Memorial Day

They had an awesome flag display at the local cemetery. Check out the slideshow below for more shots.

I took the kids to the cemetery today. I realize it may seem a bit morbid, but I want them to have some kind of connection to their past. History is so valuable, yet so overlooked. At WalMart today, there was a veteran handing out Red Poppies "for the boys who didn't come home." I felt so emotional when I looked at him. Tom Brokaw calls them "The Greatest Generation" and I couldn't agree more. One of my favorite things to do is sit with older men who have fought in wars. They understand hard work, they understand sacrifice, they understand loyalty and commitment. I sometimes feel sad for the younger generations, that these things might be lost to them.

War is never a good thing. It can produce good results, but often at a high price. Skip has been to war a lot. He has seen it all. I would not have traded places with him for anything in the world. I'd rather not detail his experiences today, but I appreciate Memorial Day for the opportunity it gives me to reflect on them. And I am grateful he is alive, he is my husband, and we are for eternity.

Age Is Fine For Cheese and Wine

Today my husband sent me a link to take an online quiz and determine my Real Age. (You can try it too, if you feel so inclined, by clicking on my handy-dandy link). We participated in this quiz for one or more of the following reasons:
1. We were nervous that perhaps we weren't actually as old we had spent our entire lives thinking.
2. We were hopeful that we were actually younger than we spent our entire lives thinking.
3. We have nothing better to do with our time.

The quiz basically takes you through a series of questions regarding your health, habits, relationships, diet and fitness. It's actually kind of cool, because it helps identify those areas that you need to improve in order to have your body age in conjunction with the pages of the calendar.

I will admit I went in smugly, because I eat really well, I've always exercised, I have great friends and family who are a big part of my life, I've never habitually smoked, drank, blah, blah, blah. Miss Perfect was looking to come out in her biological twenties.
The Mr. in this equation eats red meat as if we own a cattle ranch. I won't divulge his past habits, but suffice it to say I knew he would be checking a lot more "yes I have" boxes than I did. He never really gets why I have "so many friends" and feel the need to communicate with them daily. Mr. Not Quite As Perfect As His Wife should've been rolling into his biological fifties.

Well.
Guess what.

I came in "SEVERAL" YEARS OLDER than I actually am, and he came in "SEVERAL" YEARS YOUNGER!
The results looked a little somethin like this:





I claim total unfairness because I had to check off "yes" on the breast cancer gene. He claims that it TOTALLY DOESN'T MATTER if he eats crap every day, never talks to his friends, and spent half his life with Captain Morgan.

And apparently, he's right.


*In all fairness, the guy bikes twenty-two miles a day. But I'M the one who eats eggplant and doesn't drink soda. I WAS THE GOOD SON!

A Man, His Wife, and Their Pheasants

We have an ongoing "conversation" in our house about the pheasants. Click here for the original story. Last night, the kids and I spotted this one on the way home. We pulled over to grab a picture of it. I came home, and changed Skip's computer desktop from the family picture to this:


He totally loves it, and he's going to keep it up for a long time, mostly because he's a huge fan of the bird, and also mostly because he thinks I'm the funniest person EVER.

Right babe?

Words from McGruff...

Blogapalooza was mostly about fun. We did, however, take a brief moment to discuss some of the issues and topics related to blogging. One in particular was that of safety. We are mostly moms, posting about our families. And we throw a lot of information up on that website, without even realizing we're doing it.
The odds of a creepy stalker coming into your life are slim. Nonetheless, here are a few tips to keep in mind when blogging:

1. Consider not using your last name on anything: your URL address, your blog title, your profile... nothing. Just out of curiousity, I tried an experiment. So as not to put anyone on the spot, I'll change the last name to Nacho, as in you should hope this is Nacho Family.
I see on Patty's blog the title "The Stories of the Nacho Family", and in the profile, a picture of her and her husband labeled "Patty and Paul". So now I know they are Patty and Paul Nacho. I can also see in the profile that they live in California. So I hit the white pages and look them up. POOF! An address. I take that address, plug it in to Yahoo Real Estate, and up pops their house, with a listing of local schools. I also notice the Nachos have adorable children, whose names are also clearly posted. I then found out which school the Nacho children would be in based on their address in relation to the school zone. All this from the last name being visible.

