Thursday, December 11, 2008

Sleeping for one... looking like five

Jimmy's in Texas for four whole days. Probably golfing, but pretending to be at a medical conference. That's the life. Except for golfing it lame, and Texas doesn't have any snow (not that we do either), and you have to sit in classes all day...

That means I get the bed all to my self. I sleep on about 6 inches of the bed. I know you are thinking that's not possible because I am at least 50 inches wide, but I am telling you the truth. I sleep on the very edge of the bed and I rarely move. So, why do I like the bed to myself? I have no idea. But, every time Jimmy leaves town, the first thing I think is --- yeah me, I get to sleep in my big fat bed all by myself.

This leads me to questions. I have worked hard so that all of my kids have their own space. Devon has a bedroom bigger than most master bedrooms, he has 6 or 7 cages with various creepys in them. He has two closets and a bigger king size bed than I do. The rest of the kids aren't far behind. So... the question is this--- why do I have to share my room and my bed? I'm the parent. I should have the biggest space of all, with all my stuff and my big bed. Why do I have to share a bed? Why do I have to share my bathroom? Why do I have to share my closet? ( I actually don't, but I have before.) Am I wrong in my thinking?

Don't get me wrong. I like Jimmy sometimes, but my bed just feels so much more free when I'm in it alone. What's a pretty girl to do? (I am the pretty girl by the way) Maybe I should look for a few sister wives. They can share their beds. I could be the oprah watching wife. You know, I could have a babysitting wife, a cooking wife, a cleaning wife and I could be the oprah watching, fun shopping (no grocery shopping), sleep in my own bed wife. At the end of the day I could catch all the wives up on the T.V. and the great sales at the local outlet mall and then I could go to my own room, with my own stuff, that no one else touches and I could go to sleep.

I feel like this is a strong plan. The problem with sister wives is the hair and the dresses though. Does any one have any ideas that will solve all my huge problems? Maybe I could say I had chemo and my hair was the only wig that they make? Or that allergies made me not be able to wear creepy dresses... although if you've seen my great nightgown it may nix that one. Hmmmm... These are some real questions I'm going to need to sleep on before I head to Colorado City.

Thursday, December 4, 2008


When Jimmy and I first got married I spent my days asking him what was wrong. If he came in quiet, I'd run and be all over him asking and asking what was wrong. He of course would say nothing was wrong... but I am persistent and I would keep asking and finally he would snap at me "now something's wrong, leave me alone."

So, 15 years later, I've gotten more clever. I ask one time what the problem is and then I leave it alone. Sometimes I'm sure there's a problem and sometimes I just want there to be a problem. Most of the time I hear later that work sucked or someone was a bad driver (it's never Jimbo though).

Most of the time when I ask my short friend Keegan to clean a room and I have asked more than once, he will start crying and saying " why are you yelling at me?" For some reason this really sets me off. Because, I feel that I am the most patient, bestest, calmest, nicest mom ever. I don't beat anyone with belts, scream at them, throw their friends out. I am calm. Okay every once in a while, I yell, but not very often. After 15 years the yell is going out of me. So... when ever Keegan says that I'm yelling. I scream right next to him "I'M NOT YELLING". I understand that this is very mature of me. I feel like he should know the difference though. So, I feel very mature while I'm doing it.

So... to make the longest story ever short. Here's me being mature again... My dad called and wanted Jimbo to sign some Dr. stuff to release Grandma to drive. So, I says to the man "I don't know how much longer grandma should be driving."

the man: "I'm not taking away her drivers license she's fine"

mi: "have you seen her car lately? It looks like she was driving in downtown Baghdad. She has a huge dent in her bumper from last week... she has no idea how it happened."

the man: "I'm not taking her driver's license"

mi: "I didn't say you needed to today, I'm just saying she shouldn't be driving much longer, a 90 yr old man just killed someone because his family felt bad taking his license"

the man: "She's not 90"

mi: "okay a 75 yr old lady killed 5 people last year driving into a post office"

the man: "why are you yelling?"

okay here's the part where I stop for about 3 seconds and think "am I yelling?" Nope, I'm not...

mi: "THIS IS YELLING" (which by the way was at the top of my lungs) and then very calmly "that was yelling, this is not."

Then I promptly hung up on him. I'm not going to lie... it felt great to actually yell and even better to just hang up the phone. Does this mean I'm ultra hormonal or super right? Or should the man just learn what I learned 15 years ago... which is don't make someone mad when they aren't?

