Merry Christmas

It looks like April, it smells like April, it feels like April....It must be April.

This year, I'm very Santi. That's Anti-Santa. I don't believe in him, of course, because I don't believe in jolly fat men delivering gifts all around the world. I definitely believe in Christmas miracles, in Christmas love, in Christ, but the whole idea of Santa rrreeeeeeally bugs me this year. I haven't voiced it much since I'm really sour about it and I don't want to get carried away. I know who delivers gifts from person to person. Besides the obvious one person to another, it's UPS. Gifts come in brown before they ever come in green and red and silver and gold. I've experienced being a driver helper, a "Santa" helper first hand. That's probably the main reason I'm so Santi. It just isn't a fun idea to me anymore. Feeling that way backwardly makes me feel out of the Christmas Spirit. That bothers me more than Santa does.

I like the actual idea behind Christmas. The one about it being a birthday celebration. The birth of the Savior of the world's entire population. That's a great idea. That's a great reason to give gifts to one another. I mean, hey! We can all be saved because of one person? Let's celebrate and cushion our lives with blessings and remember the poor and hungry as we're out and about gifting. What a gift for Our Father to send His willing Son to give us life, a chance for everlasting life. Now that's the greatest of all gifts I could ever imagine up. It's a better idea to have be true than fat with a beard in a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer. A much better idea. And, in fact, a true idea.

I'm Santi because of how distracting the material things are exploding all around us. It's good to give gifts. The wise men visited Christ as a child bearing gifts. I think Christmas really is all about gifts. Like I said, the greatest of all gifts is commemorated with this holiday. But gift giving is more a symbolic reminder than the point, as sometimes it seems the holiday becomes about. So, it's a fine line, and a subtle deviation. It's simple, like how the same letters in Santa make up the letters in Satan. :) heh. Just a little switch and the whole meaning changes!

There's a store called Deseret Industries, D.I. for short. My dad just loves to go there. You can find screaming deals there sometimes. My dad is obsessed with accomplishing a triathalon soon and he's exercising a lot. At D.I. he's found quite a few sweet bicycles to restore to help him with his preparation; bikes that would usually be thousands of dollars he's purchased for just a few hundred. Anyway, so I went to D.I. and bought a small quilting circle, red yarn, metal measuring spoons, some bendable green wire stuff, some weird-shaped, other metal things, a wire-ish, plastic Christmas tree thing, and a pot lid. I didn't know how it would all go together, but I was planning to make a wind chime. When on Christmas eve it was together and complete and better than I could have imagined it would turn out, I was so full of excitement (too full, perhaps?) that I could hardly wait to show him. Christmas morning I took the left over lump of red yarn, wrapped a little around the quilting circle and led the string to his stocking and plopped the ball of yarn on the top of his candy. His was the first gift to be "opened" (we, especially me, were tripping over the yarn) and we all followed him to where it was hanging in my room. He hung it outside after we opened gifts. It's amazing how it really sounds great. If I can figure out how to put pictures on this dumb thing, I'll take a picture of it and post it.

It brings me and I do believe him a lot of joy. That's what I loved the most about this Christmas. That and my sister and I got each other the same thing. We're too much alike sometimes it's creepy. I love Christmas, Christ, and my beautiful family!

What I am

I am a dead end for forwarded e-mails. If the e-mail says make a wish, I make a terribly unhappy wish and then, when I don't forward the e-mail, my wish thankfully doesn't come true. If it threatens to cause something terrible in my day I delete it. First of all, it can't do anything, it's a stupid e-mail. But if it's not even there, it surely can't do anything; it was a stupid e-mail. If it says I'll discover my true love or a hilarious pop up will show when I forward it (IT WORKS!!!!!!! I WAS SO AMAZED!!!!) I delete it because I shudder with how stupid it is. Wouldn't you forward it, see this amazing thing and then have to send again an e-mail saying it worked? It's just dumb. I'm plagued with forward e-mails from my sisters. If it's a "fill out 100 stupid questions so I can get to know you better" from my sisters usually I'll humor them by replying, because I'm stinking gut-bustingly clever when I reply to those. Well, my sisters think so. And that's all that matters, because they're the only ones that get the e-mail. Examples? OKAY!

Breanne, don't you already know EVERYTHING about me?
>
>1)Your full name- Emily Wemily Bemily Femily Fairchild (I had it
>legally changed in Alaska)
>
>3)Age- 21
>4)Zodiac Sign- Gemni
>
>5)Height- 6'2"
>6)Where were you born- T******, Ca****** (Edited so no one online can more easily stalk me)
>
>7)What are you afraid of- chain mail from my sister!!!!

.........

11)Where do you see yourself 5 years down the road- how many miles
>you can walk in five years=where I see myself down the road in five
>years
>
>12)Do you plan to go to college- yes
>
>13)Do you plan to get married- it's what I live for

........

