That Corner Booth

The Backlot Tour closes today.  That is, quite honestly, a good thing.  I'm told it was good when it first opened, but I never saw the glory days . . . and even the first time I rode, TEN FREAKING YEARS AGO this December(!), it was only a shadow of what it was meant to be.  It was constantly in a state of barely hidden disrepair, and the upper levels of management really didn't even pretend to care.  It was tired, outdated, corny, and couldn't hide it if it wanted too.  Rumors about it closing for good have been swirling for years - in fact, they were probably swirling that Christmas Day in 2004 when I rode it and whilst riding decided that yes, I was going to apply for the Disney College Program after I graduated because man, wouldn't it be fun to be the person up front giving the tour?  Frankly, it has needed to be closed down and replaced for a very long time.  No one knew that more than the people who worked there.  No one complained about how awful that ride was more than them either.  No one talked about the attraction's days being numbered and counted them down more that BLT cast members.

Including me.

I was one of them (although it's sometimes hard to believe now) and we all hated that place with a passion.

A passion so intense it became both hatred and love.

Because no one defended that place to outsiders like we did either.  No one complained about replacing live tour guiding with an autospiel more than we did.  No one got more frustrated on Catastrophe Canyon's behalf than we did when management made it clear that non-working effects weren't going to be fixed.  This was our home, for better or worse, and we were going to defend it, dangit!

At this point I hope it goes without saying that my heart is breaking today, just a little bit.  It doesn't matter that we've all seen this coming for years, I think a lot of us are feeling a bit like Inigo. For me in particular, those couple of years were a defining moment.  Obviously it's where Luke and I met, and so the thought of the whole place being torn down feels like a desecration from that view.  I mean, this is exactly the sort of thing that corny country songs are made of.

But there's so much more to it than that.  I've often told people that the first time I lived in Orlando it was like living a real life version of Friends.  Which is true, but at the same time doesn't go far enough.  Unless you've actually lived in a situation where you had no family nearby but still had a big group of people who had your back no matter what even though there were just as lost as you were and you all knew you were making it up as you went along and everyone was roommates with everyone and everyone spent all their free time together because no one knew anyone else and life was always some degree of crazy and everything was a new experience . . . well, it's one thing to watch the show, and it's completely another to live it.

I think about that moment in time often, especially now that we're back.  I have to say, at the risk of sounding overly hyperbolic, that they were easily the best and possibly the most important years of my life.  I've never felt so completely, one hundred per cent and then some, accepted for who I was in my entire life.  I have never met another group of people as non-judgmental.  I wouldn't even know where to start looking for another group of people as unquestionably welcoming. It was an absolutely new experience for me - possibly even the most foreign one I've ever had.  And because of that, I had no idea how to react when I made mistakes.  I expected rejection and judgment, so I distanced myself from people before they could do it instead.  It took a ridiculously long time, but I finally saw that that never would have happened.  This group was truly one of kind among any I've encountered . . . well, ever. (are you tired of all the adverbs yet, lol?)  so I have a few regrets, but for the most part I look back on those two and a half years with just happy nostalgia.  It was a simpler time in life, even though it felt so complicated in the moment.  And while the seeds of getting me there then were planted looooooooooooooooooooooong before I got there, those first blooms that sprouted in those years are the reason I am where I am today. (that may be the most garbled metaphor I've ever created)

Luke started a facebook event last Saturday after the closing announcement.  One last ride for former BLT cast members who were still around, the last tour ever given by the old shuttles.  We figured we could meet up with a dozen or so old friends.  Within, like, three hours fifty people had said they were coming and with everyone inviting everyone they were still in touch with the invite list has already broken three hundred and I swear there are more people every time I look.  A lot of them are coming, some of them flying in from around the country just for the weekend to see old friends and say goodbye to what was, for pretty much all of us, our first real job.  I don't even know most of these people at this point, but we're going to spend an hour together today, laughing and crying and saying goodbye to the bane of our existence . . . and one of the best things that ever happened to us at the same time.  It's slightly incredible.

The place is tired, run down, with nothing even remotely exciting or fun or new about it.  Tonight is going to be as much a celebration that it's finally gone as it is a gathering to wish it wasn't going.  It's the end of several eras, and I'm so glad we got back here in time to say goodbye.  It's taking a little piece of my heart with it, but the BLT left me a better person than it found me.  And after 25 years Catastrophe Canyon finally gets to move on to take three.  It has certainly earned it.  Go ye gently, Cat Canyon into that long goodnight, whilst we who remain rage against the dying of the light.

(yeah . . . that's really cheesy.  but some things just require a little cheese.  as I sure will be demonstrated in the several hundred pictures I plan on taking tonight.  apologies in advance for flooding people's instagram feeds.)

Sometimes you don't realize how much things have changed until it's made obvious that they'll never be the same.  I'd love to go back to those days - but I don't think I would if I could.  I got what I needed, and now it's time to make the best of that . . .

But first a couple hundred of us are going to take a day to say goodbye.

P. ost S. cript
Throwback Th-Saturday to back when I used to be a big youtube star. (and no, I am not going to admit how long I spent looking for these . . . however neither of them are the one I was looking for . . . )

Ode to Thirty

Also known as my second twenty-ninth birthday.  Because

Yeah, that sounds about right.  Anyway.

Starin' out into the wild blue yonder
So many thoughts to sit and ponder
'Bout life and love and wonderment of
And this craziness in my heart

Too old to be wild and free still
Too young to be over the hill
Should I try to grow up
But who knows where to start

So I just sit right here and have myself another snowcone
Do my best to waste another day
Sit right here and have another homemade snowcone
Let the packed boxes melt any blues away

Sun comes up and sun sinks down
And I seen 'em both in this two-horse town
Up for days wishin' for a raise

 Or just a job that is full time

From the answers and the reasons why
I'm at these crossroads in my life
And I think I mostly know

 Which way to fly

So I just sit right here and take another trip to the library
Do my best to waste another day
Sit right here and stack the books two feet high
Let the crappy novels (these days) melt any blues away

Maybe I'll settle down, have babies
Or stay kid-less and stay free
Which road I travel
Is still (slightly) a mystery to me

So I just sit right here and cross another square off the calendar
Do my best not to waste another day
Sit right here and grasp at straws for one more line
Let the passage of time melt any blues away

P. ost.  S. cript

 Apparently Kenny Chesney employs time traveling songwriters that steal from blogs.  Because that's a much more interesting explanation than saying I heard the song a couple weeks ago for the first time in ages and totally identified with it.

 

On More Slash Down Memory Lane

Yet another entry in the ongoing saga that is the destruction of all my childhood memories . . . Hogle Zoo edition.

(side note: skimming over those posts, it seems I get perhaps a tiny bit melodramatic when this topic comes up, no?)

A little background: the niece-phew . . . which I don't believe I ever mentioned turned out to be a nephew . . .  finally came out west for a visit for the last two weeks.  And since most of my family gets labor day off by default the others arranged to have it off too and we all went to the zoo.

Now.  I knew going in that they had made some changes, and that things would probably not look exactly like they had the last time I went to this particular zoo.  Especially considering I'm pretty sure the last time was when we still lived in Idaho.  But still - I was not prepared to see all these big ole DAK Lodge-meets-Fort-Wilderness looking buildings where once there was a single rinky dink little ticket booth next to one of those rotating door grate thingies.

The first sign that this day was going to be nothing like I imagined it . . .


