the voices. they're ruining my evening.

tonight's conversation:

me: hey, you should go to bed.
me: i know, but everyone's asleep and it's so peaceful and quiet. this solace is a rarity.
me: yes, but you're so tired.
me: i know, but it's so peaceful and quiet. this doesn't ever happen.
me: yes, but you're sooooo tired.
me: I KNOW! BUT IT'S SO PEACEFUL AND QUIET!

i don't know who is going to win this...

Happy New Year!

Cheers to more posts in 2012. How 'bout it folks?

i might as well post something. anything.

even if it's something as silly as this:

i'm pretty sure i threw my keys away last thursday. it was late, i was tired, and upset at my bank. i wasn't thinking clearly. i checked the garbage can several times, though, i did not dump it out--i merely looked deeeeep inside it. the garbage has since been taken to the dump. thus, if my keys were in fact inside the garbage, they too are at the dump. this bums me out.

'tis the season

for a frightening anecdote.

do enjoy.

once upon a time there was a girl named, well, this girl is me. she (me) having just made an unexpected--less than welcome--relocation across these great united states, has found herself mostly, ummm, friendless, if you will (will you?), and lonely. shocked? appalled? me too. but, allow me to point out that even the most outgoing of souls (which the aforementioned is often categorized) would feel much the same in a scenario such as hers. change is not her (my) forte. least of all the unexpected. yet, here she was. without friend--or foe, for that matter. (the glass is still half full, let us not forget.) one day, loins girded, she headed "downtown"* to her son's soccer game, where she told herself she was going to put some of her (my) incessant-need-to-talk-skills to good use, by approaching some of these women she has met once or twice in her recent comings and goings in her new small town. she did. in fact, she approached three women she'd seen here and there. she counted because she was nervous. unusually so. unfortunately, conversation wasn't exactly the friendship-blossoming, love-at-first-sight kind she'd hoped to strike. in other words, no play-dates were made. but it was a start. feeling proud of herself for taking the proverbial bull by it's accompanying horns, she (me) sat down on the blanket and patted herself on the back. it was then that she noticed...her sweater...was on...inside out.

like an unfastened balloon being released into the air, so went the wind from her sails.


happy halloween.


*come to my town. you will then see why i went so far as to quote downtown. (but seriously. come to my town. i would love a visitor.) and yes, it is commonly referred to as "downtown."

the mothership has called us home

pilgrimage began saturday at 4 p.m.

set to end sometime monday afternoon.

*will someone (please) find me a razor...and some tweezers?

sing with me now...

happy birthday to you! happy birthday to you!

...happy birthday, dear 1! happy birthday to you!

he finally got a bike. and he couldn't be happier.

there's a reason they have their own day.

once upon a time on a lovely sabbath afternoon, a newly turned fifteen year old daughter asked her mother if she could drive the less than one mile from church to home. her mother kindly obliged. after all, what could happen? little did her mother know, how little the fifteen year old knew about driving...

upon turning on the engine, and placing the nay blue, wood paneled mini-van into gear, the car started moving. both feet placed comfortably on the floor beneath the driver's seat, the fifteen year thought, that's odd. i didn't even press the gas. which one is the gas? continuing to move forward, the fifteen year old spoke--audibly, this time--to the mother, "which one's the brake?"

words cannot justify the alarm the mother felt, not only when she realized the the giant error in judgement she had just exercised by ignoring the tiny screaming voice in her head by letting her fifteen year old drive, but more so when she realized what stood a mere twenty feet away, directly in front of the inexplicably (to the fifteen year old, that is) moving automobile: the beautifully landscaped lawn and church building as well as a tot and her father walking hand in hand on the way to their own car.

panicking, the mother glanced at the fifteen year old, who was still looking bewilderedly at the pedals beneath her, then to the people who's lives hung in the balance, and back to the fifteen year old who seemed oh so far away even though she was in the in the driver's seat right next to her. a split second decision. the mother lunged, nylons, sunday skirt, bouffant bob and all head first towards the fifteen year old's fumbling feet and pressed the brake pedal herself, with all knowing hands.

the mother up-righted herself. relieved, she looked at the two innocent lives she had just saved (who were only just realizing something was a wee hinky); triumphant, she re-fluffed her hair--who knew she was still that flexible? and livid she looked at the sheepishly grinning fifteen year old...

journey

look at the time. it's late, i'm stressed, and i've got a mountain of work to do. but, luckily, i still have this family who hasn't disowned me. i went to the ipod for a bit of relief, and when this song came on i couldn't help but feel, with a few modifications, exactly like this guy:

(this is cheesy, but you'll have to deal with it. sorry.)