24)Do you collect anything- I collect dust, chain e-mail from my
>sister and love notes
>
>25)Do you like to party- only in November through October
>
>26)Do you have any piersings- first of all, it's spelled piercings,
>and second, yes, I have two
>
>27)If you were to run away, name 3 things in your room you woulld
>take with you. My journals, my alligator, and then I'd double check
>in Breanne's room for any other valuables I need to take back to my
>room first and then take them with me as I run away.
>
>33)Have you ever been in a physical fight- at least a hundred times
>that I've won
>
>35)Have you ever came close to dieing- first of all, it's spelled
>dying, and second, you'd say come, and third, yes. Wait, maybe. I don't know.
>
>36)Have you ever went swimming in an ocean- Argh, FIRST of all, it's
>said 'have you ever GONE swimming' and second, yes, I have.

........So you can tell by now that a third grader started this chain e-mail, grammar+spelling mistakes galore.

38)Do you have a secret you have told?- what, you want me to tell
>you, too? I usually keep secrets pretty well. So feel free to tell
>me and the spreading of secrets will most likely halt once you do.
>ta ta....
>
>39)Have you ever cried during a movie- ....oh wait, I'm still here.
>more questions to answer so that you know me better and better. I've
>cried in just about every movie I watch. I even cried in Little
>Mermaid once!
>
>40)Have you ever been on stage- yah, I can't say I like it much. I'm
>too tall
>
>41)Have you ever had the chicken pox- yes
>
>42)Have you ever had stitches- I think this question should be
>re-written like this: "Have you ever had THE stitches" and that way
>it sound more like a disease, like THE chicken pox. No, I've never
>had the stitches
>
>43)Have you ever broken anything- Oh my gosh, yes. I broke my mom's
>favorite glass bowl once. I broke a dozen of my little glass
>figurines I used to collect. I've broken boys' hearts, I've broken
>many things electric, I've broken lots of things

.......Then they ask your favorite:

50)drink- alcohol
>
>51)alcholic drink- oh, now you ask

57)Favorite person to talk to- myself, is my
>answer. Hey, good answer, Self! Thanks, Self! You're the best! No
>you're the best! Okay, okay, WE'RE the best!
>
>59)Website- http://happydramasticdays.blogspot.com

;)

.......Then they ask to know if I believe in:

77)Santa- no, I don't believe in fat, jolly old men surrounded by
>elves. sorry. But I do believe in reindeer.
>
>78)Ghost- the movie?
>
>79)angels- oh yeah
>
>80)saton/demonds- saton? Satan, maybe? Demons maybe? yes, I do
>believe in Satan.
>82)Do you wish on stars- No, do they wish on me? Probably.

.......
>110)Can you juggle- no, but when I run or jump or something of the
>like I can jiggle! :)
>
>That's the end? what a way to end


I like any chance to be clever. Being clever is one of the best feelings, I think. Then I feel the best kind of smart there is: funny-smart.

I work for UPS

And as my brother and I drive around (he drives and I run the packages to your doors) I see a lot of houses. There are a lot of neat houses in Lehi, UT. A lot of dogs, too. I hate little dogs. I have such an itch to kick them but I don't do it. Even though I don't wear a uniform since the one they ordered for me was so way too big, I represent UPS and I just can't kick the dogs.

I see a lot of Christmas decorations, too. What's with the inflatable snowmen, polar bears, penguins, santas, grinches and now snow globes? I noticed them the first time 3 or 4 years ago and I thought they were stupid and ugly then and I'm disappointed to see more as years pass. When morning comes they're crumpled and airless on the deadish grass. I've nearly killed myself on the little ropes they are staked down with as I deliver packages. (Working for UPS as a driver helper takes precise skills and muscles, just like I have. That's why I have the job. It's a rare job; only three weeks out of the year can anyone be a driver helper. And not just anyone, remember. You must have surprising agility and near anti-gravity balance. I haven't fallen (I'm not going to put 'yet') and today I even balanced 1 of 4 packages on my head from the truck to the door step. Surely you see what I mean, you must be a rare, lucky specimen to be a UPS driver helper).

Well, today, as I was working hard, sitting in the jump seat as my brother drove like a maniac I saw someone who took lazy too far. I'm lazy and understand most laziness, but this is just....unforgivable. All I'm going to say is: this home had in its front window, insufficiently (half-should-have-been-whole-ly) hidden by curtains, an inflatable Christmas tree. I can't express to you my disappointment, so I won't try.

Your Thoughts, If You Please

You can only know something if it's true.

Happy Thanksgiving

I'm grateful to live on Cherokee lane. Indians and Pilgrims started this whole tradition, so at my house in Indian Hills, Thanksgiving is the real thing. We pretend like we're Pilgrims, dress up with bonnets and belt buckles and boots and toss our turkey bones to the dogs....I really have nothing to write. I'm babbling. But lots of people might have thankful posts this day on their blogs and I'm just joining the band wagon. I played clarinet in Jr High, so I can join.... I'm thankful for my life and evertything in it. Seriously. I've met wonderful people and challenges that are just right for me. I love to live.

Entering the elevator was like limping nose first into a sweaty armpit.

I'm tired. When I get tired I tend to cease making much sense. I also get irritated. Sometimes when I'm irritated I get mean. This is a shout out to mean people: you irritate me and you deserve it.

