Stranger Than Fiction

I read this blub on the KSL website today. After several minutes of careful consideration of the legal ramifications involved and meticulous study of the facts in this case, my first thought was, "Ummmm....huh?" And then I recovered with the more intelligent and academic comment, "For reals??"

See for yourself...

Prosecutors charge pregnant girl in beating case
May 28th, 2009 @ 11:12am
VERNAL, Utah (AP) -- Prosecutors have charged a 17-year-old girl who allegedly paid a man to beat her up so she would have a miscarriage.

The girl, whose fetus survived, is charged in 8th District Juvenile Court with first-degree felony criminal solicitation to commit murder. She appeared in Juvenile Court on Wednesday, and Judge Larry Steele has ordered her to remain in a juvenile detention facility.

Prosecutors say the girl paid 21-year-old Arron Harrison of Naples $150 to beat her up after her boyfriend threatened a break up if she didn't get rid of the child.

Harrison is charged with second-degree felony attempted homicide and made his first appearance in court Wednesday.

1) So, was it a viable fetus or not? Because last time I checked, Roe vs Wade was still in effect and it was legal to eliminate an unwanted fetus up to the point of viability (22 weeks). Opinions on that issue aside, shouldn't it be legal?

2) If the fetus was viable, then it wasn't a miscarriage she was intending, but a still birth. Miscarriage is only before 20 weeks. So was she trying to cause a miscarriage or a still birth?

2) That's a weird way to get an abortion. By beating? Hmmmm. Not too bright on the mother's part.

3) Is the charge of solicitation to commit murder against herself? Because then shouldn't it be "solicitation to commit suicide?"

4) If the victim PAID the assailant to beat her up, can he really be charged with assault or attempted homicide?

This is such a weird case, I don't know where to begin! Who's making this stuff up anyway?

Uninspired

I ask my sister to please forgive me for completely ripping off the idea for my post from her post for today. I don't know what my deal is. I'm in some sort of blogging slump. Not only writing, but reading (as you can tell from my sagging comment sections of the last few days. I'm just not getting out there much). But when I read her post today about having a common name and wanting to change it when she was young, the thought occured to me, "I wonder how many people wanted to change their name when they were young?"

So here's my question: Did you want to change your name when you were young? To what?

I'll go first. And let me just say that it's a good thing I never had the money (or the real determination) to change my name back then. I'd be really sorry now. (Also no offense to anyone reading if one of the names I no longer want to be named is your name!)

First... Becky. yep, that's right. Becky. When I was 6 or 7 that was the cutest name I could think of.

Next, Roxanne. Why? I have no idea. But I decided when I was 9 that it was a very exotic sounding name.

Then Hillary. REALLY glad I don't have that one now. But for a while when I was 10, I thought it was so elegant.

I was super excited when I was 13 and 14 to discover that my father had wanted to name me Amber when I was born. I thought it was a perfect name for me. However, I discovered later in life just how many Ambers there were, so I'm pretty glad I didn't change it to that.

I think there was also a time when I wanted to be Tabitha (probably because of Bewitched), Rosemary, Jessica (Sweet Valley High phase) and, get this, Jody. JODY! Boy, I was really creative in the name department. But I guess my real goal back then was trying to have a name that fit in. Cause, let's face it, Arianne doesn't fit in anywhere. Even in France, where the name comes from, it's rare. And spelled differently. So as a child who had to spell her name out constantly and pronounce it for every stranger and substitute teacher twenty times, I just wanted something easy.

Of course, as an adult, I'm glad I'm not Jody or Amber. I like having an uncommon name. One that was easy to spell, pronounce, and remember would be even better. But hey, it could be worse. I could be named Jorja or Kymberleigh or Payj. I guess Arianne's not so bad.

Let's Dance

Last week I got my first pair of ballroom dance shoes....



I love them! They make me feel fancy and official. Like nobody can put me in a corner.

And whenever I look at my dancing shoes (which I admit has been pretty often this week. I keep taking them out and setting them on the counter and staring at them and caressing them, and taking pictures of them, and practically making out with them), this song goes through my head. I think it's my dancing anthem...



