Why my life is better than yours.

Salt of the earth

2010-12-13T18:35:00.000-08:00

Don't I look down to earth and easy to get along with?

I would love to post more of these bridals, but I can't bear the thought of putting anymore headshots in disguise out on the web. However, I did want to give a shout out to my photographer Melissa Schoenhardt, who took these whilst a full 9 months pregnant (wowza). I'm pretty sure I got a mild case of bronchitis hanging out on a frozen lake all day (what we do for beauty), so she was definitely a trooper/genius. And, I promise, I did take some pictures looking at the camera and even possibly smiling. . . only because that's what ice princesses do once they've captured their prey.

me thinks we have a problem in Utah County

2010-12-06T17:40:00.000-08:00

Have you been to see the new lights/Disneyland parade at the Riverwoods? I'm shocked if you haven't since I'm pretty sure you can see them from Space. But since I love anything slightly overdone (hence my attraction to any event put on by my church), I've visited them several times in the past 3 weeks (Dale lives at the Riverwoods, shh). But, as is the case with me, I've never thought to take a picture. Yeah, I figure that the slideshow of my life in Heaven will be a lot more interesting this way. But, ever-so-often I find something so amazing that I have to take a picture. The following is a sign outside of one of the new glitzy shops that truly blew me away. . . so much so that I actually pulled out the old camera (on my phone):

Isn't it a blessing that the recession has not hit anywhere near University Avenue? Finally there are some businesses out there willing to cater to we paupers and offer some inexpensive alternatives to the traditional family gift exchange. It's good to know that there's someplace in town that will sell someone a beanie or T-shirt for less than $100. Finally.

Going for the Gold

2010-11-03T15:03:00.000-07:00

Don't even for one second think that I had to coax Dale into dressing up as pair figure skaters for Halloween this year. He was just as enthusiastic about bringing back the spirit of Lillehammer '94 as I was. What can we say? We love the Olympics, almost as much as we love making costumes and Gold!

To answer your questions:

1. Yes, Dale is wearing my mom's wig.

2. Yes, my mom has a wig (about 5 more where that came from).

3. We found Dale's gold lamme leggings at Savers in the "Activewear" section.

4. The leg warmers Dale is wearing are the shirt sleeves from the turtleneck he has on.

5. Yes, I knew before Halloween night that I would be a mere accessory to Dale's ensemble.

6. We, meaning Dale, made the skates out of 2X4s and painted them.

7. My skates were much sturdier than Dale's, so I did not have to walk around like Frankenstein on Ice all night...like someone else I know.

8. Dale's costume worked very nicely with his karaoke rendition of "Sara Smile" by Hall and Oats that evening.

9. My costume did not go quite as well with my karaoke versions of "Say My Name," by Destiny's Child, and "Carrying the Banner," from the Newsies Soundtrack.

10. Yes, I felt a little chubby in suntan tights and teased bangs.

11. Yes, I think it will be tough to top next year. But, I still think we can!

The following is just to prove that Dale is pretty amazing on skates in general. Check out this awesome jump at Classic Skating last week. We have an equal love for Disco Rollerskating and other stuff junior high kids like.

See ya suckers!

2010-10-08T11:21:00.000-07:00

By "ya" I mean single life. Usually, when a young lady gets engaged, it is appropriate to remain humble and grateful, while not bragging or being boastful. . . well, I'm not that kind of girl. Please note the title of this blog. I fully plan on being atrocious.

As I prepare for the final countdown of singlehood, let me state that my life is probably better than yours. Feel free to judge me, hate me, be jealous of me, or despise my existence, because it doesn't change the fact that I have tricked Dale into marrying me on December 28th.

Things I am looking forward to as a newly engaged woman:

1. My precocious smirk when people talk about how amazing my ring is.

2. Telling future brides that they just have to hire "so in so" to do the "whatever," because he is a GENIUS!

3. Being stressed about planning an event that you were never really sure would happen.

4. Using the word "fiance" nonchalantly to co-workers and Bank Tellers.

5. Saying the phrase, "You've got to kiss a few frogs before you meet your Prince."

6. Smiling with my mouth closed and my head cocked slightly to the left.

7. Using the word AMAZING and AWESOME in more texts.

8. Getting into squabbles with my mom about which relatives should get invites.

9. Responding to questions about Dale with, "I'm marrying my best friend," and then doing number 6.

10. Feeling sorry for single girls because they haven't yet experienced true happiness.

The following are some obligatory photos that might cause you to skip the previous paragraphs of hillarity, but oh well.

(Contrast the proposal pictures with a photoshoot I did by myself earlier this year.)

Photobooth of Eternity

Who, me?

Where the magic happens.

Todd and Rachel: Co-conspirators of Operation Congratulation

Cover your eyes, Daddy Warbucks has adopted me.

Cassie was able to stop by for some "Wow Mom" photos.

Miracle of miracles!

Poor Dale is in for a lifetime of this

Ember has sing

2010-05-23T13:29:00.000-07:00

I imagine that I have been thinking a lot about embarrassing moments this week because I've had the honor of playing Simon Cowell at my school's Talent Show auditions last Wednesday and Thursday. I assume that most everyone has at some point in their life attended a Talent Show, but until Fox decided to air the American Idol audition footage, we've never had the privilege of seeing the raw cut. Let me tell you, it is both a blessing and a curse. A chance to see all of the talent at our school, (pause, in case you don't understand what a comma is) along with some . . . others. If I were to further detail some of these "other" talents, I would have officially bought myself 2 more hours in Hell, which at this point I can't afford. So, for the sake of my eternal salvation, I will use some refrain.

As I was posting the final show list on my door this last Friday, I reassured myself with the thought that those disappointed will soon get over it, and that rejection is just part of the "growing up process." But, in reality, we all know that that's a lie. If that were true, I wouldn't be able to list in chronological order every embarrassing and/or disappointing moment of my life. Interestingly, the list from elementary school is twice as long as the rest, since I have now added to it through retrospection. Things that I thought weren't humiliating at the time are now mortifying as an adult. Much like my own talent show try outs.

Anecdotal examples: In Kindergarten when I sang a song about Tithing to a panel of mostly Pagan-elementary-school teachers, or when I auditioned in 6th grade by singing (not a talent of mine) "Tale as Old as Time" with the cassette recording of Angela Lansbury singing behind me. . . I ended by saying, "Off to the cupboard with you now Chip, it's past your bedtime." I'm haunted by what all the adults in the room were thinking.

So, in combination with actual embarrassing moments, the list is pretty long. Why is it that as much as I wish I could, I cannot forget about the time in 5th grade that one of my dad's friends mistook me for a boy and asked me if I thought the girl behind the counter at the diner we were eating at was cute? I use the term "diner" pretty loosely, as in actuality, we were at a restaurant attached to the Livestock Auction near my house. Undoubtedly, the burger I was chewing on was probably an unclaimed steer from the previous week's auction . . . the menu was written in pencil. But, don't worry, my dad smoothed the whole situation over by pulling off my backwards baseball cap (Yep. For further information, please see "When I Was a Boy"), and exclaimed "This is a girl!" Ah, the words every young girl longs to hear, a correction to her gender. Phew, crisis evaded. Thanks dad. Obviously I, like my students, have not gotten over it.

Maybe one day I will. But, until then, I take comfort in knowing that I can be part of someone else's humiliating journey through adolescence. Since obviously, once you're an adult, the embarrassment stops. Cough, cough.

Non-embarrassing-Adult Moments (I apologize to both Cassie and my sisters Kym and Lacy who I included without their consent):

We've all been harnessed at some point, right?

The Olympics adds 45 pounds

Kym posing with a stuffed version of our school mascot

Do not show Oprah this picture! But, sometimes even the Cowardly Lion needs to send a text.

I took this photo 7 years ago before church. It still make me laugh just as hard today.

Hands free

2010-05-02T19:46:00.000-07:00

Whenever I'm at the mall, I find myself secretly jealous of all the moms. While I hope to be a mom someday myself, I'm not jealous of their baby. I mean, I know my future child will be darling. But, when I am carrying all of my neon-yellow Forever 21 bags (incriminating, but faith promoting), I am green with envy for the mother pushing her baby in a mall shopping cart, a.k.a. a stroller. Ugh, I can't wait. In fact, if you knew me seven years ago, you might remember that my New Year's resolution was "Hands-free 2003!" Much to the chagrin of my sisters, this goal entailed a myriad of clip-on cell phones and keys . . . I very much resembled a custodian or contractor.

Mommies, if any of the following offends you, just remember that I am an inexperienced single person.

So, I guess I'm confused by the baby sling. I get the fact that it comes in a variety of fabrics and patterns and color schemes (brown + pink/turqoise/lime green/any modern color). Cute? But, it seems to be a regression from modern technology. Is it more natural? I guess if your baby is named Joey.

It might just be me, but this doesn't seem easier (unless your goal is Osteoporosis).

I can barely fold one of those shirts with an attached camisole, let alone follow whatever pictorial instructions accompany the versatile baby sling. But, I'm pretty sure I could figure out how to use this:

Behold the future. FUNNN! I'm also pretty sure that this baby is having a great time.

In the meantime, I'm thinking this might be a plausible option for my next trip to the mall:

Modest is hottest?

2010-04-13T14:40:00.000-07:00

*NOTE: My sister Lacy showed me the following website, and thus deserves credit for bringing this to the attention of the public.

I'm all about modesty. Well, maybe not ALL, but I am definitely all for it. I, like most Utah women, breathed a sigh of relief at my first Shade party (thanks Katie A. for showing me the way to righteous fashion) when I realized that my bum crack was no longer going to be family dinner conversation. You (Cassie) may disagree with my flagrant disregard for propriety when I wear my camisole tank top backwards, as to expose a bit more clavicle, but that's a debate for another time. Probably in Heaven. However, I have not yet warmed to the idea of flesh-colored Shades, as it gives me the creeps and reminds me of Figure Skaters and Jasmine costumes. All I'm saying is, I can be a prude too.

Apparently, some local designers have taken it upon themselves to make young girls (and boys) miserable by providing their mothers with a more modest swim option. Was there really a need? I mean, the one-piece swimsuit has long been the public swimming pool's indicator of wizards among muggles, but now the standard has been raised. Thank you to Diane Hopkins and her company Swim Modest for bringing a little more fabric to the pool or beach.

