be kind to my family. That's important to me because I'm a Type-A perfectionist on stuff like this. So far, I've been able to stay calm and treat my family the same. But it never occurred to me to pray for help from others because I so often tackle things on my own. I asked for help in multiple emails and phone calls and I didn't get much. I figured my elbow grease would eventually make it all come together.

I forgot about my knees.

I'm thankful for a husband who prays for me, who has enough faith to pray and soften people's hearts and have his prayers answered. I'm thankful for the answers to the limited prayers I pray and the knowledge that my Heavenly Father is waiting to pour out blessings...if only I remember to ask.

Hugging Trees, Y'all

As you know, because I'm sure you circled it with a big old red heart that has a tree growing out of it, Earth Day is on Wednesday. Since we do some amazing things in our house to help protect our environment, I wanted to share them today rather than wait so that these awesome ideas don't get lost in the shuffle of other tips people will throw out on actual Earth Day.

Here are some of my top tips for going green.

1. I don't do laundry. It saves water and prevents detergent from seeping into the ocean and killing Nemo.

2. I don't dry my hair with a blow dryer because that also saves electricity and has nothing to do with the fact that one time when I was blowdrying my hair, my roundbrush got tangled so badly it had to be cut out. It's purely an environmental move.

3. I know that everyone touts the virtues of vinegar as a great "green" cleaning solution, but I truly believe that the magic of mother spit has been woefully overlooked. Have you ever seen a mom lick her finger and then rub at something toxic and malignant on her child's face and it melts away like nothing? I'm telling you, vinegar can't touch it.

4. I drive everywhere I go. I figure if I rode my bike too much, I would wear it out and it would have to be thrown away which means taking up space in a landfill.

5. We never take our garbage out. See above about landfills.

6. I only change my baby's diaper once a day. This is also landfill related. If it's just pee, we can go two days or more.

7. We don't read the newspaper. Not even online because it would take electricity to power their servers and that's bad for the environment. Somehow.

8. I've told my child to quit doing his spelling homework. All that paper kills trees.

9. This one comes courtesy of the four sets of neighbors who let their dogs freely poop on the lawn and don't bag it. Organic fertilizer, you guys.

10. We let our lights burn day and night. This is because we use eco-friendly CFC bulbs and they take a LOOONNNNGGGG time to burn out. The thing is, if no one's buying new ones because the old ones are burning out, then the industry might not be able to support itself. So we try to make sure there's always someone they can sell to by burning ours out as fast as possible.

Hope it helps. Happy Earth Day, everyone!

*We're actually kind of green, so no yelling.

Bust out the See's, y'all!

I passed my word count goal (75,000) on my current manuscript! Yay!!!!!!!

I have no idea how many words I have left now.

And I don't know what sound effect to use for that.

I know for dang sure that I just earned some chocolate and a pedicure, though.

Stuff and Nonsense. But mostly Stuff.

You want hear something creepy? Shellie can totally read minds. Weird, right?

I was just thinking I hadn't done one of my true Friday Favorites in a while and that I was in the mood for one. I decided on my favorite things that make my life easier. And yesterday on her blog, she had the best suggestions!

So one of mine is an overlap, but if it's good, it's good, right?

I'm all about easy right now.

No, Wendy and DeNae, I did not say I'M easy. Now I stole your jokes.

Anyway, PTA is trying to swallow me whole and spit me out with my hair all gone, but we are four weeks away from this all being over FOREVER, and (shush, don't tell...) it's starting to get the teensiest bit easier. More people are pitching into help. I've delegated. I can breathe again.

Still not sleeping great, but I enjoy the breathing part.

We've had lots of ado already, and while it hasn't been much ado about nothing, without further ado here is my list of favorite things for making my life easier.

And I'm not in the mood for hunting down pictures. Sorry, visual learners.

1. Chlorox Bleach wipes. Emily feels my love. Since used wash rags gross me out and baby plays hide the kitchen towels where no one will ever find them again, these handy disinfecting wipes are the only reason my house is clean. Kind of clean, anyway. I buy them for cheap at Costco.

