Slow news day. And yet I'm still writing.

I have two items of business today.



I have titled my first item Revenge of the Fly's Son. So I was running this morning-- jogging along, jogging along...wishing for the angel of death to come and free me from the pain. (I left the iPod at home today because it's humongous and I'm sick of it, so instead I was forced to repeat the chorus of "Getting Jiggy Wit' It" like forty times in my head.) Between the pain of running and the torture of having Will Smith stuck in my head*, I was not in my happy place.

And that was when I heard it. This little sound next to my ear... like a tiny buzzing. It grew closer and increased in volume. "bzzzz...zzz...my name is Inigo Monflya," he buzzed angrily, "you keel my father, prepare to die." I barely had time to swat the air around me before I felt it kamikaze directly into my left eye. "Son of a--!" I screeched, batting at the air around my head like a crazy person. The Son of the Fly! In my other eye! REALLY. Why would I make this up?! Long story short, I am looking into alternate forms of exercise. Any ideas?



The next item of business I will simply call Owinge.



The following is an exerpt from a recent conversation that I had with my son:

Elise: "Hey DJ, what's your favorite color?"

DJ: "Owinge."

Elise: "Hey DJ, what's your favorite snack?"

DJ: "Owinge."

Elise: "Hey DJ, TURN OFF THE HOSE!"

DJ: "Owinge."

Elise: "Hey DJ, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

DJ: "Owinge."

Elise: "Hey DJ, will you go grab a diaper for Tess?"

DJ: "Owinge."

Elise: "Hey DJ, do you think the DOW will ever top 10,000 points again, for heaven's sake?"

DJ: "Owinge."

*This is the Will Smith I'm talking about. The Fresh Prince version, not the Seven Pounds version. Is it even the same guy? I'm not sure.

Happiness is...

1. Getting into my brother-in-law's car and turning on the CD player to find Jordin Sparks. And then the mental image which inevitably follows: MALE Chilean driving down the road, singing in his MALE Chilean accent, "tell me how I'm s'posed to breathe with no air...". Gracias, Manny. You made my day. You are awesome.

2. The tasty buffet that our stake had at the Relief Society broadcast tonight. I loooove myself some delicious buffet food.

3. Perhaps I should have mentioned this before the buffet-- I find a lot of joy in the Relief Society. You cannot go wrong belonging to an organization whose motto is 'Charity Never Faileth'. Relief Society makes me happy. (For the record, my Relief Society arms DO NOT make me happy. Nor do push ups. This is a dilemma.)

4. High school fundraiser cookie dough. Don't bother baking it. Stick your head in the freezer and eat it straight out of the box. Not baking it saves on the power bill, too, so win-win. Thanks, Tawny!

5. Every morning I take a miniature vacation. You didn't know that about me, did you? I've mentioned previously how I go running early in the morning. Alongside my running path there is an urban fishing pond set at the foot of some tall red cliffs. Before the sun comes up the water is still, a perfect mirror image of the gray morning sky. When I run past the sandstone cliff-lined pond I close my eyes and inhale the scent of cool, mossy water. I can hear the water gently lapping against the shore. If I'm feeling truly delusional I can almost hear the sound of early-morning water skiers in the distance. I can almost feel the sunburn. I can almost taste last night's Pringles. I am almost at Lake Powell.

(...aaaand then I open my eyes and jog straight into an oncoming bicycle.)

6. Thoroughly kicking DJ's butt two times in a row at Skip Bo (I can't get him to play Scrabble with me any more).

7. Having a kindergartener who is totally thrilled to have been named "Queen of the Day" by her teacher. She then proceeds to skip home from school singing "QUEEEEEN of the DAAAY!" in her best opera voice, wearing her construction paper crown with pride. I love that Macey isn't 'too cool' for this stuff yet.

I pray that I never become 'too cool' for those things in life that provide me with so much happiness (it hasn't happened yet, I think I'm in the clear).

Change & Rainbow Cake

Yeah, I changed my blog around. And it's making me twitch.

Apparently, I don't handle change very well. See that little white kid hanging all over her mom up there? That's me, the day my little sister Carrie was born. [Check out how white I am! Now stop looking at my legs and sexy diaper.] June 2, 1982. As the story goes, I was so upset about the arrival of the little interloper that I spent that entire day (week...month...) hanging all over my mom. Can you blame me? My world was about to be torn asunder!

For the record, I do not appreciate my world being torn asunder.

{Here's me leaving the computer to eat a bowl of Cheerios and a Little Debbie at 10:30 at night.}

Where was I? Right, world torn asunder... Hmm. Not totally sure where I was going with that. But I really don't like change. Let's talk about something else.

Like cake.

