Book Signing

I first started to peel an orange but I've made a terrible habit lately of biting my nails while my brain is occupied in something like reading or watching a movie. So, I can't peel it. plus, my sister concurs, these oranges we have are just a lot of work moreso than usual oranges. anyway.

I once had a splendid dream that I wrote a book that people loved and I was at a book signing for it. The feeling in my dreams was great, but I can imagine it's just even better in real life. I went to an "author talk and signing" last night that featured Shannon Hale. She signed the two books I've read of hers, Goose Girl and Princess Academy. You can get hooked on the first chapter of her books at squeetus.com. I really like her books, and, as much as I can like someone I don't really know, her. She's funny. I told her the beautiful story of how I came to discover her. "I found your books through your husbands "dreadcrumbs," he's......interesting. And funny. I Found that through Cody McComas." She said the McComas family is great. So anyway, she's my most recent hero. I admire her cuz really, I want to be even half like her, but mostly quite a lot like her. I want to get published. That would be fun. But.....I've got the vision, i just don't work for it. listen to this:

Work without vision is drudgery
Vision without work is dreaming
Work coupled with vision is destiny.
-Thomas S Monson

I sure like that quote. It's truly reminding me to just go for it, work for it. That's what I'm doing with popcorn. so fun still. i'm gonna make green popcorn today. lime, green apple, sour apple, anything else too and I'll just color it uncharacteristically green. Happy st. patty's day friends!

The Day After

I slept well enough. I think one of my dreams had Jesus in it, but I don't remember why or what He was doing. My eyes were heavy; their lids like over-cooked noodles. First thing, I made my bed and prayed. Second, I went to the bathroom. I noticed I'm wearing green underwear. That means it's Thursday. The water didn't get warm while I washed my hands and I went upstairs to eat. No eggs. Okay, then oatmeal. And brown sugar and some maple flavor, and a banana while the water and oats microwave together. And I almost cried.
I started to eat the mush, my mom was on the phone. She sat down to talk to me. Then I cried. One serving of oats is much too much mash for me on any morning, but I finished it so I didn't have to look up. Frozen rain carcasses fluttered to the ground joining the first three inches outside. The dogs wrestled in the carnage.
I had ten batches of popcorn to start so I went to get ready for that. I washed my face and changed my clothes and put on some shoes and earrings. I wore my gold watch all day.
It took me an hour to have everything in one place to start popcorn. I got three batches done on my own before my mom joined me. While alone, I had to clench my teeth or bite my lip to keep from crying. See, I can't bite my eyes and I'm not sure how to clench them either, if even that could prevent rather than produce tears. In the silence I started humming songs from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. That made me think of giant bean bags. Those made me think of big strong muscles and being tickled nearly inside-out. That made me think of working out at the gym. And the silence around me could only distract me to thoughts of the popcorn in front of me. And that made me think of my favorite taste-testing guinea pig. That thought would always make me clench my teeth.
Driving around I only noticed large gold Chevy trucks or small blue Honda Civics. (And as usual any twin of my gold Saturn.) I noticed the snow, too. That made me think of my favorite snow shoveler.
At 1:13pm my phone pulsed and chimed and my heart took a hurried tour through my intestines. I opened the phone and text message. It was from Tom, though.
I completed the popcorn like a professional, really. It took us a total six hours. Close to 25 pounds of popcorn. It's for a wedding on Saturday. The wedding planner is doing the whole reception for free. I told her I'd count this as a practice run since it's the first wedding we've done popcorn for. She refused. I accepted her refusal. She's the kind of lady that won't be refused. And I'm not one to ever combat when someone says "no, really." So, don't offer me your last bite hoping you'll get a refusal. I don't do that and I'll take your last bite.
My back hurts and I'm love sick.

Gourmet World

I'm now in the gourmet popcorn business....almost. The business is starting up just barely. It's loads of fun. I don't get passionate about too many things in my life, I've noticed, but this is incredible. I haven't even been discouraged or had any dreadful thoughts. The world will be a happier place with popcorn in the flavors of rootbeer float, peach, peara, PB&J, pink lemonade, butter rum, strawberry, raspberry, cream, etc. Many flavors are being created quite nicely. So far rootbeer is the family hit! So anyway, it's just beginning and I'm excited, and I haven't blogged in a long while. That's that for now

A Valentine's Day

I'm somebody's valentine, and today is a day.
However, the boy that makes me a valentine (whom I really really really really like) and I, broke up. But we still really really really like each other. I just have to focus on other areas of my life. We swapped gifts (he got me purple roses, my absolute favorite, and I made him oatmeal cookies, his only favorite cookie), and hugged and chatted and laughed when we realized we couldn't kiss and he left. Now I'm blogging. I don't know what else I'll do today. Rent a sappy movie, probably. I did shower, which says a lot since I hadn't in three days. Gross, huh. Well, there's no one to impress.