2. Windows Live Mesh. It's my handy little writing back up insurance policy. Whatever I do in my Live Mesh folders is automatically updated between my laptop and my desktop and it doesn't involve jump drives or email attachments or anything. I'm not sure how it works. My husband could draw you an equation and use the word "algorithm" as many times as possible to explain it all, but I have my own theory. I think fairies live in cyberspace. A special brand of worker fairies. And one lives in my laptop named Serafina. When I type something and hit Save, she flies it over to her counterpart, Grimaldi, in the desktop. And vice versa, of course. It works out nice except for the occasional battle they have to do with the gremlins who try to inhabit my computers, too.

Anyway, not that I lost my train of thought or anything (because that NEVER happens), but the other cool feature Live Mesh has is that even if both of my computer fairies lost their gremlin battles and melted down completely, the information in Live Mesh can still be retrieved from the Web with a password and so at least my manuscripts are safe from computer crashes.

Oh, and um, Universe? That was NOT an invitation.

3. Rice cookers. I'm a really good cook but consistently getting rice right on the stove top eludes me. I love my rice cooker. (P.S. I was just proofreading this and noticed that wasn't at all humble, but whatever. It's true and I'm too tired to change it. Although typing about my tiredness took more time than changing it would have. Whatever.)

4. My Kitchen Aid handichopper. I can't remember the last time I diced something the old-fashioned way.

5. Tide to Go pen. Because I spill stuff constantly when I eat. This pen has saved a couple of my favorite shirts.

6. Bare Minerals foundation. Great coverage, no break outs and it's the only one that's ever matched my skin tone well because I'm super fair.

7. Beauty school blow outs. I need great hair next week but I don't even own a round brush because I am THAT bad at styling my hair. My talents and abilities peaked with oversize hot rollers and I only use eight. And that's only to keep my hair from being too frizzy. Anyway, as much as I hate blowdrying my hair and round brushing it and all that, I'd still rather have it look bad than pay $4o bucks for someone else to do it, which is the going rate for a shampoo and blow out. However, the Paul Mitchell hair school down the road? Only charges $11. And then I don't have to mess with my hair for three days. Maybe longer. Depends on how dry the air is on how well it behaves.

8. Vonage. It's our phone service and you can probably do this with any phone service (although ours is Internet based, and no, it doesn't sound any different than a regular land line and it's $25 bucks a month for everything INCLUDING long distance all voice mail, call waiting, etc.), I have it set up so that if people call my home phone it simultaneously rings my cell phone. Since there are a few reasons it makes sense for us to keep a land line (like spotty cell reception in our house, DEBBIE), this is a lovely feature. And I can change the feature any time I want online. Switch it to my husband's phone, make it stop...whatever. Maybe I should switch all my home calls to my brother's cell phone one day for kicks and giggles. Anyway, I only have to give out one phone number and people can find me wherever. Many people would hate that feature; I really like it.

9. My Sony Reader. It's just the Sony version of a Kindle. It makes packing books for vacation a much less stressful ordeal (it can fit a bajillion books), it looks just like reading a regular page, and it holds a charge FOREVER.

That's it.

Next year at this time, my Friday Favorite tip for things that make my life easier will be:

Don't sign up to organize PTA fundraisers.

I kill me. Oh, and bugs. I kill bugs.

In another life, the one where I believe in reincarnation (which happens to take place in an alternate universe), I bet I was an exterminator, because I killed myself a nasty bug yesterday and I AM AWESOME (said with the Yo Gabba Gabba DJ Lance Rock reverb and you can't stop me, Crash!).

It was a bug of the viral variety but I drop kicked its trash. Because I AM AWESOME (see note above about reverb).

I feel so much better today. You know, because evil no longer has a grip on my upper GI tract.

Squish. That's the sound of that virus bug flattening under my determination not to be sick. Because I don't like being sick.

Anyway, I'm going to enjoy the rest of my day of wellness by watching my new favorite TV show (Better Off Ted) on DVR. Then I'm going to eat kettle corn (the low fat kind).

Anyway, I just wanted you to know that you're hanging out with a super awesome virus killer with a really good chocolate stash and Swedish fish too, in case you swing that way. Prepackaged for portion control, no less.

Oh, and I taught my toddler how to throw his own food in the garbage. You know all the stuff that he throws on the floor and I usually just stare at despairingly? Yeah, I made him pick it up and throw it all away. He's only seventeen months old. Do you think I can get him to keep it up until he gets married and becomes some other woman's project?