2. Avoid specifically naming local attractions, universities, parks or events. Go to the Plainville Farmers Market every weekend? Blog about it? Hang out at Skaket Beach? Blog about it? The more specific you are about where you go, the easier it would be for someone to go there too.

3. Add a tracker to your sidebar. Most people use Sitemeter. While you initially may be using it to satisfy your vanity and see how popular your blog is, it could also be a tool for tracking who visits regularly. If you notice someone visiting regularly from the same location, and don't know who it could be, start asking around. It's likely just a lurker (someone who likes your blog but won't comment... not to be confused with a stalker, who likes your children but won't comment).

4. Don't let people Google your blog. I did a post about dominoes once, and I noticed on my Sitemeter that people would find my blog post after googling topics related to "rules for playing dominoes." Sitemeter tells you how people found your blog. No one needs to be finding it on Google. Do the following to ensure they can't:
-Go to the settings tab
-Go to the 4th topic: let search engines find your blog
-Select No and save changes

5. An additional safety feature would be to prevent your blog from being added to Blogger's listings. Follow the same steps as above, only select the 3rd option: add your blog to our listings. Then hit No.

6. Don't list your city when you choose your location. Naming the state isn't too bad, but no one really needs to know your city. If you become friends with people, let them know privately.

7. Think twice before mentioning where you or your spouse works. If someone knows your job, it would be easy to figure out your schedule as well.

I hope I'm not freaking anybody out here. Like I said, the odds of this happening are very low. But it's only wise to be as cautious as possible when it comes to our families. I know I have been a little too lax in some of my posts as well. If you have your last name anywhere on there, think twice about it. I found your kid's school today. I know what sport they play. I know their name. All of that would've been much harder to pursue if I didn't have your last name. I feel kind of like McGruff the crime dog, doing a public service announcement. I should make a joke about taking a bite out of crime, but I can't think of one that's actually funny.
Bummer.

Mom

This is my mom. She is one talented woman. She is artistic, creative, she sings, plays the piano, directs a mean choir, sews, gardens, cooks, knows more about sports than most women alive... you name it. She is unique in so many ways. Did you know she was raised in the West Indian Mafia? The HBO series that could be made about that extended family... good stuff.

My mom and I had a horribly rough patch during my teenage years. Somehow our relationship survived it, and after I moved out of the house, I discovered she was not an evil person who knew nothing and was trying to ruin my life. Imagine that!

I admire my mom for so many reasons. She has a great ability to sense when people need a listening ear, and she's a good advice giver. She is officially retired, but still teaches ESL, works for CES, holds multiple callings in their branch, and manages to remember and send a couple bucks to all her grandkids on their birthdays.

She has been a support to me during the worst and best times of my life. She loves me unconditionally, and has taught me so much about myself. We will never enjoy shopping together, but I am grateful for our relationship, and proud to call her my mom.

Happy Mothers Day, Mom! I love you!

Highlights: Round Two

It's time to dish about the event of the year... Blogapalooza. What can I say? It was as much fun as I hoped it would be. I walked into a room full of women I had never met before, and I could call most of them by name and knew many details of their lives. Who could've worried there would be nothing to talk about? The problem was there wasn't enough time to talk to as many of the women as I would've liked.

I was most surprised to meet Heidi in real life, as she looked nothing like the pictures on her blog. But I was so glad she did as I begged her to (hee hee) and made the trek across the country, because it was worth every minute of it. And of course, I got to give Shally a big REAL hug for all the great things she's brought my way. Really, everyone was so fantastic, I was almost mesmerized for a good part of the night.

