Monday, March 22, 2010

My Netflix top 10 suggestions

Here is a recent Netflix Top 10 Suggestions list for me.

Future Weapons, Season 2
I Carly, Season 1
An American Tale
Kipper
Pingu
Call of the Wild
Discovery Channel "Stealth Technology"
Carrier (a military documentary)
Maxed Out (another documentary, this time about debt and the disappearing middle class)
and
Everest, Beyond the Limit, season 1


What does this tell you about who's actually doing the netflix watching around here?

Sunday, March 21, 2010

(Dis)Enchanted

During a dinner at my inlaws with a couple of missionaries last week a funny story came to mind about an old college room-mate.  In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best story to tell a 21 year old getting ready to head home in 4 days, but then again, at least now he's prepared!


I went to BYU for one whopping whole semester.  I didn't love it there.  I had a hard time finding my niche.  My room-mates were actually mostly great, except for the one that I actually shared a room with, she wasn't always very nice, and as it turns out, very sane.  But it took me a while to figure out that she wasn't just PMSing as she'd always blame her unkind moments on, but that she was a total and complete whack job.

What finally clued me in?

The following little adventure.

It all started with a calendar countdown.  You know the kind where a specific date is circled heavily in brightly colored ink and each preceding day is carefully marked off with an X through the box. I'm assuming she had started the countdown about 22 months before I met her.  The calendar was hanging in our room from the day she moved in.  Each night she would mark the calendar, every week she would write a letter, every day she would check the mail.  She was a girl in love! And she was waiting for her man on a mission.  

She told me all about him, how funny and cute he was, how she just couldn't wait for him to get home and start planning their wedding.  She had bridal magazines with pages torn out of the cutest dresses, she knew exactly which ring she wanted, where to get it and how much he'd have to save to purchase it for her.  She had already picked the colors for her bridesmaids, and flower arrangements.  She had decided which part of town she wanted to live in, how many babies they'd have and what he'd do for a living! She had everything down except for the actual proposal which she fully expected upon his exit of the airplane he would arrive home in.

The day drew near and she began to plan a road-trip home to Denver.  It was a several hours long drive, and not really dangerous, but being young and not an experienced driver, she didn't want to make the trip alone.  I had never been to Denver before, so I said "heck yeah! I'm in!" We packed the car, filled up the tank and set out on the road to Denver.  I drove her car most of the way while she freaked out about it being illegal to travel in the left lane...I still have no idea she was talking about!  But she was definitely too nervous to drive, she was about to be proposed too after all by the man of her dreams!

We arrived in Denver about 1:00am, let ourselves in to her mother's house, got some sleep and prepared ourselves for the big day.  The next morning we woke late and ate pancakes made by her mom and then began to prepare for our big excursion to the airport.  She had signs, flowers, balloons, and a belated Valentine bear complete with cheesy red-satin heart to give her love.  We were on the countdown and it was down to hours.  

I began to realize that something wasn't quite right when she started frantically trying to figure out who to contact to find out what time his flight arrived.  I kind of figured he would have sent her that information if he was intending on proposing at the airport!  (of course she said she wasn't supposed to know that he was going to do this, it was supposed to be a surprise.)  She made phone call after phone call after phone call.  Nobody seemed to really have the information she was looking for, or maybe they just weren't volunteering it, I'm not sure.  Finally after I don't even know how many phone calls, she was able to get one person to talk to her.  That person told her that she had missed his arrival by plane and that he was now home with his family. I honestly have no idea what else that person said to her, but I have sneaking suspicion that they at least intimated that she should leave him alone, but no, this was her missionary and they were getting married! Somehow she knew his address, I'm not exactly sure how, maybe a friend of a friend, or something.  Keep in mind here that I had only just begun to get suspicious, I didn't KNOW anything wasn't the way she said it was, I had just begun to realize that things weren't really adding up.  But away we went, off to the young man's home to pay a visit and witness the most romantic thing that ever happened...a "fresh from the mission, haven't even been released yet" marriage proposal. (That the girl had to hunt down the returned proposed groom for by way of dozens of phone calls.)

I'll never forget pulling up to the curb as she practically leaped from passenger side, the car just barely put into park.  Her arms were full with all her gifts, her palms were sweaty (we laughed about the cheap white Valentine Bear fur sticking to her hands), her blonde curly hair poofy and bangs perfectly formed into the much coveted and often copied "Claw" hairdo of the late 80's/early 90's.  I'm pretty sure her jeans came all the way up to her ribcage, and that was totally cool.

She stood at the door, rang the bell and was greeted by someone I couldn't see.  ( I had been asked to stay in the car since this was such a private moment between her and her expected fiancé.)  She entered the home, was gone about 10 minutes, and then came bursting out in a mad dash covered in black mascara streaking down her face, sobbing like a girl who just found out her fiancé was a lying, cheating, scum-maggot.

It took a while, but she finally calmed down enough to tell me what happened inside the house.
The returned missionary was there, just as handsome as she remembered.  Only he didn't remember her.
He had apparently opened one of her very first letters and as a new missionary thought it was great to get a letter and wrote her back, but apparently at some point had begun throwing away her letters without opening them. (I'm guessing she said something that weirded him out, you think?) She was madder than a hornet and was ranting and raving and cussing him out and acting quite decidedly as though he were one of the devil's minions and that his mission had done him no good at all.  