Of course, it's not a completely accurate anthem. There are a few problems:

1) I put on my gold shoes, not red.
2) I'm dancing the Rumba and Cha Cha, not the blues
3) The songs that are playing are on a CD
4) There's no color lighting up the place, just regular cannister lights
5) There's no crowd either, just me and Martin
6) We're not swaying under the moonlight. Just the canister lights. The serious canister lights.
6) Well, it just digresses from there. The whole part about falling into my arms and trembling like a flower isn't really apt. Martin is too heavy to fall into my arms, especially like a flower. I'd drop him for sure. Plus, I'm pretty sure he's gay. Hmmmm...maybe the flower part is right after all.

Well, anyway, I have no explanation for why this song is my anthem. I just know that whenever I take out my shoes, Let's Dance plays in my head. Maybe Martin could incorprate it into a Cha Cha for us?

I'll keep you posted.

Adventures In Sugar

Two days ago Beck figured out how to get onto and off of the bar stools in at the kitchen island. Since that time, he has gotten very well acquainted with the mechanics of the sugar shaker...

First there was the Great Toast Adventure


And then 30 minutes after I refilled the sugar shaker, there was the Filter Fiasco.
Let me give you a play by play of how it went down.
Step 1) Open the Brita Pitcher. Step 2) Dump the entire sugar shaker into the reservoir. Step 3)Sprinkle the sugar pile with pepper, for added aesthetic appeal.







I'm not sure how good the Brita filter is at filtering out 3/4 cup of sugar granules. It isn't a feature listed in the booklet. So....no?


I hope this doesn't mean that I'm going to have to start keeping everything we own on top of the refrigerator. It's going to get very crowded up there.

What To Do

If you live in Utah or have ever visited Utah or ever plan on visiting Utah, you may be able to answer this question:

What are the most fun things to do in Utah (SLC area)? If you had family coming to town, what would you plan for them to do while they're here? (Note: said family used to live here, so tourist stuff is out. I'm thinking purely fun stuff. Kid appropriate or grown-up oriented.) Early July is the time, so think summmer stuff.

Thanks!

The Silver Screen

Has anyone seen any good movies lately? (I've already seen Star Trek.)

Or are there any coming out that you plan to see this weekend?

Itty Bitty Garden, Great Big Harvest

I think I may have mentioned before that I love to garden. And I think I may have shown pictures of some of the things my garden has produced. It's a very satisfying feeling to have fresh fruits, vegetables, and flowers that you pretty much made yourself. Ok, God was involved too. But only with that tiny part called growing. The rest is ALL ME.

Anywho, my favorite gardening method is called Square Foot Gardening. It was introduced to me by my sister (as most good things have been) about 4 or 5 years ago. It's the easiest, smartest way to garden that I've ever heard of. Ok, it's the only one I've ever heard of aside from traditional row gardening, but seriously, it's wonderful.

You start with a square, 4'x 4'. It's made of wood (usually 1x6 wood planks), and it sits above ground. You make your own soil mix using Mel's perfect recipe so it's the perfect amount of nutrition but there are no weed seeds. And because it eliminates rows (which are really only needed if you plan on pulling a horse and plow through your garden. I don't know about you, but I find keeping a horse and plow on hand for a back yard garden a little costly), you can grow 80% more food in 20% of the space of a traditional garden.

You divide your garden into sixteen 1 foot square spaces, and then you just read your seed package that tells how many plants can grow in a 1 foot space. Plant them, water them, they grow. Easy! And NO weeding. They can even be grown on patios or decks since you don't need soil underneath them.

AND, and this is my favorite part, Mel teaches you how to stagger your harvest so that instead of having 800 cucumbers go ripe in a 3 day period, you plant your cucumber seeds a week apart from each other. That way you have some coming due every week for the entire harvest period.

Plus, it just looks nice. You can even use white vinyl instead of wood, if you are the type where aesthetics are important, and your garden will look amazing. Here are pictures of some square foot gardens (not mine):




This is Mel, the inventor of the Square Foot method.


If this sounds intriguing to you, I highly recommend you buy the book. This is my fourth year doing this type of garden and it is just so easy. I'd love to convert the whole world to doing this type of gardening!

As for now, I'm going to try to do a weekly or however often I get to it update on what I'm doing with my square foot garden.

