Victory: How Sweet It Is

24 01 2010

See that bald guy in the back there? That’s my brother. You can see here his excitement after receiving pretty much the Best Christmas Present Ever (not to be confused with the Best Christmas Pageant Ever) which was David Hasslehoff’s autobiography, titled (I kid you not) Don’t Hassle the Hoff.

That’s how I felt after completing my weekly goal.

Try it! You’ll like it!

Fridays at the Rink

22 01 2010

I grew up loving to roller skate.

I got my very own pair of skates when I was about five (Strawberry Shortcake) and spent many hours in the garage and driveway, perfecting my sweet skillz. As I got older, I would go with my friends to the rink. Oh, the rink!

We always felt like we were a little bit special, since we knew the owners and all. By the time I was in Jr. High, I’d already clocked many hours Shooting the Duck, playing Red Light/Green Light, and conveniently needing the restroom when they started the Snowball.

I had a bit of a flashback today when I took Colby to the skating rink for a family field trip (of sorts) with his class.

Tan skates, orange wheels, brown laces.


(No beach scene or seagulls in sight, though.)

There was, however, this:


A wall of fame for participants in the national skating championships . . . who trained at this very rink! Pretty sweet. Serious stuff.

Upon arrival, kids were swarming everywhere on the sidelines, taking off shoes and putting on skates. None of them were on the floor yet, though. Another group was finishing up.

I’ve never before seen senior citizens skate. Pardon me for saying so, but it seems a bit risky–what with the chance of falling while traveling at accelerated rates and all. However, I do have to say, these people were good.



(No kidding. Most of the women had skating costumes on, sequins and all.)

If you can get over your fear of falling and breaking your hip, I’d imagine it’s an excellent way to keep in shape.

Colby was fascinated. Watching these mature adults gliding effortlessly around the rink is probably what made him so excited to put on skates of his own.

Our rounds weren’t nearly as graceful, gliding, or effortless (not to mention sparkly), but we had a fun time skate-walking around to Disney’s greatest hits.

Give us a few years. We’ll get there.

Accountability, The Weekly Project, and Other Scattered Goals

19 01 2010

Last week at my writers group meeting, we decided to email each other our weekly writing goals to give us some accountability.

I’ve been thinking about that, about having accountability, and about how great I do when someone is expecting me to do something. I’m a people-pleaser, so I try really hard to do what people want me to and what will make their lives easier. This could be one reason I did so well in school–gotta please those teachers, right? Anyway, when I first realized Colby was going to school for full days starting in January, I made a couple of lists when I was Looking On The Bright Side Of Things and Trying To Not Let It Bother Me That My Baby Is At School Instead Of At Home With Me. They are projects to be finished, things that are easier to do when there are no children around.

However, I’ve found that I’ve had some difficulty focusing since Colby’s been gone. That might stem from the fact that for almost ten years I’ve been interrupted from whatever I’ve been doing approximately every seven minutes. It’s kind of hard to get your brain back in the groove of things like thinking and having a long attention span (at least longer than seven minutes).

In order to increase my accountability, then, I have made a new category on my sidebar called The Weekly Project.

This week, the project is clean off counters.


In this never-before-published photo, you can see two of the worst culprits. I have two other spots that attract clutter like iron filings to a magnet. They will be clean by the end of the week. This I vow.

(When I first put up the weekly project section, I also wrote “Take down Christmas lights” and “Organize magazines” because I was feeling ambitious. Also because I already finished taking down the Christmas lights this morning and I thought I would give myself some points for Checking Something Off . It didn’t work out, so until I figure out a little bit more about html, only one thing is going to be the weekly project. I’m sure it’s all for the best, though. Wouldn’t want to overwhelm myself the first week.)

I’m not asking you to make me be accountable. In fact, the only person that will say anything about my weekly project will probably be my mom. (She’s always been good at making me be accountable.) But that’s okay because (I hope this is true) just the act of writing it down and posting it in a public place will be enough to make me work on it. (Right?)

I never posted my New Year’s Resolutions or Goals or what have you because I wrote them in my journal instead. (Should we call those book-logs nowadays?) So far, my biggest goal is to survive 2010 with my sense of humor intact. I think I can do it.

To wrap up (can you wrap up something that is seemingly unrelated to itself?), I figured out how to re-insert my blog roll. Cool, huh? And I only had to be slightly smarter than the average door to do it (which just goes to show you I’m getting smarter, since I’ve been trying to figure it out for almost a year).

