Total eclipse of the heart...I mean sun

For about an hour yesterday, I had all my boys at a park by the library staring up at the sun, watching it be eclipsed by the moon.

Did I play "Total eclipse of the heart" very loud and sing it to my children and husband?

Yes, yes I did.

From our location, it got darker.  We weren't in the "path of totality" and got about 90% shade, but we went from full sun and heat to dusk and 15 degrees cooler.  I totally wish that we would have been the family that drove to see the eclipse.  But, maybe we can do it in 2024.

The boys thought it was cool, when they weren't wrestling and crotch grabbing and rolling down the hill at the park.  Mostly, I think they paid attention only because I told them that we'd get lunch after.  So, thanks, In and Out!

Sewing, sewing, sewing

I really wouldn't have guessed that, two years ago when I bought a sewing machine from Amazon so I could make a tooth fairy monster for my kids, that sewing would have turned into something that I  do nearly every single day.  It is something that I LOVE.  It feeds my brain, uses up all my creativity, and gives me an outlet when I'm stressed out and can find nothing else.

I've tried my hand at making clothing.  Two epic skirt fails and I got over clothing pretty quickly.  Although, I'll admit that I am pretty good at altering clothes, just not making them.

I've made quilts.  About 15 small quilts which all turned out better than I ever could have imagined  I've learned how to sew and make my own binding, which is, let's face it, kind of a pain.

But, what I love?  I love to make bags, pouches, purses, things with zippers and buttons and snaps.  The challenge of following a pattern or even better, designing my own is exciting.  I've messed up along the way, but even since last summer, my sewing has improved and If I could sew all day long every day, I'd probably do it.

And the bags?  Yeah, I sell those and for a "small business" that is only "out there" for family and friends and has a very small following, I'm not doing to shabby.  Still in the red, maybe forever, but it's cool.  I love to do it, and at least right now, can afford to do it.

That being said, I was so excited when I got accepted to the Beehive Bazaar this spring.  The Bazaar is a large scale crafter and handmade wares showplace that happens twice a year in Provo.  It's going on 11 or 12 years in existence and is a pretty big deal.  I've got about 7 weeks to get ready and make enough inventory for three days of the show.  Eek!  It's a lot of pressure but I'm pretty sure I can handle it.

After the show, with a little more "notoriety", I think that I'll head the way of an online shop, or maybe just do the craft show circuit for a while.  Not sure.  Too many possibilities.

Oh Honestly Handmade

About a month ago,  I launched a small business.  I've been making tote bags and zippered pouches as an obsessive hobby for a few months now, and finally got around to trying to sell some.  With two weekend boutiques under my belt, I've learned a lot and have a few ideas, I hope are good ideas, to move forward with.

I'm selling my bags on Instagram, and slowly filtering through ideas as to whether or not I should open my own website shop, or to open a shop on ETSY.  I think I'm leaning towards the latter, but just don't have the brain space to figure it all out right now.  Tis the season to not start a new business

But, I'll keep sewing, because it takes me to my happy place, and continue to sell a few bags here and there and then get ready for a real launch and a real plan at the beginning of the year.  You know, when no one has any money left over to spend on handmade items.

In the meantime however, here are a few pictures of some of the bags I've made.  If you are interested in purchasing a bag, or just coming to look at all of them, please don't hesitate to contact me and come over to take a look.

Kodaline :: Love Like This

This isn't a new song, but it's one I've been listening to a lot lately.  I really, really like it.

