And the winner is.......

Sure this may or may not have been child abuse, but by darn, my proud mama won first place in the ward Halloween costume contest that year. During that Halloween night in '85, aside from inflicting the kind of trauma that probably won't surface until years down the road, my mother taught us all a very valuable lesson. If chubby brown girls can pull off Raggedy Ann and take the cake, then isn't anything possible? Happy Halloween!

PS - For those who know my family, see? There was a time when Trevor was sweet.
PPS - No, those are not wigs...that is our real hair spray painted

A maverick stopped by

...Guess who was hangin out at my work this week?

"I didn’t vote again until 1976, when I was nineteen and legally registered. Because I was at college out of state, I sent my ballot through the mail. The choice that year was between Jimmy Carter and Gerald Ford. Most of my friends were going for Carter, but, as an art major, I identified myself as a maverick. “That means an original,” I told my roommate. “Someone who lets the chips fall where they may.” Because I made my own rules and didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought of them, I decided to write in the name of Jerry Brown, who, it was rumored, liked to smoke pot. This was an issue very close to my heart—too close, obviously, as it amounted to a complete waste. Still, though, it taught me a valuable lesson: calling yourself a maverick is a sure sign that you’re not one."
--David Sedaris
From his "Undecided" article in The New Yorker

Unexplained phenomena

Allow me to invite you to closely examine this picture here. As I was was washing my hands in the bathroom, only minutes ago, I noticed that somehow a little black elastic band had attached itself to my hoop earing. This is completely unexplained.
a) I have NEVER seen this type of elastic ever
b) My earring hoop is nearly closed on the back so it would be hard for anything to get on it
c) I haven't been around anyone who was touching my hair, ear and/or face all day.

Unexplained happenings such as this are among my most nagging of pet peeves, and unless I am able to come up with a probable reason this thing ended up dangling from my lobe I am going to think myself into a coma. If you have any hypothesis please send them my way.

Hells Bells

So, I decided to go to Idaho this weekend. I hadn't been since June and figured I needed to go see my star-athlete brother in action. He played well, except his team lost and he may or may not have broken the thumb on his already-broken hand. I had only planned on staying a day, but of course Mother Nature decided to unleash the kind of winter fury unseen for decades in that particular part of the state, effectively turning my car into a bump in over two feet of snow (see above pic. Yes, that's my car)and closing down the only roads back to Utah.
I mean seriously. It's not even Halloween. It's barely October. So after 34 board games, four movies, 24 extra hours and a car extraction process - which included my entire family, my best friend, who was also stuck there, and a loader, I made it to the freeway. And then I got pulled over for the 6th time this year. Thanks 2008. You're the best.

Would you like some McLovin' with that?

I got hit on today in a McDonald's drive-through. When I go to McDonald's I always feel a little bit of shame because of the unhealthiness of it...even if I am just getting a fruit parfait or a snack wrap I always just want to get in and get out the "drive-thru of shame." I rarely make eye contact and make sure I have money and everything ready so there is no lingering. Well today (I was actually getting a McMuffin this morning, so the guilt was deserved) I rolled up to the pay window and handed homeboy my card and didn't look at him. He said, "how are you?" I said "Fine, how are you?" And then Chatty-Chad just took off. Well first, let me just say he couldn't have been more than 20 and he didn't have the physical characteristics that you would...ummm..think are typical of..uhhhhh..someone that would have the confidence or bravado to randomly hit on customers. So I was caught off guard when he replied to my obligatory "how are you" with "I have a really pretty girl at my window, so as far as I am concerned it's a good day." I smiled at that because I was trying to process what I heard. Hearing that is like hearing a swear word in church. You may get hit on at the mall or at a club, sure. But by a McDonald's employee in a drive-thru?? It just didn't fit. He didn't stop there. After I smiled he said "Oh and that smile? You're killing me with that.." By this time I had to resist the urge to honk at the car in front of me to hurry the hell up because I was getting a bit uncomfy. Then he said "your husband or boyfriend must feel like the luckiest guy." Then he looked at my vacant ring finger and said "boyfriend right?" And I confirmed. The car ahead of me pulled forward and I was released from Awkward Town. But here's the thing...that kid is going to go far in life. Sure he is working at a McDonald's drive-through now..but if at that young of an age he is already listening to that voice that says "go for it" - despite staggering odds - think where he will be in 10 years. Plus he clearly does this often so he is becoming immune to the fear of failure. As I was driving away from there, about to indulge in a 300+ calorie breakfast the awkwardness melted away to admiration. Kudos Chatty-Chad, your going places, just not today.

Certain Disaster...

Its gonna happen.
It may not be today. It may not be tomorrow, or even this month. But before the end of 2008 these stairs at my work are going to do me in. This is only one of three flights that could kill me sometime soon. Sure they are beautiful and shiny in their quasi spiral form. But beauty is dangerous and once you take a tumble it is going to be hard to stop yourself. I try to avoid them at all cost by using the back stairs, but every once in a while it they are simply inevitable. A number of times when I have been on them I have had some close calls - a waver or a tremor, if you will, and once even a micro stumble. It's as if they are saying "I will get you yet, but just not today." I can only ask that no one is around for the humilaition. I also ask that I don't break my coccyx. I would rather have a toe cut off than have to sit on a donut for 6 months. Either way I suppose my certain fall will be a justified pay back from this..

So You Think You Can Dance!!!! WOOOOOOH

I never got into the boy-band-crush thing that generally greets the dawn of puberty in most preteen girls. I never had the giant poster Donny, Jordan or Justin on my wall that I kissed each night, nor did I doodle my first name with said boy's last name. I was in the pre-boy crazy stage when New Kids on the Block were all the rage and after that there was kind of a vacant spot until Backstreet Boys hit the scene. By then I was in high school and too cool to be a screaming swooning girl. But last night I felt it in its full glory at the So You Think You Can Dance concert. Despite the fact that Amelia (who was a contraction away from giving birth - don't worry folks, she brought a towel with her in case her water broke) and I were sandwiched between an elderly couple and a pair of middle aged moms, I felt like I was 12 years old. Of course all the performances were great but when Josh came on stage I screamed like a school girl. Even so, it didn't even rival the middle-aged moms next to us. Every look, wink, smile or laugh he made just made me swoon more and I was bugged that I didn't get to meet him. Here's the thing. From his very first audition he was my fave and to watch him go through all the tears, the victories, getting his braces off, etc, just made me love him all the more. I wanted to hug him, shake his hand and then never wash my own, and tell him how I adored him. I even cursed myself for not bringing a sign that spelled out my admiration. So now I get it. I get why when I was 9 years-old my 12-year old neighbor would walk around with a pillow in her shirt, call herself "Angela Knight" and said she planned on naming the baby "Jordan Jr." And for all you haters out there, just look at my obsession as finally reclaiming something that I was deprived in childhood. Joshua Allen, I LOVE YOU! WOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH!!!