Anyway.  You know that thing that's all the rage on pinterest these days?  The one where they take the picture from, like, twenty years ago and get the people do pose the way they did then and it looks varying degrees so silly (and sometimes cute)?  And you know how in those cheesy wedding reception slide shows they always have those side-by-side pictures of the bride and groom doing the same thing when they were little, like playing in the kiddie pool or covered in spaghetti or whatever?  Now, I had the genius idea of combining those two things into some fun pictures myself.  Namely, making Luke as an adult pose for all the pictures I took as a kid.  So you can imagine by devastation upon walking in and discovering that the gopher hole picture wasn't going to happen.  Because the gopher holes are now a pile of dirt on their way to becoming the new African safari exhibit.  Yeah, I am so  not okay with that.

On the plus side, the lion fountain still exists, although it's not in the same place.

Is it more daring for an adult to stick their head in a lion's mouth or less?





And the gorilla exhibit hasn't changed much, although it kind of feels like it has since everything around it has changed.

(Rogan [the nephew] was asleep at this point, so sadly no picture of him in gorilla pose)


So now mom just needs to dig up the pictures of me from whatever abyss they've been sucked in to.



The change I was probably most prepared for but most disappointed about was the lack of those wax molded animal making vending machines things (that google has oh-so-helpfully taught me are called Mold-A-Rama machines.  and you'd better believe I'm working on a road trip to collect them all!!)  Because seriously, I loved those cheap, crayon-smelling, melty, not-quite-toys, not-quite-display-things that must have been really cheap considering I remember getting them on, like, every trip to the zoo we ever made.  Even though they come out of the machine still hot and therefore still kind of flexible and just a little bit of a push on them and they'd give way and I'm pretty sure not a one ever made it all the way back to IF with the bottom stand or whatever intact because we'd break them into a dozen pieces.  I don't remember the elephants and gorillas lasting much longer when got them home either, but they always smelled like crayon and we always seemed to get new ones the next summer.  Dude, what I wouldn't have given to have been able to get just one more of those this week.

Anyway.  It was different, and that was somewhat distressing, but things made up for it.  Like the part where it started as the perfect day to get out of town because when we left it was pouring buckets . . . literally.  I kid you not, that was the scariest drive through Sardine Canyon I've ever experienced.  But by the time we hit Ogden it was nothing but clear skies - well, rain wise at least.  It was a little cloudy and a little gloomy, but it really just meant that it wasn't too hot or too bright out and generally made the day better.  Until about mid-afternoon when the sun decided to come out and it shot up, like, thirty degrees in about half as many minutes.  That part was not fun.  And I guess I'm allergic to the sun or something because more or less right as the sun came out my eyes started itching and not long after that they were the epic waterfalls they were last year at Yellowstone.  Blargh.  So we gave back this guy:

(I swear we're friends . . . just apparently only when I'm pointing the camera at him . . . or when he thinks I might let him take the camera . . . )








And headed on out.  Of course, it being September we had a couple of other stops to make - for which I shall just say: ORANGE.  LEMONADE.  LIFE.  MADE.

And we stopped for dinner at In'N'Out.  Now, I had quite deliberately not eaten since breakfast so I wouldn't be full when we hit Centerville on the way home.  (the bad news is that that led to some slight dehydration and a mild headache all Tuesday . . . the things we do for good food . . . )  And can I just say - In'N'Out is delicious anytime, but when you're hungry it is AMAZING!  I'd love to have one closer by.


And so slammed another door onto my memories.  The elephants are mostly the same, the giraffe building is the same (although those are both going when the new exhibit is done) but nothing else is left of the zoo I used to go to.  I wonder what other mental images will get mucked up before we're done.


P. ost  S. cript
Seriously.  Coolest things ever.




Except this one.  Maybe.  Maybe cooler.

This is the Part I've Been Dreading

So it turns out when you're one of the grown-ups and they split the ward and have to replace all the people that are gone . . . you're, like, one of the ones they use to replace those people.

In other news, I am now the Primary Secretary.  And it's pretty much the most "important" calling I've had since Laurel class president.

(disclaimer the first: yeah, yeah, all callings are important and all that jazz.  You know what I mean.)

I . . . am kinda slightly intimidated.  I mean, I know it's just the kids and whatever.  But eleven-year-olds are a bit harder to satisfy than toddlers.  And quite frankly I would have been rather content staying in nursery for quite some time.  Snack time, play time, and lessons about sharing instead of thinly veiled political arguments.  Admit it, I had you all at snack time.  :-)

On the other hand, I don't have to go back to Relief Society . . . and I have to admit I don't particularly care for this ward's.  After four and half months of introducing myself every. single. week. going into nursery was quite the relief.  And it was every week - someone would come and say "oh, are you new? Is this your first week?"  and I'd be all "well, we're new but it's our third month here," and they'd be all surprised and stuff and it was the same people introducing themselves every week and I wouldn't have minded if they had been saying things like "I know I've seen you here before but I don't remember your name" but there was seriously no recognition at all.  At all.  I'd be introducing myself to the same person for the third time in six weeks and absolutely no shred of acknowledgment that Id ever been seen before whatsoever.  No ringing bells at the sound of my name.  No "aha!" moment when I mention that, yes, I did stand up and introduce myself to everyone - clear back in April.  Nothing.

I mean, it's not like I was expecting everyone to remember my entire life story - but am I really that forgettable?

Don't answer that.

Anyway . . . yeah.  Secretary.  I?  Am not secretarial.  No idea what I'm doing.  And the primary program is next week.  And I'm going to have to do, like lessons, right?  Like, sharing time?  With everybody?  And it's just me up there?  Yeah I see NOOOOOOOOO way that could possibly go cataclysmically wrong. < end sarcasm >

On the plus side, it's not like it's a particularly visible calling if you know what I mean.  Except, you know, the part where the primary program is this Sunday.  And I'll probably end up sitting up there with all these kids I've never spoken too and don't know any names and all the parents will be expecting me to keep them in line and know when to pull which one up for their part and I don't have a clue which one's Jonny and which one's Sally so I'll look utterly incompetent and they'll all be hounding the bishop to release that terrible secretary . . . who hasn't even spent a single minute in primary yet.

(actually . . . maybe that's not an all bad scenario, lol?)

One more thing - my Teen Girl Squad bag isn't too sacrilegious to use as a church bag, is it?  Because it would be a whole lot easier to just let my library bag do double duty than to try and find another one I like.  Stick figures aren't sacrilegious, are they?

(disclaimer the second: I'm not complaining, just super nervous and intimidated.)



P. ost  S. cript
Never fails - when you need something to laugh at you re-post this one.  And remember how I actually know the girl in the blue dress.  Like, personally.  We're facebook friends and everything. :-)  (she's blonde in real life . . . bet you never would have guessed, huh?)

Missed That Party Boat

So a while back I made a brief, slightly cryptic-ish reference that apparently led some people to think I was going to give birth to my own nephew.  While that certainly would be rather impressive (well, not so much today I suppose as it would have been 100 years ago), I suppose the time has come to clarify.

Because if you didn't figure it out from that paragraph, my sister is pregnant.  My baby sister.  The one who still weirds me out just by being married because, dude, if I'm not old enough for that sort of thing there is no way she is old enough.  And I'm not old enough. (and now is not the time to bring up my high school reunion from last month so you can all just stop right there.)

Anyway.  It's a boy - again, I hope you'd already figured that out - and he's due in December.  Guess who else is having a baby boy in December?  Two of my cousins.  Apparently there was some sort of awesome party back in March that we weren't invited to.  :-)

So it's really weird to think about (especially the part where this is one cousin's second kid), and Luke is having such a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he's going to an uncle that he doesn't always remember the meaning of the word uncle.  And then he goes and freaks out his fifth grade teacher who came to visit us on her trip to Utah by making her think it was his sister who's pregnant.  That was an amusing thirty seconds . . .