Running through the heat heart beat
You shine like silver in the sunlight
You light up my whole heart
It feels like in the sun, the sun
We're running around and around
Like nothing else could matter in our life
But wait, but wait, but wait
The sun will stop shining soon
And you'll be gone from my life
Yeah, you'll be gone, it's as simple as a change of heart
But I'm not gonna think about the future

A love like this won't last forever
I know that a love like this won't last forever
But I, I don't really mind, I don't really mind at all

Slipping into the night love
It grows dark but you don't mind
Hiding in the back streets, yeah, you'll never notice me
All that I was thinking about was cleaning up my conscience
Lost in the memory as it shakes up the corners of my heart
Was it my mistake?
Or maybe it was just as simple as a change in your heart
Just as simple as a change in your heart

I know now a love like this won't last forever
I know that a love like this won't last forever
But I, I know that a love like this won't last forever
I know that a love like this won't last forever
But I, and I

I don't mind at all
A love like this won't last forever
A love like this, a love like this
A love like this won't last forever

Bangarang!

Isn't it always funny how sometimes, out of nowhere, things hit you on an emotional level that you were not only completely unprepared for, but you have absolutely no idea why you even care?  And then, when you sit down for a minute to think about it, you realize that you do care a little, because well, parts of your life sort of molded around that one movie, or that one line, and then crap!  You're crying a little and watching clips on youtube and writing a blog post.

On our way out the door tonight to go to Ross' company's summer party at the zoo he mentioned to me in passing, reading twitter while walking out the door, that Robin Williams died, of an apparent suicide.  I didn't think much of it at the moment because we were hurrying to get going, but as the night progressed, and I did a little social media surfing myself, and a little internet searching when we got home, I got to thinking.  Robin Williams and many of the characters he portrayed, played a huge role in my childhood.  Just as big of a role as Jake Ryan ever did.

I adore the movie Hook.  Robin Williams is the best old man Peter Pan that there ever could be.  Last winter I bought the movie off the five dollar bin at target and made by boys watch it. They are used to cartoons, and don't have a lot of experience with "real people" movies, but once we got to Never Land and the lost boys there was no going back.  The magic of this movie, the pixie dust of its enchantment caught hold of them and they were, well, "hooked".  The message that if you are lost, you can always be found , that you can always go home, and that you never need to give up your childhood or your joy is priceless.  When the Lost Boys help Peter Banning finds his lost Pan, even as the old lady that I am, I get goose bumps.  And honestly, I say bangarang! a couple of times a week.



I had a Good Will Hunting Phase when I was in college. I watched that movie, with all it's "F" bombs at least once a week.  At first, it was definitely because of Matt Damon, but man alive, that scene where Robin Williams is ad libbing about his wife dying of cancer and that she would fart in her sleep? As irreverent as that was, it was one of the funniest and more honest movie scenes I've ever watched.  I felt like I was at a family party, not watching a movie, and isn't that what good acting is all about?

I've seen The World According to Garp, and Awakenings and The Fisher King all as late night or Saturday movies.  I've seen The Birdcage a couple of times, Good Morning Vietnam, Popeye, and the one where he is the Russian.  I've watched the final scene of one of his more recent dark comedies about a son who dies in a tragic accident/suicide (The Good Son I think?) at home and it's a pretty moving thing to watch.  As I started to think about it, I've seen so much.  There is so much out there.  From Mork and Mindy, to watching him on Johnny Carson with my mom, to the movies, I grew up with

But, what still gets me every time, no matter how cliche it might be, is Dead Poet's Society.  THAT is my teacher movie.  That movie was what inspired me to be a teacher.  I still remember seeing it in the theater. I remember, ironically, not being to certain about what suicide was and talking to my mom about it.  I also remember watching it when I was a little older, and guiding me to be the kind of teacher that would leave kids wanting to learn more, to be more.  To live deliberately and take all they could from their lives.

Besides the fact that I read Walt Whitman and Henry David Thoreau to my students, I wanted to teach my kids to be brave, to take a step outside of themselves if they needed to, and to not only be inspired but to inspire others.  Dead Poet's Society was my Hoosiers, and Professor Keeting was my inspirational teacher.  As a teacher, I tried to sound my barbaric YAWP on top of the world for all my students to hear.



I guess when it comes right down to it, it's just really sad to me, heartbreaking really, that some people have so much Barbaric YAWP left to give the world, famous or not, and they extinguish their own flame far too early.  Hopefully, when we all come to die, we discovered that we did live, and that, if we can swing it,  we always want to live a little bit more.

