one of *those* days

It's been one of those days when you find giant bags filled exclusively with banana-flavored twin popsicles at the grocery store (for $1.62!).

One of those days when you lay a blanket on the lawn, sprawl out on your stomach and read a sappy story while your children play in the water without punching each other, screaming, or dying.

One of those days when you not only finish your run on the treadmill, but you finish it faster than you did last time. And without any barfing or swearing.

One of those days when the sun does down at 8:30 instead of 5:30.

One of those days when you get a long nap with your wubbie and no one accidentally sits on you.

One of those days when you get a really good laugh--the kind that makes your eyes water.

One of those days when you're not retaining water.

One of those days where you pull your hair into a ponytail, and hang around in your sweats all day.

It's been one of those days.

Easter

*The* Family Yard Sale

After listening to "The Lonely" for the three hundredth time, I decided to dust myself off and throw a yard sale with my mom and brother-in-law, Manny. [You are aware that one doesn't simply have a yard sale, right? It must be thrown, like a surprise party or a bottle rocket (if you're DJ).]

It was the event of a lifetime, if for no other reason than that I finally got rid of that "Lobsters" sign that I've tried unsuccessfully to sell in our last two yard sales. I got a dollar for it. Suckas! I would feel bad, except the girl who bought it was purchasing it as a prank for her friend. What does it say about my decorating that people buy my stuff to play jokes on other people? Well, joke's on her. That thing's like a bad penny.

(That red arrow isn't actually a part of our driveway, I painted that in to show the cursed "Lobsters" sign. That's it, in all of its tacky, kitschy glory. Now that I'm a little less tacky, maybe I'll take up yoga.)

The yard sale was also a success in that Macey was able to learn the values of hard work and capitalism (if your idea of hard work is having your mom bake a million muffins while you're at a play date and then sitting in a camping chair taking people's quarters). In that way, her experience was a microcosm of capitalism. I (the Chinese sweat shop laborer) toiled away making muffins while Macey jumped on her friend Abi's trampoline. Macey (Walmart) then sold my products and kept the quarters mostly to herself. Once again, joke's on her. I eat her Halloween candy after she falls asleep (keep an eye on China). The muffins were a hit. Macey made $30.85, plus ten Chilean pesos, which will come in handy if we're ever in Chile and want to purchase one tenth of a completo, Manny.

Another reason the yard sale was successful? I gained custody of my mother's coveted gravy-vomiting chicken. Behold:

She is now keeping watch over my family from her little roost above our cupboards...

...and the balance of tackiness has been restored. So much for yoga.

The Lonely

It's 12:31 AM. DJ is in Dallas for the next six weeks. My only choice is to do nothing but cry my face off and eat cake bites by the bucketload while listening to this song.

The bright side: I have the entire king-sized bed to myself.

Ketchup Time

The strangest thing happened. I was kissing my boyfriend when all of a sudden I sucked the life out of him, he died, and I hitchhiked to northern Alberta. One thing led to another and found myself attending a special school where Jean-Luc Picard was the principal. No, wait...

That's what happened on Netflix last night.

I'm trying to account for the past two weeks and I got nuttin'.

I know we did this in between sessions of General Conference:

Macey did this:And then Tess did this:Which led to this:A week later, we went to the temple to see my beautiful sister and brother-in-law, Mariank, get sealed for time and eternity and beyond. Then, we did this:

and this:

and this:

This is my wonderful mother surrounded by her children-in-law: one Italian, one Chilean, one mason, one historian, one salesman, and one dietitian (and one Jason Bourneian, not pictured). Quite the motley crew she's inherited. Don't worry, Mom. It could be worse. We could have married the Motley Crue:

Yikes. This is almost as scary as the dream I had last night wherein I was grocery shopping and this polygamist boy was following me around, flirting with me. I was like, "Give it up, man!" and then I looked down and I was wearing one of those homespun, pioneer-style dresses and my hair was in an intricately-woven braid. I woke up before I could check to see if I was wearing tennis shoes...