(Digression: I first heard the phrase “smarter than the average door” when I was at my friend Niki’s house. Her older sister [now known as “Mrs. Olsen”] was chatting us up about school and whatnot. I think we must have been in the fifth or sixth grade. Anyway, Amber said, “So, are either of you going with anyone?” I looked at Niki, shrugged, then said, “Going where?” Amber laughed and said, “You’d know if you were smarter than the average door.” Catchy, isn’t it. I think that’s destined to be the phrase of the year for 2010.)

I’ve really got to work on my endings. Seriously.


12 01 2010

Brownies? Check.

Mall? Check.

Shower? Check.

Laundry? Half-check.

Dishes? Um . . . quarter-check?

Christmas? Definitely not checked.

You can see where my priorities lie.

I’ve been trying to figure out a way to bring this up without being overly-sentimental, but it seems I just can’t do it. Apparently, I’m just a cry baby.

So, as several of you know, my brother used some stalking techniques to find friends of mine and make them write nice things about me so he could put them into a book he and his wife gave me for Christmas.

Thank you so much.

I cried (possibly a lot) when I first read it, and have cried when thinking about it, and have cried when re-reading it.

It’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.

I am so blessed.

Laundry, here I come!

Status Update, Extended Edition

11 01 2010

Being a Facebook user has made me a lazy blogger.

I get ready to post on my blog and then think, “But I just sort of said that on Facebook.”

However–my mom is not on Facebook, so how’s she supposed to know how I’m doing if I never post on my blog? (You know, besides talking to me on the phone several times a week.)

So, this is how I was feeling last night:

This picture was taken after I’d stayed up until 1 am packing on Christmas night, woken up at 3 am and gotten the kids up to catch our plane, flown to Idaho, and driven to Rexburg. I look it.

Last night, I felt like that sound a pressure cooker makes when it’s finished cooking and you stick it in the sink and run water over it. “Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffft.” Out of steam.

Yesterday, I spoke in church. I was also released from a calling (one that I both needed and wanted: Primary chorister) and called to two more (one starts with “ch” and ends in “oir director” and the other one starts with “w” and ends in “ard missionary”), set apart for the callings, and then made lasagna (with homemade sauce, thank you very much).

That’s why, at about six, I felt my velocity plummeting. (I know I used that word two posts ago, but I can’t help it–it’s just so descriptive.)

At seven, I was sitting in a chair, in a stupor. Eden kept asking me questions about her weaving project and I had to keep telling her, “I’m sorry. I can’t think straight right now.”

Rainbow had been waiting for brownies all day (well, all day since after church, when she found the empty plate and tinfoil in the car where there used to be some brownies that she didn’t get) and I finally said, “I’m sorry. I can’t make brownies tonight.”

I played a few lackluster rounds of Scramble on Facebook and told myself, “I’m sorry. I can’t spell right now.”

At eight, I told my family (via email), “I’m sorry. I can’t be on the family chat tonight.”

Everyone (including me) was in bed by nine.

You would think, then, that this morning I would be like this:

Downright bushy-eyed (sorry, inside joke).

However, one dear redhead (who shall remain nameless) decided he was hungry at around 5 am (he doesn’t like homemade lasagna) and has me looking like this instead:

I really do think there was a point to this, in the beginning, but what was it? Oh yes, status update. Here goes:

I am still in my pajamas. My kids are all at school or en route. Today I am working on laundry, dishes (oh, lasagna!), making brownies, putting Christmas away (yes, we all agree it is Past Time), and possibly going to the mall (because I can. Also because I need new jeans and I have Christmas money burning a hole in my pocket). Perhaps I can slip a shower in there somewhere (everyone hopes so).

Time to put some bushes in my eyes!

Here’s hoping everyone has a great Monday—

Happy New Blog!

7 01 2010

So . . .

It’s a new year, and I’ve been thinking. I’ve been thinking that it’s time to freshen up this here blog.

Presenting, for 2010:


More earwax!

More crayons!

More blogging!

(Only not really more of the first two.)

Stay tuned for more fun and excitement!


(And more exclamation points.)

(I mean, more exclamation points!)

Flying the Coop

6 01 2010

I feel a little like I think a mother bird must feel (if a mother bird has what you would call “feelings”) when she pushes her baby bird out of the nest for the first time.

“Fly, baby bird! Fly!”

The baby bird is plummeting.

“Use your wings, baby!”

The baby bird continues falling.

“Open them up and flap! Trust your wings! They’ll bring you back home!”

Does the baby bird even understand? Does he know what “wings” means?

Does he know what “bus” means? Does he know the bus will bring him home?

That I will be waiting for him, with a day’s worth of hugs and kisses ready to smother him? Does he know?

Aw, my sweet baby bird. School will be good for you. I know it will.

 I just wish I could keep you with me in my nest a little longer. I love you!

Fly, little bird, fly!