I may be a little biased, but I totally sat at the funnest table. I laughed so hard, that it gave me a valid excuse for ignoring the cold squash and dry chicken on my plate. I feel like I should name everyone and say how much I enjoyed each person, but as you can see here...
...there were a lot of us. Over forty, to be semi-exact. We played some games, had some "organized" discussions, and generally just loved every minute of it. Then we got locked in the student center because we lingered much longer than allowed, and the security guard failed to see the bright side of the situation. Bummer.

I may give Utah a lot of flack... and some of you may be starting to feel a little bit slighted because of it. You mustn't. Utah has a lot of wonderful things to offer. I enjoy a visit there. I also enjoy making fun of a few of its idiosyncrasies, so we'll call it even. But on its upside, it does boast the Rodizio Grill at Trolley Square. I have been there several times, and always love it. It's a Brazilian place, where you can eat meat all night long, right off the skewer and fresh off the open fire. Have mercy, it's gluttony at its best. Expensive, but worth every penny.

The morning before my flight home, Lisa, Laura and I met up with another friend from our mission for breakfast. Dorian is this fantastically talented woman who travels the world and does really interesting things. We served in Cape Verde together, and it was a crazy trip. I haven't seen her since 2000, when the three of us took a trip out to Boston together. It was great to catch up. She's so smart, so pretty, and has a very sharp wit. She's also single. So if you happen to have a phenomenal brother or cousin or maybe even an uncle... hook it up.

I was bummed it was all over, but I couldn't wait to get home to my family. I got tons of hugs and loves, and found my home fully intact. Skip is one in a million. He held the fort down and kept the troops happy. I didn't worry for a minute while I was gone. I loved getting away, and I loved coming home. A Little Time Out: It does a body good.

Highlights: Round One

I took that picture myself. I'm feeling very proud of it.

After my initial airport entertainment, I reconciled myself to the fact that I was spending precious vacation time in the state of Utah. This was not such a bad thing when I looked outside and saw the above scene. Blue skies, snow-capped mountains, deep green pines... it made the rest of the state's oddities bearable.

And then... my pesseguinha arrived. I hooked up wiht Lisa and we immediately began what would turn into four days of non-stop talking, reminiscing, and bonding. That's good stuff. We headed down to Provo, and checked into our dorm. More to come on that horrific experience.

We added to the party a little at a time. Laura (Lisa's mom) met us down there, and if there is anyone on earth that you just want to spend time with and feel good, it's Laura. From the first time she fed me biscuits and sausage gravy, I knew she was a keeper.
Imagine my surprise when we added another duo to our group! Nancy and Darlene, who I met through Lisa years ago, were also around. Nancy is intelligent and purposeful, and her mom is just a kick in the pants. The more, the merrier. This was going to be fun.
We met up that night with a friend I made through blogging, Martha. We went out for dinner, and had some really good conversation. I spend all my time in real life with my husband, which I absolutely enjoy doing. But I will confess that a night out with some girlfriends did my soul good. Martha proved to be every bit as insightful and enjoyable as I suspected she would. Plus, we ate horrific amounts of Mexican food, which is always a plus.
The night did take a turn for the worse, however, when we reached the dorm rooms. With three herniated discs in my back, I was terrified of sleeping on this "mattress", and was slightly leery of walls that so closely resembled Rice Krispie treats. And then there was the bathroom. Look closely. Yes, that is a toilet tucked back in the corner. I am a slender chick, and I had to turn sideways to fit back there. Ew. There were three dorm rooms to an "apartment", with one shared bathroom. Lisa and I were thrilled to find the other 2 rooms empty. No bathroom sharing with dirty-bottomed people! But at 9:30, we heard noise. People were there. Shoot! I devised a plan to sneak out for a drink of water so I could spy on them. Must check for general clean-persona. Imagine my surprise when they were spying back, and who would it happen to be, but Celia and Denae! There was a lot of screaming and squealing, relief at general clean-personas, and then chatting. Skip called, and Celia was excited because she likes bald men. She made him jealous by telling him she would be sleeping with me tonight, spooning even. Here she is, practicing to be the outside spoon:

What an amazing first day in the foreign country state of Utah!