Kidding, kidding. I meant, do you think I can get him to keep it up until he moves away to go to college and becomes his roommates' headaches?

A few numbers

I have this cool blog post idea that's bouncing around in my head. For days, I've been meaning to write it but stuff keeps coming up. The huge fundraiser I'm in charge of at James's school is eating into all my time. You know, time I normally use to do stuff like sleep, eat, and oh...breathe.

Then there's my self-imposed writing deadline. I wanted to finish my manuscript before the LDS Storymakers conference next week and my goal is 75,000 words. I'll definitely finish that, which is wonderful, but it turns out my story isn't done yet. I'm guessing I'm going to end closer to 85,000 words. And so I'm trying to decide if I can balance extra writing against all these PTA responsibilities I have.

And then there's this lovely weird tummy thing I have going on today. It is the oddest bug. I'm thinking it's a virus or something but any time I'm upright, I feel like puking, and no matter what, I have these sharp cramps in my upper G.I. tract. I wonder if it's an answer to a prayer.

Freeze. Don't get all excited. I don't have an announcement.

Hang with me here. See, we're starting to think about the next kiddo. And so I've been praying about it, because I'd love another kid but I want to make sure it's the right time. (Like there is such a thing). And every time I pray that prayer, I soon end up having some random sleepless night that reminds me of the misery I had with my last pregnancy when I went days at time without more than two hours of sleep at a time. And I'm not so pleasant when I don't sleep. Or like today, I have this awful nausea that reminds me of the vague sense of carsickness I experienced through that same pregnancy.

And the thing is, I'm willing to deal with the physical discomfort. I realize people have far worse pregnancies, but my last one was tough for me. Even then, I wouldn't think twice about another baby, but now I have two kids already to think about and what good I'm going to be them if I'm an exhausted, ill mess. I had to call my husband home early today because I just had to lay down to fight the puketasticness.

So, here's the deal. I'm going to build a slight cushion into my decision. I already weigh ten pounds less than when I got pregnant with Baby G, but I think I'd like to drop just ten more pounds. The number that drops me to is part of the post I keep saying I want to write, and I will, but the idea that unlocking that number can mean I'm physically more prepared for another baby is pretty exciting.

But here's the other thing. Emotionally, I think I already am prepared. So maybe that weight is just going to stay some number, one to wave at from a distance with a much smaller number of pounds cradled in a soft baby blanket in my arms.

Hm...

I'm not asking for advice. I think me, my husband and Heavenly Father can figure that out.

I'm just writing to say that PTA is stressing me out, I don't feel so good, and I'm a little baby hungry. Just another day at the Jacobson house.

It's the Itchy and Scratchy Show

I am being driven slowly insane by the itching in my ear. My left ear. It's making me nuts. I know what it is. The eustachian tube. Something's draining. Whatever. It's the itch that cannot be scratched. I totally would if I could.

My ears have not always been kind to me. I think they like to reassert their primacy every now and then. I like to say primacy.

Anyway, I had tubes twice when I was kid. The second time, they didn't come out on their own. I had to have them surgically removed and one eardrum had to be reconstructed with a skin graft from above my ear. I was fourteen and I got to wear this big, white Princess Leia looking plastic cup shield thing over my ear. At school. It cemented my coolness.

I think DeNae recently asserted her primacy as the Queen of the Nerds. But I'm confident I could be super high up in the nerd hierarchy. You read my blog. You know. Just in case the giant plastic shield wasn't enough to paint the picture. Anyway, I could definitely rise in the nerd ranks. I mean, I have too much fashion sense to be president of the Nerd Nation, but I would soooo qualify for a cabinet level position. Maybe the Nerd Secretary of Commerce. I definitely spend enough money in nerdly pursuits. I just bought my husband the entire boxed set of Star Trek: TNG dvds for his birthday. And I passed more than one party in high school and college in a corner with a book that I snuck in my purse, bought after haunting used book stores for hours. Oh, and I'd run right out and rent the next BSG episodes last summer if Netflix was taking too long to get them to me.

But whatever. I think I lost my train of thought. Which is so weird because that NEVER happens.

What was I talking about?

Oh, yeah. So anyway, the point is, my ear itches. It's making me crazy.