I suppose this is the part where I start talking about how I feel all left out and stuff . . . but . . . no.  Guilt trips notwithstanding, I know the time is not right at the moment, and I'm okay with that.  (actually, the other nursery leader asked me a few weeks ago if being around the nursery kids every week was making us baby hungry and the honest answer I gave her was that it was kind of doing the opposite.  I get my fill of little kids in those 2 hours and then go home and don't have to change diapers during the week.  Win-win!)  I do sometimes feel a little awkward because I'm "supposed" to feel left out - at least, that's what popular culture around here would have me feeling.  And there's always a sense of dissonance when you know you're out of sync with your surroundings, no matter how artificial or inaccurate or even only semi-existent it is.

If I was still the girl who graduated from high school ten years ago, or maybe even the girl who graduated from college six years ago I would be feeling a lot more dissonance.  And it would definitely bother me a lot more.  It seems like this year has been all about appreciating how I've grown in recent years . . . it's kind of odd actually.  I've never noticed a theme to years in the past.  Is this one of those grown-up things they never tell you about?  Maybe once I get used to it I'll stop sounding like such a broken record when I'm blogging about it. 

Anyway.  Apparently I'm an aunt.  And that's probably not a weird thing to those of you out there who gained the title at the age of ten, or three, or fourteen, or whatever . . . but for me, it's pretty weird.  And for our hypothetical future oldest kid's sake, I'm glad they won't be the oldest grandchild (on one side at least).  That comes with a pressure all its own . . .


P. ost  S. cript
In the mood for something that makes no sense? (well . . . it makes sense to me, but I've seen all the previous episodes . . . and I know everyone in it)  Want to see my small screen debut? (well . . . unless you count the episode before this one that I was also in . . . but I only had one line.  and not counting all the other times I'm on youtube . . . )  Anyway . . . whatever.  Behold: on Friends they went to Central Perk - this is what we did.  It was free.  And awesome.  And it's the source for my current facebook profile picture.  (fun fact: you'll also get a peek at all three attractions I worked at!)

When It Hits Home

Everybody knows the saying "you can't go home again."  And I would dare say that everyone knows it's true.  Turns out sometimes you have to try to realize just how thoroughly true it is.

For example - this is the high school I went to:

I've actually got a picture of about a dozen classmates standing on the roof next to those letters after graduation floating around somewhere.



This is the building in which I attended my ten year reunion Saturday:

 

And believe it or not, these are the only two pictures of the school I could find on google.  Weird.  Anyway.  Do you see any resemblance between these two buildings?  Because none of us did.  To put it bluntly (and mildly) that is not where we went to school.

But it was good to see everybody.  And, you know, meet everybody.  Because while of course there were those people who don't seem to have changed at all since graduation (and apparently I'm in that group . . . huh . . . ) there were also those who . . . have.  Like the guy who was rather trim to begin with becoming downright wiry and growing just enough facial hair that it took me 20 minutes to figure out who he was.  Or the guy who - how to phrase this delicately? - has decidedly not gotten scrawnier and who's identity I never would have guessed without seeing his name tag.  Which makes me feel really bad, because he recognized me the second I walked in.  On that note - it was great to see how many people recognized/remembered me.  Even though I was pretty heavily involved with drama and orchestra and color guard I still always felt so anonymous compared to, well, pretty much everyone else.  Clearly I was not the head cheerleader.  I wasn't even the head tech whom everyone knew and cheered at assemblies when something inevitably went wrong and they had to come out and fix it.  And I don't begrudge those people their titles, but it was a little surprising to discover that people not only knew my name then, but remember it now.

As far as the group I spent the most time with back in the day, we were represented by a rather small contingent of attendees.  Which was sad, and can I just say - all those excuses like "about to go into labor any day now?"  LAME!!! ;-)  A few of us had a small get together Friday night and we're thinking we'll have to try and do that every couple of years or something, because we have all more or less stayed in touch. And let me take this moment to say, what on earth did you people do before facebook?  I scarcely even had a chance to lose touch with anyone before we got back in touch!  It's kind of weird . . . I was all prepared for Saturday to be the first I'd heard from pretty much anyone in ten years - but not so much.  In fact, I think I'd recognize some of my old friends' kids if I bumped into them on the street.  Crazy.

But I'd have to say by far the biggest event of the night was just walking around the school.  It was so weird - there are small stretches that are so incredibly familiar . . . but they're surrounded by a building that looks like it was designed to be a set of some High School Musical type movie. (fun fact: HSM was the working title of the project and they were totally planning on replacing it when the movie aired.  Obviously that didn't happen.)

Anyway, a few pictures, because words cannot demonstrate how disturbingly trippy this tour was.  For those of you who did go to the same school I did . . . brace yourselves.

'Kay, so here we have the color guard my senior year. 

(slight tangent: the guard is HUGE now!!  And they have a winter guard!!!  A winter guard that goes to CHAMPIONSHIPS!!!  We would have KILLED to have a winter guard back in the day!  Granted, it would have been difficult seeing as most of the fall guard did drama the rest of the year, as did most of the band peeps who would have done winter guard . . . but we totally would have made it work.  Jeal. Lous.)

Now, for those of you who knew the band room, I just have to say the words "guard closet."  For the rest of you, imagine a large closet just to the right of this picture, wherein all the guard costumes and equipment are stored.  And where many a silly hijink was concocted.

Behold:

We are standing more or less in front of the wall/door to said guard closet.  Now it's an art room full of pottery wheels.  The huge picture of back when the band was big/good enough to march in the Washington DC Fourth of July parade?  Gone.  The ceiling tiles that we had Jared Riggs absolutely convinced the word "gullible" was written if he could just squint hard enough?  Replaced.  Senior Row, place of amazing memories involving learning how to do (essentially) two-dimensional spins up against a wall and dancing the night away a week before graduation?  They paved paradise and extended the parking lot.  This might have been the most traumatizing part of the tour.  Good thing we got it over with first.

Moving on - 

My junior year locker is still there, yay!  Actually, my sophomore year locker is too, and only about 50 feet down from this one, but I don't remember which one it was.  This one was on the end though, so totally easy to remember. (Mr. Jones' room is right behind me for a little perspective.)  My senior year locker?  Long gone, and now that the cafeteria (I know, I know, it makes no sense to me either).  I don't much care about that one though, because it was literally at the opposite end of the building from all but 2 of my classes so I never used it.

Anyway.

The sidewalk squares that drama and color guard painted for homecoming week?  There's building there now.  They moved the doors that were there to the other side of the library.  Talk about another move that makes no sense.

On the plus side, the color guard is really starting to finally get some recognition.  Not only on the band trailer, you know how I know they have a huge winter guard that makes it to championships?  They're finally displaying trophies that are awarded to things other than sports!  In the trophy case!  Right by the gym!  There's one that's half volleyball and half guard, how crazy is that?  And there's one that has choir trophies in it!  Seriously, why wasn't this sort of thing happening while we were there?  (yeah . . . we'll not get in to that rant today . . . )

Anyway.  The small gym that was supposedly for wrestling but most everybody remembers as the social dance class gym?

Fond memories of being danced into that corner, let me tell you.

Anyway.  Now it's the band room.  And on the one hand, it's great that the band room is finally close to the auditorium (less fond memories of hauling equipment from one end of the school to the other in the snow, let me tell you!) on the other hand . . . that corner?

Not.  The.  Same.


And the auditorium parking lot is gone - now there's this rec center-club type thing in its place, and I'm not entirely sure what it's meant for, but if the presence of the drum major stand is any indication at least some of the marching band practices happen in there.  Which I'm sure is great to out of the elements and all, but the practice field is still right behind it, and the perfectly good marching band field is still there.  Except, you know, when the football team takes over to . . . I don't know . . . kick a ball around for a while . . . or something.  Needless to say, I went to those games only because I had to and didn't really pay attention to what was happening on the field when I wasn't on it.