At some point I asked her "how long did you guys date?"  She said "we didn't really date, we just kind of had a connection, but we never went on an actual date." I'm sure I asked her several other questions, but what I remember most about the whole story was the bombshell confession she laid on me only 2 hours into our trip back to Provo. SHE HAD ONLY EVER DANCED ONE SINGLE DANCE WITH THE GUY AT A YOUTH DANCE THREE YEARS EARLIER! THERE WAS NEVER ANY RELATIONSHIP!

So what's the moral of this story?  If you're a young man on a mission and getting strange letters from girls you don't know...fully expect her to show up at your house when you get home looking for a ring! AND when you're away at college, if you go on a road-trip with a room-mate you didn't really like in the first place, expect it to get weird.  There's a reason you didn't like her.


Monday, March 8, 2010

Stupidity

Would be watching the documentary by the same name and not realizing that you were indeed being mocked.
What started out as a fun explanation as to why humans purposefully choose to do stupid things, like be highly entertained by movies such as Jackass, and sit in front of the boob-tube for hours at the end of a long workday made an ugly turn.  Suddenly I found myself being accused of purposefully choosing to be stupid by questioning the reality of global warming. (There is at least as much scientific evidence against it as there is for it, how is it stupid to question the findings on either side?) and even further more being presented with the idea (stated as fact of course) that choosing to believe in a religion, ANY religion, is the very definition of stupid.

Offended yet?  Me too.  Only apparently being offended by any of the above is absolute proof that I am a moron.

Oh well.  I'd rather fool myself into believing that there is hope for the world, that humanity is intrinsically good, and that there is a plan for my life than be fooled into thinking the only hope for the future is that stupid people will die.  I truly wonder, what would the makers of this 'documentary' even do with themselves if all the stupid people did die?  They'd have nothing to sit on their soap-boxes about.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

on my mind

Earthquakes, beach front property, tsunamis.

Lost Dutchmen, gold mines, mini-horses, parades. (Gabe was SO excited to participate and ride his school's float down the parade route, Lily was SO excited about the miniature horses.  She re-named one "Black Shadow")

Birthdays, ponies, sea-ponies, and parks.

Baby showers, adoption, love and compassion. (so nice to see friends from the old neighborhood and to meet the new little guy.)

Music, pianos

Summer! Swimming, sunshine

Gray hair. (I really want to color my hair, but as I mentioned above, summer, swimming, and sunshine are on my mind, because really, they're just around the corner.  None of those things are very easy on colored hair, and I'm not going to stay inside to protect my colored hair.)

Freezer meals, fast food

sleep, nightmares, sheep

polar bear livers. (thanks Joel, I guess that story made an impression on me since I keep catching it crossing my mind at random.)

Cable TV, Netflix, Fringe season 1

Oranges, Grapefruits, Marmalade. (hooray for Arizona citrus.  SO delicious!)

black belt (I'm like 4 belt promotions away, which is still more than a year away, but its kind of within sight.)

beaded bracelet watches (didn't figure I'd love mine so much, such a silly little indulgence.)

Then there's the best $15 I may ever have spent.  The Hamilton Beach single serving smoothie maker.  The container you mix it in is the container you drink from.  With fresh berries starting to come in season, I've been buying in bulk, freezing, and making such yummie smoothies and shakes for the family.  AND...I'm getting breakfast every morning, because its so quick and easy.

I participated in my first consumer research panel discussion the other day.  Trident wanted some ideas on how mom's view gum.  It was really fun and I got paid $75 to be opinionated.  Not bad, eh?

Our "Total Money Makeover" is still rolling along nicely.  Or is that "snowballing" along nicely?  Either way, what a difference.  Funny how the extra work that hasn't been around is suddenly popping up right when we needed a little motivation.

Weight Loss.  Its good for your marriage! Feeling fat and depressed, its bad for your marriage.

JP accidentally threw me over his shoulder the other day.  He really, truly did. And it really, truly wasn't on purpose.  It was actually kind of funny. (after I recovered from the shock of hitting the floor and falling stupidly on my arm.) We were at karate practicing a self-defense technique.  Suffice it to say, if a guy the size of JP attacks me, I'm screwed.  Either that or I'll have to fight VERY dirty.

Home buying.  I'm starting to feel the pull to find "our" house.  I don't know where it is, but I do know its got a great-room layout and a pantry the size of a laundry room.  The pull's gonna have to wait a little while longer though.

Lacrosse.  Annie's started training for the season and I can't wait to see a game.  Its so neat to see her so enthused about a sport.

Em.  I'm missing my hamster.

Why do all kids movies sound the same?

Why do I like some shows that follow a set formula? (House, Kitchen Nightmares) but can't stand others?

Ironing.  Its what I need to get off this computer to go do.  That and some dinner fixing activities.

Marketing.  Need to spend some time on that tonight for our Martial Arts classes.