Maybe one day, I'd just really like to be able to give some one a set of those inspiring goosebumps.

Healthy Living, Round Two

Almost four weeks ago, I started my second 12 week healthy living challenge.  This time around, Haley and I are in charge, we got our husbands involved, and have a group of 21 family and friends participating with us.  We made some changes to the "rules", including an every other week, all or nothing (for points) weekly food challenge (like no dairy, no eating out, no gluten, etc.), and so far, it's been going well.

The two weeks in between the first challenge and this challenge were awful.  I felt miserable.  I was sick, ate crap, and felt like I had bricks in my stomach.  I hardly exercised and didn't go to the gym at all.  It was really bad.

But, with the first month nearly completed, my life feels back on track.  Exercising five days a week, getting enough sleep and water and eating all my fruits and vegetables suits me.  As does sugar only one day a week.  I probably could give that up, but I'm just not ready to give up everything.

Last week, we knew that our weekly dinner with my grandpa would be on Saturday night - we'd swim and my mom told us that we'd just have pizza.  In fact, we'd have Litza's Pizza, which happens to be not only pretty much my favorite pepperoni and sausage pizza round, but pizza I haven't had for at least 4 months or so.  I was so excited.  I knew, probably on Tuesday, that I'd be eating pizza on Saturday so I worked hard for it all week long.  I was going to indulge.  So, I hit the gym hard, ate salads for lunch all week, and was well below my calorie allotment all week long.

On Saturday, in the early afternoon, I talked to my mom.  Pizza was canceled.  My grandpa, who isn't a huge pizza guy anyway, had already had pizza that week, and it was Litza's.  So, our dinner plans had changed.  I got off the phone, and though it's embarrassing to admit it, I actually shed a tear or two.  I don't know if I'd ever wanted to eat something so desperately in my entire life.

Alas - it wasn't meant to be.

Alas again, neither my sister nor I could get that stupid pizza out of our heads.  On Monday night, Haley and her family indulged in the delicious treat and on Wednesday night I conveniently forgot what I was going to forget for dinner and.....Voila!

Litza's Pizza was for dinner.

I ate too much and it was delicious.  And I was sick the rest of the night.

Strangers

On Saturday morning I was downtown, by myself.  If you follow me on Instagram, I was headed into what would be an ill-fated hair cut appointment.  But, before all of that, I met a stranger.

In the parking lot, a man, probably the age of my parents,  and his large, what I would guess - labradoodle, were going for a walk and as I was headed into my appointment, he stopped me.  He told me that he was from Ohio, bringing his son and new daughter-in-law to Idaho and that they'd stopped in Utah for a few days.  He had never been before and wanted to know if the weather was always "this nice" in January.  Now, on Saturday morning there wasn't much of an inversion, the sky was blue, the sun was shining and it was 45 degrees when I got out of my car so "nice" was a bit of an understatement.  I told him that yes, generally speaking, the weather is nice like this often in the winter, but that we'd had some pretty cold and icky days - you know....talking weather with a stranger.

I turned to go into the building, and he kept talking.  He told me about Betsy, his wife, and their three children.  He told me how nervous he was that his son was moving so far from home (his other two children live close by - his youngest going to the University of Dayton) and that he and his wife would be first time empty-nesters.  He asked me about my parents (Are they both living? - odd question) and my siblings and I mentioned that my parents would soon be of the empty nest variety, too because my brother was leaving for two years to serve an LDS mission.

Well, that comment apparently opened the door he was waiting for, and I was - in a kind and sincere and curious way, bombarded with questions.

"Are you a Mormon?" he asked point blank.  "I assume that you are because you have just been so nice." He said.

"Yes, I am."  I replied.

He wanted to know all about my brother's mission.  He wanted to know if I had served a mission.  Had my husband?  Had my father?  He wanted to know what Welfare Square was (he saw it from the freeway).  He knew a Mormon in Ohio 25 years ago and that Mormon worked for the Church for a church farm and wanted to know about Humanitarian aid.