The company boasts several features to their swimwear:

• all one piece for ease of movement

• attached sarong skirt

• cap sleeves

• fashionable and comfortable modest swimwear

• feel covered and confident

You be the judge.

I'm pretty sure you won't miss this girl the next time you're hitting the Wave Pool at Seven Peaks. Yes that's all one piece. (Could that be Spanish Fork in the background?)

Little sister is oh-so inviting as she steps gingerly into the above-ground-backyard pool.

They look even better wet. I'm sure all that modesty only weighs an extra 10-15 lbs. when saturated.

And finally, no more looking at little boys' nipples. Sickos. Thank goodness for mesh. But, I think the waistband also covers the pecks, look closely.

Is it just me, or do all these swimsuits remind you of this:

Ah, Spring is here.

2010-04-01T15:37:00.000-07:00

If you live in Utah, or anywhere else that people complain about, but could never imagine leaving, you know that the title is a joke. Water cooler talk(kind of a stretch, as I avoid anywhere that might make me actually talk to a co-worker) is full of disses about the recent snow now that it's April. As if any of us even step outside for a majority of the day. And since we are not dogs or college students, even if it was nice weather, in all likelihood, we wouldn't be "tossin' the frisbee." Don't get me wrong, I love nice weather and I will be THRILLED when it arrives.

However, the real tragedy is that when it actually does come, I will be the first to do my best impression of the Resurrection (I'm offensive) and unveil the whiteness that is my skin. I can't wait for shorts and open-toed shoes. Nothing like putting the fetal pigs that have become your toes into a pair of sandals and going shopping, only to be thinking the entire time that everyone knows this is your first day back in warm-weather clothing. In reality, the real indicator that Spring is here came last night. Nothing says that the winter is finally over like bending over and splitting a giant hole in your pants. Of course that hole is not down the seam of your pant, rather, it is located right between the thighs and is only made possible from your growing winter tree trunks rubbing vigorously against eachother from November until March (Kellee, you don't know what I'm talking about, feel free to move on). Who was I to think that Denim could withstand such an assault? Luckily there was no flint stone near by, or I may have ignited. If only that hole was positioned a little further down the leg, I could make a pair of whimsical cutoffs and build a bridge to Terabithia with my best boy friend. But, alas, there is no time for any of that anyway.

So, don't be surprised if I might feel a bit relieved when Dan Pope adjusts his hair and tells me that the Live 5 VIPIR (as if I know what that is) predicts cool temperatures and light snow for the rest of the week. Self-consciousness and humiliation delayed for a few more days. Phew.

(What I wished I looked like in shorts)

(What I'm afraid I might look like in shorts)

No need to leave comments in which you try to restore my self-esteem. This is not a cry for help. I would be much more clever than that.

Why aren't we talking about this?

2010-03-23T16:00:00.000-07:00

Honestly, I NEED to know. I've sat around patiently for the past 10 years, waiting for a reasonable explanation, but no one's talkin. But, who has the answer? I don't even know who to ask. Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Joey (the techie at my school), Jeeves? And where did the name even come from? Where I come from, you'd get your mouth washed out with soap if you called someone this on the playground.

I mean, really, what the bleep is a "Wingding," and what is its function? Why are there 12 options of it in my font list? If only Arial could get there act together and create that many varieties. Certainly nobody has ever scrolled through and thought, "Oh good, I do have Wingdings 3." And to add insult to injury, Wingding's hipper more modern little brother has the audacity to take up even more space in my already tired list of options. Webdings, you are not welcome here. And on your way out, could you grab ESRI Crime Analysis and ESRI Enviro Hazard Incident (disturbing titles, no?) and any other font that doesn't have any kind of Latin-based alphabet?

If I did write Steve Jobs a letter, it would look something like this:

I'm glad I got that off my chest. That was emotionally exhausting. I'll save my question about why Words With Friends on the iPhone is quite possibly the most addictive substance on the planet for another day. Phew.

Back-handed

2010-03-16T18:06:00.001-07:00

Don't you love back-handed compliments? Most moms do. Recently, the teacher across the hall from me has ended up offending me anytime he has attempted a compliment. I shouldn't care. He's 60 years old and has a cabin built around his desk (fire hazard), but alas, I usually find myself unable to muster the proper response.

Case in point-

A few minutes ago, he stopped by my classroom on his way out. All year he has been hassling me about staying too late after contract hours. Today his comment hit a little too close to home: "Hey, if you keep staying so late, you won't have a choice BUT to make this a lifetime profession." Hmm. . . might that insinuate that my staying late is what is keeping me from being married? Thanks. Ah, career.

Luckily I caught my actual facial expression on camera (below)

*Please tell me you've all seen "Muriel's Wedding."

Daily mom emails

2010-03-12T16:09:00.000-08:00

(This is my niece Bailey's favorite pic of my mom)

(Without wind, her hair looks like this)

The highlight of my 20s has been spending a great deal of time with my mom. I really like her. My mom knows that the only way to get a hold of me during the day is through email (I teach school and it is poor form to text. Plus, mom is not allowed to text. AT&T and I say so). Consequently, she emails me, and the rest of her children, short emails throughout the day. I've come to look forward to funny comments/questions arriving from her. Sometimes the humor is intentional, other times, not as much. Either way, I can't help but laugh. Here are a few gems I dug up in my inbox. I've protected the innocent names of any person who may be mentioned. Siblings: Mom doesn't know how to look at my blog, please don't show her this one.

Before leaving on a trip to California:

"Chelsey, Here is the detailed weather report over the 'Pass'...please take a down jacket. I know that (name) and (name) will help with the body heat, but maybe you should take some extra Hershey bars just in case you can't get over the pass for a few hours. Lots of times there will be a truck that slides out or jack knifes and you just have to wait several hours to get by. It does say that there will be significant snow accumulation tomorrow night. Mom"

- Apparently Hershey bars are the survival food of choice. Hmmm.

Mom's panic about her clothing purchase. WARNING-This is only funny if you've heard the dirty rhyme in junior high about the Man from Nantucket:

"I really thought Chelsey was kidding me on Sunday. I wore a shirt from American Eagle that said, 'Man from Nantucket' on it when my home teachers came over. I thought it said, 'I am from Nantucket' when I bought it for $3.00 at TJMAXX. Oh, dear, I went on line and typed in 'man from Nantucket' and up came a joke about the man from Nantucket. It's so horrible I can't repeat. What must my home teachers think? I can't even call (name) and tell her that I didn't know what it said or meant because she is in Chile for a month and her husband is home by himself. And I can't call his 17 year old companion's parents because they'll think I'm sick. I still can't believe it. I'm just toooo innocent sometimes...and blind. Don't know what to do. Mom"

Love hearing my mom recount conversations with teenagers:

"Just talked to (name) and he said his grandpa was made stake president last weekend. He also said school is boring but that he is doing okay. He also has lots of girls in love with him. Last stake dance he decided to ask this great big girl to dance because she had never danced before. Now she won't leave him alone. Wants his phone number and HIM. He's really a good kid. Just doesn't have much to do. If it wasn't for his grandparents he would be very bored. They have been a great blessing in his life. Mom"

-And, I love her term, "great big girl."

While trying to navigate facebook, mom is often horrified by some requests:

"Goodness, (Old ward member) just invited me to play Mafia Wars???? Mom"

More facebook commentary:

"I just saw that mobile picture you have posted of me on facebook...off now!!!"

Truly funny. Sometimes she has the hardest requests:

"Help! I've fallen and I can't get up. Well, not actually... I brought my garbage can in from the curb and when I got it to the house 'it' fell over and I can't get it up because of my shoulder. After school do you think you could swing by and put it upright for me? Don't hurry. It's up against the house. I just can't put anything in it if I need to do so. Thanks"

In response to a picture my sister had emailed to the family:

"Give me a break. Did someone pump up my breasts? I'll never wear that outfit again."

The answer to this question is NO:

"I agree. She is sooooooo Lacy. Adorable. By the way, I bought you a pair of Ed Hardy jeans tonight. Do you like that brand? Mom"

Oh mom!

Meet us

2010-02-09T14:50:00.000-08:00

If you know me, have met me, or stared at me from afar, you probably know that I have a healthy image of self. You may have interpreted it otherwise (common phrase: Too cool for school) the first time we met, but over time, I won you over with my adorable anecdotes and $2,000 smile (understatement). With that said, you probably also know that there is one area in which I become rather sheepish, self-doubting/loathing, and embarrassed. That area, of course, being my relationship with my dear friend Cassie. Now, don't get me wrong, I love her (not that kind of love, see the sensitivity of the subject??).

Background Information:

When two girls go off to college at age 18 and live on the same floor of the dorms, we call them neighbors. When those same two girls move into their first apartment the next year, we call them roommates. And so that title continues for their years during college. During this time, roommates are a source of laughter, subject of pranks, means to meeting boys, and TV buddies. The refrigerator is often filled with 6 jugs of milk, all carefully initialed in permanent marker (JV, CC, RS, CH, LH, LC, CH2, RB, ET, KB, SH, you get the point). They're on their own, or so they think, thanks mom and dad for the rent check. Eventually, graduation day comes and quickly the 6 jugs of milk become one and a quart of Soy. Those same two girls are now looking for their next phase of living, which usually involves a townhome, condo, duplex and possibly elderly friend's basement. At first, the excitement of not having to move out at the end of the semester is intoxicating. They buy picture frames and spice cabinets, they begin their nesting, we call them best friends. However, at a not quite as distinguishable point, this relationship changes one more time. Somehow, the "Have a good day" farewell each morning turns into, "Time to make the donuts," or "Another day, another dollar," and eventually. . . silence. Not the kind of silence that is used as a punishment, but the kind that means "I know I'll see you later." Also during this time, the plans of traveling the world with your precious husband is more realistically planned with the other girl. You travel, go to family reunions, talk to one another's family members on the phone, fold eachother's laundry, fill out the other's applications, pack both of you a lunch, buy joint kitchen items, and purchase a Costco membership together. The term "best friend," is no longer appropriate, you have somehow changed into the most dreaded of titles for a single girl in her mid-late 20s . . . partners. Eek.