I built my boxes and divided them and mixed the soil and planted the pre-frost seeds all 4-5 weeks ago. I planted lettuce, spinach, peas, watermelon, cucumbers and strawberries. Then yesterday I planted dill, cilantro, basil, Romano beans, green peppers, tomatoes, and radishes. I'll keep you posted!

Here's how my garden looks right now...

Body Parts For Sale

I am so thrilled about the nice weather lately. It has actually motivated me to get out and garden, walk, and ride. There is a problem with the riding though. My bike only has one seat. And I have two kids. So when I saw a picture of this:



I thought, "Man does that little boy have an outdated hair cut!" But THEN I thought, "HOW CUTE IS THAT BIKE???" In light blue!?! I thought I had died and gone to heaven. It's so perfect for a mom with two small kids who always want to ride the bike with her but can't unless they plan on doing one of those Bernstien Bears type arrangements. And I could actually win it! (Have you had enough of me talking about contests yet? Sorry. I guess it's that giveaway time of year. Not Christmas. That OTHER giveaway time of year.) Fortunately, you don't have to do anything to help me. I've helped myself just by linking to the site from my blog. Right HERE.



Still, feel free to click over and see this gorgeous bike for yourself. Or even enter the contest yourself, if you feel you must try to steal my dreams.

I think it's only fair that you know one thing about me and this bike, though. If I win, you will never see me riding a bike in a skirt and dress shoes. I don't live in The Sound Of Music, you know. If that's what you're after, you better just win the bike yourself. But other than that, this WILL be me. Even if I have to sell my body to get one. Ummmm....maybe not my whole body. Just part. Like a lung. Or a kidney. Anyone in the market for a kidney?

Mia, thanks for linking me to this contest at your friend's blog. If I win this bike, I will give you a free ride in the bucket part of this bike. Aren't I so generous?

The Exercise High

So I don't know about you guys, but for the most part exercise bores me to death. Especially cardio. When I first started going to the gym, I'd bring my headphones, plug in at an eliptical machine or treadmill in front of one of the 15 TVs all playing shows I had no interest in watching, and proceed to bore myself to tears for the next 30-45 minutes. I'd look down at the clock on the treadmill every so often. "It's only been 5 seconds?? What?!?" Eventually I just wouldn't be able take any more cooking shows or screaming court dramas and I'd give up on shrinking my hips for the day.

A year or so ago, my gym put in a cardio theater. It has rows of treadmills, bikes, and eliptical machines in front of a gigantic movie theater sized screen. The room is dark. The speakers are loud. And you can jog away a good 15 minutes before you think to look down at the time even once. With a good movie going, you can pedal away 45 minutes without even noticing.

But there is a downside. Well, a few downsides. For one thing, if you get a machine very far to the right or left of center, you run the risk of falling off your treadmill. "Eating crap" is probably a more accurate way to describe how it looks. See, it's hard to look to your far left and run straight ahead! Before you know it, your foot has landed half on the rotating tread, half on the stationary side line, and you are yanked to the ground in the splits position before you can tell what is happening. Fortunately, it's really dark, so people only laugh in the general direction of the crash and subsequent cursing, not really at you.

There's another problem with the cardio theater. The movie choice. Sometimes they play good, motivational movies for working out. Like Tomb Raider. Nothing keeps me going on the eliptical like watching Angelina Jolie's legs in a tight white spandex bodysuit. However, other times the movie choice is less inspiring. There was a horror film on once when I went in the cardio theater. It had something to do with spirits hiding in and old house and only the toddler could see them. I lasted about four minutes that day before I got so scared I forgot to move my legs. The bike doesn't burn nearly as many calories when you stop peddling. And then when the door handle turned right as the babysitter reached for it....well, let's just say I've seen a more graceful dismount off a stationary bike before.

And then there's today. Today was the last 30 minutes of Rudy. Let me set the scene for you. A short kid with lots of heart wants to join the Notre Dame football team. He loves football. His father worships Notre Dame's football team. His brothers and everyone else tell him he'll never play college football. But somehow he begs his way onto the team. He isn't first or even second string. He's a cross between a ball-boy and a punching bag for practices. He doesn't even get to suit up for the games. But he goes faithfully to every practice and every game despite never getting to even sit on the bench. Finally, at the end of his junior year, the coach promises to let him suit up and sit on the bench for one game during his senior year. But during the summer, the coach leaves and a new coach gets put in. And Rudy loses his chance to prove to everyone that he really is on the team. Finally, before the last game of the year, all the player tell the coach they won't play unless Rudy is allowed to suit up. So the coach agrees, for this one game, to let Rudy sit with the team on the bench. In the final seconds of the game, Notre Dame has a significant lead. Rudy's team members begin to chant his name, urging the coach to let him play, just the once....