Love notes.  Got one the other night left on my pillow.  :)

Kid compliments.  Being called "My special mommy" and "cutie pie" make my day.

Lunch Boxes.  Save lots of money, but bring a certain amount of "stink" with them far too often.

Weekend.  Why am I thinking about what I need to do next week on Saturday afternoon?  Can't I just enjoy the weekend?

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Brains are gross.

I recently instituted the "If you've got a critique of dinner, then you may submit it in writing" rule, and tonight was the first time it was put to the test.

I grilled rib-eye steaks for Valentine's day dinner.  They tend to have some fat on them.  This is what Goob had to say about dinner:

I don't like fat.
Becas its gross.
It's like a brane.
It is olso lik goo.
But its for your brane.
And it looks werd.

Apparently his portion of steak had more fat on it than he would have preferred.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

When Lessons from Above Hit You Over the Head with a Frying Pan

Recently I got a new calling at church.  It was one of those "are you sure you've got the right person?" moments when they told me what they wanted me to do.  To which they replied, "Oh yeah, you're the one."

They wanted me to be the Visiting Teaching Coordinator.  The what?!?!?!  I'm going to be totally and completely honest here, Visiting Teaching has not previously been a part of my life. At least not in a regular way. My mom had an extremely bad experience with visiting teaching during my formative years and I think I was (am) a little bit afraid of it.  Couple that with having been raised to never invite myself to somebody else's home, but to always wait for the invitation, and getting called "hester the pester" every time I asked for something more than once, Visiting Teaching just hasn't been something I can really wrap my head around.

I've also never really had visiting teachers who ever came to see me.  I'd be willing to bet that in the 20 years I've been an adult, I've had fewer than 20 visiting teaching appointments kept by women assigned to me.  Its not a complaint, I'm sure if I "needed" it, I would have had them, but it wasn't something I really felt was missing from my life either.  But I do think that because there was not the example of regular visits too me, that I didn't/don't quite fully comprehend the importance that it may carry for other people.  I know intellectually that the program is important, but its not something I've felt in my heart, or experienced in my life on either the giving or the receiving end.

So, they call me to be the visiting teaching coordinator and I'm a little flabbergasted, and a little nervous, and ALOT confused by all the reports and various versions of the lists, and it feels like a little much.  But I know (again, intellectually, not fully with my heart) that there is a reason for all this and am willing (even if without the best attitude) to do what I'm asked because its not really anything I can't do.

But I'm still feeling a little unwilling, or uncharitable, or un-something.

Then, the other day Marsha, the owner of the Martial Arts School calls me to check on how a friend of mine who has been ill has been.  During our conversation she says:  Its so important that our students know we care about them and we notice when they're gone, and that we have genuine concern about them and their families.  It was easy for me to keep up with everybody when we first got out here but now that we've got about 300 students, I just need people who are willing to help check on them and see how they're doing and let me know if there's something I need to do to help them.

well FINE!  Seriously?  Do I have to get hit over the head with a cast iron skillet to get the lesson here?  I get it.  The military is using companies of women only to make headway in Afghanistan because they understand that the relationships women form are more likely to produce the kind of free-flow of information necessary to understand what's really happening in the communities they are struggling to get a foothold in.  Now Marsha's talking about how with about 300 people she has to have help to know what her students need.  I think I'm getting the message.  Maybe even LOUD AND CLEAR.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Clearly you never had a 3 year old of your own.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/35318008/ns/us_news-crime_and_courts/
I read this article last night and just can't stop thinking about this.  How on earth did this doctor get immunity from prosecution?  Will she keep her license?  Is she going to continue endangering children with high doses of ADULT medications based on their parent's reports that they are behaving like ungodly brats? Or in other words, they're acting like THREE YEAR OLDS!

You find me a three-going-on-four year old that doesn't seem hyperactive and or bi-polar and I submit to you that you have found a three-going-on-four year old who is either developmentally delayed, sick, or an absolutely perfect angel who will rain hell-fire and damnation on her parents when she goes through puberty in order to make them pay for the perfect toddler years.

Three-going on-four year olds are emotional! They are famous for being happy one part of the day and distraught the next.  Is it even possible to diagnose this kind of illness in a toddler?  This is an age where they are confused about the world around them, trying desperately to control their lives and separate their identity from their parent's.  I'm no psychiatrist but I know how three-going-on-four year old's behave, and its not pretty.  I'd be willing to bet that if I described any one of my children's or niece's or nephew's behavior at this age to a psychiatrist without telling them the age of the child (the article seems clear that the doctor knew this was a very young child, but relied solely on the parent's description of behavior) that they too would diagnose the kid with bi-polar disorder.  4 year olds have good days and bad days, and frankly, the bad days are really bad days.

Maybe I'm out of line even sharing my opinion on this given that I have no experience in the field, but something tells me this doctor behaved recklessly and should not be treating pediatric patients.  Its horrifying to think that a child died because of a selfish mother who found a way to work the system and get disability payments while simultaneously exempting herself from even having to try to parent or teach her children to control themselves, and that she was enabled by a licensed mental health practitioner.

SICK, SICK, SICK!