Monday, November 24, 2008

A Conversation with Grandma

mi: Gram what are you doing?

Gram: I'm working so hard. I'm getting this dirt behind the house all flat.

mi: Why? You look trashed. You should go in the house.

Gram: Well, the dirt needs to be straight. That's how I like it. And I'm sweatin' like a colored boy at election.

mi: Gram, I think it's colored boy at a lynchin'.

Gram: No, that's not how it goes.

mi: Gram, why would a colored boy be sweating at an election? Is he afraid Abraham Lincoln might be elected? Don't you think it's more likely that a colored boy would be sweating at a lynchin'?

Gram: Well, I don't care, that's just how it's said.

mi: And by the way Gram, we don't really say colored boy anymore.

Gram: Okay, what do we say?

mi: Well, the p.c. people like to say African American... but I just say black.

Gram: Used to you couldn't say black.

mi: I think that was blackie... but black is fine.

Gram: Okay black then. I'm sweatin' like a black boy at election.

mi: No one's sweatin' anymore gram, Obama is President now. Time to come up with a new one.

A Conversation at the Pool

My convo with gram reminded me of the pool convo, which is almost as good. We were at our outdoor neighborhood pool a few years ago. No one was ever there because it was a retirement community and it's wrong for old people to swim. Their hair never recovers.
Anyway, this boy, maybe 7 or 8, comes in with his grandma.

boy to Devon: Are you Italian?

Devon: No, I'm African (because poor devon has no idea what he is, he's so not p.c.)

boy: Wow, do you get to see a lot of elephants and giraffes?

Devon: No.

boy: Oh, I'm Italian. That's why I have brown skin too. (which by the way, wasn't even close to Devon's)

Devon: Ohhhhhhh.

Friday, November 21, 2008

Celine Dion Concerts Are Great ... I think

(I don't know how to find a picture of Celine, so you can look at Jimmy and Quincy)
My friend, Triss, bought Celine Dion tickets for our birthdays in August. The time finally came today.

I was not in the mood. I have to pee every 25 minutes, my tail bone is not happy, Jimmy has court side seats to the B.Y.U. basketball game (which I didn't want to go to either), Micah had basketball practice that I was supposed to carpool for, Devon was going to Salt Lake, and that Left Keegan babysitting the babies for 2 hours by himself.

So... it was not a good night for Celine. I drove up to Salt Lake with Triss' sister and we met Triss at Ikea to carpool. Traffic was a nightmare. What's new in Utah. They convince me that redwood rd is the way to go. (this story is turning into one long run on - is it every going to end - sentence.) Anyway, by the time we get to the Energy Solution Arena I have been in the car for 2 hours. Buggin. So, I pull into the parking lot right across the street, and there are a million parking places. I don't think anything about it. All the sudden Triss' sister says - "I heard the Celine Dion concert was canceled and was going to be on Sunday instead"

Are you serious? Did you want to mention this two hours ago? Really?

And listen to this part... when she heard that it was canceled, she got on the internet and tried to find out, and then she couldn't see anything, so she called the Energy Solution building, and couldn't find out.

Did you think to call your sister and see if she could figure it out? Is it possible that you are too old to figure out how to use a computer or the phone? (I say too old, but I really mean too dumb, but that sounds rude, so I'm sticking with too old.)

I had to take a shower. I had to put make-up on (which is way more fun now, because I got the vibrating mascara, it does two things at once... it lengthens and thickens) How lazy do you have to be to not want to even move your mascara brush? Apparently as lazy as me.

Anyway, Celine is now scheduled on February 22, 2009... Yep that's a Sunday... in Utah!
Has no one talked to Celine about this? Doesn't the whole world know about Utah? We would prefer to shut down on Sunday. Whatever... my problem is not actually Sunday, it's that I will be 15 months pregnant and not interested.

Now what am I going to do now that I'm a purtied up?

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

My Sisters Most Embarrassing Moment

My sister, "Panda", had her most embarrassing moment in her 30 year life. So, I decided to record it. (Because, that's the kind of great sister that I am!)

A neighbor has been buggin' and buggin' Panda, and Randa (her husband) to sign up for pre-paid legal. (this is a different blog). Anyway, this lady has called and called. So, Randa caved and told her she could come and give the spill (is it really spill or schpeel?) So, Panda's house is torn up,(surprise), because she is remodeling the kitchen. The lady comes over and is sitting in the disaster, and it must be a disaster if Panda says it is.