Hide and Seek

I've got zombies on the brain. I guess a zombie on the brain is better than a zombie in my brain. You know, like, eating it and stuff?

Anyway, at some point today, Heidi Ashworth at Dunhaven Place may, if something is very wrong with her, decide to publish the guest post I promised to do for her. You'll see what I mean about zombies, and perhaps wonder as I will, why on earth she asked me to guest post. She seems like a sane, normal woman.

I'll be back tomorrow. Because I have a problem and I can't stay away. However, being as I need to talk to other adults, I refuse to get help. And so I blog.

If I tell "The Secret" to bite me, what does that really mean?

If I stare at this empty draft box long enough, a post will appear. It will be witty and amazing and people will laugh until they weep. It's only a matter of time. I pay my tithing and my skirts are all to my knee and any time I think or say something bad about someone else, I always follow it up with "Bless his/her heart."

It's not like I'm trying to get into Heaven here. I don't even want to win the lottery. I just want my blog to write itself. That's not too much to ask, is it?

Waiting....

Still waiting...

Hm.

I waited like, ten seconds, and nothing happened. Stupid Blogger. Bless its heart.

You know what? The Secret is a crock.

I guess I have to come up with my own stuff today. You know what I wish for now that my blog won't write itself? I want a central clearing house of blog memes so I can just click on one and change three answers before I post it as my own on days when I can't think of anything.

Fine.

Given yesterday's dissension in the comment box, I think we should talk about music. Do what you want, but I'm just saying.

Here's what I want to know. For my husband's big 4-0 celebration this past weekend, I made an iTunes playlist of the number one song from each year since he's been born and we listened to it on the way down to Morocco (a la Desert Hot Springs). You can see the list of the top ten from every year here. But anyway, this is my question. There were a few years I had to fudge it because I couldn't bring myself to put the actual number one song from the year and I chose a different one from the top ten. Examples:

1974: "The Way We Were," by Barbra Streisand "Kung Fu Fighting" by Carl Douglas #5

1977: "You Light Up My Life" by Debbie Boone "Rich Girl" by Hall & Oates #8

1980: "Lady" by Kenny Rogers "Another Brick in the Wall" by Pink Floyd #5

1981: "Physical" by Olivia Newton John "Jesse's Girl" by Rick Springfield

1996: "Macarena" "Give Me One Reason to Stay Here" by Tracy Chapman

Was it wrong that I did that? You know, considering this isn't going to be kept as a historical record? It's not wrong, right?

And just in the interest of being nosy, I think you guys should puke up the name of bands you're embarrassed to admit you listen to. Oh, that I had none to confess. Sometimes I'm embarrassed to say I like Rascall Flatts. But who I'm really embarrassed that I admit liking? Um. Well. The first tape I ever bought with my own cash money was Europe's The Final Countdown.

Carry on.

Is it just me?

I hate it when I'm in the car, and a great song comes on the radio, so I rock out to it (yeah, that's me you saw car dancing at the red light) and I think, "Man, this is really good. Who is this?"

And then I find out it's Nickelback.

Shh..don't tell.

Sometimes, like the other day, Kristina P blogs about the Post Secret site where people tell their secrets anonymously.

I'm going to tell my own anonymous secret today:

People think I style Baby G's hair with gel to set his curls. The truth is, that's usually his breakfast caked in there.

I feel better now. I'm so glad no one will ever know this was me.

Kodak moments

I was going to blog about our fantastic Palm Springs weekend for my husband's 40th birthday, but he already did in yesterday's comment trail. Here's the gist of it, leaving out some of the ooey-gooey stuff:

Here's what she did: 1. Planned a romantic get-a-way for two at a cool little Moroccan themed Inn and Spa near Palms Springs. ...*boring, mushy stuff*.... 4. Once we got to the Inn, we didn't have to DO anything or BE anywhere if we didn't want to. She left it all up to me. And consequently we didn't do much and I enjoyed it immensely!

So since he kind of told you everything already, I'll leave you with some pictures of the El Morocco Inn and Spa. It was a lovely desert oasis. We've stayed in hotels in New York, Paris, Rome, LA, Florence, Nice, Glasgow, Venice, and the English countryside, and this was HANDS DOWN my favorite of all of them. No detail overlooked, the owners are warm and wonderful, and the experience was utterly perfect.

