For the Win

 

My roommate has a cat. Her name is Bea. (THIS IS NOT BEA)

Bea and I have an interesting relationship. Having worked with animals with malleable manners (parrots, dogs, horses, pretty much everything else), it has always miffed me this cat thing.

No pecking order. No Alpha. Just independent-un-caring-of-authority felines.

Let's be real though. There's a certain amount of respect that cats will lend you if you:


A. Perform some great act of hunter prowess (i.e. kill the string)
B. Manage to provide them a comfortable sitting/cuddling space
C. (This is the big one) You maintain eye contact...until the cat is forced to look away.

I'm generally able to perform in all categories. But the latter is my forte if you will. Bea cannot seem to get that I am the champ. She will try to start the contest when I am not currently looking. Therefore invalid.

But for the record, I'm the reigning champion.

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Courageously Restarting

I forgot about my blog. (boo-hiss) Luckily I don't have a TON of followers or else that would get awkward.........


I'd like to think that starting over is perfectly normal. Exercising. Few of us have 100% attendance. Same with eating healthy. I actually had a journal entry about this just this morning! Funny how things crop up. I don't believe in coincidence either.

The blog was something for me to use the literary word to express myself during difficult times or ironic times or funny times or just plain good times. I find that I miss that feeling. But I grew up - graduated college and moved to a new place where I got caught up in trying to connect to real-life people. So now that I'm settled - nearly 3 years later - "I'M BACK!!!!"

You wouldn't think about it but the Lord wants us to always understand the idea of starting over. I think as humans it's almost second nature to let things slip and then try again and then let it slip and try again and again and again. The Atonement of Jesus Christ allows us to do this. No matter what the circumstance is. So even for my silly blogging that got dropped for a few years...starting over again always feels so good! So. Let the adventure begin. Again.

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Sneezing gone awry

nose: Oh...that tickles...that REALLY tickles!! All I need is a small sneeze for this one. I'll have to call the brain.

nose rings over to brain

brain: Hello nose! How are things over there?

nose: Oh there's always the ups and downs. At the moment I've got an awful itch! Could you do me a favor? 

brain: I know exactly what you need! I'll talk to all the muscles needed for the job.

nose: Oh thank you! Thank you!

brain rings down to abs, pecs, and throat

throat: Hey brain! What's goin on up there? Neck told me he had a feelin something was goin down.

brain: Oh nothing big. It's just that nose has quite the tickle he needs getting rid of.

throat: Oh that's nothing. We'll take care of him. I'll get things started.

brain: Great. I'll just relay to pecs and abs.

pecs: Brain? What is it?

brain: A sneeze is in order. 

pecs: All right. I'm on it.

abs: Brain! I haven't heard from you in a few days. 

brain: Well things have been pretty quiet since the surgery. You up for a sneeze yet?

abs: Ummm... Lemme check. *grunt* *grumble* OUCH! Oh no...nope I can't do it yet!

brain: Uh oh...I'd better stop the sneeze!!!

The body winds up ready for the pitch. Every part ready for impact.

 brain over body system intercom

brain: CEASE FIRE!! CEASE FIRE!! Abs can't help yet. Nose...I'm sorry. But you're just gonna have to deal with it for now. Maybe next time buddy.

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Habit-killer

Change. It doesn't bode well for some people. The worst is when it comes and kills the uniformity of habit. Especially if it's a good habit. For example:

The Kitchen Garbage Can

The garbage can has always resided under the kitchen sink. Always. Forever. Since before time and even the creation of time. So growing up, I always walked into the kitchen opened the cupboard door without thinking and tossed the undesirable trash into the trash receptacle where it belonged. All of 23 years I've done this. Without too much complicated thought to the process either. 

Today, it got stinky as garbage cans are wont to do. Mumsy put it out in the garage, I suppose to make it think about what it's done. ;)

Every blasted thing I throw away I have to make the long trip to the garbage can. First to the kitchen to it's usual residence under the sink to where the frustration lies.