Samoa, Panda's one year old, comes in and hands the lady something. She opens her hand and Samoa gives her a bloody pad. Yeah, that's right, you heard me - he hands her a bloody pad. Say it together ---GROSS--- So, Panda grabs the pad as quick as she can from the lady, and proceeds to turn 15 shades of red. Which I think is a totally legit thing to do, except for I wouldn't have grabbed the pad. I would have just turned 15 shades of red.

To the ladies credit, she does not start crying, and she doesn't puke, (which is what I would have done) she washes her hands and takes Randa's check for her pre-paid legal and leaves.

So, Panda goes to pick the girls up from gymnastics and is thinking the whole way over about how terrible this whole ordeal is. She can't figure out where Samoa got the pad. Because she hasn't used a pad for a week. She starts thinking and thinking and realized that the pad was nice and fresh blood.... once again-- GROSS. Then it comes to her. A couple of hours before, she had made hamburgers and the bloody pad was from the bottom of the hamburger meat.

So, Panda goes home and calls the lady and lets her know that it's not real blood, just cow blood. Which by the way is still --- GROSS. But, not as gross.

Monday, November 17, 2008


(Sure wish someone would teach me how to use my camera)

So, a quick question on ethics. I seem to be lacking. Is it fine to take a friends science fair board and take their name off of it and put your kids name on it?

Would it make a difference if your kid was there while they were doing it, and so was in most of the pictures on the board?

After 3 kids doing science fair, I have finally gotten it down pat!!! Yeah me!!!

Don't volunteer

I succumbed to P.T.A. president pressure, something about doing something good for our community, if we want support from them??? ... I volunteered for P.E.R.C. today. It's in the dungeon at the Orem library. It stands for parent educational resource center. That says it all right there. Who does this sort of thing? This place was packed as full as my grandmas house with games, and kids crap. If it were my house I would have called D.I. to come and pick it all up. So, as a volunteer I got to count pieces to games and make sure they were clean and not torn... etc. etc. Some of these things have up to 1000 pieces.

Now here is the question.

Who in their right mind says - hey, I think I'll go to the library and rent a game with 1000 pieces from the old lady at the library who thinks that this is her personal library? Why would you even want a toy with this many pieces? And why would you borrow one? You would have to have kids like Blarin. And trust me, I don't know anyone else with kids like Blarin.

So, this lady was putting away a game, and she was so stressed about the pieces, and she mentions that it's a $300 game. Once again, WHY? It's not right to even rent something that expensive to someone without letting them know. You couldn't pay me enough.

I was feeling a little bad when I went to the library. A little nostalgia hit me because my mom took me to the library almost daily. I walked out of that place and said a big fat "good riddance". Oh, and get this I didn't even feel bad. Who can have all that stress of returning pieces and no rips, or coloring or food on things. You have to be superman to do that.

I did people a favor though. When they go to rent something they won't be able to find it. I just stuck things back where ever. You may want to rent the geography map with pieces for the whole world, but guess what ... I stuck it in the math section. That crazy lady was just sitting there making things up. I finished my work, because I am super volunteer, and I was praying to go home early, for a much needed nappy nap nap. So, as I'm grabbing my coat, she says " I guess you can do inventory"...


Yeah that's right she wants me to re-scan the entire room in case someone brought something back that didn't get checked in. This is like my grandma cracking walnuts. It's crazy talk. No wonder they stick this lady in the basement... she's crazy.

So, I am writing this down so that I will remember that I am never volunteering for anything again. I don't care how many crazy people need saving... I'm not doing it.

(yeah, that's right, now that I can add photos watch out. I thought since I was speaking on crazy, I would add Devon, who apparently was messing with the iphoto booth)

Friday, November 14, 2008

txt u ltr

Who came up with LOL and what in the world would you need to use it for? Is it really that much effort to text " you is one funny girl"?

I'm a fan of the text sometimes. There are places for it ... church, P.T.A. meetings, when you have no social skills and want to say something to someone, but don't like them enough to call. I actually text all the time, and consider myself quite the text queen. Okay fine, I did have to take lessons from my not so clever 15 year old, but all the same I can put out a quick text when called upon.