While I've been on the internet for a few minutes now, and my internet is slow, between moving from page to page, I pick at a scab on my shin. The scab is a red, flaky island upon a bruised shin sea. I was wearing short heels (like high heels, but the heels weren't high, you see) on super bowl Sunday. I was yelled at to come quick, which called-from destination was down the stairs. I was wearing white stretchy type pants. I switch from skirt to pants after church is over sometimes. I like wearing pants over shaved legs. I feel skinnier. So anyway I scuttled to the down stairs and the short heel of my right leg caught in the pants of my left leg and gravity started me down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs is a dead end. You must choose left or right. There's also a mirror hanging on that wall, but unfortunately I didn't look in it as I fell. I was too busy trying not to die by broken neck. If I'd known I would miraculously survive, I would have watched myself in the mirror.
As my shin sled down the stairs and a whoop of a scream fled my lips, somehow my other leg was released from the culprit short heel and it shot out in front of me and landed square in the hall. That safe landing happened also on a foot clad with short heel and I'm amazed I landed without breaking my ankle. I stood and laughed. Why not laugh first if I just evaded serious injury or death? That's the best thing to do at any time. Excepting perhaps the Pope's funeral march. And we probably won't have to worry about that for a while, so laugh on.
I was safe but injured. My shin was skinned. Later I looked at the inside of my white pants and peeled off a thinly rolled, squishy piece of me. It's been more than a week and now the scab is starting to itch. At this stage it's the nastiest when fresh from the shower. It's kinda slimy and the dying skin comes off like rubber cement. As I pick at it when it's dry some of it comes off like dry glue and I hardly notice its departure. Some of it's still deeply healing so I don't wanna yank it yet. The rest that comes off with my pestering kinda helps relieve the itch.
Aren't bodies amazing?
Yeah. And this is my day as a broken up valentine.

It was a small world

I was reading through a bunch of scenarios in this game called "Mind Trap." Most of them are pretty lame (Q: if a plane crashes exactly on the border of Canada and the U.S. where do they bury the survivors? A: You should know that it's quite savage to bury people (survivors) alive...), etc. Well, one of them asked something like if you built a huge concrete something that weighed a trillion tons, how much would the earth gain in weight.... The answer is none, cuz the concrete was made with materials from the earth. I thought that one was stupid too. But it made me think later of something I liked. I thought of something that perhaps has made the world heavier over time. I believe in the Adam and Eve approach to human infestation of Earth. So, even though babies grow inside tummies of mommies, they come out and grow to be heavy. Then they die and their bodies are buried in Canada and the U.S. respectively. So, first they come from Heaven, not from Earth..... But their bodies don't leave after death. So do you think that's made the earth heavier? Or would that even affect the weight of the earth? Am I missing anything? Am I just dumb and like my own ideas a lot?

This is SO true

Your Pimp Name Is...

Sugar Lips Slick

What's Your Pimp Name?

I sure could go for something that made me vomit and then pass out. It would solve my problems of being nauseous and awake. The thing is, I don't drink and hopefully never will. All right. I guess this was pointless

What I Am

Sick. very sick. i've felt vomitous only a couple times; this sickness is using more my throat as a breeding ground. It's a garden for bacteria and/or viruses, hoeing, raking, planting, festering. It hurts to yawn, swallow and sometimes even talk. I have this disgusting spit jar next to my bed. It really smells not good. If you look at it up close you can see swirling saliva dancing with "floatie" fragments of something....It's so gross.

My lovely friend Ty got me a jamba juice (peach pleasure with strawberries instead of bananas--so good, my favorite) with immunity boost mixed in. I swallowed it delicately and when I just couldn't take any more down, I'd put it down and start a-spittin. Right now luckily there's a garbage can a head's turn away for my mouth to forcibly drool into. It's not like spitting so much. Remember when your brother would pin you down and release slimy spit above your horrified face and let it lower slowly until hopefully whipping it back behind his lips-repeat? That's more what I'm doing as I spit.

My body aches too. Sometimes when I wake up my entire body is in a cold sweat. Every pore tingling with wet discomfort. I have never experienced that before. My spine feels like it's twisting and grinding against itself. My neck is swollen like a body builder's. I even took pictures of my sore throat but decided not to make you suffer that. My nose is basically clear. Did you know I can't hock (?) a loogie? I've never been able to get my snot from nose to mouth. I swallow it. but, since swallowing is the last thing my body desires, I'm able to get alarming amounts of snot out of my body if it can't leave by blowing out the nostrils. My knees kinda hurt too. Oh, that jamba juice. it was put in the fridge while I fell asleep again and when my dad opened the fridge and saw it, he ordered my little sister to drink the rest since it couldn't fit in there. So poor her.

Shoot. I'm going to bed. I'm scorching on the inside. I took tylenol pm since the NyQuil was making me sleep like i was in a tornado of nightmares. Good night

Changes

my sister is on the right, me and my old eyebrow shape are on the left (boy does my nose look big)

I've apparently just discovered how to put pictures on my blog. Took me long enough.

I am nearly obsessed about my eyebrows. Death to you if you touch them to try to mess them up. "Mess them up?" Yes, it's possible. Like when eyebrow hairs point where they shouldn't.... Anyway, it's probably weird, but it's part of my part of weirdness. Recently I took a paranoid risk and changed the shape of my eyebrows and I mostly love it! It's not a big change (you may not be able to see a difference; tust me, they're different), but I'm having a hard time making them look exactly the same. Probably no one but me will notice. Anyway, I'm so excited there's (mental capacity for) pictures on my blog now!

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!