On a cruise this summer with my family, my own mother panicked in her introduction of Cassie. "Um, this is Cassie, Chelsey's roommate, no, friend, um. . ." So, you may see why our relationship is a bit of a sore spot. Yesterday, Cassie brought to my attention an article in the BYU Alumni Magazine, of which we receive 2 copies, thank you very much. If you are interested in reading the whole article, it's in this month's edition in which there is a terrifying photo of Cosmo in business-casual on the cover. The article is entitled, "THE MIGHTY GIFTS OF BEVERLEY AND RAMONA." Please read the following excerpt and look at the adjoining photo to get an idea as to why both Cassie and I were horrified about the story of two ladies who have helped over 100 "daughters" get a BYU education.

Two frugal friends have blessed the lives of many BYU “daughters.”

Beverley Nalder (BS ’52) admits that, at first, she wasn’t too fond of Ramona Morris (’81). “She was so organized—something I wasn’t,” says Nalder, describing how she met Morris four decades ago on a river raft trip. “But I got over it.” By the end of the excursion, the two had become friends. They later became roommates and eventually bought a home together.

“As the years have gone by, we have sort of met in the middle,” Nalder says. “Her friendship has been the dearest blessing in my life.”

The companionship has blessed more lives than two. Neither woman has ever married or had children, but together they have scrimped and saved to help more than 100 “daughters” gain an education at BYU.

“We never travel first class,” says Nalder, explaining how she, a retired BYU professor and counselor, and Morris, a retired high school counselor, manage to fund several scholarships each year. “We keep our cars a long time, and we make do with the same old television by having a converter box rather than buying a new television. We even delay repairing a light in the kitchen if we can use the money a better way.”

“We take cruises,” Morris adds, “but we always get inside staterooms without windows. I suppose we could have a cabin with a window and a balcony, but the extra money could be used for others. Besides, we figure we would only be in the room for sleeping.”

After some discussion, it was decided that I am Beverly (right) and Cassie is Ramona (left).

Classic

2010-01-22T19:29:00.000-08:00

I can't help it. I can't help it, but this picture cracks me up. Pictured below are two of my nieces- sisters. The littler one in the front, Bella, is celebrating her third birthday. The older one in the back, Lexi, is obviously a little jealous.

P.S. Someone please give me this horse for my birthday this year. I love a Palomino.

I did great.

2010-01-13T15:33:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was a baby. Today I am a toddler. At this rate, tomorrow I will be going to school. I am of course referring to my brief staycation from work for some routine Oral Surgery yesterday. What a girl will do to lie on a couch all day. Sheesh. I will admit that although there are some serious drawbacks to oral sedation, i.e. zero hand-eye coordination, quadruple vision, and narcolepsy, it has been quite nice to revisit my childhood with a stay at Susan's.

But the good news is, I did great! At least that is what Dr. Dave and his assistant told me several times during the procedure, and a few more times as I was being wheeled to the front door, only to get up and do my best impression of someone failing a roadside DUI test. For the life of me, I can't figure out what I could have done under the influence of such high-powered meds that would have deserved a "not-so-great" rating from my dentist. Standing up, yelling out, physicality, who knows really? I pretty much slept the entire time and had one humiliating scene where I tried to peel the nail polish off of one of my fingers, but couldn't seem to get my left hand to navigate to my right. So, although the compliments were unwarranted, I'll take 'em.

Of course, I was brought home by my loving mother, who reveled at the chance to treat me like a baby, while I reveled at the chance to let her. Movies all afternoon and evening. Ice cream breaks on the half hour. And more recently, a run to the store to pick me up some pinwheels. Thanks mom. I guess it's all reward for doing such a great job. Now tomorrow, I will be all growed up again.

Best Night Ever!

2010-01-01T15:29:00.000-08:00

The title of this post is actually stolen from a facebook status I read moments ago. The reason I was shocked by this particular status is that it is obviously referring to New Year's Eve. And while I guess that seems to make perfect sense, at the same time I'm not sure that I have ever had a NYE (commonly-used facebook abbreviation) that could be described as a "Best Night Ever!" Don't get me wrong, it's a perfectly fine celebration, full of tradition and songs about Auld Lang, but I usually find myself wanting the night to provide a certain degree of magic that is inevitably impossible. I mean, besides J LO's onesie on Dick Clark.

Truthfully, the responsibility is mine. While the "Best Night Ever!" status was alarming on it's own accord, what really upset me is that I ran into this person at the NYE party I attended last evening. A party that from an anthropological perspective was quite interesting (handsome men performing practiced "funny" dance moves, girls in cocktail dresses with mini top hats and other fascinating realities of being in the "single scene"), it failed to meet my apparently high expectations for a holiday that has never really come through. Obviously, I wasn't looking with the right lenses on. You see, I neglected to be excited by the free Starbursts and plethora of men handling my waist as they passed by, and instead chose to be bothered by not knowing anyone on a crowded dance floor, whilst girls chose to crowd surf for boys' attention.

So, here's to a new year and a new attitude. Now, let us all pray that I can spend next NYE with my husband, on a couch, eating red hots and watching the Ball drop on Eastern Standard time. Don't cry mom.

Merry Christmas from an American Girl

2009-12-17T17:00:00.000-08:00

Mom, I'm sorry for the following, but it is fact and I still love you very much and very much enjoyed my childhood.

Every Christmas, I had two requests for Santa Claus (I believed in him to a uncomfortably old age all thanks to a hoax letter post marked from the North Pole in 1993). One was for a Power Wheels, preferably a Jeep, but I wasn't picky. This wish ended in 6th grade when my mother explained that I was over the 80 lbs. weight limit, so it was useless to keep asking. However, each year I received wonderful presents, including a few bikes from time to time. So be it that some of them were used or were accompanied by elaborate stories, like the year Santa got lost and I woke up on a February morning to find my new bike sitting in my bedroom. So, I wasn't deprived, but I learned the most valuable lesson you can teach a child, which is, you don't always get what you want. Unless you went to TimpView High School, in which case the opposite is true. ha.

Besides a Power Wheels, there was always one other wish in mine and my sister Lacy's letters to Santa that never seemed to make it under the tree. We always got dolls, partly because my mom loved dolls as much as we did. But, I'll admit that I was a little disappointed the year we got Cabbage Patchs and mine was a Hispanic with glasses named Tina, she was on sale. Of course my wish list doll never went on sale and she has yet to go on sale to date. She has always cost $88 and that's how much my parents were unwilling to pay for an American Girl Doll. But, they were willing to give us the paperback books that told the stories of each of the girls, so we are well-versed in the world of American Girl, but alas I never owned my own. So, this year, I dedicate these photos to Chelsey of 1990-1996. Whoever said that dreams don't come true?

Should I have interests?

2009-12-08T14:52:00.000-08:00

There aren't a lot of tasks that stress me out, mostly because I'm an extremely capable human. But, for some reason, after I graduated from middle school, there has been one task that continually makes my stomach churn . . . filling out questionnaires. Not the kind that my dentist sends me via email, where I check "Strongly Agree" to every unread question in order to get a $20 rebate towards my next cleaning. No, what I'm referring to are the ones that ask me about the one thing I should know everything about . . . myself.

It seems simple enough, just list your favorite color, band, candy bar, soda, time of day, over-the-counter stimulant, you know, the basics. Usually, I can come up with decent answers that reflect what I know to be popular with most teenagers. Consequently, most of those answers have very little resemblance to my actual favorites. Since, apparently on paper, I am a social outcast. Turns out that if you list Alanis Morrisette’s “Jagged Little Pill” as your favorite CD, you may be labeled as “unhip” or worse, “Lesbian.” And, if you admit that you prefer Baby Ruth to Skittles, people might guess the truth. The truth being that I am prematurely old. Favorite breakfast item: A handful of Peanut M&Ms. These kinds of answers are ultimately appalling to my counterparts in the R.E.I. co-op. Unfortunately, I become sheepish anytime the age-old analogy about jumping off a bridge comes up. The answer remains the same as it has always been . . . probably.

But, as we all know, these kinds of questionnaires never just ask about surface items like music and food, no, they usually get much deeper, and consequently, more painstaking. The kinds of questions that cripple me are the kinds that reveal anything about my actual life. The worst of them being . . . hobbies. I don’t know about the rest of the adult world, but I haven’t really had a hobby since 6th grade. Back then I could list Basketball, Softball, and Cross Stitching (don’t forget, prematurely old) without a second thought. This was before high school, before anything you loved was destroyed. Playing sports in high school helped to remove any fun that was associated with physical exercise and replace it with dread anytime I smell gym floors or Endorphins. But, it’s a crime to be hobby-less in today’s world. Frankly, even I can’t account for my time most of the time. The Chelsey of the 21st Century prefers napping, channel flipping, snacking, and having the same conversations with the same friends over and over. To my shame, none of these activities are considered “Hobbies.”

So, for honesty’s sake, here’s a questionnaire that hasn’t been edited for the general audience. I’ve included both my fake and real responses:

Why were you given your particular name?

Fake: Spiritual prompting

Real: It was Mother’s turn to choose.

How many brothers and sisters do you have?

Fake: 3 brothers and 3 sisters

Real: This could get uncomfortable, since 2 of my brothers live in Heaven, but I’ll stick with 3 brothers and 3 sisters.

What is your favorite thing to do?

Fake: Snowboard, Wakeboard, or anything adventurous.

Real: Nap, snack, or watch reality TV on MTV

What is your favorite food?

Fake: Salmon and the fruit of the season

Real: Chocolate Cake, preferably refrigerated.

What is your favorite book?

Fake: To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Real: Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris (sorry Mom)

What is your favorite candy bar?

Fake: Twix

Real: Charleston Chew (more candy for your dime)

What is your favorite cookie?

Fake: Something from Pepperidge Farms

Real: Pinwheels

What is your favorite sport?

Fake: Basketball

Real: Freeze Tag

What is your favorite kind of music?

Fake: Indy Rock

Real: Top 40 from 1994-1999 or Country

What is your favorite song?

Fake: Penny Lane by the Beatles

Real: Hold On by Wilson Phillips or Fancy by Reba McIntire

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Fake: A teacher

Real: Lay-at-home wife to someone wealthy

What is your favorite temple?

Fake: Oakland

Real: Don’t have a favorite

What place would you like to know about?

Fake: Where can I begin?

Real: Colorado City

What place would you like to visit?

Fake: Bangkok

Real: Nordstrom Rack or Colorado City

What is your favorite thing about your mom?

Fake: Her kindness

Real: That she laughs at my inappropriate humor

What is your favorite thing about your dad?

Fake: His humor

Real: His ability to sneak into Football games for free

What is your favorite thing about yourself?

