I Kill Citizens

It was a dark and snowy morning @6am . . . a few instant, sure characteristics of a bad day for me. . . I stumbled out of bed and into my laundry room to grab my running clothes out of the dryer. With my eyes still trying to peel themselves open, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that my bottle of bleach had tipped over on top of my dryer. Not thinking twice about this, because the cap was screwed on of course, I grabbed the bottle to return it to it's upright position. As I grabbed the handle, my palm met the label on the bottle which was completely drenched.

At this point everything on my body that was formerly only semi-conscious, woke up quickly. I began to asses the un-reversable damage of bleach, and started to pat the various stacks of the clean, folded laundry on top of my dryer. Everything felt fine, and then my eyes met the last stack before my hands did . . . I froze as I registered that my one and only favorite pair of designer Jeans were RUINED.

Now this post might seem somewhat petty and materialistic, but these jeans were my first big purchase after I graduated from college and had a real job. They were my envy that I could not afford as a poor student, (I actually still shouldn't be affording them as a newlwed either, not to mention an upcoming dental student's wife.) 

If it was anything else, I would have seen it as an opportunity to by a new one. But . . I, like most women, don't necessarily have the easiest time when it comes to shopping for jeans. It is a serious process for me that takes a lot of time, money, and alterations. Let the process begin . . .

Isn't it funny . .

Isn't it funny that my Grandma Happy (yes that's her name) STILL sends me a homemade birthday cake every year in the mail, complete with frosting, candles, plates, and valentine napkins?

Isn't it funny that my boss actually gave me these gorgeous flowers for my birthday, and that everyone kept saying , "Ahhhhhh, someone must really love you" . . . and I would grin and reply, "in the most appropriate way possible" . . . to avoid starting any uwelcomed office rumors of course.

Isn't it funny that the engineers at my office gave me this sweatshirt?

Isn't it funny that Niels hates Valentines Day, but he still decided that he would support my guilty fetish with gummi grapefruits, chocolate cinnamon bears, and Aussie licorice chews? I am pathetic, I know. Equally impressive act of Niels . . . please note the black and red bucket. He hand-picked this to tell me he got into UNLV Dental School. Go Rebels! The hideous piece of art was a wedding gift we had stuffed in a box. Niels thought it would go well with the rest of his get-up. Good job Babe!


Only in Utah part IV

No joke, this is a real add from a local catalog. Seeing how Utah is the only state where the average household has at least 6 kids . . . what better piece of furniture can one own than "bunkie cribs!!???" Call me crazy, but I happen to notice a striking resemblance to kennels here. 

Innocent and Shameless . .

I am always blown away by the hilarious things children say without meaning to be funny. . . I was sitting in singing time with the 4 & 5 year-olds that I teach at my church, when out of my peripheral vision I caught one of my young boys gazing at me with utter disgust. I asked him if everything was ok, when all of a sudden he picked up my hand, carefully examined my fake nails, and looked me straight in the eyes and said ,  "You need to trim these." 

"Mom, what are hot dogs made of?"

I came across this picture today on someone's blog and was slightly disturbed that it was likely fed to a poor child because their mom saw it in Martha Stewart Magazine and thought it was sooo clever & cute. Sure, I agree that it is sometimes necessary to be deceptive to make your kids eat well. But, an Oscar-Meyerpus a la green ramen noodles? Hid-e-ous.