Every time I open the door and look in to find the bare spot, I curse (the clean kind of cursing of course) and make my way either to the laundry room or the garage where the garbage cans actually are. Twice the amount of effort for something I don't particularly care for. That's the point of throwing it away you see. Blasted change. No matter how much I tell myself I won't go back to the empty cupboard, the pure FORCE of habit makes me go and open the door again and again and AGAIN!

I guess it's good for the exercise in the least.

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Eating snow babies

Oh snow. How you and I have battled through the years. You win some. I win more.

The cold time of year has begun and you had a win today. I slipped and took a tumble. But... I won more. I ate your babies.

Yes. I ate them.

I caught them with my tongue as they fell happily to the ground. They are screaming and wailing inside my body. Melted and suffering in my warm belly. 

You must have a short memory because this is my only revenge and yet you keep coming back for more. I could do this all day.

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Passionfruit

There's a lot in the world to be obsessed about. Growing up I had a huge obsession with horses. Anything that had to do with horses was by far my favorite (whether or not it deserved such elevation in my little world).

Although I have small obsessions like giraffes, collecting notebooks/journals, bracelets, stapling papers together, and sports to name a few, there is one mainstream passion that I have begun to notice taking over my life.

I absolutely adore, love with all my heart, cannot do without, must do all day for the rest of my mortal life...

Getting to know myself. I certainly don't know myself as well as I should and I don't know half the things about myself that I observe in my friends and family on a regular basis. I know what I like and what I love but not why. It's like I'm a mystery!!! (that was for you Abbie Dean) A soul waiting inside for me to discover. I have always enjoyed getting to know people, their little quirks, why they do things the way they do. But until recently had never thought to discover myself.

I spread the peanut butter on one slice first and then wipe the remaining off on the other slice of bread before spreading the delicious jam or jelly of choice BECAUSE that's how my mother always prepared our PB and Js when I was a little tike.

I like to organize and clean my surroundings when I'm feeling nervous or uncertain BECAUSE I've discovered that when I feel like I have control over one menial thing, I have some control over life no matter how hectic it may seem. 

I sing loudly and without abandon to the radio BECAUSE I love life. Life holds so much joy in every day and singing out loud just for the heck of it makes me happy.

I pray all the time...like ALL the time, so much in fact, I'm sure I've heard the Man Upstairs sigh a time or two when I call his name...but all joking aside. I pray to a God that lives BECAUSE when I know something to be true I do my best to live by it. I know He will answer my prayers and listens to the small little problems in my life and does His best to comfort me.

God has given me so much. Even just considering me as a human being and His spirit daughter, I have a lot to be thankful for. Every time my faith falters, every time my soul cannot grasp onto hope's bright light, every time my head hangs down, my Heavenly Father is there for ME because he loves ME.

If the Supreme Being of the universe loves me that much, then there must be something special about me.

That is my new obsession. Finding myself through my Savior, seeing my true reflection through His eyes.

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Melts and Hot Air Balloons

There once was a little girl named Shley. Dreams of being a grand prestigious artist had always been hers.

One day her friend Bie and she decided to have an adventure. They gathered their crayons around them and some canvases and blow dryers and a little bit of sticky super glue...and they started creating.

After messes and frantic searches and sticky fingers, masterpieces emerged.

We call this the SHAGGY DOG...

Rainbow...duh

Mud castle/Fangorn forest

 Will she sell these pieces of art? Oh no. They are far too wonderful to trade for mere moneys!

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Golden delirium

I watch the little white fluffs coasting down from grey low-cast skies. Street lights cast a glow of gold across the white terrain, almost beguiling me. 

But I'm no fool. 

There is no warmth on the other side of the double-paned glass that I look through. It is a false type of gold. 

Hell's gold.

The real gold won't come for a long while it seems. The presence of cold and slushy snow drifts acts to push back its coming. 