Love is to Heart as Water is to _________

You take the balloon. You put some water in the balloon. Pinch the opening tight so it doesn't leak. Unexpectedly the balloon is knocked from your hands and water spills bitterly down your clean pants, assuming you're wearing pants.

You retrieve the balloon. It hangs limp, stretched by the water now on your pants. You come to another faucet a while later that is better than the first and put some water back in the balloon. Your pants are dry and the balloon can fit a lot more water this time.

etc. And one day, another faucet comes along and refills again your sagging balloon and then yanks it from your hands and ties the end in a knot. Just when you think this is the glorious moment for your weary balloon, the faucet hurls it to the ground and it bursts all over your shoes.

You leave the balloon in pieces. You pull a new balloon out of your hat. It's a stronger one, a bigger one, a bluer one.

Water fight.

Real Life is Too Much

I got home from working out probably too hard and fast and I changed my clothes. My sister called out to me, "Emily, I have something to show you." I followed after her but stayed in the kitchen as she went to the garage and rummaged through an apple box. She pulled out two brown, long things and the first thing that came to my mind was yams. I thought she had some prize long, skinny yams she wanted to show me. Random, yes, but nothing could prepare me for the shock as she cried out "Deer legs!" like we were starving castaways about to stew the last of Earth's protein. She held them into the light so I could quease better -- er, uh see better and recounted the where-the-red-fern-grows story of a disemboweled deer running around BYU campus, adding emphasis when needed with hoof motions as her hands were correspondingly occupied. The severed tendons would bulge in and out of the fur as the hoof hopelessly waved at me, a motion like an unconscious drunk on a rollercoaster. At one point, fascinated with her own strange luck at being the recipient of two deer legs, she clicked the exposed bones together and said too honestly, "Em, when I watched them saw the head off I almost lost it." All I could do was hyperventilate and hold the bridge of my nose. Give me a break! I just worked out. Imagine what could be done with two legs of a deer...nightmares tonight

Timberrrrrr

So, I was working out at 24hour fitness (I'm thinking of joining) and I ran into a famous person's friend. Well, this man didn't run into me, he came up to me as I was working my hamstrings, we'll call him Jan (with a German pronunciation so it sounds like "Yawn" but stiffer, ya know, cuz the Germans are stiff--and I can say that, I've been there). Jan, who is not German (...well, we never got around to discussing tribes), seemed like a jolly good chap and his opening line was not, "I'm the friend of a famous person," it was, "How tall are you?" I don't know which I'd prefer as an opening line, but I've heard the latter much more often than the former. Anyway, His famous friend is an NBA star that recently injured his wrist, so I hear. Since I'm "about 6'2" without the shoes" (I was wearing Z-CoiLs when I replied to his opening line) he figured I'm a perfect match for his famous buddy we'll call Clark. I've never seriously dated a guy under 6'2" so I guess I've been lucky to find some tall ones, or have some tall one's buddy find me working out at the gym.

So, Jan was on the left side of the machine and an old guy was at the leg machine to the right. The old man had spied my shoes moments before Jan's arrival and started flirtin with me. Clark already has competition. Anyway, after the arrival of Jan, the old man returned and repeated what he'd overheard, "You're going on a mission?" I'd told Jan, because it was true. I told the old man it was true. I turn in the papers tomorrow and so I hope that means I'll be getting a call sometime soon. I'll let you all know, of course. I don't think the old man will ever find out where I get called to. Who knows, maybe I'll see him at the gym again. I've derailed if ever there was a sensible track I was on.....oh well, really not much to say anyway. ta ta

If I

If I were a spider I wouldn't last long. Instead of a web, I'd spin a hammock and gently sway life away.

24 hour spot in the universe

Today I took my sister to the airport and went to my mom's shoe store. She likes me to work there when my sister (who's really the only one that knows what to do) and my uncle and my other sister and she and my dad can't. I'm definitely the last resort as employee. In fact, I don't know why she even lets me go in there as she basically fired me from there two summers ago. She got complaints from customers that the service was crappy and unprofessional. Then as I remind her that I'm worthless to her in this capacity, she says something like, "well, we all have to do things we don't want to and maybe you've gotten better...." Well, I thought I was doing just fine when, according to these customers, I was no better than a cardboard cutout. But guess what? I sold a pair of shoes. They're Z-CoiL shoes. They're very neat. Go to www.zcoil.com if you don't believe me. They work! I've got some myself. Very nice for running, standing, walking, etc. Nurses, you'll love them.

Also today I got a job as a substitute teacher. That's something I've never been before. I'm excited.

Last night I got hot under my covers so I kicked and pulled my p.j. bottoms off. For the life of me, I could not find them when I woke up. I tore my bed apart and looked through all the dirty and clean-ish laundry all over my floor and still no luck. I looked under the bed and found a plastic sandwich bag full of raw almonds.... I was in Alaska for five months, don't ask me how they got there. Anyway, when I went to get dressed to go running I redoubled my efforts in the search for the great white bottoms (p.j. bottoms, remember) and I lifted the big, deliciously soft body pillow on my bed and voila (is that how you spell that?) there they were. So, with a white shirt, dern white skin and white Z-CoiL Freedom 2000s now added to my white pants, I looked like a great white candy cane ready for a lickin! But who really got the licking was the spider I saw on my ceiling right before I left to go running.