Perhaps the most disappointing part was that we weren't able to go into the auditorium.  On the one hand it's not really a big deal, because apparently it hasn't been touched since we left.  Well, except for the horrible idea to move the booth from the ceiling to the floor right behind the house that happened right after we left.  Seriously, the original booth was such a haven.  And just a fun place to be - especially during the lamer assemblies.  And it's not like nobody goes up there anymore now, because dude, that's where the lights are.  You need to change gels or something, you still gotta go to the same place.  Seriously.  Dumbest. Move. Ever.

And since it hasn't changed, it's the one place left in the entire school where everything there is to see would be something familiar.  Where we could be literally surrounded by the Berver we knew and - believe it or not - loved (mostly).  My corner just offstage where I played Gwendolyn the Narrator in Twelve Dancing Princesses in ninth grade . . . the pit where I played in the orchestra for Bye, Bye Birdie in tenth . . . Nancy and I would have run up on stage and done spot on choreography from both Once on this Island and Joseph - even though we were crew rather than cast for both . . . the dressing room where I kept my amazing technicolor dream jeans senior year (I'll have to tell that story someday) . . . the hallway backstage where certain sophomore boys wandered about asking for someone to make them pretty for Joseph . . . the "forbidden zone" . . . the costume closet - full of costumes that probably hadn't been used in years . . .

Yeah, I'm really disappointed that we didn't get to go in.  But maybe it's best that it didn't happen.  That's a place that's not just haunted with the ghosts who's stories we'd tell when we were there late at night.  It also carries the ghosts of all our past selves.  Lacey running the spotlight for the middle school production of Fiddler because there weren't enough middle school techs and the teacher wanted a few high school kids in the booth to babysit.  Dani and Becca as the narrators in Joseph.  Clerie dancing in Island.  Steve bringing the audience to tears in the cancer benefit play that my classmates wrote themselves.  Like Emily in the third act of Our Town, I think I would have seen them all.  And even though we talked about how great it would be if that's what could actually happen at reunions, I think it would have been my undoing.  I've had a super nostalgic month as it is, on multiple levels.

Even just watching the video people put together was crazy.  There was some footage from the end of our freshman year.  I swear it was fake - those were tiny little eight-year-olds in that footage, not the 14-year-olds I'd just met and begun to make friends with.  If some of us look the same now as we did ten years ago, how is it possible that everyone looks so tiny in images from just a few years before that?

Long story short: it's been a fast ten years.

On the agenda for tomorrow: blogging about my 20 year reunion.  Because you know it's going to come up just that fast too.


P. ost  S. cript
I typed in Bear River on a whim at youtube - here's some video of all the new stuff.  It's kind of min blowing.  And check it out - not only does Berver have a winter guard again, they're hosting competitions again!  (and of course American Fork is still winning.)

My Lord, I Only Laugh Just to Keep from Weeping

Ten points if you can name that movie quote.

The good news is I'm feeling a bit better today. Of course, that might be because I've taken more ibuprofen in the last three days than I've taken in the last three months . . . but whatever works.

Anyway.

So it turns out the school has this policy that if a kid brings a cell phone to school they're supposed to check it in at the office in the morning and they can get it back at the end of the day. And it turns out that not a lot of the kids are obeying that policy. My guess is because they didn't even know about it because I had never heard of it before today, but then again I'm not exactly on the need-to-know end of the spectrum on this one. But still.

Anyway.

So the "detention" teacher (for lack of a better all-encompassing and non-explanation needing term) comes into 5th grade today and explains the policy to the kids and says if any of them have cell phones they need to give them to her now. At this point I'm thinking we're the last class she's going to because the pocket of her hoodie is practically hanging down to her knees.

Nope. Something like EIGHT kids go to their backpacks to get phones and it sounds like that's about the norm for all the classes. The teacher totally started laughing at this point . . . although I'm not sure if he was laughing in shock or at the fact that my jaw literally dropped in shock.

I can't imagine how these phones are being paid for . . . Luke and I both have pretty bare bones plans and we barely manage to keep our total bill under triple digits, but the kids were talking about all the games and apps and internet things they use their phones for (in fact, I don't think one of them actually uses theirs as an actual phone) so they've got to have bills two ro threes times are combined total.

However, my story today is much more amusing.

Shortly after this little exchange the kid I was working with, Claudio (of the inadvertently hilarious wit), who's parents he says told him he can have a cell phone when he pays for it. My response? "Well, what would you do with one anyway? Who are you going to call?"

I kid you not, this kid didn't miss a beat. He throws his hands up in the air and exclaims "Ghostbusters!!!"

It was seriously like he knew that question was coming and was waiting patiently for me to ask so he could respond that way and make me laugh. It may be a little conceited of me to say so, but it seriously feels like he and a couple other boys are constantly wandering my way to say something they've rehearsed and try to make sound natural just hoping I'll laugh. It's kind of cute.

Anyway.

A few minutes later Claudio mentions that Mr. Cox didn't get his phone taken away, in a tone that implied he should have. Now, the detention teacher made it quite clear that the policy applied only to kids, so naturally my reply was that Mr. Cox is not a kid.

"He's not married!"

Kid logic, amirite? It's a good thing Claudio's okay with being laughed at. :-)

(confession: this is totally the first thing that popped into my head when he said that.)

P. ost S. cript
Onion videos totally make up for not being able to watch The Daily Show. :-)
(very brief language, if that's a thing for you)

Goodbye, Cruel World

Shari - you totally need to get these.



You guys, I really think this winter is going to kill me. Or at least that Old Man Winter is trying to.

In case I haven't convinced you that I am a complete freak of nature - remember how I apparently have synesthesia? Yeah, 'nother story like that. But not nearly as pleasant.

Again, coming from the I-thought-everybody-was-like-this-until-Luke-gave-me-weird-looks file, sometimes when I get sick my skin gets super-hypersensitive. Like, ridiculously so. Like, enormously sensory overloaded so. It's really hard to describe, so bear with me, m'kay?

Anyway, you know how you can feel you clothes against your skin? (please, save the DUH! moments for the end) But it's such a normal and constant sensation that your brain just tunes it out? When I get sick it's like my brain can't do that. Everything I touch sends this woosh of sensory info to my brain. Every time I shift my weight I feel my clothes brushing against me - every inch of my shirt against every inch of my back. It's a really weird tingling feeling . . . the most bizarre combination of pleasant/painful I've ever encountered. On one level it's a slight tickle that might make one relax a little . . . on the other there's so much of it that my brain just can't handle it and it starts registering it as painful instead.

Clearly, I belong in a circus.

Anyway. I have never gotten that hypersensitivity without some sort of accompanying illness, usually a stomach flu or something for a day or two. The two always, always go together.

Until yesterday, when I woke up with super sensitive skin and kind of achy all over. And other than that . . . nothing. And today . . . still sensitive but otherwise nothing.

I? Have no idea what's going on. It's confusing and kind of obnoxious. And because I can think of no other culprit, I'm totally blaming the fact that it was gloomy yesterday and snowed last night after a whole week of lovely spring-like conditions. Dude, I was going around without a jacket last week and today I needed my coat! We all know what an old lady I am mentally, apparently my body has just decided to catch up or something. Blargh.

So anyway - if you happen to see me somewhere around this week and it looks like I'm walking around in a daze just know that my clothes are still too . . . I don't know, heavy? present? . . . for me to register much else. Work this week is going to be interesting.


P. ost S. cript
Honestly, I've lost count of how many times I've watched this since it showed up on facebook. It's just that awesome. Also: do frogs have teeth? (file under: burning questions you didn't know you wanted to know)

Okay, Burn Her Already. Or Something.

So. Fifth grade. They study US history, as you may recall. And the particular fifth graders who's story I'm telling are covering the Revolutionary War at the moment. (And I am determined to be able to show you all an awesome video of them singing Miley Cyrus' timelessly classic hit "Founders if the USA" . . . which will now be stuck in your head for the rest of the day. You're welcome, lol.)