Top 10 Signs You're in the SLC Airport

Without a doubt, Utah is a unique place. Here are the top 10 signs you've arrived at SLC International Airport:

1. 80% of the women you see are blonde.

2. 80% of those women have the Posh Spice bob and Jackie O sunglasses.

3. All airport security positions are filled by Polynesians. And you are more intimidated by the female guards than the male.

4. You see a black guy.

5. You spend five minutes watching him to see if you can figure out which sport he is likely playing at which university.

6. The line to check in is really, really long. However, more of the line space is taken up by strollers than actual passengers.

7. There are more bread stores than any other airport in the country. Thank the pioneer ancestors for that one.

8. If you are Mormon, you will run into someone you know from college, a previous ward, or a mission.

9. There are still signs up that say "Mitt for President!"

10. You may also find the smaller signs that read "Fly JetBlue... the Church is True!"

I could never live in Utah. There are some wonderful people there, and it is a beautiful state. I love to visit there, but I am not a Utah girl at heart. I did have an incredible time at both the BYU Women's Conference, as well as Blogapalooza. Every day this week, my goal is to post about a highlight from the trip. Stay tuned...

God Bless the Yellow Dress

Heeeeeeere's LISA!!!!

Imagine my surprise when my google reader told me today that she had a new post, so I clicked over to read it and found what could very well be the most hideous picture of me EVER.

But the absolutely nicest post ever.

So I'm letting the picture slide.

But if you'd like to read about how one of my best friends became one of my best friends, then click your way over here.

Oh, and this was the only picture I could scrounge up of the yellow dress. I would love to find ANYONE who has flattering missionary pictures. God makes your spirit beautiful, but sort of ignores your physical for awhile. But it's worth it in the end...

Polygamatch.com

What's all the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth about? So there's some polygamy going on. So things aren't looking so good. What about the bright side, people? I'm all about the productive marketing aspect. Therefore, I propose

polygamatch.com

your source for additional brides...

This website is dedicated to connecting a potential sect leader with his brides. We guarantee no less than 17 matches for you! Spaces for men are limited. Spaces for women are not. In a test run of the website performed several months ago, the following success stories were submitted:

"Brother Jeb": I done foun' myself troo happyness at polygamatch dot com. Why, me, 'n Stacey, 'n Rebekah, 'n Emma, 'n Caroline, 'n Kaziah's all as happy as we kin be.

"Brother Richard": Before polygamatch.com, I was constantly running into women with opinions. Since joining, I've really been able to connect with some compliant, docile ladies who cook for me, clean for me, and are ready to bear my children.

So log on and visit polygamatch.com today! Your brides are waiting!

*Disclaimer: We realize polygamy isn't for everyone. Female applicants must have no self-esteem, one eyebrow, poofy hair where your bangs should be, and a lot of denim dresses. Child-bearing hips and little sisters are also good. Male applicants must be creepy and domineering. No background check required.

A Letter To Vomit

Dear Puke,
I know you may be surprised at hearing from me in this capacity. You are generally kind to our family. Rarely do we experience your services. I sailed through three pregnancies with nary a dry heave thrown my way. For your habitual avoidance of our home, I thank you.
However, last night, uninvited, you crept into the life of my daughter. At the risk of sounding unkind, may I point out a few things:
1. You smell wretched. Your smell permeates everything with which it comes in contact... hair, pillows, pajamas, blankets, stuffed animals, carpet... and you have a way of coming in contact with all of it.
2. Due to point number one, I am forced to deviate from my usually eco-friendly lifestyle, and use gallons and gallons of precious water to bathe those bodies and linens which you soil. This causes me pangs of guilt.
3. You rob me of precious sleep. I lay in my bed, with one ear open, all through the night, ready to spring into action at the slightest sound of a gag. I wake in the morning, tired and cranky, making me more susceptible to your intrusion of my own body.
4. You mess with my schedule. We type-A's need our schedules. I have already cancelled three appointments for today. This is very inconsiderate of you.
5. No offense, but you are really ugly.