I'm a murder, yes. If they infiltrate my habitat, they die. That's all there is to it. They've always been portrayed as evil and dangerous, and they startle me every time I see one. So, mostly for being so unfairly startling for their size is why they meet their death when they meet me. I know. It's so unfair.

I Love You

(you know who you are)

Some....Things

I don't really know the purpose of this post.

I went to my boyfriend's grandparents house and I really had to pee so I went......into their bathroom to relieve myself. I sat on the toilet. The seat was rimmed with a cream-colored memory-foam-life-vest-thing seat cover. It's a good thing memory foam doesn't collect memories. just sayin. it was intensely comfortable, plus my temporary throne was about two to three times higher than the average toilet. It's really no wonder that fragile-bottomed old people have cushy seats on their toilets. The bathroom is the third (a very-close second) most important room in the house so why not have a comfortable seat on which to relieve yourself? Ah, cushioned toilet seat, years it had been and hopefully years it will be before we meet again.

Still, I felt royal upon my flushing throne, so tall and grandiose. I'm about six feet and two inches from the floor, so tall stools (I know we're talking a lot of potty here, but not those kind of stools), tall chairs, tall cars and trucks, and even animals are a blessing. I love not having to bend over to get in or on or out or off of something. That's a lot of 'o' words. I get envious of little kids sometimes when they sit on a chair and can kick their dwarfish dangling legs. I love doing that when I get the chance. I couldn't dangle my legs from this toilet, and though I couldn't have the childlike wish of my heart, I still didn't have to stand up.... it was really just more of a step forward.

From Rexbug, Idaho to Raymond, Alberta, Canadia it usually takes about 7 1/2 hours. That's if bf speeds. We drove with a total of ten people in two cars. And he sped. We got pulled over because his car was missing a head light. The cop that took his license and registration looked really young, looked inexperienced to the ways of doughnuts, had no facial hair and innocent-type eyes. With my extensive experience as a detective I noticed the old, fat, mustached cop accompanying the young cop and figured this proto-cop at our window was in training. He asked if he knew why he got pulled over and bf said, "because I don't have a headlight?" That was the right answer. Did I mention that two hours earlier we hit a deer? It was crossing the road to our right, causing the car to lay down some sweet skid marks toward the left, but her butt hit the right front of the car, where she left some poop on the bumper, and her face whipped around to her right and hit the passenger side door where she drooled her last drool, and the impact broke at least her back right leg, and she died somewhere in Montana. With her life she took the headlight but left some dents that will forever remind him of the moment. It's an '89 Chevrolet Caprice beast; the poor dear didn't stand a chance. That's the first deer death I've been involved in. The second police pullover ("no, it's a cardigan!".....), and the third time I've been in a car stuttering to a stop for lack of life sustaining fluids. Yep, same trip we ran out of gas. Hairy story trimmed short, we made it to Canadia (I'm saying Canadia on purpose) eleven hours from the starting line.

I know you're not supposed to remove anything from National Parks in the USA, but I didn't know any better in Canadia. Nobody official-like knows yet, but I found something in Waterton National Park and now it's in Utah. Somehow it made it into my purse and back to Utah. And actually, now I'm the Queen of Waterton National Park. No one official-like knows that either. I'm not sure if I want to really assume any responsibility, but it's nice to know that I'm important in a foreign country. So, we were all skippin stones. I was unusually sucky at skipping stones so I sat down to just find the coolest one to take home with me. The sky above was clouded and aboot the time my eyes beheld my treasure, the heavens opened and a pillar of light shone upon me. I reached out and pulled a three-inch, plastic, gray sword from the stones. No joke. I always felt I was destined for dispensable, international semi-greatness.

I'm [?] home.

[glad to be]

[finally]

[already being driven as a slave at]


and


For some reason, 923 or 9:23 (a.m. or p.m.) or 9/23 -- just anything to do with 923 -- is my favorite number. I don't know where it all began, but, though it's a little strange, it holds a special place in my heart. what fun, it's 9:23 on 9/23!
...well, my clock said 9:23 anyway. oh well, close enough.

From Anchorage to Union (Oregon)

There are a lot of elk and black bears.

Did you know that if a drowsy driver nearly hits a black bear, their alertness is afterward refreshed for an hour or so?

You know that feeling you get like warm carbination being poured around your heart? It usually happens....like, when you're passing a semi truck on a road with no painted lines and you can't really tell if a car might be coming any second and as you get close to all the way past him he starts pumping his air horn. Yeah, I don't like that feeling.

Yakima is quite pretty...from a distance....at sunset.

After smashing a bunny rabbit under-tire, the experience of crunching on Almond Roca is never quite the same, although still quite enjoyable.