The world has been subjected to this cool silver season for a small eternity. Every year it seems to last longer than the winter prior. And colder. It's always colder than the last roll around. 

Heat. 

That's what I look forward to. Hot molten sunlight saturating my skin and hair. Inhaling spicy summer air, warming my frozen soul. Gold and lively green hues surrounding me and feeding my dull spirit. Sunlight reaching into every dark corner and refurbishing the winter dilapidated happiness.

To run through fields of lush green grass chasing balls and frisbees. To catnap in sunlight's warm embrace. To accompany nature's inhabitants through morning's first waking, along deer trails and mountainsides. To explore the wilderness of a hidden grove. To lay in repose, watching the clouds drift lazily across an ocean-blue sky. To watch tiny seedlings swell to adulthood in the sun's daily presence. To lose yourself in the pink and white frothed orchards.

These are what I hunger for and every winter I'm left wanting. Starving.

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Finding myself: Part animal

I'm a child of impulse. As such I throw cares to the wind. My nature compels me to whimsical and lively activities. Life needs to be lived. Anytime in my life, when I've let an opportunity pass me by, I've looked back with regret. I am finding that although the activities I participate in bring only temporal happiness, by doing them, I become closer to finding my elusive self. These are what makes the road to eternal joy more passable.

Never has there ever been a moment in my life that I haven't wanted to own a horse. As a child I used to watch horses move with amazement. Grace, power, and beauty all mixed into one four-legged creature. They are "the most beautiful, the most spirited and the most inspiring creature ever to print foot on the grasses of America." (1)

kiddo leading Ro...

A 3 year old bay Quarter horse, Ro came to me as a bag of bones with a wild look in her eyes. Because of my starry-eyed ideas of what owning a horse entailed, Ro was given to me for free. I jumped on the chance to own my very own horse. (don't be deceived by the picture...she can be a little snot)

Now...something you need to know about me is...I am weird. To most of you this isn't news. Well as a child, I had a harder time harnessing the weirdness in me. I loved the idea of horses so much, that I contorted my hands into horses. (Middle finger = head and neck. Pointer / ring fingers = front legs. Thumb / pinky = back legs.) And... I became quite proficient at moving around on my hands and knees. I'm well known in the minds of children as the perfect horsey.

My arm and Rikki...

Rikki. My little pal. An Aussie/Lab/Collie mix, she has the same pursuit of happiness that I have always had. Always curious, full of energy, bubbling with happiness, and a natural-born soccer player, Rikki and I get along real swell.

As a side note, I've always been the "Can we keep it Mommy?" type of kid. I brought home frogs, big bugs, hurt birds (doves, hummingbirds), captured rodents, mother-repellent reptiles, scraggly looking stray cats, occasional salamanders, handfuls of potato bugs/millipedes, recovering chickens, you name it. If it crawled, I snatched it up. I had a soft spot in my heart for the homeless animals and still do. To my mother's consternation, I continue to bring home any strays (Ro, Rikki, Red, cats, tried for a baby goat the other day...) that come my way. 

Next time...Looks for myself: Hair Part

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Flimsy flamsy

So...I know all of you wonderful people are getting sick of the fickleness of my template design choices. I have indeed been quite dissatisfied with nearly every design I've had thus far until now. I was able to design this one on my own for the most part and I absolutely adore it!!! I want to say that I'll keep this one for ages but I am quite a flimsy flamsy so there is no guarantee...

But I hope that all of you enjoy it as much as I do and that it is aesthetically pleasing to all who visit the awesomeness it contains.

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Books of paradise

There are many times in my life when I just need to cuddle up on the couch or curl up on my bed and read a good book! 

Sometimes I*m in the mood for a gushy-like-gushers; cheesy-like-the-delicious-squeaky-kind; sappy-as-a-pine-tree romance novel. Other times I*m in need of an honest to goodness C.S. Lewis novel for some deep soul searching and philosophical ponderances. Every night I crack open the Book of Mormon (1) for some serious studying to find life changing answers and comforting words. When I*m up for it I*ll grab a Sherlock Holmes mystery and puzzle my way through it. 