I just don't understand the text talk. y r u going 2 cali? This seems so illiterate to me. I have to put full punctuation in and spell it correctly, which may take me an extra 30 seconds (idk because I haven't timed it). At least it's not like my relief society president texting... cum 2 nite @ church. I ran to the church so fast you can't believe it. Who would have thought I could move that fast, but I'm not one to pass up the big "O"... and at the church no less. I am all about experimentation. One time at the B.Y.U. library...

Back to the R.S. Pres... It turns out that she could have just typed Come to the church at 7 for a meeting, and we all could have saved ourselves a lot of embarrassment.

I have a friend, um... Smalyssa, who types ha-ha after almost every text. I have a theory on this... If you have to tell someone that your are funny, then you probably aren't. Or you think that whoever you're texting is so dumb that they can't understand your funny story.

Which brings me right on back to LOL. I'm LMAO. Explain the reasoning behind this.

Oh, and P.S. texting is not a word. If you are p.c., which I really want to be, you should just say text. I learned this from the bst txtr evr ... Smalyssa.

P.S.S. The picture was just to see if I could figure out how to do it... That's not Smalyssa, that's Blarin and Tophie! ha-ha. I would have put in another one, but I'm not that clever yet. So, alas it can not be changed. Sorry Blarin about my photography... it would be a better picture of you, if you taught me how to use my camera.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Still ranting... people who are late are rude.

So... I am late sometimes. I seem to be late for church more often than not. Just by a minute or two. I am always late to the Dr.s family parties. I am sometimes late to my own family parties. I am late to P.T.A. meetings most of the time.

I am on time to the movies, or meeting a friend, or picking up my kids, or getting them to school.

Do you see the pattern? I choose to be late to things. I don't want to listen to the Dr.s dad sometimes, so I'm late to his parties. I don't want to sit at church any longer than I have to... so I'm late, hoping I can sit in the comfortable chairs in the foyer. I am late to my own family parties, because sometimes the drama of the momma and the papa can be too much for me to want to take. I am late to P.T.A meetings because when they start, they hold up a four inch flag and say the pledge of allegiance... and no one laughs, except for me. Not to get off subject, but this is the craziest thing I have ever seen... A group of fully grown women standing up and facing a four inch flag and saying allegiance to begin a P.T.A. meeting. It's almost creepy.

Any who.... Being late is rude. There's no other way to get around it. I have tried. I have a couple of late people in my life. And when I say late... I mean late by like 3 or 4 hours. And one of them is so late sometimes, that she doesn't even show up for a week.

I love these people (to a point) but being pregnant, I find I can't take it. I am tired and I am hungry, and when I have to wait for someone else for hours before I can sleep or eat. I can't take it. I know you think that I should be able to eat or sleep without the help of others. But, here's the story... someone says "let's do lunch a 12:00." So, you don't eat, thinking there will be food in the near future. You call said person and they say "I'm walking out the door" So, you still don't eat. Pretty soon it's 1:00. You call again, and they have the excuse, someone came over... I'm putting my shoes on and getting in the car. It's 2:00. And then look who shows up by 3:00. Why lie about getting right in the car? There are some things to lie about... like "yeah, you look great in that new dress"... "I didn't take that cookie" "I didn't sleep with your husband". Do you not know that it's going to take you 3 hours to get in the car? Do you really think that you are headed right to the car? Did you really just lose track of 3 hours while you put your shoes on?

I take responsibility at some point because I believe in them every time. When I tell someone I am going to do something, I do it and I believe that the people around me will too. So...

This is a constant in my life. So, I'm open to suggestions. When is late too late?

Is there a grace period that you give late people?

Is there an excuse that is acceptable? i.e. I had a headache, I fell asleep?

Should I take this all personally? Am I breeding late people?

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Jimmy is a football widower

I have a football size ulcer in the shape of a U!!!

I have no business watching sports. I am going to turn into my mother - and quickly.
I have seen the light and I am banning myself from football ... until the next game probably. I have to go, I am on my way to the bishops office, he is going to see me on an emergency "save your soul" basis.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Guess who's coming to the white house

I'm not a big political follower... but I'm just saying this... you couldn't pay me enough to be the president right now.

I think I'm actually happy for McCain for being able to get out of this mess. If I were him I'd be doin' a little dance right now.

I love that the big B thinks that he can save America. I say there are some things that only crazy people can do, that's why I hang out with so many crazies. Some times they aren't clever enough to know that things aren't possible. I kind of like that.

Did you listen to the speech? He's already saying that it probably can't be done in one term... he's setting you up for another term... smart and crazy! Wow! I was impressed by the graciousness though. At least I'll be paying all those taxes to a well spoken, gracious man.