Ever been to Smithers, British Columbia? Coming from the north before entering town, I fell in love with Smithers. It's quaint, it's charming, it's lovely. It's a town like the ones on calendars that my mom hands around at Christmas/New Years time.

In 53 hours my sister and I drove approximately 2600 miles. My longest stretch was just over 12 hours straight. Hers was 14. She's got me beat. And I'll get back to ya on how much money I've spent on gas...I get kinda confused with how much I've spent in Canadian dollars.

I like Canadian money. I didn't know why until my sister expressed her dislike since it looks like play money. That's why I like it. On their dime it says "10 cents" and did you notice on our dimes it says "one dime?" Is that not so lame? I like "10 cents" better.

I don't know for sure, but I think I'd like the metric system better than whatever we've got. But it sure is nice to see 242 km and automatically think it's 242 miles and watch the number drop like you're going 80 miles an hour and not 80 kilometers and hour, which we actually did most of the time, 80 mph that is. 80 km is about 50 mph. That is no highway speed.

I'm not home yet. Union, OR (people live in eastern oregon? yes, my grandparents, in fact) is my resting stop. Good ol' gram and gramps. Then, on Tuesday marnin, I'm going to Rexburg ID from here for a night or two. And then I'LL BE HOME! It's been a while since I've been there, but it's still sweet still.

Ergo, more to come.

On Me Dawning

I don't know why I didn't recognize it earlier. On their own, men and/or boys are rather intelligent, well-behaved and civil. Their manners are in the front part of the mind. Adding another male into the situation (probably excepting religious gatherings) and amazingly stupidity starts cracking through. It's mysterious, however it happens. Oh, it happens. Add enough females and it's cured. My, what power we have.

This morning I was driving a 55 pax motorcoach to Seward, AK from Anchorage, AK, and the Northern Lights (aurora Borealis) were pale green and slicing through the stars like a mad-crazed heavenly butcher was stabbing at the earth. They were switching and hopping and squirming a furiously sensuous dance. Did you ever think the sky might have a mating season, too?? I've heard the Elk's bugle call lately, so, ya never know... I even saw a shooting star.

That's probably the last time I'll drive the entire Seward Highway twice in one day.

Ah, Another Day in Bikini Bottom

(About the title of this post, it has nothing to do with the post, I just like Spongebob Squarepants. He lives in Bikini Bottom and at the beginning of some episodes this french artist voice narrates "Ah, another day in Bikini Bottom." And I just want to say, "Ah, another day in the life of me.")

Most of us don't know it, but when a woman becomes a mother she is given unlimited access to orders of chill pills for her children. She can distribute them as she feels necessary with or without the child's knowledge, or just take them herself. Yes, mothers have inherent gifts, many of them, but some of their soothing capabilities do not come naturally. Only when they have children do other gifts readily develop sometimes quite mysteriously to most onlookers. At any rate, you're probably wondering how I found out. I found out today, actually, as I contemplated the tightness of the pooh holes of some of my roommates. They are sisters. I also live here with my sister and then three other girls. It suddenly became apparent that these two other sisters have never taken (or been given) chill pills. Now, just so you know, chill pills are taken orally, not anally; however, chill pills definitely affect the tightness thereof.

Here's what happened. My mom had some slightly tight children before me and I think she took a few chill pills herself while she was pregnant with me and then continued giving them to me pretty much daily until I have become quite the tyrant to schedule, order, and/or seriousness. This way I was drugged by my mother has caused the reason for today's post, and it happened like this.

I didn't load my dishes in the dishwasher because there was room in the sink, because I had to run off to work, because of something, and like an annoying pop-up came a sticky note above the sink soon after the practice had been occurring maybe some couple weeks. It said something like "dirty dishes in the sink are disgusting! We have a dishwasher, use it!" Growing up I really only saw an empty, clean sink on Sundays. So, I tried to conform to their non-disgusting preferences, but it gets kind of tiring squeezing the hole shut that much, so again, I reverted to the chill pill killed areas of my character. Up came this note, typed and printed (we have a computer w/internet at the house but not a printer, so they went to great lengths) on 8 1/2" by 11" with a picture of a football helmet(?) on the bottom:

A Few Friendly Guidelines for Living With 7 Other Girls

1. Do your own dumb dishes and wipe up your own messes...despite popular belief, no one wants to clean up after you or do your dishes... we have a dishwasher, so there's no excuses for anyone being the messy kid!!

2.Don't leave clutter in the living room, on kitchen counters or on the bathroom counters... these are community living spaces, and let's be honest, no one really wants to be stumbling over your belongings or picking up after you!?!

3. The bathroom is for showering and using the bathroom...so ease up on the long spa treatments, ladies! Get ready in the living room if others are around... and p.s.... clean up your own hair after you shower, and p.s.s... when you shower ALWAYS have the fan on, otherwise we'll have mildew taking over our lives...or at least our bathroom ceiling. :)

Many thanks for abiding by these simple guidelines... we love you all, and there are no other girls we'd rather be packed in an apartment like sardines with!! :) cheers!!