Fake: My ability to give advice

Real: My ability to make up funny nicknames

Do you like to dance?

Fake: For excercise

Real: At parties to be funny

What movie can you quote?

Fake: Newsies

Real: Muppets Family Christmas, Muppet Christmas Carol, Home Alone, While you Were Sleeping, The Santa Clause, Steel Magnolias, Beaches, and Blue Crush

How would your friends describe you to someone who has never met you?

Fake: Cool

Real: Emotionally distant

In five years, what kind of person will you be?

Fake: Successful

Real: The same

What do you want to be doing in five years?

Fake: Whatever makes me happy

Real: Giving singles advice about marriage

When you have an hour of free time, what do you like to do?

Fake: Read

Real: Watch TiVo

What is your favorite church movie?

Fake: Lamb of God

Real: Labor of Love

What is the strangest thing you've ever done?

Fake: Went to bed without washing my face.

Real: Spoke at the funeral of a woman I didn’t know.

Family Armor

2009-11-06T07:11:00.000-08:00

Set your TiVos for Thursday, November 19th at 8:00PM MST on TLC to bask and revel in the stardom of my sisters (Courtney and Lacy) and their families. "Family Armor" will quite naturally be the most successful Reality T.V. show since Darva Conger said "I do" on "Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire?" back in 2000. The show's description showed up last night on the network's website, so take a gander.

One can only hope that a guest appearance from yours truly will end in a barrage of eager suitors/divorcees. Fingers crossed.

Here's a link to the show's promo: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0UimhuDbJw
Or check out the website: http://familyarmor.tv/

Holy Rollers

2009-10-27T10:09:00.001-07:00

Why my life is better . . . because the past and present Relief Society presidents can show up to the ward Halloween party last night in children's size plaid skirts that are dangerously short, and still win "Most Creative Costume." Sorry Hurl Scouts, but the Holy Rollers flirted with the judges.

We didn't want to beat them like that. . .we just wanted to beat them with our skates.

Smart (not as in Elizabeth; she's going on a mission to Paris, France)

2009-10-13T08:01:00.000-07:00

I hate pretentious people, but I do consider myself smarter than most of the people I interact with daily. It may also be deemed useful information to some of my audience that 90% of the people I interact with daily are 14 and 15 years old. However, I haven't always been very smart, a fact I will probably rewrite in my memoirs at a later date. In fact, my early educational experience, if evaluated in a single context, may denote a learning disability (I'm not picking on those with "troubles," I'm just glad mine were temporary). One such shame comes when reading my Kindergarten class's Christmas Cookbook. The task was to tell Mrs. Hanneman (stereotypical lower grade teacher who looked like the grandma from a Goldenbook, and was from the most mysterious place I could imagine at that time. Alaska!) our favorite food and how to make it. What I understand now that I didn't as a 5 year old is that Mrs. Hanneman knew that we didn't know how to cook. That the real "gift" we were giving that holiday season was a gag. But while my classmates chose foods like toast and cookies in which they got a few of the ingredients correct, I explained the following recipe, which left my mom feeling a bit sheepish about her dietary decision making at the time and me the class idiot.

Favorite food: "Taco Bell Tostadas"

How to make it: "First you get a burrito (hmm?), and put a salad on top (interesting)."

After Mrs. Hanneman probes for a cook time, I respond with, "Put it in the microwave for 2 seconds."

Ugh. Unfortunately the real humiliation from this event didn't set in until a summer day between 2nd and 3rd grade when I was feeling a bit nostalgic about "the good old days" and decided to rummage through my old school memories (no doubt organized by my sister Lacy, who in the 1st grade had the foresight to label all of her papers from Kindergarten with a "K" and those from 1st grade with a "1," a tradition she has bragged about ever since). Nonetheless, I was disheartened by my poor performance at an early age. However, soon I was properly socialized and institutionalized into the realization that school is a competition. Ah. Cue the next 16 years of schooling in which I only felt good about an academic achievement so long as someone else was beneath me. We call this the American Dream.

But today, at age 26, it is much harder rank myself in the adult world. People feel funny about sharing their ACT scores. Weird. That is unless they are a self-made millionaire who scored below their numerical age at the time of taking it, and in this instance, they share their score as a way of proving that brains are useless and money is a "blessing." That is why the only real measure adults have to distinguish a person's intelligence is through the radio. Huh? Yeah, the only remaining indicator as to whether or not someone should fill out a MENSA application relies completely on whether or not they listen to NPR. You see, this person listens to Harvard grads discuss topics they may or may not understand. But at a party, they can regurgitate enough of the argument to confuse their listener and take the credit as their own original thought. The idea is, if you can keep interest, despite the melodic tones of the show hosts of "This American Life" and the "Jim Leher Newshour," you are smart by default. If you heard a funny joke on "Wait, Wait, Dont Tell Me" about a current event, or a science factoid on "Radio Lab," the guesswork is over. Yep, you're smart. You probably have a newspaper subscription, and it's probably not the USA Today (smart people, you know what I'm talking about).

The point: I have an NPR podcast that helps me go to sleep on wakeless nights. Need I say more?

You're welcome

2009-10-05T16:43:00.000-07:00

From the number of comments on the last post, I could tell that "my people" really missed my virtual self and could be near revolt if I didn't get back into CyberSpace ASAP. So, to steal a phrase from Mariah Carey's publicist, "Back by popular demand," my life.

You're welcome.

If you are a real friend (one I have seen before and remember), you will know that I have been out and about this summer. If you are a fake friend (Cyber stalker or friend from elementary school), you now know that I have been out and about this summer. "Out and about" is a phrase I use to be modest about having gone to 12 countries in 30 days during the month of July. And since this is a blog and not a diary, I will share with you some highlights and neglect to mention the moments in which all I wanted was to be in my own bed sucking on a binky.

So, to begin, meet my travel companion, Miss Haddock. We were able to properly document our life together for the unforseen need in the future to create a slide show about it.
At times, we needed a little "space bar," if you know what I mean?? (nudge, nudge)

Some times, we just needed a brush. . .

. . .or some sunglasses

But, most of the time, our lack of preparation was the most enjoyable. Check out "Friday Flip Up Day" in Mykonos, Greece.

I wish someone would have told me the island was a bit breezy.

Despite the language "barrier" (I can mime most languages quite well), I was happy to find my pals Jonas alive and well, while visiting Brugges.

Hung out with some of these *fools.

*Term of endearment to most Bones, Thugs and Harmony fans.

Alas, here is a video clip that you may or may not enjoy. But, if you've gotten this far you've already shirked most of your responsibilities for the day. So, enjoy the man/woman singing her heart out at Sacre Coure.

If you're not jealous, I don't know what else I can do.

So sorry

2009-08-03T14:49:00.000-07:00

I apologize for not posting, but I have been summering abroad. I'll probably post about it soon, since it pretty much embodies the title of this blog. Hate me? I thought so.

WANTED: Men

2009-05-22T09:13:00.000-07:00

Wow, the double entendre of this blog title is blowing my mind. While obviously, a boyfriend would not be so bad (understatement of 2009), my intention is not to line up potential suitors. Rather, this is really me trying to figure out if by any snowball's chance in Hades (this is a family site people) there are actually any male readers out there. I think in the history of this blog, I have only had one comment by a the "less fairer" sex (Is that right?). So, here's my plea: If you are a boy, man, sir, or man-child and you are reading this, would you please make a comment? I'm devilishly curious. Possibly my self-deprication at times can alienate some potential readers, so I would like to check out my demographic.

(This is who I would love to know was reading my blog. Jake, you out there?)

Hmm . . .

2009-05-14T09:58:00.000-07:00

I'm not a detective and I'm certainly not a doctor, but this picture makes me think, well I don't know, but is my mom getting old??? As we crossed the street yesterday, I was nervous that a police officer would stop and give me a gold star for my humanitarian services. (This is a mythical program that I've dreamed up from my childhood perception of policemen mixed with a playground "good deeds" program from my elementary school.) I guess I've always known this day was coming, I just didn't think it'd be this week. If you know my mom personally, please don't tell her about this picture because she's wearing her "around-the-house" crop top and I would be abandoned at age 25 for embarassment. But as you can see, that short shirt all too often sneaks into "out-of-the-house" outtings.

*
* In mom's defense, she has a broken knee and the walker is temporary.

Vay-cay

2009-04-23T10:53:00.000-07:00

Over Spring Break last week, I had the chance to vacation in the luxiourious splendor of the greater San Antonio area. It was a true week of pampering. Minus the small, tiny detail that I was sharing my vacation with 12 children ages 1-16. No big d for this socialite, I've always preferred the kinds of vacations where you need to ask, "What is your discount price for children under 10, we have 6 of them?" Nothing like choosing restaurants based on how noisy they are, or spending a rainy afternoon in a spore-infested jump castle. Ah, the sweet life.

I will admit that toting along children has some serious benefits for those of us a little nostalgic for our adolescence. Looks like the only movie we can see that's appropriate for all ages is, "Hannah Montana: The Movie." Bummer. But not really (guilty smile), because if I could go back in time to any age, it would most likely be 14. Back when waiting for Seventeen Magazine to arrive in the mail seemed "so adult." On this trip, we got to eat at multiple restaurants whose specialty is the cheeseburger, go on a rather elaborate Easter Egg Hunt, eat candy from all 12 children's Easter baskets, and hit up a theme park.

Hmm, theme parks. I'll admit that there is something about walking through those oversized entrance gates that fills the heart with excitement and wonderment. Yet, at the end of the day as you pass back through the same gate, you can barely muster up any feeling other than a headache and pure exhaustion. I'm not exactly sure how this happens, but I was saddened during last week's trip to Sea World: San Antonio when I came to the realization that rides make me sick. I couldn't believe it. It's been coming on for some time. After a monumental trip to Lagoon last year, I pinpointed my illness to the mix of theme park roller coasters and carnival rides. But alas, after one jolt on the "Great White" last week, my head was spinning. What a disappointment. Turns out, all I could really enjoy were the animals. Alright.