Monday, November 3, 2008

I look hot in dirty pink, or maybe it's mauve?

I have a blog-o-lema.

The truth is this -- I really know some seriously crazy people... but if I write about the crazies on my blog the chances are that they will read about themselves and kill me. I'm going to have to solve this issue. Maybe I will have to use false names. People need to be warned, right?

So, here is my first warning... be careful about the comments you leave on your sister in law's blog... We will call her "blarin" because she will make you do stuff in return for her doing stuff. That's my warning... and while I'm at it don't you think it's a little odd (crazy) that she wears a new pair of pajamas every night? I've worn the exact pair of pajamas for ... count them ... 15 years. And it may even have been 3 or 4 years since I've washed them. What about that "blarin"? And here's the other thing... My husband thinks that they are HOT. He tried to mock them the other day, and instead ended up saying that he really liked them. What about that? When I figure out how to put pictures on this blog you had better watch out... because I am putting a picture of my hot pajamas up so that ya'll can run out and get some, so that your husband will think you are HOT too.

I will admit that I have tried to change from my pretty jamas, but when it comes down to having a hot night, or feeling comfy, or if I'm sick, or if I'm having a "fat" day (which is surprisingly often) I go right on back to my tried and true trusted pajamas.

So, in closing... crazy people change their pajamas everyday.

Friday, October 31, 2008

Quote Me

"Halloween is dumb."

by Michel Ngatuvai

I'm thinking this quote is going to go down in history.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

One Salami two salami three salami more...

So, I have to put a disclaimer at the beginning of this. I don't go to the deli, the prepackaged crap is just fine with me, and it's possible that Jimmy prefers it. It's not just that it's fine, but I am an instant gratification kind of girl. (this explains the twinkies for dinner instead of roast, salad, and veggies) How do I gain weight, I just can't explain it???

So... back to me. I don't want to stand at the deli, when there is turkey on the next aisle that I don't have to wait for, or talk to anyone about. But... salami... YUM. So, I hear a rumor that salami is on sale at the local wal-mart. (I don't need any comments on wal-mart and it's evils, don't bother, you will lose this debate)

I run to the deli, and see that the salami is on sale 2.48 instead of 4.48. I can't see straight. A SALE. I am so related to my grandma. So, I tell the deli lady, after 5 minutes of standing there looking stupid while the deli lady pretends that she's busy, I need some salami...
"How much do you need?"
"ummm, 5 lbs?" (remember I don't go to the deli, and I don't really do the grocery shopping, how am I supposed to know how much 5 lbs is?)

The deli lady gives me the look... you know the one... "What- I have to do something?" look, and she says " I don't think we have that much"

"Okay, just give me everything you have."

Duh... is this that complicated?

So, she finds some in the cooler somewhere and is really proud of herself and starts slicing...

30 minutes later... she's still slicing... okay that should be it.

Do you have any idea what 5 lbs of salami looks like? It looks like a ward party, scratch that, it looks like a stake party. It is a Ton.

So, can salami be frozen?

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Chapter One

Here is the whole reason I set up a blog... Devon came home with a story yesterday that had me laughing for two days. Devon was late for school... he had a migraine. So, I was asking him what classes he was missing. He starts in on his crazy talk about history. I'm sort of listening... because like any great mother, I can listen to Devon, talk to Jimmy, do the dishes, eat breakfast and play ball with Quincy. So, Devon starts talking about not liking History right now because they are talking about slavery, and every time the teacher says something bad about it everyone turns and looks at Devon. (p.s. Devon is the last person in the world who would be on a black power poster. If someone thinks he's polynesian, he's fine with it. If they think he's mexican he's great with it. He DOES NOT care.) So, he's in his next class and they have free time... so in biology if you have free time apparently you gather around Devon's desk. Here comes the funny part (finally) this girl says to Devon ...
"oh my gosh, History is so sad... You are so brave."

This is the point where I perk up and say to Devon - "what are you brave for?"

"I guess I'm brave because I was a slave?"
"What did you say to the crazy girl?"
"I said that I knew I was brave."

Is this the funniest thing you have ever heard? That's like me walking up to a Jewish person and telling him he's mean right after I get out of Sunday school. Oops never mind, people do that. Ummmm... at this point I don't have anything good. But, it's still a funny story. Maybe for chapter two I will have you count the number of dots in Chapter One. ....... ........ ....... ........