Apparently this is a yearly thing - the kids come in one day and their desks are gone (out in the hall), their teachers have been "replaced" by "Mr. (/Ms.) Cruel," and overall classroom conditions are sort of vaguely unpleasant. To get things back the way they should be they have to write their own Declaration of Independence from Mr. Cruel, turn it in to the principal, and she has to accept it.

This? Is awesome.

I? May be slightly evil.

I spent most of yesterday trying not to giggle as I watched those kids have to sit straight - no backs touching the chairs! - and use chalkboards - nice cursive, if we couldn't read it they had to do it again. Most of them just kind of took it, but to hear some of them moaning and groaning you'd think the Geneva conventions had been violated or something. But it was really amazing how quiet the classroom was . . . no raising hands or shouting out answers, if they had something to say they stood up and waited. It was kind of weird, but awesome. And no one was allowed to ask for help, so I think a few kids discovered that they actually do know how to add and subtract fractions after all - yay!

Most interesting was watching them alphabetize their spelling list - again, on a chalkboard on their laps and in "elegant" cursive. It took some of them a lot longer than it would have taken with pencil and paper on a table, and a few of them had to do it over and over again because they spelled one word wrong or got to in the wrong order or their handwriting was illegible. I'm sure you all remember my opinion of rosy-tinted everything-today-is-awful internet nostalgia, but I'll never deny that some things were probably better back in the day. It's just too bad we couldn't go really old school and pull out the switches for misbehavior, lol. Instead they have to do push ups . . . which, ultimately, is probably more beneficial than a beating, you know? And I have to admit that I felt a little bit of maniacal glee in making the kid who enjoyed the push ups and was trying to get "punished" with more write lines - "I will not pull Sally's pigtails." style. In cursive. And I made him redo it when I couldn't read it.

(side note - this is a boy who uses text speak in his writing assignments. Pretty sure I created his own personal circle of hell. *insert evil laugh here*)

The best part of the whole project has been the conversations I've had with the kids. They generally start with comments about aren't they glad they didn't live 200 years ago, and was it this hard when I was in school doing it this way? To which I can only respond with a quite incredulous "Just how old do you think I am?!?!"

The good news: they've gone no farther than 9 years too high.

The bad news: they're old enough to realize how close they are to 17, so no one's erred on the ten years too low end. Most of them are actually pretty close.

Anyway, that leads to a conversation about how they started transitioning from chalkboards to white boards when I was in 5th or 6th grade. And did they have phones then. And when I said yes the first assumption was that I had a Zack Morris brick cell. And when I said explained that cell phones weren't very common and we had a regular telephone and one of the kids said "you mean the kind that goes on the wall?" I said yes, but I have to wonder whether the picture in his head was something like this or something like this.

Then there was today. Someone mentioned Mr. Cox, and a couple of others kids jumped on the whole "it's not Mr. Cox, it's Mr. Cruel!" thing and that led to wondering where Mr. Cox has gone. (their teacher is clearly the same, but the story is that he had to leave suddenly, but was very sad and stuff) And that led to silly stories about their teacher being a superhero or some James Bond-esque spy on a secret mission and fun stuff like that. And then along comes (Claudio), who has made a bit of a reputation for himself when it comes to saying off the wall things. And he declares that there can only be two reasons for their old teacher to be missing: "either he's dating, or he's sick."

Because, you know, people who are dating have neither time, inclination, nor reason to do anything else.

Maybe you just had to be there, but I've pretty much given up trying to hold in the giggles when kids say those darndest things. I had him repeat it a couple of times - I couldn't believe I'd heard him right! - and then I was only there to be gawked at for a few minutes. None of the kids got what I found so funny, but they definitely get a kick out of how red my face gets when I laugh that hard.

It's entirely up to the principal whether she accepts the declarations and gives the kids their "freedoms" back or not. (btw, did I mention there's no recess, they have to march around the block instead, and lunch is ten minutes and then it's right back to work?) She's a stickler for grammar and such (yay!) and one missed sentence capital will get the whole thing rejected and they have to do the whole thing again. On unlined yellow-y paper that looks kind of Declaration-y. Clearly spaced, line-wise and paragraph-wise. In nice, legible cursive. My class has already had one (possibly two) drafts rejected. Apparently the longest this has ever gone on is just over a week. I kind of want this to keep going on . . . it's so much fun to watch!

Like I said, I may be slightly evil. :-)


P. ost S. cript
Talk about begging for Mythbusters to try it! How does this even happen?!?!

For Your Entertainment

Well, I laughed.


So when people talk to me about my blog the thing I hear most often is that it's really funny. Apparently I missed my calling as a stand-up comedian or something. And I feel like I haven't been very funny lately and that I ought to apologize for that. And excuse myself in the future by saying that I'm discovering that 4th and 5th graders are generally not as cute and funny as smaller kids . . . mostly they're just obnoxious.

Anyway, to make amends, I present you with three (hopefully) amusing stories. At my expense. Enjoy. :-)


1 ~

So back when I'm trying on my Elizabeth Bennett dress and discovering I suddenly have the shoulders of a . . . whatever football position it is that people talk about having big shoulders like . . . well, my first thought for alternatives was my other formal dress.

You see, back when I was in high school, my mom was in some ways a perfect Mormon Tiger Mother. Meaning her oldest daughter (me) was going to go to every formal dance ever and would need the most fabulous dresses ever and so we bought four over the course of time at massive blow-out sales that meant I got 4 rather expensive dresses for two-figure prices. Which is pretty awesome.

I got pity asked to junior prom a week before (good thing I got a dress so far in advance, eh?!) and didn't go to another formal . . . ever. Except for one semi-formal, the only dates I went on in high school were girl's choice. Same goes for college - minus the semi-formal. As Mormon Tiger Daughters go, I was an epic failure.

On the plus side, I have this lovely burgundy-ish formal dress that I've never worn. I was planning on wearing it for Valentine's Day, which Ellis also does up in epic style, but I figure I can wear it twice. So I try it on.

The good news: It still fits, ten years after buying it. And possibly even better than when I got it. Woot!

The bad news: I can only assume this is because it's just been sitting in a closet for a decade, but as I get the zipper nearly all the way up - it snaps. As in the flippy thingy you grab onto snaps off the part that does the actual zipping. And as I try to use the little piece of flippy thing that's left attached to the zippy thing . . . it crumbles into dust. I kid you not.

So here's your lovely and amusing mental picture: it's, like, 10:00 on (I think) Friday night. I'm stuck in a formal dress, the zipper of which will not go down now that I have no flippy thing to grab on to. Luke is at work and won't be home for a couple of hours.

I'm sure you can all picture the look of "oh crap!" on my face. Go ahead and giggle for moment. I'll wait.

Okay, long story short I'm not really sure how I did it, but I got the zipper down and the dress off, although there was at least ten minutes there where I thought I was just going to have to wait until Luke got home to help. And now I'm pretty impressed with the way I can contort my arms when I really need to.

Also - is there anyone out there willing/able to replace the zipper sometime in the next three and a half months? I'd still like to wear it for Valentine's Day.


2 ~

So Monday. When I was doing the scaring. I had to crouch pretty far down to get all of me behind that bench. I was pretty much curled up in the fetal position, both so that my cat ears and tiara wouldn't be seen, and also so my head would be down to the part of the bench it was easier to see through to know when the perfect moment to jump up was.

However, in order to jump up quickly, I kept my right leg up. And put most of my weight on it. And jumped up rapidly on the one leg. Repeatedly.

I'm too old to be doing that.