The sea life at Sea World is pretty amazing. It was cute to watch my two-year old niece Bella see some of these creatures for the first time. During the whale show, she kept calling out "Whale," as if she was even surprise she could say it. However, during the whale show things took a turn for the weird. It was all fine and dandy as Summer, a Marine Biologist/amateur actress, dressed in an orca-striped wet suit, shared her story of living her dream to work with Killer Whales. Every 11-year-old girl in the audience was right there with her. Sadly, I found myself even more amazed by the trainer's ability to do swan dives off of Shamu's nose than Shamu coating the first 16 rows in salt water from a tail flip. But, it wasn't until the music turned to a slightly slower, and more Romantic Enya-esque tune that I now felt that I was watching a love scene between trainer and whale. Echoed by words on a projector telling us to "BELIEVE!" Believe in what exactly? That human and creature can share a life together in and out of the ocean? Frankly, I was confused.

All in all, it was a great trip. However, as I returned back home to my childless existence, I wasn't thinking that the singularity of my singleness was such a sad story. Sorry marrieds.

TBD

2009-04-07T12:50:00.000-07:00

"I'm in a hurry to get things done.

Oh I, rush and rush until life's no fun.

All I really wanna do is just live and die,

but I'm in a hurry and don't know why."

The words to that song play through my head at least once a day. No joke. Especially this past week, when I have been putting on a pretty excellent campaign for Teacher of the Year. In the past week and a half I have been in charge of the World's Fair (see impressive previous post), Student Council elections, and of course the Talent Show. Whoo, I am the best. The reason I know this is since my busy-ness has been so public, many kind/humble teachers have sent me congratulations/condolences for my superior work. It's nice to be recognized from time to time. Shucks.

Really, the reason for all this is that I suffer from a rare condition that my friend Ellen told me about many years ago. . .TBD. Too Busy Disorder. I really am writing this as a pathetic means to apologize for any person or event that I have ignored in the past fort night. Knowing myself, and my mom (who does the same thing), I will use this current excuse for at least one more month to get out of any obligation/ward party. Please excuse any poor behavior on my part to return a phone call, or reply to a text message, or even to say "Hi" when we are passing on a non-crowded street. You see, I've got TBD and I'm in a hurry.

Yeah, I know, who's my publicist?

2009-04-03T11:49:00.000-07:00

As far as junior high teachers go, this is about as famous as I can get. Thanks to The Daily Herald!
http://videos.heraldextra.com/p/video?id=3653138

25 Going On 15

2009-03-25T10:05:00.000-07:00

It's time for some self-reflection, I've never been above that. Recently, it has become overwhelmingly apparent that I frequent the same hangouts as many of my high school counterparts. Some of these are mere flukes, going to Chili's on a Friday night (everyone needs molten chocolate cake from time to time), or going to a movie at the local megaplex (teenagers do not have a monopoly on the heart of American culture). But, in the past few weeks I've been running into high school kids all the time. This has made me ponder whether these are mere coincidences, or if I like a Lost Boy, "don't wanna grow up?"

***Please note that in the following experiences, I was never on a date, but the students I ran into, always were.

Run-in numero uno (Spanish):

The Nickelcade: I love this place. It offers every game I was ever pretty good at before games became 3 dimensional and required a newly evolutionized stem cell that controls all things Nintendo. I can play Ms. Pacman, or Mortal Kombat 3, and throw in some Skee Ball for kicks. Good old fashioned fun. Place some emphasis on the word "old," please. But no, it turns out that any era of gaming can appeal to a teen. Hence, a few weeks ago, I ran into a group of them on, of course, a date.

Run-in numero dos:

Classic Skating: Since I didn't grow up in the greater Provo area, I've always associated this place as being a college hang out. A place for us all to put on some skates from our youth and get a good laugh out of how well we still skate. Of course, this is because we've gone more times then admitted since childhood. We wouldn't go if we looked like Bambi on ice. However, a couple weekends ago, I showed up to "Classic," as we call it, for some Disco skating. I am still paying thanks in my nightly prayers that I did not dress up for the Disco theme. That fact alone would have made this whole experience rather mortifying. However, as soon as we stood in line (about a 20 minute wait), a couple of old students came and stood behind us. I decided to make the interaction as awkward as possible by saying, "Teenagers!" They began calling me Miss Collins, which was very exciting to my friends, who then asked a few embarrassing questions, until finally the girls realized that their group of more former students was standing in front of us, and moved to be in a more comforatable situation. Of course, the icing on the cake for my friends was a comment made by one of the boys in front of us. Luckily, I did not hear this myself, because scolding would have certainly ensued. But what was heard was, "Holy S***, it's f******, Miss Collins." I'm pretty sure my honor was defamed in that sentence, I'm still deciphering it's exact meaning.

Run-in numero tres:

Laser Assault: This is something I have loved for a very long time. Like jumping on a trampoline, I thought its enjoyment would have faded over time, but alas it has not. Instead, I have grown more competive with age. So, here's the scene. We were sitting at the seedy Laser Assault in South Provo, awaiting our tutorial, by someone who is clueless to the fact that working at this place is far worse than actually playing at this place. After a few nervous jokes from our guide, a group of students comes walking through having just finished a round themselves. They were sweaty from an exhausting game of assault, but that did not blur their vision from recognizing their old teacher. I played it pretty cool, but all was made awkward as the students were walking out and one of my friends yelled, "That's truancy school for all of you!" Apparently, my being a teacher is a real novelty to everyone else my age.

Reflection:

Am I too old to be hanging at these kinds of establishments? Is there an unwritten rule that as a single person, you can frequent the haunts of childhood? Who should be more embarrassed? Me or the kids?

The Economy, bah

2009-03-11T08:42:00.000-07:00

Here's the truth, I'm sick of the economy. It's interrupting precious T.V. time, newspaper headlines, radio broadcasts, and most importantly, my life. I've contemplated how I can escape the gnawing of this ugly beast for days. Luckily, I work at one of the strongest Socialist organizations in America, so I have been phased very little by so-called "cut backs." Well that's not entirely true. We've been asked as a faculty not to buy any classroom supplies for the rest of the year, but since my budget is only $150 for said year, it's not much of a sacrifice. Looks like I won't be getting that extra box of crayolas this spring. Still, everyone is still yammering about the economy, and even worse, the stimulus package. I'm done. But, since that is anti-American, I've decided to join with my fellow citizens, in an act of patriotism, and blame everything on the ECONOMY.

Here are a few ways you can too:

1. In a reach for a fresh roll of toilet paper, you only find the materials for a homeade Christmas ornament--- Bah, the economy.

2. Anytime you want to let a child down about anything. For example, not going on vacation, the movies, the candy store, Burning Man, what have you ---I'm sorry kids, it's just the economy right now.

3. You can't drive to grandma's this weekend for her homemade gulash and potatoes--- Gas prices might be down, but sheesh, I'm not getting enough hours at work to fill the tank.

4. All the rough draft suicide notes around the apartment---jk readers.

5. A kid told me today, "I hate you."---This might only apply to junior high teachers, nonetheless I'm blaming the economy for his irrational behavior.

6. Long lines at the swingset---Everyone's looking for an inexpensive alternative these days. Poor people, stupid economy.

7. Road rage---Please assume I, or whoever else drives like a jerk, just got laid off from AIG.

8. Pretty much anytime you want to disappoint someone about anything---Things have been emotionally taxing recently, on account of my 401K dropping $1000. That darn economy.

Hopefully, we can all find the bright spot in a dark future.

After, after the final rose: Everyone BUT Molly hates Jason

2009-03-03T08:31:00.001-08:00

Did I spend over 2 and a half hours last night watching the season finale of the Bachelor? Yes. Did I go to bed an hour and a half past my bedtime? Yes. Do I feel utterly dooped by the fascists(meanest word I could think of) at ABC? Yes. Does everyone hate Jason? Of course. Does everyone hate Molly? They should. Do I want to send cookies to Melissa? Sure do. Does anyone have her address? I hope so.

Here's the breakdown:

Meet Jason Mesnick, looking really "cool" as a water enthusiast Bachelor. Nice hat.

The two ladies he fell in love with during the show, Melissa (the best) on the left and Molly (the worst) on the right. Seriously, how far away from polygamy is this?

Jason and Melissa sharing an obviously "no chemistry" moment. That's sarcasm people.

Blah, blah, blah, I like you the most.

Cry it out Molly, in three days you will be getting a phone call from Alexis or some other woman-hating producer over at the Bachelor telling you to "hold on, wink, wink, there might be trouble in paradise. If you know what I mean?"

Oopsy daisy, I'm Jason, and I gave the final rose to the wrong "amazing" girl. Take backs.

Pictured here is Melissa, who I'm sure will have a LOT of trouble finding dates post The Mesnick.

Melissa, everyone likes you more anyway. Consider yourself having dodged a major Bachelor bullet. And thank you for mouthing a bad word about Jason, well deserved.

The best and the worst

2009-02-25T12:41:00.000-08:00

The Best: Celine Dion

I was honored to be a guest of this international superstar/French Canadian last Sunday evening when she came to Salt Lake City. So by guest, I really mean, upperbowl center, with a blocked view of the screen due to a strategically placed lighting system. But, her melodic tones felt like they were just for me. I have a feeling that the drunk mommies in front of me felt the same as they waved their airbrushed acrylics to almost every song. Minus, of course, the chubby one stuffed into her "little black dress," with white flip flops, who took 3 bathroom breaks during the show. Apparently, the Energy Solutions Draft hits pretty hard.

Back to Celine, she was thin (leggy, more like it), beautiful lioness mane, slightly fashionable, goofy to say the least, and a voice that I think rocked Mark Eaton and John Stockton's retired over-sized jerseys more than once. I loved it! So did my mom, or at least I think. Mom remained in a statuesque seated position with her reading glasses on the entire time. She was making a point not to act too excited (think drunk mommies), as the concert was rescheduled to a Sunday night. Sinner.

Needless to say, Celine is the best!

The Worst: Cadbury Mini Eggs

By worst, I mean the most delicious little devils that peak their ugly heads every February as a form of opposition to Lent. There's no way anyone can think of giving up chocolate with those guys sitting in the seasonal aisle of your local Walgreens. UGHH. I hate getting fat before summer. Looks like I will be picking up a 12-pack of Slim Fast Optima come April. Well, as soon as all the Easter candy is no longer being clearanced.

Sushi, boo hoo

2009-02-20T09:46:00.000-08:00

Ahhh, I'm going through "hippness" withdrawls. Why you ask? Good question, here's the answer: I haven't had sushi in over two weeks. Now, for all you yokels out there, this may not be a big deal, but for those of us waiting on Hollywood to discover us at any moment, this is a travesty. Plus, chopsticks, used correctly or otherwise, is a means to separate the "in" from the "out" crowd. Sushi is cool, and so am I.