I made this cake for Annie(my niece)'s birthday yesterday and it was crazy. This is not a picture of the cake that I made, it's the picture from the blog that I stole the recipe from. (To quote the author, "Mmm...chemicals.") I made my cake in red, white, and blue in honor of Chilean Independence Day. (What? You didn't celebrate Chilean Independence Day?) Wanna hear how bizarre this recipe is? Here it is:

Crazy Rainbow Cake

Two white cake mixes

3 c. Diet Sprite

FDA-unapproved amounts of food coloring

And that's it. Instead of the food coloring I used Kool Aid. [Do not, I repeat, DO NOT use Kool Aid in this recipe instead of food coloring. I cannot emphasize this enough.] This cake it perfect for someone who's watching their cholesterol (but not sugar or artificial color or empty calories) intake. It would also be perfect for that special someone who has just "come out", if you catch my drift.

I got a fly in my eye while I was out running this morning.

Yeah, it was nasty. I think I need eye transplant surgery now.

I love...

Tubing. I looooooove tubing behind my dad's boat, the Tub 'o Fun (that's not a made-up boat name. That's the real name. Yep. My dad is cool, huh?) Where was I? Oh yeah, tubing.
Tubing is awesome for two reasons: #1) Tubing requires no actual skill or talent other than the ability to flop onto a tube from the back of the boat without misjudging the distance to the tube and sliding off of the front of the tube into the water like a dork. Run-on sentence, anyone? Moving on. Reason B) Tubing requires no skill. Did I mention that already? Tubing is good for my self esteem. I love flying back and forth across the wake, thinking smugly, "man, I am good at tubing. I'm so good at tubing I should enter some kind of contest..." and then I wipe out. But I still feel good about myself for hanging on for so long.

Food wrapped in bacon. I didn't realize this about myself until Sunday when DJ and I made this for dinner:

Jeane's Delicious Grilled Chicken Wrapped in Bacon

6 chicken breasts, cut into 1-2" cubes

2/3 cup brown sugar

1 T chili powder

Bacon slices, cut into thirds

Mix brown sugar and chili powder. Wrap chicken chunks in bacon and skewer with a toothpick. Coat chicken with brown sugar mixture. Grill until done.

Other foods that are made more wonderful simply by wrapping them in bacon: asparagus and jalapenos. Thanks Jeane, for the wonderful chicken recipe! (p.s. Foods that are not wonderful wrapped in bacon: doughnuts, Gatorade, watermelon.)

This hat. My really cute friend Jenn (hi Jenn!) crocheted this little hat and let Tess model it for her Etsy site. Isn't it cute? Cute hat. Cute baby Tess. Cute friend Jenn.

I am going to be RICH.

I'm going into the t-shirt business. I'm tired of saying the same things over and over again and I figure everyone else must be, too. For example:


Three weeks ago we moved into a new house around the corner. [Less expensive, fenced yard, closer to school, the landlord is not a Nazi...you get the idea.] Our family/neighbor friends helped us move our stuff. Here's the t-shirt that I needed that day: WHY DO WE HAVE SO MUCH CRAP?? (I know that the 'C' word isn't very refined but it's accurate. We have a lot of crap.)


Here's one for Sunday morning: CHURCH STARTS AT NINE. WE NEED TO LEAVE IN _____ MINUTES!


I thought this one would be handy, since I feel that my flat hair needs an excuse and yet, for some inexplicable reason, my hair rarely comes up naturally in conversation: MY HAIR DRYER DIED THIS MORNING (Sad but true. My hair dryer is dead. My hair is flat.)


I would also sell buttons for kids. Here's one that will singlehandedly (single buttonedly?) make me a millionaire: I DRESSED MYSELF. This would be a nice, no-nonsense way of explaining why Olivia is wearing a pink plaid skirt with her yellow pajama t-shirt on backwards.


Last but not least, I want a shirt for when I go running. I run on the Snow Canyon Parkway trail, early in the morning. For some reason I feel obligated to acknowledge the other runners/cyclists on the trail. It's ridiculous and, frankly, I can't spare the breath. I need a shirt that says: "...(gasp!)...Mornin'!" Problem solved.

Pet Potbellied Pig Pet Potbellied Pig Pet Potbellied Pig...

Once, when I was thirteen years old...no, don't stop reading! This is a good one! Seriously, my sister Meegan e-mailed this picture to me after reading my post about the Escort. I had COMPLETELY forgotten about this prank we pulled on her. Lisa, her boyfriend at the time (Ralph), and I decided it would be the funniest thing in the world if we filled the Escort with packing peanuts. And so we did. It seemed really funny at the time. Packing peanuts + static cling= one friggin' big mess for Meegan. She claims that we gave her money to vacuum the car out. I don't know about that. What kind of prank is it if you help the victim clean up the mess? That's not a prank, that's just making a mess and then paying for someone to clean it up. Anyhoo, here's me at the scene of the crime acting like an innocent bystander, and The Escort in all of her glory:

I guess I'm in the mood to reminisce about past pranks... there was this other time, my friend Kat and I kidnapped Ralph's (yep, the same ex-boyfriend) pet potbellied pig [try saying that five times, fast] and left a pound of bacon in it's place along with a ransom note demanding a stick of Secret Spring Fresh scent deodorant and a tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream in exchange for the pig. I can't remember how that one worked out. I do remember that the pig had a serious attitude problem, though.