Jonathan Cain of Journey, "Faithfully"

Highway [computer battery] run into the midnight sun
Wheels go round and round [pages turn right to left]
You're on my mind
Restless hearts sleep alone tonight
Sending all my love along the wire [g–chat, facebook, text, etc.]
They say that the road [law school]
ain't no place to start [raise] a family
Right down the line it's been you [and the things] and me
And loving a music [student] man
ain't always what it's supposed to be
Oh, Girl [and things]
you stand by me
I'm forever yours
faithfully

sorry for the cheese. just thought it was quite applicable. and i would imagine that everyone reading this has, at some point, felt very similar.

anyway...thank you, family, for putting up with me.

a poll

neesh should quit her job.

well, one of us has to. otherwise we'll never see--or talk to--each other again. and seeing as her better half is gainfully and securely employed, i think it should be her.

all in favor? say 'aye.'

all the single ladies?

take notes.

miss lorin's fabulous fours class, also known as favlious fours to some members of our family, has a class of mostly boys (poor woman), yet, 1 somehow, still surrounds himself with the ladies, albeit a minority in his class. i've heard much about one little lady in particular. grace. grace, the apple of 1's eye with whom he plays the affectionately titled game of 'babies' as well as others of the same home-economic nature at school: grace this. grace that. grace has beautiful* hair, mom. grace is so funny. grace and me don't use potty-talk like carter.

*i've seen the hair. it's regular, it's four year-old.

i thought it was his mad skillz--including, but not limited too, thinking all women, even in the wee hours of the morning with funky hair and the breath to match, are princesses and tells them so--that gave the aforementioned result.

we-he-hell...

i was going through stuff, decluttering the kitchen--namely, the never ending pile of to-do's and papers that i keep "neatly" stacked in the corner--i came across 1's valentines from his class mates. it was the usual stuff, you know, princesses and hello kitties from the girls, super heroes and lightning mcqueen from the boys. i chucked each one after i detached it's goody, some of which i consumed, and seeing who it was from. i paused when i came to grace's. wait for it...


a superman card, with matching superman tatoo.

it's not the hair, or his skillz, but hers.

huh.

on our way home from our church meeting house after a very important baptism for a good friend's son--i was certain he didn't pay any attention, but coincidently (or not-so-much coincidently)--these deep thoughts were spurred.

thing 1: (exceedingly pensive) mom?

me: yes?

thing 1: do we have houses in heaven?

me: i guess so, we have to live somewhere (right?), but (in anticipation of another question) i don't know what they look like...

{pause}

1: mom?

me: yes?

1: can we move in heaven?

me: (using my deductive reasoning skills) you mean like...move houses?

1: no. like move around. (i look in the rear-view mirror to see him wiggle in his car seat further specifying his point)

me: yeah, you can...

{pause again.}

1: mom?

me: yeeesss?

1: so, can alex move? uncle alex?

huh. interesting.

it's my party, and i'll write what i want to

today is my birthday, but it's a happy one because of my family. ab, max, and pear; i love you guys, i love my life because of you guys, and the best present* i could ask for today is another year to spend with you until my next happy berfday!

and while i'm posting on here, i've got a couple of other unrelated things:

first, i just saw that the reason you all have been deprived of this blog's principal author is because she has been saving her posts as drafts rather than publishing them. principal willing, i will release these drafts over the course of the next few weeks. (wow, this must be how that guy felt when he came across all of those tupac songs that were never released. except tupac was dead, so i guess my analogy is kind of crappy. but you get the idea, right?)