After about 15 minutes of talking in the parking lot I started to get cold and was late to my ill-fated haircut appointment.  But, I kept talking (good thing I was early to start with).  He was going home in the afternoon so he had a couple of hours to kill before his son dropped him off at the airport, and he wanted to know what to do.

I told him:
You cannot come to Salt Lake City without seeing Temple Square and to go there first - temple square, the church history museum and the family history library.  I told him that if he still had time, he could wander around City Creek and grab a bite to eat.  Then, I told him he could go to Library Square because the Library is cool.  And finally, I told him if he wanted, to ride trax straight up 4th south and wander around the University of Utah campus because college campus' are cool.

Finally, he apologized for taking so much of my time.  He shook my hand (two handed shake, for the record though, I got the vibe that he wanted to hug me) told me that I had a beautiful city, and walked away with his giant fuzzy dog.

It's kind of a funny thing.  Stuff like this happens to my mom all the time.  She seems to have a sign painted on her forehead that says, "Talk to me.  Tell me your life story.  I am a good listener."  I cannot tell you the number of times I've been with her, on a metro, at a restaurant, on an elevator, walking through a new city, where someone finds her and gabs her ear off.  This generally doesn't happen to me, largely because I scowl and avert my eyes to the ground to avoid the gaze of others.  But, the older I get, the more it seems that I have the same thing stamped on my forehead.

And, the reality of it is, it's a pretty cool thing.

some people say they look alike.

My boys are clones.  They look like each other.  They look like brothers.  They also look a lot like their dad.  Like, often an uncanny resemblance of their dad.

Case in point.

My super sessy husband circa 1997.  Senior in high school.  Debate team.  Model UN.  Giant glasses.

My one year old.  At the fabric store late one night last week.  Wearing my moms glasses, which look giant on him.

Let the anxiety begin....

Tomorrow night is Ross' company dinner in Park City.  There aren't a lot of instructions about the dress, but I figured it was one step above church, but limited on the number of sequins per outfit.  A tough road for me to haul considering my entire day, every day is spent in jeans and a stripped t-shirt.  Or jeans and a stripped sweater.  I own a lot of stripes.

Business causal?  Semi-formal?  Sunday dress?  Semi-formal?  I cannot figure any of this stuff out.

Anyway, thanks to my in-laws right after Thanksgiving I had a couple of hours to myself, which never usually happens, so I went shopping for something to wear.  Since then, I've tried the outfit on several times, not sure if it really works.  On Monday I purchased my first pair of Spanx to make the outfit fit a little bit better.   Still not sure.  I bought some new shoes, but fear the heel is too tall and I'll be towering over my husband.  I mean, I'm a bit of an amazon in my regular life, do I really need shoes with a heel?

I had a baby three months ago and I'm super jiggly and my hair is really short.  I pretty much feel like Fiona the Ogre from Shrek every where I go.  Jeans and stripped t-shirts and a little big of make-up to make life bearable every day do not a fancy night out on the company dollar make.

Today, the anxiety has hit.  Maybe if I don't wear the skirt?  Maybe if I find a different sweater?  Maybe if I go to another store to look for shoes?  Who is going to talk to me?  Who am I going to let make me feel like a dork because I'm a stay at home mom who they think doesn't have anything to talk about?  Who is going to say something to me that will make me feel stupid?  What happens if someone does try to talk to me but I get nervous and freeze like I did as a little girl and just stare like a spaz?

You get the point?  I can confidently teach a lesson to a ballroom of people no sweat.  I can host a small party with people I know at my house.  I cannot make small talk with strangers.  I cannot remember peoples names.  I cannot go find someone to talk to.  I can sweat and stutter and look like a dork.  New social situations paralyze me, let alone having to talk to someone while I'm eating.