The Escort

Please forgive me while I take a meander down memory lane. {{{Here's where those wavy lines go across the screen, like on Saved by the Bell.}}}

The year: 1985

The car: White Ford Escort, with a hatchback

The fashion: Culottes. Pink culottes.

The conundrum: Picture, if you will, the back seat of a Ford Escort. Three seats, right? Three seats. Five kids. Hmm...

The solution: The two smallest children ride in the hatchback portion of the car, naturally. Pop that little hatch open and you have a virtual in-car playpen, folks. I have many (okay, a few) fond memories of flying down the freeways of L.A. in the 'trunk' of the Escort. Carrie and I had our own little world back there. It. Was. AWESOME.

I would give my RIGHT ARM for a copy of this picture of my mom and I on my first day of school. We're getting into the Escort. My mom's wearing her totally rad pink culottes. Only my mom could get away with pink culottes (she always has a really good tan). I love that picture. Those were such simple times. (Simple for me, anyway. I was five.)

Ah, the Escort...

Thanks for humoring me, everyone. I'd also like to thank the folks at Google for providing the lovely Escort image. (Although, I think that I'll probably be the first and last person to search Google for a picture of 1980s-style pink culottes. Don't waste your time, people, it DOESN'T EXIST.)

Don't Pick Your Nose

Holy MACKEREL. Macey is in school. I found myself panicking as I was getting her ready for school, giving her little tips (like I haven't had the last five years to prepare her for this day). I'll bet you're wondering what my tips are, aren't you? You're in luck because here they are. Elise's Back-to-School Tips.

1. Do what your teacher says. She is really smart.

2. Sometimes people say mean things. Don't worry about what mean people say. Mean people are dumb.

3. Please PLEASE don't pick your nose and eat it.

4. If you see someone playing all alone, ask them if you can play with them. If they don't want you to play with them then they are dumb (see Tip #2).

5. DON'T CLIMB UP THE SLIDE.

6. For heaven's sake, don't pick your nose and eat it.

Yeah. I think Macey is ready for the world. The real question is, is the world ready for Macey? Bwah ha ha!

P.S. For those of you who were worrying about my neighbors dog-- DJ confessed to my neighbor at church. The dog did not die of elk poisoning. However, in a strange twist the neighbor has found no traces of the saran wrap or freezer paper that the elk was still wrapped in when DJ threw it over the fence. All together now: "DJ! You didn't even take the paper off?!"

Lucky Neighbor Dog -OR- Let's Hope the Neighbors Don't Find Out Who Did It

11:07 PM
DJ and Elise crawl into bed, exhausted after a long day of shenanigans.

11:08 PM
Neighbor Dog: "BARK! bark bark bark!" Translation: "LET ME IN! Let me in, let me in, let me in!"

DJ: "I can't stand our neighbor's dog. Was it Axel or Roscoe that used to bark like this? Our neighbors must have hated us."

Elise: "I don't....remem....zzzzzzzzz......."

Dog: "BARK! bark bark bark!" Translation: (singing) "WE BUILT THIS CITY...we be built this city on rock and roll...."

11:09 PM
This is where things get fuzzy for me (I was asleep, after all).

Dog: "BARK BARK! bark bark bark....bark!" Translation: "PLEASE! Please! I promise I won't go on the floor! Maybe I will..."

DJ: "I am going to shoot that dog."

Elise (roused from sleep as DJ threatens to shoot an animal): "sorry hon....zzzzzz....."

Dog: "...bark bark bark bark!" Translation: "Hey everybody, look at the moon! Is that a cat?! Wow, it's dark out here!"

11:11 PM
Elise awakens to the sound of someone rifling through the chest freezer in our garage. She wonders, "well, either DJ shot the the neighber dog and he's freezing it for later [in unison now, dog-lovers: "Aaaaaah!"] or he got really hungry (those of you who know us know that he'd have to be starving to eat something out of our chest freezer. It's 95% full of dead elk meat)."

Elise drifts off to sleep again but can vaguely recall hearing the front door unlock.

Dog: "BARK! BARK! Bark?! bark bark bark!" Translation: "LET ME IN! LET ME IN! Hey, what's this?! Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!"

11:13 PM
DJ crawls back into bed mumbling: "I hope that dog wasn't a vegetarian..."

This startles Elise from a dream involving Oreo cookies and Edward Cullen (so it MUST have been serious...): "What did you do???"

DJ: "I threw a piece of elk over the fence."

Dog: "Nomm, nommm, nommmm....."

6:42 AM
Dog: "HORNK!"

DJ and Elise: "...zzzzzzzzz................."