While I realize that I should be thanking you for how little you rear your ugly head in our home, that sort of makes me feel like the owner of a small corner store, thanking a mafioso for providing him with "protection" at such a reasonable price.
No, you are not welcome in our home. I would like you gone no later than this afternoon. Go do something productive with yourself, like feed baby birds. Just leave my sweet baby alone.

Oh No You DIT-INT

Remember back in December when Skip went to the dentist? Yes, the potentially racist dentist?

Remember how everyone advised us to find a new dentist? Well, we figured we'd give him one more shot. His staff is super, and we never have problems with our insurance. Why rock the boat?

Here's why.

I took the boys in last week. One of the boys (names withheld to protect the guilty) had a bit of plaque build-up. I figured I'd use the dentist to help reinforce the point of good oral hygiene. So I asked the dentist, "What can we do to prevent this kind of build-up in the future?" And the dentist turns to my son and says, (and yes, this is a DIRECT QUOTE)

"There comes a time boy, when you have to start doing things on your own. You don't want your mom always telling you what to do, because that just makes you a pussy."

Yes. The P-WORD if you can believe it. I stood there in total stunned silence. Even the hygienist was at a loss for words. Thankfully, my son had no idea what just happened, and nodded in agreement that he should take the initiative to brush his teeth better.

However, the boat is officially rocked. I will be writing a letter to express my disgust, and we will be finding a new dentist. WHO SAYS THAT KIND OF STUFF IN FRONT OF KIDS? The unprofessional nature of it is bad enough, but in front of my child? The previous racist remarks could've been just ignorance, leftover from a different generation, potentially poorly chosen words. But this?

Nah. We're through.

The Complexity of Injustice

Apparently, the easiest form of advertising on college campuses is sidewalk chalk. Walking to work this morning, I read several interesting scribblings along my path. Two that stick out, however, were these:
"Of the top 101 world economies, 50 of them are corrupt". How can you substantiate a statement like that? Where is the data to back that up? And how about this one: "War = Terrorism." Really? So liberating countries oppressed by dictatorship or extremist rule is terrorism? Huh. Who knew!


But I can empathize. I mean, this may be a blanket statement, but it's safe to say that college students are a passionate group. They're young, energetic, and caught somewhere between knowing it all and knowing nothing. They tend to be fervent about their causes... be it world peace, AIDS, or frat parties. At least they are speaking out for something that motivates them.


This raises a question for me... one that has actually been on my mind for a few weeks now. We are pretty into American Idol. The other night was the big "Idol Gives Back" episode. Every celebrity currently not in rehab steps up and asks for your money. We get to see clips of AIDS orphans in Zimbabwe, traumatized teens in New Orleans, impoverished families with no health care in New York, malaria babies in Angola. The list goes on.


What do I do during this program? I sit on my couch and cry. I look at those clips and I know that no matter what I do, it will never be enough. Skip and I discussed the concept of charity. I cannot call during these programs and offer my twenty dollars. Or fifty. Or any other sum, because it's just not enough. He said, "What if everyone felt that way? Then no one would donate at all." This is true. But I recognize the Idol forum as being very far-reaching, and very influential. They will bring in millions and millions of dollars. And a lot of people will feel like they have done something to change the world. But not me.


I used to want to join the Peace Corps. I was a missionary in a third world country. I know what it takes to make a difference. However, I can't exactly up and do those things at this point in my life. So is it wrong for me not to donate? Is it selfish to withhold giving if I can't give in a way that I find fulfilling or influential? Am I like a college student, passionate about a cause but unable to effectuate results outside of sidewalk chalk? Am I aware of injustice but sidelined by my life?