...which brings us to the present. I just got a text message from DJ, who left for Dallas yesterday morning. It says, "We made it! Got here at 4 TX time and I'm linning up housing now. Beautiful place. Kiss the kids for me! Love you." I texted him back without mentioning anything about how he misspelled the word lining. I'm feeling rather magnanimous this morning.

I think my benevolent mood can be associated with my excitement about moving to this lovely place in six weeks:

Happy Monday, one and all!

A Miracle

The scariest thing about this ensemble? She didn't pick it out herself.

Now, down to business. Have you guys ever heard the John Wayne saying "Life's hard; it's harder if you're stupid"? I've discovered this past week that it's a wonderfully multi-purpose quote if you replace the word stupid with, for example, angry. Or grumpy. Or gluttonous.

Remember all of that rage I was feeling last week? Well, by Monday the pent up anger morphed into this black, looming cloud of depression, and by Wednesday night I was fit to be committed. I laid in bed, bawling my eyes out, angry at the world, angry at my dad, wondering what I had to live for, blowing my nose on the corner of my sheets. You think I'm joking? Unfortunately, no. It was frightening. It's amazing how quickly anger can suck the life right out of you.

Anyhoo.

My husband offered to give me a blessing (because his only other option was to smother me with my own pillow). I brushed him off at first, but he's DJ and he persisted. Because of the personal nature of the blessing I won't share too many details, but I had this realization: I was allowing myself to feel unnecessary anger and pain. That is what the Atonement is for. That is why our Savior did what he did--so that we don't have to feel that pain. I was reassured that I will never be abandoned by my Heavenly Father. The dark cloud lifted and all of the pain and anger went away. Just like that. It was truly a miracle.

And do you want to know the most annoying thing about this whole scenario? I already knew. I know about the Garden of Gethsemane, the cross, the tomb, the empty tomb. How is it possible to forget something so fundamental? I guess because I've only ever applied it to my life in terms of me being a sinner, not me needing to be healed.

And do you want to talk about divine timing? My parents' divorce was finalized the next day. I think that someone in heaven is aware of my needs before I am.

The take-home lesson? Don't waste your life away being angry. If you want to waste your life away, start watching Lost on Netflix.

Happy. Sunday.

Kevin Bacon has all the answers.

Does anyone know where I can find a big empty warehouse, a cassette tape of "Never" by Moving Pictures, and someone to teach me how to do a dramatic flip off of a high bar? I have some pent up anger and it keeps coming out in all of the wrong places. The only viable solution I can think of is to dance it off Kevin Bacon-style.


Here are some other things I've tried this week:

• yelling at my kids


• yelling at my husband


• flipping people off in traffic, even though my car has a peace sign on the back window


• eating an entire box of Hot Tamales


• eating an entire box of Samoas


• getting my hair dyed


• pulling weeds


• writing a strongly-worded letter


• calling the How's My Driving 1-800 number to complain about another driver


• crying
  

Unbelievably, none of these tactics are working.

I've discovered one thing that does work: talking. I finally had to do the unthinkable and unload, I mean, confide in a friend (hi Jenn!). She sent some excellent advice of the sort that made me cry and realize what I really need to do (be forgiving and pray).

My parents are getting a divorce. (I figure since I finally told my kids, I can tell my three devoted readers.) I'm too cheap for therapy. This is where you guys come in.

Maybe what I'm really looking for here is an excuse to dance with reckless abandon.

How do you guys deal with pent up anger?

In other news, Chancho tried to "move the park" this week:

The park didn't budge.

And I babynapped the cutest baby named Jack:

Thankful ThMonday

It's 8:55 in the morning, but with the time change I think it's more like 4:55 or something. That sounds about right. I haven't showered yet and my kids are still asleep, so it can't be any later than seven. And since I'm up so early I figure why not tell everyone about our Sunday afternoon?