You know the muscle in you thigh? Not the quadriceps, the one in the front. I think I pulled my right one or something, because, holy crap, I have been feeling that since . . . well, shortly after I posted my last post. I'm fine when I'm moving, or when I'm still - but starting and stopping the motion . . . yesterday I thought I was going to die. Okay, maybe not that bad, but I have been limping. Not a lot, I'm sure no one else has noticed. But dangit, I have!

And . . . I may or may not have exaggerated it a bit at home for a little sympathy. :-) Not that it's really necessary, I've discovered I married a man who jumps to wait on me hand and foot if I so much as sneeze. Which kind of makes the fact that he's the one who gets sick the most often a little frustrating, ya know? :-) I'm feeling better (but still stiff) today - yesterday morning I could barely bring myself to get out of bed. Clearly I'm just not . . . ummmm . . . 26 . . . anymore? I mean, seriously. This sort of thing isn't supposed to start happening, like, another FIVE years at LEAST, right? This story? Is the story of my life in a nutshell.


3 ~

'Kay, so among other things I do in 5th grade, I do fluency timings. Basically, a fifth grader should be able to read about 150 words a minute and I time them on passages to see how close they are to that. A couple of the timings aren't passages, but lists of phrases - mostly things commonly seen on road signs or other signs out in the big blue world. (ten points unless you're Eric, lol) Things like "no passing" or "construction zone" or "pedestrian crossing" or whatever. Anyway, one of them is "no minors" which (Phillip) reads as "no mirrors." So afterward I tell him to look at it again, and he gets it immediately because his problem was, as I figured, just going too fast and misreading. But then he asks me what it means. So I explain the minor is the opposite of major and means something smaller or less important or lesser or lower or whatever, and then I explain that in context it meant someone younger than 18 and that he is a minor. This look of excitement and light bulbs clicking on comes to his face and he says all pleased with himself, "And you're a major!"

It may not see as funny when you're just reading it, but I cracked up. And through the giggles (this kid is used to me laughing at him, he's pretty quirky) I stumble out with something garbled like "well . . . yes and no . . . sort of . . . I guess . . . kind of . . . " and I'm thinking something like well, yeah, TECHNICALLY I guess, but the word is . . . wait . . . what is the word? What am I? Seriously? Did I seriously just ask myself that? I'm an . . . adult . . . is that word? Adult? Wait, yeah . . . yeah?

Or something like that. I hope my explanation was clear, because I get the feeling that this kid says he gets things even when he doesn't quite get them. I think I said something about how major wasn't the opposite of minor in this case and people over 18 are just called adults. Or something. I was giggly and a little flustered.

So . . . here's hoping this was funny enough to hold people over for a while. I'm certainly laughing at two of them. And I'll probably be laughing at the other one in a couple of months. :-)



P. ost S. cript
So . . . I totally should have posted this Monday and saved the monkey for today. But here's a little bit of late kitty Halloween fun. :-) We watched this last week, and it's seriously still kind of scary!

Getting Worse

So. Three guesses as to how I spent my Friday night last night.

Actually, only one. Because if you know me at all, that's all you need.

Yep. Wheel of Fortune. BUT--

Not only was my AWESOME Friday night spent watching Wheel of Fortune . . . it was a rerun. How do I know? I've watched it before. So I recognized it. In fact, it may very well have been the episode I watched this Friday night.

*sigh*

Aunt Tawnya - how's that lap quilt coming? :-) Clearly I need another one more than I thought!

*cue maniacally depressing laughter*



P. ost S. cript
Oh, how I love these commercials.

Saturday Morning Memory: Death of my Childhood

So as I mentioned we went to Jackson Hole on Wednesday. In order to get to Jackson Hole one must pass through Idaho Falls. (okay, okay . . . there are other ways to get there . . . work with me here) For those of you who don't know, I lived in Idaho Falls from the age of 2 to the age of 14. Moving away still ranks pretty highly on the list of Lacey's Most Traumatic Experiences.

Except for about 12 hours my senior year of high school, I had not been back since we left. That was 13 years ago. That means that as of this year more time has passed since we left IF than we spent living there. CRAZY!!!!!

It was kind of fun to drive through town and see what's changed. Luke got quite the kick out of the awesome giant Indian head. Sadly, he really didn't get a very good view of the falls, which normally look like this. Those rocks in the center of the picture? Not visible, as the falls are only a few feet high right now. On the other hand, I very much remember the flooding in 1996 when there were essentially no falls at all and benches 20 feet back from the bank of the river were completely under water . . . well, except for the top couple of inches. That was an interesting year. I shall have to attempt to dig up the pictures mom took sometime. This year is seriously nothing comparatively speaking. (side note: how far can helicopters fly on one tank of gas? 'Cause if they could get from IF to Luna . . . )

You know how when you're dreaming you'll be in a place that's simultaneously completely familiar and completely foreign? That was pretty much what it was like. It's been so long that except for the super familiar places everything looked like I should recognize it but I kind of didn't. Seriously, it was trippy. I even had to pinch myself a couple of times to make sure I wasn't dreaming - it felt that surreal. In fact, I'm still not convinced I didn't imagine that part of the day . . . and I kind of wish I had. (more on that later)

So it was a day filled with trips down memory lane. First, the good ones:

SQUARE ICE CREAM IN SWAN VALLEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, for those of you not in on the awesome, there is a store. No, let me back up. There is a tiny little think-about-blinking-and-you'll-miss-it-town called Swan Valley not to far away from IF. In that town there is a little tiny gas station/convenience store called the Swan Valley Commissary. (okay, okay, technically it has been changed to the Rainey Creek Country Store. But that? Is a dumb name, and soooooooooooooooooo not the place where I had my first square ice cream, so the Commissary it is and the Commissary it shall be forever and ever amen. So there.) And at the Commissary they have fabulous ice cream flavors (no lame vanilla or strawberry here!) and super fabulous square ice cream scoops. This place is so legendary in fact, that when YW go to girls' camp (the church owns a camp in the area that a bunch of stakes use every summer. And it is another awesome place . . . story for another day) it is common knowledge that you take a few bucks with you because we're stopping for square ice cream on the way back home. So there I was, 12 years old (because my parents would NEVER stop for ice cream on the way to Aunt Loretta's . . . LAME!), haven't showered for . . . well, a few days, as this awesome camp came with running water, flushing toilets, and showers - seriously, best camp ever - first ever nights spent away from home, having had a pretty great week and ending it with the best ice cream ever made. It. Was. Epic. I kid you not, this ice cream is legendary. So when dad called on Monday asking if we wanted to come and he mentioned we'd stop in Swan Valley . . . well, it was pretty much a no brainer that we'd be going. I'd have taken multiple pictures from multiple angles of the awesome, but as I also mentioned a couple of days ago - battery issues. Blargh.

So I hand mom my camera and tell her it's ready to go . . . and she asks "so what do I do?" Ummmmm . . . take the picture? "But how? Do I push the button or what?"

I couldn't face palm with ice cre-awesome in my hand, so I silently forgave all the Disney guests I mentally mocked back in the day who felt like they needed to explain to me how to use their cameras when I took pictures for them. Apparently, they are not self-explani-obvious to everyone.

Just to review kids - my grandfather? Has a smart phone. My mom? Can't figure out the camera I bought 4 years ago. My head? A splode.

Anyway . . . SQUARE ICE CREAM!!!!!!!!!!!!! (and I suppose I can forgive the lack of zooming in . . . especially since mom's camera has no zoom to speak of)


That, my friends, is my old standby of huckleberry on top, licorice on bottom. An amazing combo if I do say so myself.


Just call me Arorangi, the Maori Warrior Princess . . . the rest of the tribal tattoos will come later. :-)

Also - at the bottom of the cone they put a Whopper(tm) to prevent drips. I'd totally forgotten - best surprise EVER!