One last point and I'll be on my way. Back to those clips of the suffering people. Nothing makes you dig deep into your pockets like a little guilt and pity. I always feel like it is so wrong to exploit the suffering of others in such a public way. The camera is on a child, orphaned by AIDS, and Bono asks him how it feels when all he has left of his parents can be found in his "Memory Box". What is the kid supposed to say? He just cries. And people feel horrible and send in more money. The goal has been met! Money was raised! Is that wrong?


Most of us are immune, but not ignorant, regarding the severity of the world's problems. Some would argue that we cannot turn a blind eye; that by taking such an intimate look at human suffering, we can then make some changes. Others might say if you've seen one starving African, you've seen 'em all.


I don't know. I am motivated by love more than guilt. During my time in Cape Verde, I couldn't hug enough people. I was filthy at the end of every day, but there was always a lot of love to go around. I held children suffering from cholera, and I was as helpless to do anything for them then as I am now. But the daily process of serving and working felt right to me. And I did see many ways in which I made a difference. I can't get that feeling from calling Ryan Seacrest and turning over half a paycheck. And for me, watching a young child cry from hunger is a fine line between awareness and voyeurism. I appreciate the efforts and the results that come from these programs. Perhaps I just need to overlook the path to the destination.

BRING THA HYPE!

Coming to BLOGAPALOOZA? Worried you may not know anyone? Or worse yet, that no one will know you? Let's put all our fears to rest. I put together a little introductory video for our viewing pleasure. There are, however, a few rules to cover before viewing said video:

1. I took the pictures off your blog. (Except blog-less Sally, who emailed me hers) Any creepy freak off the street can access pictures from your blog, so don't sue me for invasion of privacy.

2. I had a lot of blog-surfing to do in order to accomplish this. That said, I wasn't necessarily looking for your most flattering shots. I was just looking for you, so we can all figure out who you are. If I picked a picture of you that you don't like, you probably shouldn't have posted it in the first place.

3. If I missed you, and you are coming to BP, I am truly sorry. You can ask Denae and Celia, I've been hounding them for weeks for list updates, and trying to keep everything straight. If you're coming, and you're not on the video, don't take it personally. If you feel that badly about it, comment or email me, and I'll make you your very own special post.

Now that we've covered all that, ENJOY THE VIDEO! Hopefully it helps you figure out who everyone is a little in advance.

The Dharma Schooner Initiative

Well, well, well. Isn't school fun? We have about a week left to make our very own PRAIRIE SCHOONER. If you're Mormon, you know this as "THE OXCART" and you are probably now starting to sing a song involving the words "oh how slow..." This oxcart, or prairie schooner, may very well be a big part of your pioneer heritage.
Having a pioneer heritage myself, one might think I would be excited about this project. And maybe I would be, if only a few months ago we hadn't just finished the NATIVE AMERICAN DIORAMA:

Followed immediately by the PINEWOOD DERBY CAR:

These projects are all labor intensive and time consuming. I am an advocate for letting the child do the work on their own, although my control issues make that challenging. But even when the planets align, and I can allow the child to work alone, it can only be AFTER I have carted him all over town to purchase supplies. On my dime. There also has to be a fair amount of "reminding" on my part. While I believe in natural consequences (you forget to do the project, your grade stinks) I also believe in reality. A nine year old boy will need a few reminders in order to get this project done. There's a fine line between the two. That line gives me a headache.

Below are the requirements for this project. I find them to be a bit much. I mean, come on! Can't we just draw a nice illustration of the wagon? No. It has to include wheels, a bed, a brake, sideboards, wagon bow, bonnet, falling tongue (much like mine did as it followed my dropped jaw to the floor when I read this), and a neck yoke. There are several other requirements which you can read about if you choose.

I can't show my lack of enthusiasm in front of my son, because he would willingly embrace it as his own, and tell his teacher, "even my MOM thinks this is too much work!" Thank GOODNESS I have this great blog! My deepest secrets revealed... I am a teacher, and I'm whining about my child's assignment. It's dark and dirty over here.