Twilight by the mineral spring pool

Our 7-foot round bed in a room called "The Sultan's Playpen." Don't love the name, LOVED the room. And there are crazy piles of pillows hidden behind those veil thingies.


Interior shot of the HUGE hot tub fed by a hot mineral spring

This is where I lounged pool side and thought about writing but never got around to it.

All the doors are painted Moroccan blue

My favorite picture EASILY. Study it closely:
This captures the split second before Kenny's momentum as he raced to beat the self-timer on the camera carried him backwards over the bench and he landed in the weeds with his feet sticking up in the air. It's totally worth me looking like a dweeb for the pleasure of that memory.
P.S. I'm not fat. It's just my posture.

This is why I married him...

We're driving through the desert looking for a place Kenny can take pictures. We've been alternating between listening to Kurt Vonnegut short stories and the local classic rock station. Right now, Foreigner blares on the radio. I 'm hot-blooded, check it and see/I got a fever of a 103.

Me: I bet his fever's not 103. I bet he just picked that number because it rhymes with "see". That guy's a liar.

Kenny: I bet you're right.

Come on, baby, do you do more than dance...

Me: And I think he might have a dirty mind. I think he means something bad by "do more than dance."

Kenny: (One eyebrow inching up). I always knew he wasn't talking about dancing, but are you sure it's something bad? Like maybe he thinks she's really good at Scrabble.

Me: No. It means something bad.

Kenny looks alarmed. Then we both dissolve into giggles.

R.I.P.

So, about a year ago I heard this really interesting story on NPR one night from these guys about coming up with a six word epitaph for your own tombstone. Every now and then I think about that story.

Today was one of those days. It was on my mind as I drove all over the place doing errands and the best one I could come up with was this:

She loved her husband and children.

But I think it's exactly enough.

Think about yours. It makes your soul feel better.

Not on my watch.

Uh....can you guys go vote for me on the Mormon Mommy Blog poll? If you'll notice the end of this post, you''ll see that I will do anything to avoid embarrassment. Asking for your votes so I'm not humiliated is all part of that. If I've ever made you giggle...help me out?

I mentioned before that my husband secretly plots ways to rob banks. He just walks into a bank to make a deposit or something and then he starts thinking, "Hm. Here's how it could be done..."

And I mentioned I've always thought that was kinda crazy. But just today, at the bank, I realized I'm kind of crazy, too. Because I automatically start thinking stuff like, "If someone came in to rob this bank, what would I do?" The funny thing is, I thought stuff like this long before I married my husband.

And here's the thing. It's probably best if bad guys don't come robbing when I'm around because I think I'm dumb enough to play the hero.

I wish I could say it's because I'm courageous. It's not. It's because I have a real problem with people who make other people's lives difficult and I tell the troublemakers so on a regular basis. Believe me, you want to be behind me when I'm behind the guy who's being a jerk to a teller or cashier just for the sheer enterainment value. I especially take advantage of this when I'm pregnant because seriously, who's going to say something back?

Besides, I despise feeling fearful and I do contrary things just because. I used to refuse to lock my doors because I felt like I was admitting the world wasn't safe. I lock them now because I do have at least some common sense. But it shows up other ways too. I had to fly for work shortly after 9/11. There I was in an eerily empty airport (except for the soldiers with machine guns), and instead of feeling scared, I felt defiant. Hijack MY plane? I don't think so. I'll take some crazy jihadists down with nothing but a stiletto heel and a bad attitude.

Anyway, so if I'm in the bank when it gets robbed...I'd probably be the dummy trying to sound the alarm or trip a bank robber or sneak away for help. Or you know, trying to talk reason with them.

Now, don't get me wrong. I hate to do anything that might put me at the least risk for being embarrassed or rejected. I'm not brave about any of that stuff. But lecture a bad guy until he decides there's no amount of money in a bank worth the ear abuse? Yeah, I can do that.

Click.

I was going to write about why I like being good looking but it occurred to me that new people wandering over from Mormon Mommy Blogs might be left with a totally correct impression of me, and we can't have that, can we? So suffice it to say, my thoughts can be summed up this way: you can be too good-looking (Liz Lemon's bubble, anyone?) and it's best to go through life as a good solid 7 on a scale of 10. Once things have settled down around here, I'll get back to that thought, but we'll wait until the gawkers pass, new friends stick, and it's just us girls again. (And Chaka. And CaJoh. Hi.)