So, I've been sick to my stomach all morning fretting over something totally insignificant (first world problems, I know.).  Okay, more than fretting.  Sweating and nauseous.  I've held my skirt in my hand.  I've looked at all my shoe options.  I've held the sweater up to other skirts in my closet.

I might cry.

Imagine how I'll be tomorrow.  When I actually have to get dressed.  When I have to comb my short hair in a way that I don't look like a boy.  When I have to put on a little bit more make-up than my everyday barely there, but I don't really know how to wear make-up.

I might need to call in sick.

2:00 in the am

Nearly every single night, I wake up at 2:00 am.  It used to be 4:00 am, but things change.

Usually, it's to go to the bathroom and then head back to bed.  Occasionally, it's for a drink.  Sometimes, it's because I've got low blood sugar and need something to eat.  Every once in a while it's because of a charlie horse in my leg or a twitchy back muscle, or a swift kick to the kidneys.

Regardless, If I'm lucky, the wake-up call lasts about 40 minutes and I'm back to sleep, waiting for 6:30 when I have to get up for real.  If I'm not lucky, it's a rough night, with at least 4 hours awake.  I watch movies on the computer, catch up on TV shows and read blogs.  I pace the house, peek in on my kids, and listen to my husband snore - him upstairs and me down.

These days though, I rarely get frustrated...or at least as frustrated as I used to.  Maybe it's because I'm lucky to be alive and have a quiet house to wander and a safe neighborhood to live in.  Maybe its because I know that in a few months, I'll be up anyway so it isn't a big deal.

Maybe it's just because I'm getting older and insomnia is just something that life throws at me and I'm learning to deal with it.

Either way, I'm going back to bed to try it again.  Wish me luck.  I've only been up 29 minutes.

Ouch!

Last Saturday I went with a friend to get a pedicure.  Two years ago on my birthday, my husband gave me a gift certificate for a pedicure.  A few months ago I gave it to my friend because I thought she would be more likely to use it.

She invited me to go.

I picked yellow.  My boys said the flowers on my toes look like spiders.



By the end of Saturday I'd already scuffed the polish up pretty bad and got a little wierded out by the yellow so I applied a thin layer of gold glitter to all 10 toes. It's better now.

When I got home from the pedicure it was time to get to business. First, I stopped at the gas station and got a coke. Then my husband and boys got home from the doctor and they brought me a coke. Score! One had lime and the other lemon so I was pretty happy. Second, it was time to make potatoes. A young girl with cerebral palsy passed away in my neighborhood/ward and I volunteered to fix some scalloped potatoes for the family luncheon.

To keep the potato slices uniform, I decided to use the mandolin slicer. On my second potato, I quite literally sliced off more than I was prepared for and took a huge chunk of my thumb off.

I swore.

It hurt.

Under the cold water, the blood was gushing. This kind of think normally doesn't phase me, but on this day, with this thumb, I was starting to lose it. The thumb got wrapped in a cold towel and elevated. It was throbbing and I was woozy.

I marched myself to the bathroom and sat on the toilet with my thumb under some more cold water. Seriously thought those delicious diet cokes were going to come back up for a visit.

Such a wimp.

In the end, my kind husband bandaged my thumb's missing parts (and a big chunk of finger nail, too), helped me off the floor to the couch and got me an ice pack. I settled into the couch in all my spastic glory and watched more house hunters than should be allowed.

Ross finished my potatoes. By the time they were done and needed to be to the church I had cowboyed up.

But only for the next 30 minutes or so. Thank heavens I was home alone and no one was looking.

I was only brave until Sunday morning when I had to take the bandaid off. Part of the adhesive was stuck to my wound. It was time for wimp round two....eventually, after about 15 minutes I was man enough to pull the bandaid off.

That made me a bit dizzy, too.

More freezer paper

I have a confession.  I am totally addicted to freezer paper stenciling.

It was absolutely necessary to make 8 skull and crossbones pirate shirts for the five year olds birthday party last week.

It was also absolutely necessary to make orca whale shirts for our trip to Sea World in a few weeks.