So sometimes I need a box of tissues with me at the gym....so what? I hear that crying burns calories, so really I'm just doubling up on my work out. Besides, I'll take bawling on the treadmill over being bored to tears in front of the TVs any day of the week.

If You Love Me And You Know it, Clap Your Hands

Actually, what I want you to do if you love me and you know it is...VOTE! In a completely unselfish act of love, I'm promoting my sister Jennie's entry into the contest to win the scrapbooking desk I blogged about a couple of days ago. She entered her cake that I blogged about yesterday as her cutest craft. Now she needs votes. YOUR votes. Your FRIENDS' votes. Your friends' friends' families' coworkers' cousins' neighbors' votes. So, please, if you love me, take this opportunity to go to this link and vote for entry #330, the cake with the gorgeous flowers on top that looks like this:



And if she wins, I will make each and every one of you a replica of that cake. Just kidding. We've already established that I can't decorate cakes like that. But Jennie will make each and every one of you a replica of that cake. Right, Jennie? Ok, maybe I'm totally lying about that too. But just vote. You have nothing else to do for the next 30 seconds anyway, right?

THANKS!

p.s. If you REALLY love me, you can put the contest link and picture on your blog and get Jennie 50 BONUS VOTES!!! Just let me know you did it so we can link it. You are so awesome. Really.

Green Eyed Cake-Eating Monster

I love cake. That has been clear since day one of this blog, right? Ok, good. What maybe has not been made clear is that although I love to eat cake, and that I like to bake, I like even better to eat cakes that someone else has made, preferably a person in a home, or a gourmet bakery, not a factory that pretends to be a bakery by adding "bakery" to its name. And that's really because I have no idea how to decorate a cake. It's not a skill my mom passed down (unless you consider putting thin frosting, flavored with cherry Kool-aid into a sandwich baggie and cutting the corner off, then writing peoples names on cakes "decorating." ) Yet somehow my sister, Jennie, has emerged as a sort of goddess of cake decorating. She did all kinds of amazing little cakes for her kids' birthdays when they were little. She decorated my wedding cake to match one I saw in a bridal magazine. Perfectly. And this weekend, I think she might have outdone even herself with this one....



Do you think I could learn to do that? Not likely. I think it might be in the genes. Like big boobs and small feet and greenish eyes, all of which she got and I didn't. I might have to accept that I'll never be a cake goddess. I guess I'll have to settle for a cake consuming genius (with smaller teeth and a better butt and fuller hair.) Hey, you win some, you lose some, right? So get baking, Jennie. Me and my big ears will be waiting for your next cake.

Free Craft Desk, Anyone?

Over at theoriginalscrapbox.com, they're doing a giveaway for this...



And you can read all the rules here.

So if you're in the market for a super awesome craft desk and don't want to actually pay for it, this contest is for you.

I have this version and LOVE it. So I highly recommend you enter. And I recommend even more highly that you win. Good luck!

Tiger, Meet Ram

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I wouldn't say I actually believe in astrological signs. Clearly it doesn't really make sense that everyone born in a certain month is alike. Or that everyone born in a certain year, as per the Chinese astrological calendar, is alike. But I also think there could be something to the way the gravitational pull was oriented when a person was born that could have effected their cellular make up. Maybe. I'm not sure. But I find it very interesting that both my Chinese and Roman astrological signs suit me very well, while most of the other ones do not.

A few years ago, a friend of mine introduced me to a book that combines your Roman astrological sign with your Chinese astrological year. It's called The New Astrology, by Suzanne White. And it gives a really detailed profile of your personality based on the combination of these two things, Roman birthday and Chinese birth year. And guess what? It suits me almost to a T! Only one quality of the Aries/Tiger is not like me at all (that I don't stay long term with partners well. Actually, I do.) The rest could pretty much be written about me.

