cougar pride

Proud to be a Cougar because of brillant commercials like this:



The Middle Carrotstick pretty much has this memorized. I suggested he could be the Old Spice guy wearing the towel for Halloween, but he's not going for it. "Look at your costume, look at mine ...."

what? you're still here?

Good old blog. Neglected soooo very long and still hanging around, wishing I'd give it a little attention. Blogs are nice that way. Very loyal. Like PB&J's crazy dog.

Here's a little awesomeness I saw floating around the blogosphere.

Thought I'd share it with you.

Seriously, it is awesome.

Take some time to watch it.

Now, sit.

Press play.

Good blog reader, good blog reader.

And no, I won't give you a treat, because this video is treat enough. You will be happier after you watch it. Happier and possibly slightly jealous. I know I am.




Enjoy!

(and yes, I've been told I'm bossy once or twice. but that's it.)

just so you know

Netanyahu is pretty much my favorite name ever.

Just say it to yourself over and over: Net - an - ya -hu.

See? It's fun!

And today is the last day of school.

Fun for kids. Sad for me. 'Specially since it means my daughter is no longer in Junior High.

I am really REALLY sad about that.

I have to admit I have driven by the High School more than once and felt overwhelmingly depressed by it.

If you see me wandering the streets muttering "Netanyahu" over and over you'll know why. I'm just trying to find my happy place.

what's the count, blue?

For those of you who had to endure the rigors of teen-age-hood-ness-dom/dumb without the aid of a cell phone and unlimited texting, let me just tell you: you missed out. Texting makes the teen experience a team sport.

For a teen, texting is an ADHD kids dream come true. you can have multiple meaningless conversations all at once. And you can get instant feedback on the dramas of your life from your 10 BFFs simultaneously.

Take for example the following "game" that occurred just this evening.

Let me set up the play for you.

In the texting line-up, Oldest Carrotstick is texting one friend from cheer, one BFF (thankfully a girl), one boy she flirted with last summer but in whom she currently has NO interest, and two boys she has met in the last two weeks with whom she is doing the preliminary do-i-want-to-like-you? get-to-know-you's.

Suddenly, out of the blue, boy #4 "Jack" texts her. Up until Saturday, Jack was the top contender in the possible love interest competition, but then Jack dropped the ball -- by letting approximately 45 minutes to 2 hours pass in between several texting exchanges Saturday night. Which is unforgiveable since he is a really good baseball player -- in real life. Error. He then had the audacity to not initiate any texting conversations at all on Sunday. Strike 1. Or Monday. Strike 2.

Finally, at 8:30 Tuesday night, Jack checks in, knowing full well that the Oldest Carrotstick's evil and over-protective mother turns off her texting at precisely 9:00 on weekdays and 10:00 on weekends. A move OCS found to be cowardly. It's like jumping out of the box cuz your afraid the pitcher is going to hit you. Strike 3.

The bases were loaded, but he struck out. Hence the following conversation occurred between the hitter -- Jack, the pitcher -- OCS, and the ump -- OCS's BFF:


8:30 Jack: Hey! :)

8:32 OCS to Jack: oh hi. whats up (note the absence of exclamation points & emoticons. very telling.)

8:32 OCS to BFF: JACK JUST TEXTED ME!

8:32 BFF: what did that kid say?

8:32 OCS to BFF: FW: Hey! :)

8:32 BFF: wow. seriously? who does he think he is?

8:32 OCS to BFF: I know right?

8:33 Jack: (blissfully unware that the ump -- BFF -- has just called Game Over) just sittin here

8:36 OCS to Jack: O cool

I guess the same advice applies to teens as it does to kids up to bat -- keep your eye on the ball, wait for the good ones, and make it be there.




(Yes this post is very confused. I'm not sure where I am going with it. Obviously. Maybe I'll rewrite it later this afternoon. Sorry. But, in other matters of important business, I will soon be posting on my recent trips to DC and Chicago. I know you are dying to see all my vacation pictures, so check back soon!)

these shoes weren't made for walking

the Oldest Carrotsick and I are visiting my sister in DC for spring break. this is a picture of our feet on the Mall. one of us made poor shoe choices for this trip. can you guess who? also one of us is sorely disappointed there are no stores on the mall. ;)

why the number 7 is dead to me

Recently, the Youngest Carrotstick's baseball team was charged with the arduous task of choosing their "number". The number 5 seemed to be a favorite.

As did the number 23.

Number 3 was a close third.

The Youngest Carrotstick got lucky and got 3.

But there was quite a lot of debate about what the cool numbers were and why this number was better than another. Number 5 was a family tradition in several families. Do you know why 23 is so hot?

Here's a hint, in case you, like me, are sports challenged:

I, myself, like odd numbers. Especially prime numbers. 'Cause I'm a nerd like that, I guess. Except that now the number 7 is dead to me.

Why? you ask.

Because.

Within 7 months -- from March to October -- my life will be completely changed.

No. I am not two months pregnant. But thanks for wondering.

It began in March with this:

(These are the baptism pictures that my sister asked for. You can skip them if you want. I know you needed my permission to do so, and now you have it. Skip away, guilt free.)

I was just informed that my 20 year High School reunion is scheduled to take place in July. Don't worry, I'm not going.

And then goes on to the advent of High School for the Oldest Carrotstick.

And ends with the Middle Carrotstick receiving the Priesthood.

I'm sorry.

I can't talk about this anymore.

Curse you, number 7.

I remember when 7 was a good number -- it comes before 8, and 8 is when you get baptized. Now it is just making me feel old. It might as well be 97.