second, i'd just like to reiterate that the post directly below this post was not specifically aimed at me (nice strategy to wait until my happy berfday to bring this up, right?). it was directed at the kind of frustration that comes when a spouse drinks the last soda pap (yes, we've still got a little soldier in us), or when she––i mean they––hide the m and ms and tell you they're all gone. know what i'm sayin'? if not, let me help you.

close your eyes and imagine that you are stuck in a place where nearly all hope is lost, and you are despondently fighting against a great, impossible army. you look up and see that the enemy is about to swoop down and wring the very last drop of fight out of you, then suddenly realize that you have one final life-sustaining energy pack among your used-up bag of supplies. you hurry to get the sweet elixir, knowing that you must have it to sustain your fight––and your hope––one more day, only to find that it's been taken by your (sweet, innocent) partner––WHO ISN'T EVEN FIGHTING TODAY! as you shrink in despair, knowing that your time has surely come, the opposing army of things pounces. the first thing throws up on you. then the second thing poops in her armor and makes you clean it up.

now you know what i'm sayin'? see, the magical potion's absence only expedited the inevitable. it was the army of things that did all the dirty work.

*a small piece of cake would be nice, too. you're not totally off the hook.

maybe it was that time of the month

maybe she had a headache.
maybe her better half had the audacity to run off to school for the day (a cold, blustery, wintry mix sort of day) with her last caffeinated beverage of choice.


just sayin.

i can totally sympathize with this penguin.

totally worth it

i should be going to bed, or if not, at the very least i should be picking up the litter bucket i am trying to pass off as our home, but instead i keep popping cold ones, eating leftover feast food and flipping channels watching tail-end of movie after tail-end of movie. i'll probably be up until 1 a.m. again. except tomorrow i don't get to wake up at 10 a.m., or 9, or even 8. duty calls. darn it.

but, speaking of doo-dees. 2 is two. on wednesday. where does the time go? her favorite things as of late are to: throw--no, hurl--her plate, cup, utensils and any leftover food that may be on them as far as she can, cueing she is all done; yell at, not for, me when she cannot see me; keep her eye on the colony of fy's (flies, of which she is terrified) caught between 1's screen and window; and view the last 20 minutes of the sandlot just to watch the "doggy, fuh-fuh!" in which she is fascinated.

opinions about everything from shoes to sippies are more prevalent with each passing day. as are affinities for purses, puppies, and all things 1 is doing (much to his dismay). problem is, opinions and affinities are hard to express when they are coming out in another kind of language--one only you, the toddler, can understand. frustration is sort of cute when it takes the form of an immediate flop on the floor, head buried in hands, fake whimpers in tow. sometimes it is sort of not cute.

my favorite things about her? her belly. oh definitely that. her blonde, whispy resemblance of curls. the resilience and determination she is learning from having a headstrong, equally-determined playmate for an older brother (from which she is also learning the art of vibrato and the thrill of the spotlight). the tender way she wraps her wittle awms awound my neck to squeeze and pat. the immediate, heart-melting tears that come from being scolded, which, at age two, are to be construed as pure sensitivity. at age 16? most likely manipulation. a trait indubitably inherited from her mother. they will probably melt our hearts anyhow. they did her mother's parents.

if asked ten years ago, at age 17, what my dreams of adulthood entailed, i am certain i would not have made any indication that motherhood was one of them. i don't believe that it was. however, watching my children grow is truly a dream come true.

Love 'Em

Saturday mornings.

Kids and Guns

No Hypo this week. Sorry. But I do want to get your thoughts on kids and toy guns.

As a parent or potential parent, do you think it's okay to let your kids play with toy guns? If you say no and your child has friends with toy guns, does that bother you? Do you do anything about it? Any specific reason for your answer?

Thanks.

And just so you know, any view is welcome here.

Hypo Man 1

Hello all. It's been a while.

Some of you have been to law school, and some of you are married to someone who has been to law school. You'll probably get where I'm coming from. For those of you with no experience to the weirdness that becomes of law students, allow me to explain a little bit. One of the biggest parts of law school is the hypothetical. Students read the cases, learn the laws of a certain area, and then (students or teachers) come up with some of the weirdest factual situations you could ever imagine to see how the law would apply according to those facts. Sometimes it's bizarre (think of frozen turkeys falling from an airplane in the sky and injuring people in a hotel's swimming pool); sometimes its morbid, which is what I'm going to present to you today.