Now, I like sushi, but not sashimi. If you don't know what that is, next time you are in a sushi joint (cool word), look for the most artsy/homeless looking individual and check out what's on their plate. It's the raw stuff. Ick. I am so all about the cute little rolls that look like hors devours, and consequently appear low fat and slimming.

It used to be that me and a few other hipsters hit up the local sushi restaurant on Tuesday nights, for what we so cleverly called, "Sushi Tuesday." Sushi is half off on Tuesday, which appeals to many of my college attending cohorts. I, of course, can afford much more expensive sushi, but I choose to eat with the chattal as a wink to my former "poor" self. However, lately, schedules have gotten busier (not mine, I don't have a boyfriend who needs scheduling, annoying) and Sushi Tuesdays are slowly becoming extinct. Will anyone help preserve this endangered species on Tuesdays at 7? Should I pick up an applique vest next time they're on sale at Penney's? Should I kiss my guest appearance on the Today Show goodbye?

Help!

P.S. If you are concerned, don't worry, I still eat fro-yo quite regularly, and I did hit up a "hole in the wall" Indian restaurant in San Francisco last weekend. I'm okay.

Check it

2009-02-19T10:19:00.000-08:00

Now, I'm not usually in to advertising something that may be cooler than me, but, well, it is a new year. Anwayzzz, this is helping me make my life better than yours. Cool.
http://www.funtalia.com/

iLazy

2009-02-05T10:23:00.000-08:00

I'm a gadget guru. I love them! I love all the things that robots can do for me. Recently, my "Rosie" (Jetsons reference), of choice is the (wait for it. . . ) iPhone. Please disregard any of the opinions about iPhones stated in Crackberry. I knew my life would be different with this little stocking stuffer, yep. But, I did not understand the degree to which my life would change.

But, the iPhone isn't the only thing making me a better person these days. There's so much great technology out there. At the same time, there are some really stupid ones. Open your Sky Mall magazine to reacquaint yourself with some of these, digital dog feeders, giant magnifying glasses, shower book protectors, etc. You get the picture.

Top 3 Cyborgs I can't live without. . . I imagine you can't either:

1. The Internet- I remember thinking, "I don't even know what people do on the Internet." I may have used the term "web," just because that's how the computer lab assistant phrased it back in the 90s. I'll admit that in 7th grade the sole function of the Internet for me, was to download and print pictures of Simon Rex (MTV VJ) on mtv.com. I out grew that phase, I mean really how immature? Now, I use the Internet to look at people from high school on facebook.

2. Email/text- Ugh, remember speaking to people on the phone, or worse in person? Because of this technology, I now have a slight panic attack if forced to call a number where someone besides the person I am trying to reach may answer the phone. Ghetto.

3. iPod- Having access to every song ever played in my lifetime is refreshing. I can't believe I ever sat next to the radio waiting to record a song on a cassette. How pathetic. Now, I get tired of a song after 22 seconds because I am so anxious to see what else that crazy shuffle feature can come up with. I can't wait to get my iPod implanted in my skull by A.D. 2020.

All in all the future has been okay. However, I am a little disappointed by the things not yet invented or made available for public use.

1. Hover boards- I think that we can all agree that Michael J. Fox had our mouths watering in BTTF 2. Apparently there is a fairytale of a story in which my friend Jennifer rode on a hover craft at an elementary school assembly circa '94. I've seen no evidence of its existence.

2. Teleporting- "Beam me up Scotty." The closest thing I have gotten to that is a confiscated laser light beam pen in my A4 class. Instead, I'm still sliding over paved roads like pioneers.

3. Hologram communication- Don't go telling me that Skype is the same. I want Lea (a little broken up due to signal) warning me in person. Is it too much to ask?

4. Outfit Computer- Whatever Cher was using in Clueless to get dressed every morning, I want.

Technology I am surprised is still around:

1. Phones with cords- There is one sitting on my desk.

2. Calculators- Until we learn to do math in our heads (never), this will have a place in every home office. We could also note this technology as the beginning of the dumbing of America, ah finally.

3. Overhead projectors- Most every teacher in the U.S. still uses these, and is completely dependent upon them.

4. Manual windows and door locks- How do I know these are still around? My 2003 Corolla still sports a more vintage system. No worries, in case of water submersion, I will be fine.

5. Bank Suction Tubes- This has 1970s future written all over it. However, somehow we can't seem to figure out another way to get the teller our driver's license and work check. Mind boggling.

Thank heavens the future has brought just enough technology to keep me from having to actually learn a trade. Everything one needs to know can be found in small doses on Wikipedia. Pheww.

When I was a boy

2009-02-03T09:55:00.000-08:00

This post title comes from a great song by songstress Dar Williams. It was pointed out to me several years ago by my sister that this song perfectly describes me as a child. Here is an eerily familiar stanza:

I was a kid that you would like, just a small boy on her bike

Riding topless, yeah, I never cared who saw.

My neighbor came outside to say, "Get your shirt,"I said "No way,

it's the last time I'm not breaking any law."

I remember wishing I had been born a boy. My closest neighbors were two boys, Rustin and Brandon Banks. Brandon and I formed the quinticenntial boy/girl best friendship as children. My only complaint ever was that Brandon cried too much. I was jealous of his toys and ability to only wear pajama pants to bed with no shirt. . . lucky. Of course that didn't stop me from trying, a fact that I think still bothers my mom. On Saturdays, we would get together to trade baseball cards and look up their value in a Beckett. I still own many of my Nolan Ryans, Bo Jacksons, and Mark McGuires from the early 90s. Then we were off to set up bike jumps off his deck, or race remote-control cars in the driveway. I even received an MVP award for my role as catcher on my all boys Baseball team in 4th grade. Ahh, being a boy was awesome.

(Brandon and I on the 1st day of school, as well as me as a young man)

What really boggles my mind is when I decided to become a girl??? Brandon had moved a few years earlier, and currently my best friend of choice was a very feminine girl named Claudia. (We are still friends, I was her maid of honor 3 years ago.) It would seem that I was undergoing a traditional Vada Sultenfuss ("My Girl" reference) transformation, but not really. It wasn't until my entrance into 7th grade that I made any significant strides into womanhood. I wore a skort (skirt/short combo) on the first day of junior high and voila, I liked "No Doubt," and "Alanis Morrisette," along with every other teenage girl in the universe. How odd.

Granted, I've never fully been able to shake my boyish interests. I played Softball (an acceptable girl alternative to Baseball, but tends to foster same-sex tendencies) and Basketball in high school. Much to my sister's disapproval, I get along with my brother-in-laws swimmingly. And, I enjoy working outside to cooking a meal.

Here are a few remnants of the "old me" that is still very alive in Chelsey 2.0:

Mom's House

2009-01-27T08:01:00.000-08:00

This post is dedicated to my sister Lacy, who has been judging my mother since birth.

I love my mom. She's the best. She's pretty, which was oddly very important to me as a 1st grader. She's funny, which I realized as a teenager. i.e. Yesterday my sister and I spied the following quote from a conversation between my mom and her best friend via facebook (I'm dealing with the fact that she's on facebook), "No, I didn't fall off the map . . . just down the stairs" Ha. That's funny because she really did fall down the stairs during Christmas. So, the point is, I have a good mom. The following does not pertain to her abilities in that area.

My mother is a widow. Unlike the widows on my street (there are lots), she does not have any pets, and she certainly doesn't participate in neighborhood gossip, but in all honesty her house is weird. I guess the question for me is, when did it get so weird? Was I a child when this started happening or has her solitude brought on this idiosynchratic lifestyle? I think it's a little of both.

She keeps things.

I know all mothers are collectors in their own right. I am not bothered by the pictures of me as a child framed at every corner. . .I was adorable. Rather, there are artifacts left around from childhood that are now no longer usuable. The garage is full of Cabbage Patch dolls stuffed in garbage sacks. Most of them however, did not belong to her seven children, instead they were purchased by my aunt at garage sales and thrift stores in my teens. These ownerless dolls are now taking on the smell that only an abandoned naked toy can.

The other day, I picked up a magazine in her bathroom. A magazine in which I have the contents memorized. Not because I am thoroughly interested in "Country Living," but because it's been there forever. How long you say? February 1995.

She doesn't hang everything.

The house is cluttered with pictures. That's fine, that's her life. Of course, it is a little bothersome walking up the stairs, only to see a picture framed at the height of your ankle. Or, while turning on a light switch, inevitably knocking down another picture. But, at least it's hung. At the same time, every room is still full of pictures, in frames propped against walls or lying on a bench in the kitchen. This is such a problem that a few years ago at Christmas time, a plea was made among her children that no one give her anything that needs wall space. Like an intervention for a heroin addict, we can no longer be enablers.

She buys discount.

Now this is not a new behavior. Every year, we went back-to-school shopping at the Goodwill or other thrift stores. In recent years, my mom has turned to other kinds of discount shopping. Currently, her mecca is the local Big Lots. What a great store? Unfortunately it causes her to buy things that really should never be purchased. Quickly expiring cereal written in Japanese. DVDs that never reached theatres or Blockbuster. Popular candy, with an unpopular flavoring. i.e. bags of only Coffee-flavored Jelly Bellys. A real treat for the grandkids.

At the moment, she is obsessed with Pottery Barn items engraved with names of other people's children. The Down East Outfitters located near her house is the culprit. Recently they have been selling items that were created for someone else, but somehow were never picked up. The prayer stool by her bed reads, "Landon." The robe in her closet belongs to "Claudia." "Mariah" and "Madison" are certainly missing their Christmas stockings. None of the aforementioned names belongs to anyone in our family.

Truly, the list goes on. For now, I will leave it at that. The question is, do all mom's have quirky homes? Is my mom the only one draping sheepskins on the back of her couch? Will I one day inherit these peculiar aspects in my life? Am I already becoming this person?

I'm basically famous

2009-01-20T12:47:00.000-08:00

Here are some pictures of famous people I saw up at the Sundance Film Festival this weekend. Of course, I did not snap any shots with them because I know how bothersome it can be whenever lots of people want to get their picture with you. Hello, the last day of school is always a paparazzi frenzy for me.