(football helmet)

I read it once; was rather disgusted by it. It was screaming with bossy "we only have three girls in our bedroom which is the bigger bedroom with a walk in closet because we make you give us your money for rent" ridiculous attitude all over it. (We have a two bedroom apartment, one bathroom, 7 girls. You understand the need for a few chill pills in this environment.) The bold items remained while all [items] were barred by permanent marker (black).

So I got my english-major, chill pill O.D. revenge on them. This piece of paper tacked in the wall above the sink that would never be read a second time in its original print was...edited. dun dun dun!!!

A Few Friendly [Guidelines for Living With 7] Other Girls

1. [Do] Your own [dumb] dishes [and wipe up your own messes...] despite popular belief, [no one wants to] clean up after you [or do your dishes... we have] A dishwasher[,] so [there's no] excuses [for] anyone being [the] messy [kid]!!

2.Don't leave [clutter in] the living room, [on] kitchen [counters] or [on] the bathroom [counters] ... these are community living spaces, and let's be honest, no one really wants [to be stumbling over your belongings or picking up after ] you![?]!

3. The bathroom is for show[ering] and using [the bathroom...so ease up on the] Long [spa treatments,] ladies[!] Get ready in the living room if others are around... and p.s.... clean [up] your [own] hair after you shower, and p.s.s... when you shower ALWAYS have the fan on, otherwise we'll have [mildew taking over] our lives...or at least our bathroom [ceiling]. :)

Many thanks [for abiding by these simple guidelines...] we love you all, and [there are] no other girls [we'd rather be ] packed [in] an apartment like sardines [with]!! :) [c]hee[rs]!!

(football helmet)

Well, the tight sisters read this wisely edited version of their well-thought, hard-worked list of guidelines with their bum cheeks getting closer all the while and the eldest stormed into her big bedroom with their shared double decker air mattress, complaining that it made no sense, in a violated tone. See what I mean? They didn't take it as a joke; they couldn't, quite frankly, and I pity them. As for myself, I was never going to read the rules again let alone follow them after the first time, so I figured making it funny would be, well, fun. But no, and life goes on, more stuffy and awkward than ever. Because I can chill and just do things their way for a month or two more (and out of fear just knowing I did a smart ass thing), I make an extra effort now to do my dishes and clean up my messes and let other people use the bathroom that's for showering using the bathroom....man, I was so sick of these: .... (I'll only admit that some revisions on paragraph three honestly make no sense.)

If it's really such a big deal, let's just do this:

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation under God (or not), indivisible (...or not), with liberty and justice for all.

Hooray!

There's a written test at the DMV in Anchorage, AK that I had to take in order to get my CDL learners permit so I could start driving big ol' motor coaches around town. Yesterday, Thursday, the last day of June I passed the test. It wasn't written, exactly because it's touch screen...but I touched enough of the right multiple choice answers to pass. Third time's a charm... Watch out Alaska roadsters.

p.s. I haven't taken a shower all month. ;)

I'm sitting here

I have on white capris with no back pockets, a black undershirt that is about five inches longer than the gray t-shirt over it, and I'm sitting here. The clothes on my body cover the skin that covers and keeps together all my insides from gushing forth and spilling all over the keyboard, table and carpet. Inside my skin there's a place that thinks really hard and makes my decisions. Today I dressed in honor of that place. Always, in order to make a decision there has to be a choice between two or more things. Most usually the choice is black or white. Gray matter makes all my black and white decisions for me.

I'm sitting here in front of this computer and the computer is sitting in front of a window with a dirty window sill. Crusty bug body casings and dust and dirt form a soft layer across the wood sill. (Could we call it sillt?) There's a really big flying ant that is attempting skull crushing dives to the outside world through the window. With each take off a puff of dust rolls like dry waves across the sillty beach.

Next to the speaker a fly just landed. It's now rubbing its front legs together, but first it was itching its butt and wings with its back legs. I remember almost killing a fly once but all I succeeded in doing was smearing its butt guts everywhere, but it still flew away. I bet it died eventually. Especially since that was probably over a year ago when it happened.

Speaking of a year ago, I was in a crappy relationship. It ended July 13, 2004 on his birthday. He got his birthday kiss from another girl.

The fly is still there. What is it doing? They're so disgusting.

a one and a two and a one two three...

I slid from the un-epiduraled body of a great lady who has fantastic food storage supplying habits on June 8, 1984 at 4:36pm in Torrance, California. More than 21 years this heart has been pumping. Once it was broken. More than 21 years this brain has been snapping. More times than it could ever count it has mapped me through uncharted experiences, for each second that comes is new to be sorted and filed or discarded.

How many:
times have my lungs delivered air to my blood?
people have I forgotten?
miles have I spread my long stride over the ground?
tons of food have I eaten?
gallons of water have been filtered through my kidneys?
tears have I cried?
times has my nose passed a flower that needed considering?
laughs has my life inspired?
cuts, bruises, scrapes, bandaids?
dollars would I have if I was suddenly refunded all the money I ever spent on candy before the age of 15?
lies have I told?
thoughts have I formed into words?