Here's a little snippet from the book...

"The Aries/Tiger wants excitement. But because she's Aries, she also thinks excitement may be a bit too much to ask in life. This makes her a reluctant Tiger. The ambivalence may just do the poor Aries/Tiger in. (SO true of me.)

Talented in the extreme (also SO true of me, right?. Wink.), there is nothing an Aries/Tiger cannot do. There is no chore, no craft nor enterprise too complex or difficult for this subject to excel at. Not only are Aries/Tigers skillful, but they are conscientious. So everything is open to them. Except perhaps politics. (AMEN to that!)

Politics requires a more supple and strategic approach than the Aries/Tiger wants to take. This is a direct, no-nonsense character who believes in man's basic goodness. Aries/Tiger will be sorely disappointed by scrapes with crafty brigands who commit petty crimes against law and order. To an Aries, what's right is right. There are no shortcuts. (TRUE!!!)

Not a natural subordinate, Aries Tiger is able to take orders from higher-ups, but it isn't good for the Aries/Tiger soul. This person is a true independent. Shackles are her nemesis. (Yup.)

And when the Aries/Tiger gets to feeling cramped, watch her dust! The shop gets sold, the boat given away, the dog farmed out with friends in the country and Aries/Tiger is gone. To the new world? To the old world? To sea? Forever? I warned you. (Hmmmm... five continents by age 25, I'd say that's true of me.) Aries/Tiger finds boredom intolerable. Here is the real capacity for revolutionary behavior. Aries/Tigers combine the soldierly with the fervent. They are truly warriors in life, believing passionately in freedom and justice for all. Moreover, Aries/Tigers don't mind sharing their ideals with the world." (Would you say that's true of me? Um, yaaaa. Definitely.)

So anyway, I find it fascinating, like I do with all things introspective, to read about my signs and personality and anything else that helps me define who I am. (Not daily horoscopes, though. Those things are retarded.) I can't say I actually put stock in them, but I find it interesting, none the less.

If you want to know what your Chinese/Roman sign is and maybe even a snippet about yourself, according to Suzanne White, just comment to that effect and I'll send you your info. And include your email in case... Sorry, getting bored. Got to go travel the world. Ta Ta!

When Cameron Was In Egypt's Land

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Sick.

Strep.

Yuck.

Dying.

Throat killing me.

Antibiotics not working.

Rather drool than swollow.

Strep affecting ability to form full sentences.

Want to stay in bed all day.

Kids up for adotpion. (Cheap.)

Tell me when you'll pick them up.

Bring a gun.

One bullet.

(For me, not you.)

Thanks.


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(Not) Made In China

As you may know, Big Daddy just got back a couple of weeks ago from a trip to China. When he left I asked him to bring back something really Chinese for me. Something traditional. I'm into all things cultural, and I've collected local religious and cultural pieces from all over the world. So something authentic and souveniery was all I wanted.

When he arrived home, Big Daddy had lots of gifts. Knock-off Ping golf clubs (full set with driver, putter, bag and shoes - $112), knock-off Ralph Lauren clothes for the kids (6 pieces for $20), knock off True Religion jeans ($22!) and some cute solar powered toys for the kiddles. But he also got me a great traditional Chinese style shirt with the high collar. Red, the traditional Chinese color, with Chinese writing. It's beautiful. It's perfect. It's just what I wanted.




There's just one problem...



What are the chances?


(I also suspect that somewhere in China, a bunch of clothing vendors are laughing their butts off because the "Chinese writing" on the shirt is actually just a bunch of scribbles, the kind I would make if someone said, "Here, make some Chinese symbols for this shirt." As they drink their Oolong tea, the vendors are giggling, "How many American tourists do you think we can fool with this shirt?" "Arr of them!" the another one chuckles. Touché, China. Touché.)

Cause I Said So

I meant to do this post for Mother's Day, but, as my Australian friend always says, "I couldn't be bothered." So here it is now....



You always hear of these little pieces of advice that mothers are known for giving their kids. My next door neighbor growing up, Kelly Matelski,'s mom always told her to wear fresh underwear when she went out, in case she was in an accident and they had to take her to the hospital. I never really got that one. But her mother worked in an ER, so maybe she knew something I don't.