But the books I will never tire of. The books that capture my attention every time I look at the cover. Books with cunning wit. Books of stunning insight and out-of-this-world knowledge. Books that make me laugh until I cry or cry until I laugh. Books that change my life. 

These are books of the paradisical glory of which I speak...

Me and my awesome nose...oh; and the book is there too.

The Complete Book of Nose Etiquette
 ...and other nasal matters

written by Dr. Doight du Nez

drawings by Steve Bjorkman

Never before have I stumbled upon such a work of greatness. Well...it was more my uncle. He was foraging through his old room and its remaining occupants and brought it up to us. I snatched it and haven*t relinquished it since. With amazing depictions of the different nose types in existence; the book describes the 7 basic nose types; discusses the different booger removal techniques available; and even lists some easy do-it-yourself ways to get the nose you*ve always dreamed of. This is by no means light reading.

If you can see my eyes...you might be ninja...

The Ninja Handbook

This book looks forward to killing you soon

Official product of the International Order of Ninjas

This wondrously sneaky book came as a not-so-surprise Christmas gift from an esteemed foe of mine. As is his nature; he tends to think that I need help in this area (little does he know I wrote Section II deducing your ninja level and Section IV the skills of a ninja). In this book it discusses secrets of the elite ninja lifestyle. As the title denotes it is a handbook of sorts. But as with everything else that is awesome; being a ninja goes far and beyond what is contained in this teeny tiny book as all real ninjas well know. 

note: there are serious penalties to those who read this book and disperse the actual contents of its pages...you have been warned...

I*m just a small town girl trying to figure things out...

This Is NOT A Book

Written by Keri Smith creator of Wreck This Journal

This Is NOT A Book was an interesting item to come across. It really isn*t a book. I didn*t read it. Every page contains a new adventure to be performed by the owner (me). From creating Treasure Maps to Psychological mood-altering machines to Kits for boring events. This book is stuffed with crazy random missions for the bored-out-of-your-mind type people or people who need some serious awesomeness in their lives. Some day when I*ve completed all of the pages inside...I will be so mind-bogglingly fantastic no one will know what to do with me.

Well...that is assuming they know what to do with me now...as a normally fantastic person...

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Undertable activities of fun-ness

I live in a land of extreme cold weather. It is Utah. It*s the way it is here. Logan is a college town. I am a college student. Logan and I met. Cold and I don*t like each other. Logan and I are really good friends despite that bad relationship. My apartment isn*t very good at guarding against the cold. With little insulation; thin walls; and leaks in most diverse places; cold doesn*t need to be sneaky to find its way into my humble abode.

However; my roommate and I have done some research. There are ways recently discovered to reduce the effects of chilling (a symptom of cold*s presence). I came down the stairs to find her under the dining table where the heater is. Genius!! I warmed my rice bag and grabbed a blanket to join her underneath the table. 

And thus it commenced...

Pan*s idea not mine...

Ducky!! Yep! Yep! Yep!

This is my lost orphan hair

Besides this we watched fabulous youtube videos; an episode of Lie To Me; and playing on my computer. The best part was...we stayed warm!

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Day of conundrums

First conundrum: To wake or not to wake?

Out in the world of the awake is a haggard life full of dreary colors and drawn faces. No warmth resides in earth*s first morning breath. The happiness of the sun*s rising has not yet come to pass. The remaining winter bird*s twittering and lilting songs are absent. No sane creature stirs from its place of slumber. A sombre existence in a cognizant world.

Second conundrum: To class or not to class?

A professor*s lecture; full of pomp and vague humor; falls upon many closed ears. Numerous thoughts revolve around a world of dreams and happy hauntings sporadically tapping into instruction. A scarce few nod to the beat of exhaustion and button their eyes secure to the drone of the professor*s lulling oration; which arrests sycophantic attention alone. The chosen subject parades no excitement or fascination to claim justification for the sinful earliness of the rendition. The sandbag man is a far more virtuous and heeded competitor in this dark hour. 