1st Celeb: Amy Poelher

Setting: The bottom of Main Street in Park City

Interaction: Me thinks that is Amy Poehler, "Hey Amy!" She turns around with a smile. "We're big fans of yours!" (Of course referring to my multiple personalities) She responds, "Well thank you for that." Basically, I could have gone home right then. Mission accomplished. And yes, she does have a bit of a baby bump left over from the recent birth of her child with Job. She looked great, and we were wearing the same sunglasses. Obviously.

2nd Celeb: Elijah Wood

Setting: The Foundry Grill at Sundance Resort

Interaction: Really none. It was just him and a couple of friends and us standing near the deli. No boyfriends from what I could observe. The only clever comments I could think of were about his early work in "Radio Flyer" and "The Good Son," back when I considered him a heart throb. So, I refrained from speaking. Not so star struck, and I think that is because I realized that he was type cast for his work in "Lord of the Rings." He stood about 5'5" from what I could tell, with impish features. Exactly the image of a hobbit. No, he wasn't wearing anything around his neck.

3rd Celeb: Wynonna Judd

Setting: Back at the bottom of Main Street, being ushered into the Music Cafe.

Interation: None. I was completely overwhelmed by the color of her hair. ORANGE. I did get to hear her sing, which was a thrill since I have always been a huge fan of the Judds. If you haven't heard of them, just ask Grandpa to tell you "'bout the good old days."

4th Celeb: Jay from "The City," boyfriend of Whitney, downtown boy.

Setting: Mid-Main Street

Interaction: First listening to him speak with a few other Australians. Intoxicating. I will admit that I have been known to say that he is not all that good looking. This is a formal apology. Not bad at all. As for speaking to him, I did say, "Hey Jay!" He looked up with a smile and said, "Yeah?" I so smoothly responded, "It's good to see you." He smiled and waved and we shared a moment. Thank you MTV.

Coming soon . . .

2009-01-14T13:40:00.001-08:00

Keep checking the blog. There is more to come this week about how I don't have kids, so I have time to do really cool things. Good thing there aren't any significant others filling up my time with obligatory dinner dates!

TV teachers make me uncomfortable

2009-01-12T14:34:00.000-08:00

Most of you have the pleasure of watching fictional teachers on screen and getting a good laugh. Unfortunately for me, the gnawing self-awareness that the media brings to my profession is often unbearable. Not because they got it all wrong, rather they got it just right. Uhhh. Many high-school-centered shows know that a good laugh is a given if it pokes fun at a teacher. Another sigh. I generally find myself letting out a nervous giggle/snort as they depict a frustrated teacher jumping to reach a projector screen that has been recoiled above their grasp. Or, as the interested and busy English teacher battles her bra-strap in a rather pathetic way.

For me, I'm sent questioning each day, "Is this something that my students can relate to an episode from the WB?" When a student tries to get me to date the thrice divorced Math teacher, is this just another Miss Geist/Mr. Hall moment from "Clueless?" Do I appear lonely and stuck in a rather rigid grading scale in need of a relationship? Is this what my 50 in. flat screen is telling me (yep)?

At the end of the day, I wander to the movies like any other single professional. Of course, while I'm there, I will in no doubt be greeted by a group of 9th grade mall rats. They say hi and we chat for a moment about how this is their 7th time seeing "Twilight." I feel cool, I feel with it. (Because I said "with it," does that cancel out my coolness?? I digress.) However, as confident as I feel about that interaction, I can't help but think, "Was their sighting me outside of school like watching a dog walk on its hind legs?"

Ruff, ruff.

The holidays are over. Yay!

2009-01-07T13:51:00.000-08:00

Tear down the tinsel and burn the tree, it's time to celebrate. Honestly, there is no better feeling than cleaning up Christmas decorations post January 1. I'll admit, looking at all that red and green can be a daunting task, but tearing it down is like unto popping a zit. Now that my house has been de-Christmased, it has never looked cleaner and more void of cheer. Yes!

Unfortunately, with the end of the holidays come a return to the hum drum. By hum drum I really mean the violation of all things I enjoy, work. Monday morning as I rubbed the gravel from my eyes at 6 AM, I found myself thinking, "Really, I mean really? This is my life?" Me and the milkman are hitting the pavement by 7 AM, while the rest of America realizes that nothing important should begin before 9. I have a passion for biographies about famous and successful people. Often, the author finds it peculiar enough to point out that said individual woke up early each morning, by 6 AM usually. I'm no George Washington and I never plan to make any kind of significant difference (except for some kind of drinking water empire, which is still in the works), so why must I wake up with the babies and billionaires???

While I am still ranting about waking up, let me point out the fiction of television. Nothing makes me more upset than seeing a TV family enjoy breakfast at an alternate location, i.e. a diner or coffee shop, before school. This is a myth. I don't know of any human being who has their act together enough to go "catch a bite to eat" (TV phrase, not mine, or any other actual person) before 7:45 AM. My grandparents maybe, but not those of us who can actually sleep a solid 8 hours. Plus, they always have the sun out during this time. Hmmm, apparently the winter solstice does not affect TV land.

So, it's all over. Great. But now I have to work. Boo. But, I guess I can tough it out another 4 months and really enjoy my sleep during my 3 month break this summer. A major perk of educating the rising generation of mouth breathers.

Single + Christmas = Awesome

2008-12-05T11:29:00.000-08:00

Man, am I relieved. Nothing is worse than having a boyfriend or husband at Christmas. As you know, I am pinching my pennies these days, and nothing costs more than love. This year, as well as many past years, I won't be spending any portion of my paycheck on a watch/polo/ferrari key chain for a significant "other." Nope, I am able to spend my money as I please. This year, I plan on purchasing gifts for family members, of course. But, since most of them are women, I'll most likely pick myself up a duplicate in my own size. Win, win. As for those pesky holiday songs about lovers, let's just say that on the 13th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, some much needed space.

Here are some dumb pictures:

Billzzzz

2008-12-01T12:46:00.000-08:00

I used to tell people I came from money. This was of course, a joke. My dad was a public school teacher (very rewarding in other non-financial spheres) and my mom was a full-time personal assistant for me and my 6 siblings (unpaid). However, like a coal miner's daughter, "we had love, and that's the one thing that daddy made sure of." When I went off to college, I told many people my last name was Chipman, the name of our dormitory. I liked to say, "Hi, my name is Chelsey Chipman, heiress to the Chipman fortune." If they ever asked how we made our money, I usually said that my grandfather had planted a Money Tree years before, and we were reaping its "fruits." Very few people got the joke, mostly because they were heirs in their own right and had no reason to discount my story. As I've gotten older, money has played a larger role in my life.

Recently, I have become obsessed with my billzzz. Not like Benjamins, but like utilities. In this process I have realized that I have a slight obsessive-compulsive complex when it comes to my finances. I have a very small calculator that sits by my computer where I type in hypothetical scenarios of bill payments very regularly. I often think up situations where I only leave $250 a month for "other expenses." Things like, food, gas, clothes, other shopping, etc., you know, the not so necessaries???? Then, I try and live on said budget for approximately 3 days, only to realize that my savings plan is impossible. I'm greedy, but not for stuff, well that too, but for a bank account. I want to be able to watch "Mad Money" in peace. Or be thinking, "Man Suze Orman, I am way ahead of you." Instead, I get sulky and go buy myself some take out and make a visit to my next-door neighbor, the University Mall.

Really, all I'm trying to do is impress my high school Econ. teacher, Ms. Wara. She explained one fateful day in class that if at age 18, you saved $50 a month and put that income into a 6% interest building account (mythical, Ms. Wara) that you would be a millionaire by age 55. I want to do the same. Instead, I am plagued by the genius of a few ladies, known to most of us as "Destiny's Child:"

"can you pay my bills?

can you pay my telephone bills?

can you pay my automo'bills?

then maybe we can chillI

don't think you do

so you and me are through"

But, you know what they say, "Mo' money, mo' problems."

Why my job's the greatest this time of year.

2008-10-31T12:54:00.001-07:00

I must take a moment to express some Halloween hillarity. I am lucky enough to spend my Halloween day every year in a junior high. I cannot express fully in words what a great time this can be. At this point in the maturity process school parties are passe, trick or treating is undefined, and boy-girl parties are nothing but awkward. Nonetheless these pre-pubescents still love the holiday. Interesting. On paper it seems like misery, but they don't know that yet. Instead, as an outsider I can look and laugh.

Often I ask the question to groups of kids, "Hey, what do really cool 14-year-olds like yourself do for Halloween?" Here are some responses from today:

"Ummmmm." This came from a boy in bat wings.

"I don't know, probably blow up some pumpkins or something." Wow, me too.

"My mom has a rule about trick or treating past 12." Do I sense some sadness about the topic?

"Watch a movie." Followed by about 2 minutes of giggling.

Another great part about the day, is getting to see the costumes. The halls are littered with parent humor, ill-fitting pimp suits, and wings of every creature. I often imagine that they left the house with a degree of confidence, probably fostered by a mother telling them they looked adorable. The second they walk through the doors that confidence has diminished to nothing. They are walking with heads down at a pretty brisk rate. This was communicated nicely today by a 4'5" 7th grader dressed as a homeless person carrying a sign that read, "Will work for food." Apparently this little girl was not so sure of her drawn-in beard and she was bee-lining towards the bathroom. Of course, I was also involved in a traffic jam caused by a young lady with an 8' wingspan. Eyes were being taken out at a very fast rate. Embarrassing. And, needless to say I always get a kick out of the cross-dressers. However, my favorite costume of the day was worn by the biggest tom boy in school. She came as a beauty pageant contestant. I laughed my head off.

A little middle school fun, on quite possibly my favorite holiday.

The Longest Day

2008-09-25T15:31:00.000-07:00

For any of you out there who are/or were borderline obsessive about the 90s phenomenon known as "Dawson's Creek," this title is for you. For those of you not quite as devoted to Wednesday nights, "The Longest Day" was a key episode of the WB's teen dramady in which Joey Potter (Mrs. Cruise, Suri's mom) keeps reliving the same day through multiple perspectives. My day thus far, has only resembled this episode in title. However, one might say my life is a little like the plot. Tonight, I sit here in parent-teacher conferences, year four of said bi-annual conferences, having the same dialogue with nameless parents about students ranging from slacker-mouth-breathers to shining-stars seeking additional praise. I did however, just finish a conference with a student's grandma that answered the question, "Whatever happened to Mimi from the Drew Carey show?" Uncanny.