My husband's grandmother, Neenie, always used say not to pluck your gray hairs or seven of its friends would come to its funeral. I didn't listen to that one, and I'm pretty sure she was right.

The only advice I can remember my mom always telling me was to be sure to wear lots of blush for photos or you'll look washed out. Very good advice, by the way.

What little truisms did your mother always tell you?


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Oh How Lovely Was The Morning

When we first moved into this house, it was very late fall verging on winter. The first thing I did, before unpacking boxes or cleaning the house or setting up furniture, was plant my bulbs. A certain someone in the family thought I might be slightly crazy to do this before even finding the toilet paper and towels. But I knew if I didn't get those bulbs in the ground immediately, most likely, we'd have no flowers coming up in the spring. I wasn't taking any chances. I'm still not sure he cares as much about the flowers as he does about toilet paper, but I'm pretty happy with my choice...

So here are a few more pictures of some of the lovely things growing in my flower garden .....

Snowdrops

Tall salmon-pink tulips

Close up

Lilacs, my favorite

While lilacs, finally blooming! (It's their third year after planting)

Tulips, tulips, and more tulips!

Ahh, spring time. What chu got?
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Live Long And Prosper

Call me a geek, but I'm kind of excited about this....




Excited enough that I pre-bought tickets. Three days ago.

I know....LOSER.

Whatever. I'm cool with that. Besides, I know you're just jealous that your mom won't be wearing her Star Trek uniform to the showing like mine will.

(Mom, you're forbidden to comment on this post. I'm serious. I've outted you, and there will be no more said on the subject.)

My Private Dancer, A Dancer For Money

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It's true. I have a Private Dancer. His name is Martin. He looks like this:

Unless he's dancing. Then he looks like this:



Unless he's dancing in costume, then he looks like this:




He is teaching me to dance so I will look like this:


Unless I'm in costume, in which case I'll look like this:

(Yes, those are all me. Especially the one with the D cups.)

And as soon as I take care of the one minor detail where I have to become a movie star first, I'll be on this:

But seriously though, doing ballroom dance has been a dream of mine since I was a young girl.

I guess I decided to stop dreaming about it and do it. Maksim Chmerkovskiy, here I come!


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Ah, Sweet Organization

You might not guess it from a quick walk-through of my house, but I'm actually a very organized person. At least I prefer to be. I've discovered since having kids that maintanance is sometimes all I can manage. Damage control. Basic tidiness. But my heart's desire, if time and children were no object, would be to spend my time at home organizing. I absolutely LOVE stores like The Container Store, and the aisles at Target, Lowe's, etc., where they keep bins and shelves and drawers and other organizing mechanisms. I can walk up and down them for hours (Ok, minutes) and just dream of how organized my house might be if I had all those storage containers.


When I see ones like these, my heart beats faster...







And ones like this make my eyes twinkle with excitement...






And these just might make me slightly weak in the knees....






I actually own this one, and it is one of my prized posessions...




So the other day, when it was warm and my kids were outside playing, I took a rare moment to orgainze. I had a bowl where all my hair accessories were kept: headbands, little clippies, big clippies, alligator clips, bobby pins, ponytail holders, and a bunch of other junk that got thrown in there. I could never find anything and would have to wade through all the headbands just to find one tiny alligator clip.



So I got my old jewelry carousel and....

Voilà!


Sweet Organization. A place for everything, and everything in it's place. It may have been a small thing, but I was high on the feeling of accomplishment for days. And I still smile every time I easily grab a clippie.

Random

Hmmmm....evidently I know NO ONE who does Mary Kay. How is that possible? I live in Utah!! I thought it was a pre-requisite to getting your temple recommend, that someone you know had to do Mary Kay. Guess mine will have to be revoked.

My back hurts. I feel like an old lady because my back always hurts. ALWAYS. It has since I was about 12 years old. Maybe I should stop digging ditches all day.

My feet also usually hurt. I can't wear cute shoes because I have these terrible feet. I guess they're pretty flat. I don't know what else their problem is. But I usually have to wear pretty comfortable shoes, and that sucks.