Here's the deal. Law students, on average, are not as interesting as we think we are. (If you don't believe that the average law student thinks he or she is much more interesting than anyone else, just visit www.top-law-schools.com and read through some of the personal statements. It's a clinic in taking the ordinary and making it seem incredible.) So it basically comes down to this: I often grow tired of hearing what the not-as-interesting-as-advertised law student thinks (self included), and I want to know what you (i.e., the interesting reader) think.

Here you go. Fair warning, it might be slightly morbid. You have just been in a car accident and your car is at the bottom of a ravine in a river. You weren't wearing your seatbelt and were thrown from the car. Luckily you were uninjured, but your child was strapped in her car seat and is still in the car. You can see her, and the water is starting to slowly rise. She is starting to panic and struggle. The problem is that it is 100% certain you will not be able to reach your child before she dies, and if you try to get her it is 100% certain that you will die as well (you have a spouse and 4 other children at home, so you can't really kill yourself in an attempt to save her). Because you live in the ghetto you always have a gun, and you have a perfect shot. So your options are either (1) you can watch her drown (she will suffer), or (2) you can shoot her and kill her instantly (no suffering). There are no other options, and you are the only person around. What do you do? (Remember, it is certain that she will die either way and you can't do anything about it.)

If you said watch her drown, would your answer change if the car was not sinking, but instead it was on fire (meaning more suffering for a longer time)?

No matter what you answered, would it change if it were a stranger's child and you could see that the mother was already dead? (You were the only other person in the entire area, and you happened to witness the accident.)

Last one. If you were a juror in a case where a person had been charged with manslaughter for shooting the child in any of the situations above, would you vote to convict them? No to all three? Yes to all three? Yes to some no to some? Tell me what you think in the comments.

If the result is good, maybe I'll post more of these. If not, I'll just leave the blogging up to my wife. She's much better at it anyway.

What Does a Monkey Say?

Yup. I feel like this* right now.

The files. They're in here. I've seen 'em. I just can't get 'em out.

Until I do, enjoy this. I know you will. Have seconds if you like. The boy loves an audience. Oh! I almost forgot. Turn the volume up.

*Adding insult to injury, that isn't even the link I'd originally found--it too is in the computer, but you get the gist.

note to self

it's okay to feel this way:

you know, some days I feel down right cheated. not having him here. like a gaping hole has been dug deep in my chest and it can't be filled. the hole only hurts when i think about it. i try not to think about it. only on days like september 19 and november 13, and sporadically during the holidays. days when it would seem only appropriate, if not expected, to expose it--my gaping hole. even still, i try to do so on my own.

why does it feel this way? the sting gets more acute, deeper, the older i--and he--get. it, at times, overwhelms me. it pleases me to muse that with age, i possibly gain maturity. thus the brevity of a loss happening 12 years ago rings clearer to me now. more than it ever could at age 15. or at the very least differently: what would his wife have been like? his children? the hypotheticals dig it deeper. except when i think my son is a reincarnated him. i didn't know him then--at age 4. i've only heard stories. heaven help me if i am the mother to raise that reincarnated spirit. maybe that's part of it. the whole hole part. the filling it part, specifically.

**i don't know where she went. the witty me. sunnier skies perhaps...

A Bit of Nostalgia

My brain has been inescapably swirling with memories from not so long ago--though, to me the time expired seems like light years, those older, wiser, and thus more mature than me would scoff at the mere under two decades of time ago in which some of the following things occurred. Perhaps as a result of recent re-connections with best buds and old friends via cyber-social networking sites and what have you. At any rate, I wanted to scribe them before they were once again lost in the archives. Enjoy...or not.

Disclaimer: This post will be nothing but yawns and "eh?"s, maybe a few "oh dear"s, to most of you, but if you need a good bed time story, feel free to read on. Don't say I didn't warn you. You too, Neesh.

Remember how we used to go out to eat at Brick Oven anytime it was conceivably possible? Mmmm. Ranch and mushrooms...
Remember how it was almost always someone's birthday, even if it wasn't?