Land of the Midnight Sun

Sure, some people go to Hawaii for the summer to get that greaaaaat tan and because it's so beautiful and the natives sing sweet sultry tunes with their ukeleles...but what these people don't realize is how puny those islands are and how few bears, moose and caribou there are and they definitely don't have eskimos on street corners holding cardboard signs and how if you really want a tan you need lots of sun, right? Well, baby, where I'm going the sun hardly stops during the summer. And anyway, I might not blog for a while, not that all ye many that read my blog will be broken hearted not to see lame comments keep showing up. But I'll.....miss you all when I'm fishing while sun bathing at 11:00pm between a moose and a griz. lata

If falling down the stairs didn't hurt, I'd fall down them all the time.

My Webster

Every once in a while I'll find myself a word that isn't in any current dictionary (see the name of my blog...) and I really think it should be. Here are a couple of examples:

The latest:
Scandalism-how great would that be?

Smeft-blind people can't see, deaf people can't hear, smeft people can't smell...

easlier-just a slimy way of saying "more easily"

and i also think "ness" should be a word by itself, meaning exactly what it means on the end of any word as "-ness", meaning the state, quality, condition or degree of something, but sometimes it just seems so appropriate by itself.

That's all for now.

I am willing to be wrong except when I'm right.

I like shopping car(t)s

*my brother said "'Walmarts is'"? quoting me after reading this, claiming a grammatical error. I'm an english major. I don't make grammatical errors. So to explain, a few of us in my family call WalMart "WalMarts" at all times whether plural or not.*

you know what I think?
McDonalds and WalMarts are taking over the world
slowly
every WalMarts has a McDonalds or two inside
and then another in the far end of the parking lot
Independent of McDonalds, Walmarts is huge
what I think will happen is that pretty soon Walmarts will be so everywhere that no one will have to drive to WalMarts anymore
and then they will make the WalMarts stores bigger cuz they won't need parking lots. what people will do is get souped up shopping carts.
they'll install small sound systems inside the handles that you can plug earphones into
giving a whole new meaning to the dance move "the shopping cart"
cuz you can groove it, bass rocking the heartbeat of the cart, as you move it down the isle toward the check out stand or McDonalds
and some people will go so far as to get bigger wheels, jacked up
shiny chrome rims, spinning on the side
Headlights?
yeah
why not? Vacuums have lights on them (a feature that's always pleased me)
for the extravagant parent, the kiddie seat will be recline-able
a cushy leather seat
with a belt like they have in race cars. why not add a stick shift thingy while you're at it. Oh, that would be cool. Standard shopping carts with gears...
Walmarts would start selling shopping handle covers. Oh, please incorporate rear/side view mirrors, somehow.
Cup holders! oh, yes definitely. That way you can drink and drive at the same time, and eat and drive. cuz I know that would be something I'd miss not being able to - to drive from the McDonalds at the end of the(what used to be)parking lot to my coveted parking spot, like 17 "rows" away from the front, while eating my big mac.
Padded interior, extra storage, fold away seats, air conditioning, built in dvd player, elliptical-powered so you can exercise while you shop...pretty much, we wouldn't even need homes.
But, the "cart collector" would lose his job...
Anyway, just you wait and see....and anyway, let's say WalMarts doesn't take over the world....why not have incredible, awesome shopping carts anyway? I like shopping carts.

Regardless of how you start out, you don't have to end up anything but dead.

Super Read

Jeffrey R. Holland "For Times of Trouble" New Era, 1980, 6

I listened to this rebroadcast itself on the radio. It was super duper. You might check it out!

Read It Or Not

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mind! Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

Amzanig huh? yaeh and I awlyas thought slpeling was ipmorantt.

I Wish...I Might

The other day I was talking to my friend and I randomly asked him if he had a "granted wish" card, what he would use it for. He thought a minute and came up with a large sum of money to do good-willed acts of service forever more. Noble wish, right? I agreed. Then I asked something I never really thought to ask before: What would you wish for if you had all the money you ever needed? Then he couldn't really think of anything. I couldn't think of anything either at first. Then I figured I wouldn't need anything material, so I thought maybe I'd wish for something vain, like the ability to say the word and my hair would look perfect, just the way I want it to. It would save me all that time I would need to be out doing all my costly acts of service. And then I'd look good doing it.

Well, what IF everyone in the world had all the money they would ever need? (and drop the wish option for now.) I think we might spend most of our energies discovering ways to make everything faster, more efficient, etc., so that everything was functionable with the wave of a hand or the touch of a finger. (beside the point: do you think all the time spent inventing ways to save time evens out into saving time?) Do you think we'd fund the discovery of the cure for cancer with our money? Would we ditch the earth and all move to space? For those who stayed on Earth do you think there would be any wars? If the dispute that caused the war was over land or something, I doubt there could be a "highest bidder" to solve that one. (Well I guess those in space would have space wars, too. Why stop fighting even when there's nothing to fight over?) Do you think wars would occur more frequently? Do you think more evil or more good would be spread if we had all the money necessary to buy anything we wanted or needed?