My thyroid problems may not actually be thyroid problems. Although I have had several cases of thyroiditis (enlarged thyroid), my endocrinologist suspects it's actually Vitamin D deficiency, which evidences a lot of the same symptoms. Still waiting for blood test results.

(Do I sound like a big fat hypochondriac, geriatric whiner yet or what???)

I have terrible veins. TERRIBLE. And the lady at my endocrinologist's office stuck me three times without getting a drop. Then she gave up. So I had to go to another phlebotomist in another county to try again. I told her my vein woes. But she still pulled out a freaking huge needle (not the usual, tiny butterfly needle they always use on me). I just laughed at her over-confidence. AS IF. Well, I was wrong. She picked a good vein, got it on the first stick, and it was a gusher!

Ok, non health related...

I love Coke. Have I mentioned that? Since going off Biggest Loser last month, my 1/2 Coke a day limit has gone to a 2 Coke a day limit. I'm going to need another intervention soon.

Nothing is worse than a disappointing cake. Big Daddy bought a cake from a fundraiser thing at work. He ordered German Chocolate, which he did JUST FOR ME, since he can't even eat German Chocolate. It looked delicious when it came (2 weeks and $25 later). However, it was NOT THAT GOOD. It ended up being dark, rich, fudgey chocolate. NOT nice light Germany chocolate. And the coconut/pecan/caramel frosting that is what German Chocolate Cake is all about was only on the inside. The outside was regular chocolate icing. So, the moral of this story? Don't give to fundraisers.

I really dug the hard rain all day Sunday. I don't like cold rain or drizzle or cloudy skies. But I loooove a good hard spring rain, especially if there is lightning and thunder involved. Hail is an extra bonus.

I'm really glad we don't have tornadoes here in Utah. This time of year in Michigan we had to run for the basement several times a week. The sound of those sirens still haunts me in my nightmares.

My TV blew up this morning. Like, literally. It was working and the kids were watching a show. Then they called me in to put on a movie a few minutes later. I wondered why they weren't interested in their show, and when I got to the TV it was black. I thought Beck had turned it off. But I tried and tried to turn it on and off and nothing happened. Then this foul odor, like burning chicken feathers, came from the inside of the TV. (Who knew that TV's were made of chicken feathers??) So I unplugged it and watched it suspiciously for several minutes, lest flames come shooting out. But it never did catch fire, it just hurled noxious smoke for a while. Dang. Guess we'll have to upgrade to a flat screen. Off to Costco!

Costco, by the way, is the place to see people you know. I saw four people I knew at Costco today during lunch.

Also, Costco has the best churros ever. In case you've never tried them, treat yourself to one. They're large, soft, chewy, and cinnasugary. They kick state fair churros' culos.

My kids are both napping. BOTH. This has become a bi-weekly event, at best. I. LOVE. NAPTIME.

I love my dryer. It will dry a whole load of whites (on medium heat) in 25 minutes and a whole load of towels and jeans in 40. It rocks. I wish I could say the same for my fancy new front-loading washer. I could take it or leave it. Shhhhh. Don't tell Big Daddy. I begged him for a fancy new front-loading washer. But it's really not that great.

Finally, dark chocolate peanut M&M's will be the death of me.

Back to the laundry....

Cash or Trade

Anyone out there a Mary Kay consultant? Especially anyone who might want to give me a good deal on some microderm abrasion? I would even be willing to do a straight across trade for Passion Parties products. I get a younger face, you get....well, for the sake of delicacy, I won't say. But it starts with O and rhymes with schmorshmasm.


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One Piece Or Two?

This is my new bathing suit.
I got a one piece this year because I do water aerobics once a week, and it's hard to do with your tankini bathing suit top floating around your neck. Ok, that's an exaggeration. Floating around your ribs is more the truth. But either way, it bugs. But my other suits are all two pieces. Long tankinis, I guess you'd call them. So I wondered what everyone else favors.


The once piece?

The cutaway one piece (which is big this year, I've noticed. I've also noticed that it disappears at the fattest part of my body. NOT wearing that one this year.)



The tankini?



The long tankini?


The ice skating bathing suit?



A boyshort bikini?


Do you dare the full-on bikini?

Or maybe this year you are thinking of going for the Stretch Thong, a.k.a the Super Hammock.


Do tell. Enquiring minds want to know.


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