We decided to take advantage of all of this extra daylight that the time change "saved" us and take a Sunday drive. Usually these little excursions turn into me yelling at the kids to stop smacking eachother or get back in their seatbelts or something, but yesterday's drive wasn't too bad. There was minimal yelling on my part and we drove through Gunlock at the most beautiful time of day (in my opinion)--right around sunset.


The weather was perfect. I wanted to skip rocks but I couldn't bring myself to mess up the water, so we took pictures. In hindsight, I wish we had made Tess wake up from her nap in the carseat.

I think I'm a pretty lucky girl. I know it's not Thursday or anything, but the majesty of God's creations have reminded me about everything for which I am thankful:

a husband who is patient and kind despite my backseat driving

children who are healthy and can do tricks

a mom who is basically a saint and inspires me to try harder and be forgiving

a Tahoe which didn't run out of gas despite the low fuel light being on for like 30 miles

five sisters who maintain my sanity

the Samurai 21 Geisha roll

one word: spring

two words: spring break

six words, one of which is a compound word: In and Out animal style cheeseburger

I think I know where we're going for lunch today....

Pinwheel Tutorial

To make your own Decorative Pinwheel Which Doesn't Spin, Thereby Defeating the Purpose of a Pinwheel (or DPWDS,TDtPoaP), you will need the following:


one square sheet paper which is cute on both sides

one dowel, painted to coordinate with your paper

your hot glue gun which has been missing since 2008

one button

one bag of Vanilla Creme Wafer cookies

one pair of child's safety scissors


To begin, eat some cookies while staring at your paper and wondering why you signed up to help with the Relief Society birthday party in the first place.


After you've come to terms with your own idiocy and general lack of craftiness, make a dot in the exact center of your paper.


Cut the paper diagonally from each corner, a half inch away from your center dot. Be sure to use child's safety scissors so that this portion of the project is as tedious and frustrating as possible. Make a mental note to buy a pair of real scissors.

Think, "Crap. I should've plugged in my hot glue gun before I drew my dot or cut my paper."

Plug in your hot glue gun and then use your free time to make a dent in the cookies.

You'll know when your glue gun is ready because it will smell amazing.


Glue every other corner wedge part onto the dot in the middle of the paper. This portion of the craft is easier is you employ your third arm. If you don't have three arms, make do with the two that you have and vow that if you're ever in charge of designing life forms they will be equipped with enough arms to do crafts without swearing!

While enjoying the smell of hot glue think, "So this is why so many Mormon women are into making crafts...."

Glue a button onto the middle of your newly-formed pinwheel.

Arrange your pinwheels on your countertops and then take a picture. Notice that you have two critically brown bananas in the bowl behind your mixer and like five books that you need to return to Tawny.

Glue a dowel onto the back of your pinwheel and arrange it in a flower pot leftover from the ward Valentine's dinner. Think, "I either need a smaller pinwheel or a larger pot, and I don't even give a crap."
Take a deep breath and blow on the front of your pinwheel. When your own hot cookie breath comes blowing back at your face from your unmoving pinwheel, vow to never again volunteer to be crafty.

A little happiness in an otherwise crappy week...

You know what makes me want to go to Skateway, slip on a pair of these: and skate around backwards while listening to "Walk Like an Egyptian" by the Bangles?

These:

For those of you who aren't from southern California, Skateway was the rink to get yo' skate on in the mid to late eighties. Until it burned down. At least, that's the rumor I heard. You know how skating rink rumors are. Two words come to mind when I think of Skateway burning to the ground: foul and play. Or maybe four words: vicious elementary school gossip.

I guess I'll never really know the truth.

In closing, I'd like to share a video of my niece, Paige. She is a rockstar. I watch this video when I need to have my faith in humanity restored, which has been quite often of late. It's a real picker upper.

("Gave you all I had, you tossed it in the trash! Tossed in in the trash...." I love you Paigie!)

(Gah! I forgot to mention from whence I received the lovely leg warmers! For shame! They were a gift from Naomi, my Crafty Friend. If you like what you see, go to her blog and tell her to start selling them on etsy.)