And, it was also absolutely necessary to make a shirt for my brother.  Because he asked me.  Through a tweet.

Notes to self:

Note to Self 1:  Nutella, when kept in the garage during the winter gets cold.  It gets so cold that when you bring it in the house to prepare breakfast for little munchkins it is frozen solid.  From now on, keep Nutella in the house at 74 degrees.

Note to Self 2:  When deciding to microwave nutella because it is frozen, make sure to take all the foil seal off of the top of the plastic container.  ALL THE FOIL SEAL.  Otherwise, you'll miss a little smidgy widgy edge and your microwave will send off sparks!  And those sparks are not because it's happy to see you.

Note to Self 3:  A chicken mcnugget kids meal including apple slices is only 29 grams of carbs.  That is perfectly acceptable in your renewed carb conscious counting diabetic "diet".  When you are allowed 60 carbs per meal, 29 fits in quite nicely and gets you a decent french fry fix.

Also, nugget (or is it nuggett?  or nugett?) is hard to spell.

Note to Self 4:  When you have a hard time sleeping at night, a quick nap during the day seems like a really good idea.  But, that 45 minute indulgence will delay  your ability to sleep at night by over two hours.  2 hours of tossing and turning when you are already getting to bed an hour or so later than normal is not worth the nap.

Note to self 5:  Candy thermometers lie!

A typical Sunday night

Every Sunday we join the family for dinner at my mom's house.  We eat at 5:00 pm, but everyone gets there a little bit early and then after dinner we hang out all night.  It seems that each and every Sunday though, we fall into the same routines.  Everyone sits in the same spots, does the same stuff, and we talk and laugh, and some of us (dad!) snore a bit.

Last night I decided to do a quick run through the house to photograph everyone in their designated spots.

Last night we ate dessert first. Cherry dump cake, a family favorite.

That handsome brother of mine, who will never tweet me back because he says twitter isn't for conversations even though he twits back all the other people he tweets with, doing his hard math problems for his math teacher who, whenever anyone asks her a question says, "My husband is nearly blind!"

The super smart math teacher sister helping the handsome brother with his hard math problems.

All the little chillin's with grandma ma. Usually, they are in the basement playing air hockey, pirate dinosaurs, or watching bull riding. Last night they were all playing Elmo in Grouch land on the computer.

The over 30 men's crowd watching football, reading tweets about football, sleeping through football, and making work appointments for the next day while watching football. Once football ends, they'll find something else to watch, usually ESPN classic or some "fat guy eating greasy food" show.

And then, there's me. Last night, like most Sunday nights, I don't really have a crowd. I float. I'm too dumb to do math. I'm too lazy to entertain the kids (though Molly wog did sit on my lap for like 15 minutes, a record, to watch Elmo movies on my phone). I'm too disinterested to watch football. I'm too unemployed to talk about taxes. Sometimes I'll color a picture.

What you wish for

Today is quite the day, yes?

11/11/11

it's 11:11 am.

What did you wish for?

I'm not telling you what I wished for.

My boys?

They got ice cream sundaes for breakfast.






It's also Veterans Day.

Thank you Veterans.

I'm not sure what to say about it, except that I've been thinking about this song all morning.  It really has nothing to do with Veterans Day, isn't patriotic at all, but for some reason, it sort of makes me think of America and the beautiful country that I live in.

The song is, "Nature of the Beast" by the Samples (written by Sean Kelly)

It reminds me of road trips and mountains and being a high school history teacher.  I actually made my students listen to this song a couple of times to see what they thought of it.



They didn't care.

Shock.

Have a great day of elevens.

The Sewing Summit

My good friend Erin is an amazing "sewist".  She makes capes and quilts and mug rugs (oh my!)  She is also part of a very creative blogging/sewing circle of women around the country (and in Canada) and with that as inspiration she and her friend Amy decided to create a conference - they called it "The Sewing Summit" and it started last night downtown at the Little America Hotel.