Oh . . . guess I spoiled that surprise for all of you (since you're totally going to drive straight to Swan Valley as soon as you're done reading) . . . ummmmmm . . . SPOILER ALERT?

In other delicious news, we also went to The Sandwich Tree, home of the BEST sandwiches in the WORLD. Seriously. Apparently Ashli was recently talking about making the 3 hour drive to IF just to get some Sandwich Tree. I totally would have gone too. It was great - the place has hardly changed at all. Still a tired looking little hole in the wall type place that is so good it was our meal every Christmas Eve for years. YUM!!

Of course, as evidenced by the Commisary's epically stupid name change, the more things change the more obnoxious it is. In the varying degrees of sad changes department:

~ Waremart, the super cool grocery store of my childhood, is long gone. So sad. This store had a 25-foot long 2-tiered soda fountain where one could refill one's 2-liter pop bottles . . . with TWENTY-FIVE FEET OF FLAVORS TO CHOOSE FROM!!!!! As far as I was concerned, this was the best place on earth. As my dad put it Wednesday, it's not hard to entertain little kids. I say? Not when that much soda is involved, it isn't!

~ North Forty, the super cool mini-golf course with the name that never made sense to me - gone. It was seriously the greatest course too . . . Old West themed and lots of fun . . . although the only hole I remember is Boot Hill. You had to hit your ball over a little hill littered with . . . wait for it . . . cowboy boots!! So. Much. Fun.

~ We drove past my old elementary school. When I was in 3rd or 4th grade we planted a tree outside the school for our principal who was moving to a new school the next year. Then - it was a couple of feet tall. Now? It's, like, a . . . tree. A full grown, tall . . . TREE!!!! When did that happen?!?!?!?!?!?! Great merciful crap, I'm getting old!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~ Speaking of driving past old places . . . and also speaking of trees (and this will be most appreciated by those who also remember this) THE TREE IS GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OUR TREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE WILLOW TREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE BACKYARD TREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, a little backstory for those not cool enough to know me when I was a kid: the last few years we lived in IF we lived in a cute little house in what was once upon a time the poshest place in town (called Bel Aire - I kid you not) but was sinking in to slummy-ness when we lived there and is decidedly the wrong side of town now. But like I said, it was a cute little house, and it had a GINORMOUS willow tree in the back yard. You could see this tree (and pick it out) from three and four blocks away. The house didn't get super hot very often because by the time it got that hot outside the tree was shading it. (don't get me wrong - it still got hot . . . but there was a noticeable difference between the shadiest parts of the house and the less shaded) There were a few squirrel nests in it every year, and we'd always hear or see squirrels chasing each other around the yard - the best was when they went around and around the trunk of the tree which was easily ten feet or more around. The branches were so long that some of them touched the ground and we'd get in trouble all the time for pulling them down because we'd been swinging Tarzan style on them. Then a year or so before we moved dad put up a rope swing and then we got in trouble for killing the grass beneath it by dragging our feet to stop. It was kind of funny, mom would keep putting grass seed in that patch and banning us from the swing for a week or so, and then as soon as we were allowed to swing again those little shoots of baby grass had no chance. So there we are getting close to the house and I'm all excited to see it and then we pass it - and I almost didn't recognize the place!

For those in the know - the fence by the back door has been moved up parallel to the front of the house, the fence on the other side has been redone (and expanded to include by the side of the garage) the fence between the house and garage is gone, all the flower beds are gone (mom really had a problem with that one), the shutters are gone (which makes the house look really weird), there's a mailbox in the front yard now, and THE WILLOW TREE IS GONE!!!!!!!!! Seriously - google map it. There's a street view. 1210 Johnson Street. I'll wait. Doesn't it look weird? Doesn't the whole right side of the picture look off and bland and EMPTY?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

So mom and I are seriously in mourning for the tree and my oh-so-sensitive father says something about what's the deal, it's probably been gone for years. And proceeds to not get it when I say no, it was there yesterday, and as far as I'm concerned I'm not sure how we missed the evil tree removers because they couldn't have finished the job more than five minutes before we showed up! Seriously, there I was wondering if the swing would still be there - it never occurred to me that the whole tree might be gone! Who does that?!

And what about the squirrels?!?! Where did they go? Did they have to move to the (smaller, not nearly so pleasant) willow tree next door? The willow tree in the back yard of the meth house? (well, it was when we left - not when we moved in, and I'm not sure now, but in my mind it will always be the meth house. Or possibly the crack house, all we knew for sure was that there were unsavory characters doing unsavory things over there) My poor squirrels - we always kind of thought of them as pets. Pets we couldn't actually, you know, pet, but still. And now they're crack addicted little squirrels. Poor things. How can those evil tree removing . . . tree removers . . . sleep at night knowing they caused the addiction of the poor crack squirrels?!?!?!

Seriously, the highlight of any day (in every place we lived in IF) was watching the squirrels running around . . . so happily. So cheerful. Such a pick-me-up. And they don't even HAVE squirrels in Utah!! At least, not in any of the places I've lived - haven't seen one since we moved. :-( My poor, poor squirrels.

In slightly cheerier news, the two apartments we lived in haven't changed much. And how's this for crazy? The second apartment is in the same spot in the fourplex that Luke and I are in now, except that one was #1 and we're in #4. What are the odds?! (okay, okay, they're one in four, I know. It was a rhetorical question. Shut up.)

Also - the Candy Man is still there!! At least it looked like he is . . .

So. The Candy Man. Has a name. And I even know it. But he will always be the Candy Man.

You see, in our first ward (whilst in the 2 apartments) there was a guy (an old, grandfatherly guy whom everyone knew and trusted and had no reason not to, I feel obligated to add) who would slip a piece of candy into the hand of a child who shook his hand. Sometimes there would seriously be a line of kids waiting to shake this guys hand after church . . . which is kinda funny as I think about it now. Anyway, it was always those pink wintergreen mints - you know? - and to this day I cannot see, smell, taste, or even think of them without thinking of this guy.

Theirs was always the last house we went to on Halloween. They always gave out these cute little candy trains - a pack of gum, a life saver roll, a little box of raisins, . . . and a few other things I have forgotten . . . glued together to make a train. They were really cute. And we always went last so they wouldn't get crushed by the infinitesimal amount of candy in our baby bags. (okay, that was probably an exaggeration. I think those bags have continued to shrink in my mind.) It was the best stop of the night because we'd usually get a handful of tootsie rolls or something in addition to the train - mega score! :-)

I think my parents got quite a kick out of the fact that I remembered who's house it was . . . probably mostly because my answer was "The Candy Man!" and it took me another moment or two to remember his actual name.

So I suppose the trip, while sad, was not entirely sad. But Arthur Miller could still totally write himself a great sequel based on my day.

P. ost S. cript
Totally feeling this song this week.

Just Couldn't Wait to Brag

Okay, so I realize this will absolutely vaporize any and all coolness cred I may have amassed thus far in my entire life (and possibly negate any in the future too) but I'm too excited at the moment to care.

Plus you all love me and will tell me I'm awesome even if you're secretly thinking I'm a dork . . . right? Guys? Right?

Anyway. I have completed . . . Dun da da DUN!!!!!!! . . . Phase 1 of my Project for the Rest of My Life!!! Yay!!!!!!! Please note, I bought these babies (err . . . bibs . . . last time I checked you couldn't legally buy babies . . . ) on New Year's Day and finished the last stitch on the last one less than an hour ago. Go ahead, feel free to ooh and ahh. I'm pretty impressed with myself too. And I've watched every last episode of Phineas and Ferb available on Netflix. Oh, how I adore Netflix streaming!! (Does the P&F on the weekends cancel out the Wheel and Jeopardy during the week? Thereby making me the equivalent of . . . ummmmm . . . my actual age?)

Anyway. TA DA!!!!