Really...what do you think would happen?

Misc. Communication

The other day I was writing, and I wrote, "and nothing can stop it," speaking of God's work being spread on the earth. I noticed that that sentence is applicable in two ways:
Way #1: There is nothing that will stop the restored gospel from inhabiting this planet again. God said so.
Way #2: Doing nothing can stop blessings from entering our lives. Doing nothing can stop many things from happening (think of not exercising or not eating). God does have a will, and if our will is not the same, doing a little of nothing here and there can in fact stop certain aspects of God's work being spread in or through our lives.(Mosiah 27:13)

I love opening one shell and getting two nuts, as it were, like that.

A Few of My Favorite Things

When the hanger I use is the same (or close to same) color as the thing I'm haning.

Eating the outer-roasted marshmallow layer, roasting it again, eating it again, and so forth.

Warm M&Ms; when the thin, candy shell breaks into a soft, melted middle.

Sticking my hand in a bucket of dry rice or beans or the like.

Peeling dried Elmer's glue off the palm of my hand.

Jumping on the trampoline when it's super windy.

Vanilla ice cream with Rice Krispies mixed in.

Compliments to/from complete strangers.

Laughing really long at nothing, really.

Drinking milk while eating popcorn.

Cereal with long-lasting crunch.

Clothes fresh out of the dryer.

The smell of wet pavement.

Or freshly mowed lawn.

Being debt-free.

New shampoo.

Hammocks.

Traditions.

Forgiving.

Thunder.

Wading.

Wind.

A Thought

If you get what you want, but it wasn't what you deserved, you'll get what you deserve eventually.

Bored Purchasing Board

I picked out my coffin today. It was wrong, I know. Usually, and quite often naturally, the person purchasing a coffin isn't the dead one whose body will inhabit it for many lifeless years to follow. No one went shopping with me. I couldn't blame them.

It could be a bit early to pick out a coffin that I fancy. What if someday they ("they") invent an impressively stylish one that I like more than the one I put on lay-away today? Maybe then, I should make an annual sport of picking out the coffin most suitable to my contemporary tastes. I don't see why not. Now there's a new year's resolution: If I die this year, at least my bones will rest in style. (With the liberty of finding my own coffin, can I also request to have my arms behind me, cradling my head and my ankles crossed at the other end so, though entirely bereft of feeling, I can at least appear to have died while relaxing in a hammock?)

Is it perverse? Does it make you think I'm preparing to die? I don't think so. What if coffin prices steadily rise over the years that I'm not dead? Maybe I'll be saving myself a few hundred, even thousand dollars by getting one now. That's just thrifty.

Does it make you think I want to die? I don't think so. I mean, I know I will eventually. It was in the not so small print when I signed up for life. In a religion class the teacher said a little something about Hugh Nibley dying. Ben, whose life is one to be lived with mental challenges, asked, "Why did he have to die?" to which one of the class members replied, "Because he was born." I'm one of those that's been born.

Can you ever be prepared to die? I guess you could create a will, be sure you're out of debt, be living a nice, clean life.... As the last hours of sand slip through the narrow glass neck of life, is anyone really prepared to do what it is we do when we die? To no longer be paired body and mind? "They" say death is a beginning. Other "they"s say death is not an end. Can it be simultaneously unending and a new beginning?

Not that a coffin really matters to me, but it's interesting to think my body will be housed in a box of coexisting ends and beginnings. The unfortunate thing is that I won't be able to tell how that feels or how it happens, and the unfortunate thing for you will be that I'll be dead. But at least you won't have to worry about getting me a coffin.

What's Up With That?

If I'm approaching someone I know or who is a familiar acquaintence, I know there will be some sort of acknowledgement of each other's existence. The cool thing for them to say, and they usually end up saying it, is, "What's up?"

Most often I just say "hey." Like "what's up" means "hello." And most often, that's an acceptable reply. If they say, "hey, what's up?" then I have to say something other than "hey" because saying hey just doesn't fit anymore. They didn't say "hey, hello," (like saying "ATM machine" or "unidentified UFO"...) they greeted and then they asked what's up...so then I have to answer them. Assuming they don't literally mean, "hey, what is above us?", I usually say, "oh, not much" with the cordial, "how are you?" to follow.

I have accustomed myself to believe this; to believe that "what's up" is a same-syllable different-wordage for "hello" and then when they affix "hey" in front I should ramble off about what's up with me.

He Punched Me In My Black Eye Cuz I Couldn't See It Coming

I owe my ex-boyfriend $506.00. Today it snowed and a guy hit my car and since it's a Saturn he bounced off, but not before causing at least $506.00 in damage. He really wants to pay out of pocket to keep his driving record as polished as his football trophies. Could I just take his money, give it to the ex and pay for the car when I feel like it? The guy and the ex would never have to know. I'm currently probing these thoughts with honesty. Would it be dishonest? If not dishonest, then would it be profitable to me to use the money that way? Because eventually I'll have to get the car fixed. But at least by then I wouldn't owe the ex anything. And that would be super.