I've worked on the back-end of many conferences in my life and know how much work goes into the planning, organizing, and coordinating of such an event.  It's a ton of work.  I'd been bugging Erin to let me volunteer to help out for weeks and weeks and she finally gave in to my nagging and decided that I could run their registration table on opening night.

I spent most of my day yesterday meeting other very talented and creative women who came in from all over the country to be inspired and meet each other.  Most of these women are bloggers, having never met each other in person, but spending a lot of time being friends with each other and chatting online so it was pretty funny to see some of them just downright giddy to finally meet each other.

It was truly a lot of fun and I was so happy to be able to help.  Thanks Erin, for the experience.

 

Being Crafty, day one

(This week, because I'm feeling crafty, I thought I'd write a couple posts about some of the nerdy craft things I've been working on. Enjoy. Or mock. Whichever you'd like.)

A week or so ago, while trolling Pinterest I came across a picture that I just had to pin. It was a collection of fall wreaths. They were cute and inspiring. I looked at the pin nearly every day for the last week and thought, I can do that. Mine didn't turn out nearly as cute as the one that I pinned, but it still turned out just fine.

Considering that I have no holiday decorations at all because I've spent the last many years being a scrooge, having something cutesy in the house is a nice touch.

I bought a straw wreath, some gray yard and a piece each of black and yellow felt. The entire project cost me $8 and some change.  It took me about two hours to wrap the straw wreath in the yarn (I should have gone smaller in size and styrofoam in material...next time.) and about two minutes to make the bats, the moon, and hot glue them on.

Something cute and festive for the new house.

I guess I'll keep it.

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down....

I love to sleep. There may not be anything in the world I like better than a mid day nap on a warm day with a slight breeze. I'll open my window, find a light blanket, dim the lights and drift off to la la land for an hour, or two, and it's sheer bliss. I look forward to the days when my boys are old, and then like to sleep in and I can be one of those moms who doesn't get dressed on a Saturday morning, or Christmas vacation until 11:00 or later. Oh, that will be the day.

The spring has been so cool this year that my tulips have lasted twice as long. I'm having a huge internal dilemma about my flowers. Do I leave my tulip bulbs for the new people to enjoy in the spring or do I dig them all up and bring them with me to my new home? And, what about my peony? I've been taking care of it for almost three years and this year, I think, is the year it's actually going to flower. How do I safely get it out of the ground? I desperately want my flowers but I don't know the best way to transfer and protect them.

This is what I think about when I'm trying to not think about anything else.

Naps and flowers.

And pulling weeds.

I really like to do yard work. I enjoy mowing the lawn and pulling weeds and planting flowers. I do not enjoy grasshoppers or hornets or crickets but I suppose that goes with the territory.

There are so many things I like about what will soon be my new house, but what I'm most looking forward to is having a new yard. A bigger yard with more flower beds, more grass, and for the first little while, enough weeds to pull to keep me busy for a long time.

I may be setting up the yard, before I set up the house.

Oh, I'm excited.

I can hardly wait.

When technology fails...

At the end of the month I'm doing a booth presentation at the BYU Women's Conference with my sister Haley and our adopted sister Emily.  Our topic is this:

Social Technology: Good, Better, Best

We're creating a booth for the sharing stations about how to make the best use of time, talents, and spirituality using all these social networking tools available on the Internet and elsewhere.  I think that it's going to be a neat experience and one that I can put on my resume.  Oh wait.  I don't have a resume anymore.

That however isn't the point of this post.  Just a plug.  Really, just a good segway, if you will, into what I really wanted to blog about.

My stupid iPhone.

You see, I got an iPhone two years ago for my birthday.  It was a lovely surprise.  I was a little sad and overwhelmed because the Chick was itty bitty and life felt to hard.  I spent the weekend of my birthday with a malfunctioning blackberry and I was freaking out because my communication device wasn't communicating.

Then I opened my birthday present and it was a spanking new phone and my husband was sneaky, sneaky slowly turning off the service of my old phone and messing with my head.