50 randumb things

1. By 9:21 this morning I had already been to Wallies and returned home.

2. I went to go pick up the just-released final book in a series that the Oldest Carrotstick and the Middle Carrotstick have been reading.

3. I may or may not have also read it.

4. I may or may not have picked it up early this morning so that I could spend the whole day with the book to myself and finish it FIRST.

5. But that wouldn't be very responsible. And I am all about being responsible.

6. Which is why, though I wore the Oldest Carrotsticks very expensive jeans to Wallies, I will take them off before she gets home.

7. Because I didn't ask first.

8. I thought about texting her at school and asking.

9. But then I rationalized not asking by pointing out to myself that she took the jeans off, dropped them on the floor in my bathroom, and left them there 18 hours ago.

10. So she doesn't really care about responsibility.

11. Yet.

12. Hopefully someday she will be responsible like me.

13. And do really worthwhile things.

14. Like blog.

15. And spend a whole day reading books and not cleaning the house.

16. The point of the jeans, though, is I wore them not just because they were there and very handy, but because I thought that maybe if I wore them to Wallies at 9 o'clock in the A.M. that I would, in fact, feel Sassy.

17. A friend of ours, whenever you ask him how he's doing, always responds "Fat and Sassy."

18. I like it.

19. At least the Sassy part.

20. Nobody likes to feel fat.

21. Except at Thanksgiving.

22. And then it's only good if it's a temporary thing.

23. Just like Peeps should only be a temporary thing.

24. Only at Easter.

25. Not any of those other holidays.

26. And certainly not in Flavors.

27. Ewww.

28. And can anyone tell me why, for the exact same price, you get only 10 Chick Peeps but 12 Bunny Peeps?

29. It makes it not very fiscally responsible to buy the Chicks.

30. Even though they are better.

31. And you know I'm all about being responsible.

32. Which is why I am having guilt about wanting to read this book all day today.

33. Instead of going to get the oil changed in my car.

34. But getting the oil changed in my car means sitting at the place and waiting.

35. And the place stinks because they also sell tires.

36. I really hate that smell.

37. At least I'm not as weird about smells as the Oldest Carrotstick.

38. The other day she made a disconcerting realization.

39. She really likes the way a friend of hers smells.

40. (The friend is a boy.)

41. And a couple of weeks ago, she found herself sitting in between PB&J and her friend's dad at a BYU basketball game.

42. After the game, she reported to me that her friend and his dad smell the same.

43. It was slightly demoralizing for her.

44. Sometimes you just can't trust smells.

45. They might just come from deodorant.

46. Which is really just covering up stink.

47. But thank goodness for deodorant.

48. Although I love Jane Austen, I always wonder what things smelled like in her era.

49. They probably stunk.

50. Just like this post.

(Do you want me to try for 100? What do you think?)

hair apparent

My sister-in-law just posted this picture of my niece on her blog.

And here is a picture of my daughter from this summer (she won the big hair contest at girls camp):

The family resemblance is striking -- and a little unexpected -- is it not?

get a life?

The other day I read this quote. It was really good, and I felt like it applied to some things the Oldest Carrotstick was going through. I read it to her, and she liked it and asked me if I would type it up for her so she could stick in on her mirror. Like any mom would, I agreed.

And since I have been going through my photo archives getting pictures printed and generally catching up on the past two years of life in snapshots, I knew I had this great picture of an African Daisy that I had taken two years ago -- which is pretty much one of my favorite flowers because I love the purple/orange combo.

And I thought, "I think I will put that quote on that picture of the daisy." Cuz I love photoshop and all. So I did.

It looks like this:

Nice, right?

Last night, I went and got a yogurt with one of my Laurels. As we chatted, something she said reminded me of this quote. At the end of our yogurt date, I told her I had a little something for her. I ran in the house, grabbed a copy of the daisy quote that I had just printed up in triplicate, and gave it to her.

It was at that moment that I realized I am a freak.

Who in the world makes handouts just for fun?

Anyone willing to do an intervention?

(Just step away from the computer, Sister Lunch.)

But if it means releasing me from my calling, please don't bother.

wish i thought of that

I heart clever creative people.

Check this out:



and then of course there's the treadmill video --



and now they have a new one:



I love me some Ok Go.

signs o' the times

In light of the recent catastrophic events, I thought I'd share with you a few other signs of the times.

I took pictures of all these signs last summer, and just recently remembered them.

Let me know how apt you find them. Or how ridiculous.

I didn't know Motion Sickness counted as an Act of God.

At the Oquirrh Mountain Temple Open House:

(Is the free speech area restricted to the area inside the trash can?)

Inside an Outhouse:

(Just ignore the handwritten graffiti. It's more entertaining without it.)

Lucky kids. I wish I had a magic carpet.

And always good advice:

I hope this post doesn't make you rethink your kind bloggy well-wishes!

so sophomoric

Today I met the Oldest Carrotstick at school for ...

High.School.Registration.

(I was the only mom there. I wonder if I embarrassed her. I don't really care if I did, cuz that's what moms do.)

But. It was sad for me.

(Have you seen the kids that go to High School? They are big. And old. And some of the things they do and say frighten me. It about makes my blood run cold in my veins to think of sending her there.)

And then, to top it off, my baby is going to turn eight and be baptized in about 10 1/2 days.

In the words of the great philosopher, David After Dentist, "Is this real life? . . . Why is this happening to me? Is this going to be forever?"




I have to admit, some days I wish I didn't feel anything. It's hard being a mom.