Remember when one of us moved to Spanish Fork?
Remember when we all road the bus down there to visit her?
Remember how she introduced us to a guy that, "looked like Usher and danced like Puff Daddy?" Our words. No joke. Who knew...

Remember our annual Christmas parties?
Remember that year we had it on the floor in the University Mall because two of us had to work in that kiosk? I think that was one of the last ones...

Remember our massive sleepovers where we would stay up nearly all night and almost every time someone would end up at least partially nude (or even fully)--often outside?
Speaking of...remember the time when we slept at one of our dad's houses and decided to take a walk on the Riverside Golf Course with the boys (squeal) then we all tripped on that stupid string as we entered the course? (could've been just me)
Remember later that night how we all ended up outside lined up on Universtiy Ave entertaining cars as they drove by? Some of us more clothed than others? I wonder how many people laughed at us from their cars, "Poor little prepubescents...", they thought, shaking their heads as they drove on...

Remember when we toilet papered one of the boys's house (squeal) because we thought they were sleeping there?
Remember how his dad caught us? In his G's?

Remember how we used to spend our class periods writing notes to eachother?
Remember how the decor on the note took more thought and effort than the actual message?
Remember how along with note-writing came the drawing of elaborate so-and-so plus so-and-so pictures?

Remember KC and Jo Jo?
Remember MM Bop--still a fav--and Seven Peaks passes?

Remember how we were obsessed with the movie Titanic and each saw it about 19 times?
Remember how I bawled (more than the average female) everytime I saw it. It being released mere months after Alex passed away may have had an effect on that...
Remember how we waited for weeks for the soundtrack to come out and when one of us finally bought it, we listened to the theme song on repeat in one of our rooms for what seemed like hours on end with the lights off donned in trends from the local thrift store?

Remember rollerblading up and down Palisade Drive?
Remember walking EVERYWHERE?
Remember seeing movies at Wynnsong, then eating at Hogi Yogi?

Remember how one of us had a family that moved to Draper so one of us had went to Alta for like a day before she decided she hated it? Thank goodness for that--what would we have done with out Blake and Jer's?

Remember the giant community locker in D hall? How many of us did we have in there anyway?
Remember Mr. Downs?
Even better, remember Mr. Logan? Ugglh.
Even better yet, remember Mrs. Kummer? at Orem High??????

Remember how we used to plan to where pajamas to school?

Remember how we used to plan "Friday Outfits?" Then, slowly, we quit planning and began to just wear our pajamas anyway--even, if not especially, on Fridays?

Remember one of us FINALLY got a car? And it was blue. And it was out. of. this. world.
Remember how some of us helped that crossing guard after he fell and earned ourselves a free ice cream cone? Not that one should expect to be rewarded for doing good deeds, but an ice cream cone? We quite possibly saved that guys life.
Remember Delilah? I still love her.

Remember our trip to St. George?
Remember the Rococo?

Remember Jack Johnson, Kalai, and Ben Harper? Oi vey.
Remember South Fork?
In Fact, remember that two of us had an apartment? and a pager? Yup a pager. Weren't they a first to get a cell phone too? Whoa.

Remember taping episode after episode of Friends? If we'd only known that less than a decade later the ENTIRE collection would be available on DVD. It's a shame I still can't afford it...

Remember how dramatic we were about everything?
Remember fighting over boys, clothes, gossip and who knows what?
Remember becoming friends again after one of those blow outs?
Remember how we couldn't live with out each other back then?
Remember that with out any of these experiences, good and bad, happy or sad, we wouldn't be who we are today?

Sometimes I miss those days, but only because I miss the gals. Three cheers for best buds.

Please don't ever leave again.

AN AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was actually written several months ago whilst sitting upon my mother's couch. I believe it was May of '08, if we want to get technical. Obviously it was never posted. Who knows why I'm posting it now. Perhaps because it's a Sunday and I often get nostalgic and thoughtful--be that literally full of thought, not to be confused with the charitable definition of the same word--on the Sabbath. The same also happens when the kids are in bed, the T.V. is not on, and My Better Half is in his office studying. Consequently, the stars have aligned, all four of them, and I am extra-ly full of thought this eve.