Anyway, what's on my mind after that is that I hate local television news. I mean I really HATE it. Oh, wait, let me check with the last fiber of my being....Nope. It loathes local TV news, too. It's not just because we get the LA news and I live in Orange County where we have 2 million of our own residents and are still treated like an L.A. suburb. Um, hello? If we wanted to live in L.A. we'd have migrated north twenty minutes. You know, to where the shootings and the smog are?

Because that's pretty much what LA news is. Fourteen stories on who got shot, a human interest story on some weird health trend, three stories on celebrities (they're all "local" in L.A.), and then an overly buxom (and I'm not exaggerating that--check out any of the weather girls {Alita Loresco, snort}) girl gives the weather. Oh, or else it's one of the old guys with a dumb name like Johnny Mountain. Or Dallas Raines. Not making those up, either. It makes Fritz Coleman sound normal.

I mean, does it seem wrong to anyone else that even the weather guys have stage names in L.A.?

And the hard hitting exposes? All seem to involve which restaurants have roaches. Or news flash: car places rip you off.

I actually reached my snapping point with local news in Utah, though. For a month, one station (cough, cough, KSL, cough) advertised some story they were going to do on pantyhose and the truth about quality versus prices. Since I haven't yet met a pair of pantyhose I couldn't put a run in just by looking, I was pretty interested. The promos were relentless. This was going to be their big ratings hook for February sweeps. Here's what I learned in the 90 second story: cheaper pantyhose don't hold up as well as expensive ones. Glad I made a point of tuning in. It's not like there wasn't an Olympics scandal to lead with at the time or anything. Oh, wait. Yes, there was. And I quit wearing pantyhose, anyway.

I finally refused to watch the local news altogether about five years ago. I just thought it might be bad to end every day by wanting to throw a shoe at the TV. Unless there's an earthquake, I'm pretty much cruising cable for Seinfeld in syndication. Or Jon Stewart.

I prefer to read my news, anyway. I'm a big fan of city newspapers and the OC Register is pretty good. And I subscribe to different news services (CNN, USA Today and BBC). Mainly I just skim the headlines. Sometimes I pull up a whole article if the headline is good enough. You know..."Obama announces new tax plan" (skim), "G 20 Summit erupts in violence" (skim), "California budget held together with a safety pin and Arnold's chewing gum" (skim), "Bobcat attacks bar patrons" (Oooh! Click to expand).

I pretty much always have NPR on in the car. In major emergencies I'll turn to CNN because it's the most balanced of the cable news channels. If by balanced you mean it swings wildly from one extreme to another to project "balance" rather than just driving completely in the fast lane (MSNBC) or slow lane (Fox...way over on the right. And I don't mean it's right. It's just on The Right. And so's the slow lane. Get it?)

Anyway, I plan to continue this self-imposed local TV news ban until I'm a cranky old woman in a nursing home with no one to come and visit me. Then some orderly will turn my room TV to the news thinking all old folks like watching the news. But that's not true. They only like watching the weather. They just have to suffer through the rest of it to get to it. But anyway, I'll be stuck watching it because I'll be too frail to throw my shoe at either the orderly or the TV.

Aargh.

Don't forget to floss.

My teeth fall out on a regular basis.

In my dreams, I mean. It's been going on for years. I have these recurring dreams where one tooth falls out, then another and another and pretty soon they're dropping left and right. It doesn't hurt in the dream, but it stresses me out super bad because I don't know why it's happening. In my dream, that is. Often I'm also stressed about not having dental insurance or all the dental work I have to get done to replace them.. I get all sad about wearing dentures and stuff.

When I wake up, I'm exhausted from stressing all night but REALLY glad I still have all my teeth. And dental insurance.

After years of this, I finally started checking those dream books. You know what it means if you dream about this?

It means your subconcious is trying to work through a problem it can't solve. It's often accompanied by teeth grinding.

Anyway, I have a new problem. Keys are beginning to fall of my keyboard.

Notice the missing control key and the page up key that's been awkwardly jammed back on.

What does this mean? I mean, it could mean that Baby Grant got to my laptop when I wasn't looking. Or it could mean.....?