Only an hour and a half left of purusing blogs and checking political banter. I can't wait to do something worthwhile, like watch Tivo.

Why is my life better than yours? I only work until 6:30PM four days out of the year.

When two become one

2008-08-29T19:13:00.000-07:00

Did I ever mention that my grandma was an original Spice Girl? Tag name: Country Spice. But, I don't think she looks too country in this photo.

Crackberry

2008-08-15T13:53:00.000-07:00

Yes! I'm rich. I try to keep this detail about my life on the DL, but sometimes it's unavoidable. Now, I know what you're thinking (why do I know? Because I'm probably smarter than you. I passed the AP English test for crying in the mud.), you're thinking, aren't you a teacher? Teachers aren't generally thought of as wealthy, but I am about to dispell this myth. Sure, a father of seven whose wife doesn't work might have to pinch a few pennies, but not single ladies of leisure such as myself. All my money is mine. I don't have to share it with anybody. Especially not husbands or babies, the worst kinds of mooches. Sure I don't mind spotting my friend for a fro-yo from time to time, but generally they pay me back, and sometimes it's with a Cafe Rio. So in that case, I actually make money. Sweet!

Why am I telling you about how rich I am? Have you read the title of this blog? Well, the truth is I made an expensive purchase. That's right, I got a Blackberry Pearl. A red one, which is cooler than Lisa's white one. Now, don't go judging me because I didn't get the newest Iphone. Truth is, smudge marks all over the screen gross me out. If I was prone to break outs, which I'm not, I would never put the thing to my face. So, of course a Blackberry is a superior choice. The only problem is that it never stops dinging and/or ringing from all the notifications of my friends needing to ge a hold of me. It's tough when you have as many friends on facebook as me.

My new favorite fruit, Blackberry.

yet again, something cool.

2008-07-12T08:23:00.000-07:00

I'm going to Costa Rica. Sorry, it's true.

I'm not married, but if I was. . .

2008-05-23T10:55:00.000-07:00

I would be married to him. Plain and simple, I love my Johns. Having him back on Idol on Wednesday just rekindled a love affair that had started back at the beginning of the season. But like any relationship, sometimes loves takes a while to come to rolling boil. Not like those new stoves from the devil that Kelly Ripa is advertising. 90 second boil, please. Instead, my love for Michael resembles that of the old Jenn Air stove top in our country home growing up. At least 10 minutes on high. AHHH, at times if felt like an eternity.

Here is a chronicle of our love-

Love at first sight: Michael walks into the Idol audition in San Diego. Attention grabbed.

First date: Michael sings Queen. "Mama!"

Rendezvous to meet the parents: Mr. Johns sings "We Will Rock you!" Please, do you promise??

Time for engagement photos: I might need to take a moment to collect myself here. Breathe out. Michael brilliantly combined two of my loves, Michael Johns and none other than Dolly Parton. Michael sings, "It's All Wrong, but It's All Right." Watch and love. I can't express the feelings I experienced listening to him pay tribute to another Idol in such an intoxicating manner. Don't worry, I have been to the Dolly Parton Dixie Stampede in Branson, MO. Sadly, no actual Dolly. Just an amazing gift shop. So, in other words, Michael, please marry me.

Honestly, I'm sure all I need to do is say the word and he will leave his poor-man's-version-of-me of a wife. Because well, frankly, that's just the way my life is.

Hey Marcia, pass the mirrored sun reflector.

2008-05-12T13:48:00.000-07:00

Got a tan this weekend in 60 degree weather. Just sitting at the baseball game. It's May, and I have a healthy glow. Oh yeah, I won a free T-shirt from Cosmo too. All thanks to my Spidey reach.

Overnight Miracle

2008-05-01T14:04:00.000-07:00

So, I needed my birth certificate ASAP. But when it comes to the government, they are no respector of persons . . . or so I thought. On Tuesday, I did a little googley googlin and came across a site that I could use to pay with a credit card. Credit cards are better than checks, because they aren't paper and they're not so mommy. OF course this seemed the best option, except that there was just no way around getting a notarized signature faxed to the vital records office in Fairfield, CA, my place of birth. And fax? Please, is it the 80s? Anyway, everything was seeming a bit archaic, but I decided to play by the rules. Reluctantly.

However, during the ordering process, I did notice there was a fed ex option for delivery. Fed Ex is obviously better than USPS because it's usually more expensive. Check yes please. So, of course it cost a little more, but I've never been afraid of a dollar sign. Finally, Tuesday afternoon I got all my ish "faxed" off and awaited a 2 week arrival of my package, or whenever pony express could get it here.

Now, I wasn't expecting to have any special treatment, but sometimes this stuff just follows you. And ta dah, Wednesday afternoon, after returning home from a pleasant day at work, my roomie, Liz, presented me with a beautiful Fed Ex package. Inside: MY Birth Certificate. Sheesh! Turns out, it pays to "DISCOVER."

Oh Riley! Factor

2008-02-21T13:59:00.000-08:00

This post is dedicated to my newest/exceptional nephew Riley Thomas Forston. This little guy was born last week on February 13th. Usually, the number 13 proves to be unlucky, but already in his first week Riley has proved that superstition WRONG.

The following are reasons and or indications of how advanced Riley is:

1) He weighed 8 lbs. 9 oz. Some babies have to be 2 weeks old before they reach that fighting weight.

2) His soft spot is almost non-existent. I do not exaggerate when I say that this one-week-old infant's soft area of the cranium is only about the size of a quarter. (Yep!) He's hard headed, but in a good way.

3) He holds in his own pacifer. I've met babies who are a year old and cannot say the same. His expression seems to give off a signal of, "Don't worry about it mom, I've got it."

4) He's a sleepy head. 4 out of the last 8 days (half his life), little Riley has slept 5 hours straight during the night. I consider that sleeping through the night.

5) He chills. This kid has the maturity of the Dalai Lama. When it's time to be awake that's just what he is. No need to cry and be a nusance. Riley just takes it all in and quietly passes judgment on the world around.

6) His chakras are alligned. He is a true yoga master! I have seen him in postures that take advanced yoga students years to master. He basically hangs out in downward dog most of the time. He's an inspiration.

7) He's cool. How many babies do you know who sport sunglasses?

8) He's darn cute. This isn't technically an advancement, since you have to be born with good looks. But, needless to say, he will avoid the pitfalls of both Bruce Jenner and Kenny Rogers. No need for surgical enhancement.

9) He's much much more. I'm sure there are many more yet to be discovered, so let's just say, he's advanced times infinity. Yeah that should take care of it.

Why am I so lucky?

2008-02-11T12:44:00.001-08:00

What a miracle? Truly I am being blessed for some kind of behavior that I am not fully aware of at the moment. This real-life phenomenon occured on Saturday while snowboarding with my sister Kym (gorgeous). Every time I go boarding I have to juggle my time between all those that want to spend the day hitting the slopes with me. Thus, a cell phone is imperative.

I should also rewind this story to the fact that while I was lacing up my boots in the parking lot, a well dressed couple approached me with a free lift pass. They were on there way out of town and couldn't use it, and I seem to fit the profile of someone they wanted to bestoy this friendliness upon. Ta duh, more free stuff. Why am I so lucky?

So, while riding the lift to a particularly difficult side of the mountain, I decided to send a text to one of those friends wanting to share my time. Uh oh, when I reached to put the phone in my pocket, it slipped from my hands and plummeted to the ground. There wasn't anything I could do about it at the moment. After the 15 minute lift ride came to an end, my sister and I had no choice but to haul down the mountain across several double-black diamonds in search of the lost and most likely, frozen phone.

I couldn't hope to find the phone in tact, I mean that only happens in movies. Right? Well, to my astonishment, there lay, buried in the snow, was my lost phone. Now, there was no chance this phone would still work, it had been laying there for 20 minutes in frozen water. But, again, another testimony of my Midas touch, the phone flipped open to show it was in perfect working order. Ah! Man, another grreat day.

Fatter Jack

2008-02-08T15:14:00.000-08:00

What a beast! In a moment of indulgence I let myself eat some old-school, baseball stadium Cracker Jacks. Normally, I avoid all kinds of processed sugar and high calorie snacks. Since I plan on living to 110 like my Smucker's counterparts, I have to be this disciplined. But, as the day has worn on, the hunger monster got the better of me, and I slipped. Big time. Check this out, one snack-sized bag of these sweet little devils contains the following:

Calories: 150

Total fat: 2.5 g (YIKES!)

Cholesterol: O mg (phew.)

Sugars: 19 g (get the revolver.)

Anyway, I've done 500 ab flexes to try and counteract the effects. We'll see. I might have to eliminate my allocated 14 red grape evening snack. I hope not, I look forward to this.

Anyway, I feel enormous at the moment, but I'm sure this will pass by morning. When I sleep, I think I tend to burn more calories than when I'm awake. Thanks mom for great genes!

Great pics.

2008-02-07T15:40:00.000-08:00

I own this, yep.

I've always enjoyed exotic vacation spots.

Just one of my 14 beautiful nieces and nephews.

Outdoorsy and modest.

Exceptional hair day.

I have tons of friends who adore me.

I can't help but be the center of attention.

On top of everything, I snowboard.

A funny thing happened . . .

2008-02-07T15:00:00.000-08:00

This morning I awoke a half an hour after my alarm beeped. This was really no big deal, since I only take about twenty minutes to get ready. Not many girls can say that. In fact, I have found that my slightly thin hair has been a real blessing ever since I started blow-drying it in the 7th grade. After a slimming breakfast of Slim-fast Optima, I got in my car where I turned on my free Ipod Nano to listen to a playlist which I created. Some people pay for these kinds of gadgets, I don't. I arrived at school in a record 11 minutes without a ticket, even though I sped the whole way. No surprise.

While at school, I taught a meaningful lesson about the Holocaust. I mean, I really had these 15-year-olds near tears. It wouldn't be the first time I engaged students both intellectually and emotionally through my impressive presentation style. I always get top marks any time I am evaluated by an administrator. Now I am sitting through parent-teacher conferences, trying to stay humble as parent after parent compliments my teaching and understanding of their child. A girl just related a story in which she left my classroom and exclaimed to her friend, "Man, she's an awesome teacher." Ah shucks.

Well that's where I leave you for now, but I expect the rest of the day will go as well or better than the first half. Please feel free to comment on your favorite part of this post.