Fast forward nearly two years.  I wanted an upgrade.  In a huff because I was probably ticked off I went to the closest AT&T store over a month ago to get a new phone.  I had cash.  I thought I had an upgrade available to me.

I had an upgrade.  My husband had used it to get HIS phone.  Something that didn't register with me at the time and I wasn't even listed on my cell phone account so I couldn't do anything anyway.

Grrrrr....

In the end, Ross came through and got me my new phone.  But then I didn't activate it for almost a month.  At Disneyland, I carried around two phones.  The one I used to call and text and check e-mails and the one I was taking pictures with.

Super dork.

A week and a half ago I had Ross activate the phone for me.  It was a hassle because he'd bought it through work - technically for his phone number and he had to have a discussion with the tech folks.

I finally had my new phone, sans a good case, and was ready for action.  What did I do?  I started obsessively planning angry birds and fighting Elliott for bird time on the phone.  Seriously.  I'm that big of a loser.  Together we were conquering the evil pig empire and loving it.  He'd sit on my lap and we'd take turns.  We'd even let our little brother have a chance to shoot birds the wrong direction and into rocks.

But, I digress.  After only about 10 days of using the new phone I was on a call with Ross last Thursday when out of nowhere the call dropped.  Not only did the call drop, but I got the ugly "no service" message where I should have seen bars.

I turned the phone off and on and tried to reset it about 6 times.  Nothing was working.  I was frantic and panicked.  I sent e-mails.

I HAD NO PHONE!  Even worse - NO TEXT.

It dawned on me to plug the phone into a computer.  I got a nasty message telling me that the apple network whatever wasn't installed and working.

Oh no.  How did that happen?

On Friday morning Ross called AT&T and after a good 30 minutes or so on the phone realized that they couldn't help him.  I took the phone to the closest store Friday morning.  The girl helping me put in a new sim card.  Nothing.  She looked at me and said,
"I'm sorry.  I cannot help you.  This isn't an AT&T issue.  Your going to have to take the phone to the Apple store.  I'm really sorry.  I can help you schedule an appointment."

Dun, dun, dun.......

Take it to the apple store?  Schedule an appointment?

WHAT?

You see, the apple store is so busy that you have to make an appointment to get help.  Even if you just walk into the store to purchase something, they won't help you without an appointment.  It's that busy.  It's that crazy.

I made my appointment for 6:40 Saturday night.  I got a dinner date out of the deal, so it worked out nicely I suppose.

How does this long store end?  Like this.
1) I had to wait 20 minutes past my appointment time to get help.  During that time my husband was grumpy and grumbly and ready to yell at someone.
2) The guy that helped me at the apple store was awesome.  Tall, cute, nice.  He gave me a new phone and didn't really ask me too many questions.
3) Annie has a phone that works.  Yeah.  Even though the back up we did right before taking it to the store didn't seem to stick and now I have a new phone and no apps.

What does that mean?

You guessed it.

The boys and I have to start over on angry birds.

not quite dead yet....

Last night I played basketball.

I was nervous about it all day.  Spent most of the day sick to my stomach.  I had Ross e-mail me a list of orthopedic doctors covered by our insurance just in case I torn something in my knee.

I played the entire first quarter.

Two minutes in the second quarter.

All but two minutes in the third quarter.

The entire fourth quarter.

I had 6 points and 10 rebounds so says the husband that was keeping stats.

It was the first basketball game I have played in....wait for it......EIGHT YEARS!

When I got to sit at the end of the first quarter I thought 1) I might have asthma and 2) I'm going to throw up.

I did not puke.

Today however, I cannot walk.  I limp like a 63 old lady with arthritic joints who needs a knee replacement.  My body aches, I still haven't caught my breath and I'm exhausted.

But, like all former "athletes" (term used loosely) I had fun.  I had enough fun that I'm playing again tonight at 8:00.

I'll be in the hospital tomorrow if you'd like to send flowers.