For a little perspective . . . and don't you just love my hastily created photo shoot background consisting of a fluffy blanket thrown over our ugly hotel decor reject armchair?


Ready for the close ups!

You would not believe how long those tiny little flowers took. And don't even get me started on the butterflies!


This would be the one for which I ran out of floss and had to order more . . . obnoxious! Good thing this company sends more for free!!


Isn't he cute?! These two took about half the time of the first two. I'm thinking it was the lack of butterflies. They look great but the birds were MUCH simpler!


And the grand finale . . . like I said, this little guy hasn't even been finished for an hour. He might be my favorite.


I kind of don't want to give them away, but at the same time I could never keep them because all I can see are the little flaws that always pop up on projects like this. I suppose this gives them some sort of one of a kind charm or something. How much do you think I could get on Etsy?

On the other hand, I'm not sure I could ever feel good about selling things on a site that also sells things like this. (Warning: sometimes NSFW . . . a.k.a., Grandma and Grandpa - don't touch that link.)

Anyway . . . actually, that's pretty much all. Feel free to shower me with validations. Or mock my un-hip-ness. Whichever you feel like today. :-)

P. ost S. cript
This is why I love Weird Al. You know you're a star when a sold out stadium cheers for literally ANYTHING you do.

You Say Improvements, I Say Gypped

Introducing the completely unrelated picture feature to Lacey's Totally Awesome Blog!



I actually tend to find demotivational posters more motivational than motivational posters. Like this one - I certainly don't want robots doing my job. Firstly, (and obviously) if the robots are doing it, then I'm not getting paid - NOT. COOL. Secondly, if the robots are teaching our children . . . well, we're probably just a few steps away from the robots taking over the world. And I, for one, feel I would have a better chance during the Zombie Apocalypse.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway. So a couple of weeks ago . . . almost a month, actually . . . I was reading with one of the fourth graders (the same one who asked if I was alive during the Civil War, for those that care). She was reading the first book of the Babysitter's Club. Which was kind of awesome because I remember waaaaaaay back when, when those were the coolest books on the planet. And also on the lengthy banned-at-Lacey's-house-books list, although the Babysitter's Little Sister books were okay. So instead of knowing the whole series by heart I only read about a dozen or so. And loved them, just like every tween in America back in the day. Anyway, we get to the part where they're having their first ever club meeting and it talks about the phone reciever, at which point I'm asked what a phone reciever is. I get about as far as "it's the part of the phone that . . . oh . . . wait . . . crap." Then I spent about five minutes spluttering around trying to explain what a reciever is before remembering that there was an actual, genuine, corded land-line phone sitting on the desk at the front of the room. So I explain that all phones used to be like that. Which of course is dubbed as "weird" by today's fourth graders.

So ever since then I've been compiling a sort of mental list of all the awesome stuff I did in school that just doesn't seem to exist anymore - so sad!

~ Purple photocopies. I've been trying to remember what that machine was called for three weeks now, and it's bugging the crap out of me - help!!! But I'm sure you know what I mean - remember how the copies would all come out varied, and if you were lucky you got one that looked as crisp and clean as if it was printed off a laser printer, but heaven help you if you ended up with one form the part of the batch that got smeared into unreadability! Teachers should totally still print out worksheets in purple. Just because homework is so much more awesome when it's purple. :-)

~ The only use for computers is playing games! Dude - I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOVED computer time in elementary school. I mean, sure they were educational games and stuff, but they were sooooooo epically fantabulous. The muncher creature that ate the numbers when you solved the problem? Best super hero ever. I remember some science-based games where you had to figure out why fish were dying in a lake - the acid levels were rising. Or something like that. One of my favorites was this one where you were Lewis and Clark and you controlled their expedition and what they found and who they talked to ad if they made it to the coast and back. So cool! And let's be honest, is there anything that qualifies as more of an epic win than old school Oregon Trail? I think not. Give me green oxen and wagon "walking" on the left of the screen over fancy hunting graphics any day!

~ On that note, how about knowing more about computers than your teacher did. I don't know about everyone else, but I certainly did. That might have something do to with the fact that I seriously don't remember a time when my family didn't own a computer. Which, I know, is on the less common side for my generation. And then in the advanced program I was in during elementary we worked a lot with computers, mostly making slide shows and such. Yep, I was a Power Point whiz before Power Point was cool. Before it even existed, actually. We used Macs, and I have absolutely no recollection of what the program was called . . . but I knew how to use it! It was such a big deal to get a computer in our classroom in sixth grade, but I was pretty much the only one who ever used it.

~ Actually playing at recess. I mean, I'm all for safety and all that good stuff, but sometimes it's surprising that kids aren't encased in bubble wrap before they go outside. Guess what folks? Cuts heal! So do broken bones! (disclaimer: spoken by someone who's never broken a bone.)

~ Homework = if you don't finish it in class, finish it at home. Good grief, homework club lasts for an hour after school gets out, and at least half the time that's not enough time to finish! So, so not right on so many levels. You want to know why kids are fat? Because by the time they finish their mountains of homework it's to dark to go outside and play so of course they play video games instead!! Seriously, what Phd holding moron came to the conclusion that giving kids four times as much homework as they had when they were a kid would be good for them?

~ FILMSTRIPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Filmstrip days were the best! So novel, so exciting, so . . . technologically advanced! :-) And those rare times when you watched a movie on one of those super old school projectors where you watched the wheels spinning? Holy cow, that was the teacher bringing out the big guns!And remember how it was such a privilege to be the one who got to flip the picture when the tape beeped if the teacher felt like taking a nap . . . I mean, grading some papers . . . instead of flipping the filmstrip? That, my friends, was quite the coveted position of power. Except for when the geniuses at the filmstrip company messed up and forgot a beep so you got off by a picture. Or when you weren't paying attention so you accidentally flipped it back to the last picture instead of the next one. Or was that just me? :-)

~ Edible lunches. Okay, I haven't seen what they serve at Ellis, but I found this a few days ago, and I'm officially scared. Granted, school cafeterias are not expected to serve five star cuisine, but really? I don't think vending machines at school as much of a problem as these lunches are. Now I have to admit that the school lunches I ate/saw in Utah were not particularly impressive, but I still have fond memories of lunches in IF. Everything was made fresh at the junior high and sent to the elementary schools - which was really convenient for my school, since it was just across the street. Everything was pretty tasty (except that nasty turkey fricasse or whatever it was - eeww!) and to this day I sometimes daydream about the molasses cookies when I'm craving sweets. Seriously, if I could find that recipe somewhere I would die perfectly happy. And the choices in junior high!!! I usually went through the hoagie line, but there was always fruit included. This would also be where I learned to put potato chips on my sandwich to make it crunchy - YUM! And sometimes I went to the salad bar and loaded down my plate with a mountain of kiwi (KIWI!!!!!!! In a school cafeteria!!!!!!) and pineapple and a small-ish chef salad that I built myself. *sigh* I hope they still do that up there. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what school lunch should be. So sad that education seems to always be the first budget to get cut. (And that is as close as I'm getting to touching that one with a ten-foot pole.)

~ Textbooks. Not really sure about this one, but the second graders have those desks that are comprised of a couple of open shelves that you just shove stuff into - and can I just say, those ones are sooo much more effective at eating important things like pencils . . . and reports . . . ) - and from what I've seen there are no textbooks in any of those kids' desks. No math books, science books, reading books . . . so weird. This one I have no explanation for. Can someone fill me in?

Moral of the story: I miss school. Being a student, I mean. If it was in any way feasible, affordable, and profitable I would totally be a professional student. Honestly, it's really the only thing I'm good at.

P. ost S. cript
So I totally should have saved the Goofy Movie video for today. Oh well. Instead, here's some cuteness overload. (warning: put down the jelly beans, or you just might go into a diabetic coma.)