 

Third conundrum: to eat or not to eat?

Being that the first and second conundra coupled; cause for quarterhour shuteyes and hurried traveling; eliminating tardiness served as a consequence for cuffing the snooze button. Time warrants especial division. Gluttony doesn*t comprehend the college cuisine and time deficiency increases eradication. Barren cupboards and wasted spaces common corridors in scholarly quonsets.

Fourth conundrum: to cut or not to cut?

Safe paths on busy highways in blocks and rows. Cut pathways snake through glades and manmade forests frothed with cultivated ices. Danger*s path the quicker road whilst safety*s course runs straight and eternal. Time saved prospects point out slippery ways.

Fifth conundrum: to work or not to work?

Well earned bills and hard spent hours; counterparts work well with instruction. Double-crossing juvenile*s wander lazy patterns within dusted academies while worn out managers sings praising. Beastly creatures run rampant through lowered appendages chasing star sounds. Late leaving monsters grate on hearing aids and mentors. Shaved trees whir round signatures and metal spikes in endless rhythms. Creeping bothersomes watch through clear membranes. Racing to time*s clock to beat the lagging constitution. 

Sixth conundrum: to study or not to study?

Missed concepts from early mornings literally book-ridden. Reconciling weary eyelids and drooping posture steps to ambrosia. Waltzing figures catching butterflies and bowling bubbles in neighboring ballrooms cast shadows on rainbow walls. Rambling attention befits festivities and laughter. Social calls inhibits motivation*s flow. 

Seventh conundrum: to sleep or not to sleep?

Days lain awake; end results to rest. Began with sleep*s deprivement now swift to late activities at it*s expense. Life*s spent worries laid to rest at bed*s edge.

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A spoonful of bubbly

The feeling in the room is calm and reverent. Everyone in the spacious room is sitting quietly on the green padded benches paying especial attention to the speaker.

The young man at the podium finishes his elocution and the intermediate hymn begins. The entire congregation sings the psalm with fire and gusto. As is customary; my sister and I alternate between the different parts and our voices dance an ever-changing duet. In the third verse; which carries a sacred message to its singers; a sudden high vibrato Snow White voice resonates in the bench directly in front of us. The composure that most suits the occupants of a church meeting begins to crumble. The tickling in our throats bubbles over. Laughter emits.

As the organ*s reverberating sounds and the chants of the singing congregation drown out the spurts of laughter squeezing past our lips; we struggle to regain at the least a reverent appearance. Giggles erupt nonetheless and the merriment continues. Without the use of our own voices to cover it; the operatic sounds of Snow White*s voice serves as a constant renewal to our amusement.

The hymn comes to an end as hymns are wont to do. The time for self-control is here. The moment is at hand.

INTERJECTION HERE

The thing about giggles in sacrament is that they can*t really truly be controlled. Containing something that requires a moment of vocal expulsion in a place where silence is key for the sake of the meeting; is a mission impossible.

Observe.

Covering the mouth doesn't cut it. Sound leaks right between the spaces in the fingers. In fact; it increases the startlingly loud factor by producing a kazoo effect. Taking deep breaths is a joke. That only increases the air capacity for the bubbling of giggles. Holding breath produces the same results as deep breaths. Looking to the Bishop only adds to the silliness as the need for control increases. Giggles are as wild animals; the more you try for control; the less control you have. Giggles as we all know; are supercalifragilistically contagious. The contagiousness increases with containment. If I gain control; my sister loses it. If she gains composure, I bail. It doesn*t help that my roommate Pan joins our nonsensical ways. No matter how hard we fight for control; we lose it. The chuckles and guffaws slip through.

To end the story; the closing hymn was sung as loudly as possible until the giggles inevitably begun anew. We will never inform Snow White of our amusement. It's better this way.

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