Friends in all Places

The older I get, the more I realize what I like in a person as a friend. And I also have started to notice what I don't like in a person. Due to this, I have started to see some of the same traits appearing in my friends over and over again. This is a partial list of traits that most of my friends (and all of my closest friends) have. Do you have them? Then you are probably my friend. And on the flip side of this you can ask yourself "am I her friend? Then I probably have most of these qualities"

1. Smart. I think this would have to be my #1 trait I have found in my closets friends. I don't know why? Did it start in Elementary school in the ALP program (Can I get a "WHAT WHAT!!" for ALP, my peeps?) when I was segregated from my other classes and put with other smart kids for several hours a day? Or did it happen in Junior High when I changed schools right before the 8th grade and found a new best friend with the eventual valedictorian of all North Coast schools? Or did it happen when I chose to live with other kids on the Honors Graduation track at BYU in the dorms? (Not that even half of us graduated with Honors. I think Mindy is the only on that I know of that actually did it).

I don't say these things to be like "OHHH, look at me! I was in smart people classes." I actually don't think that highly of myself. I just say it to point out that at a very young age I was surrounded by smart people. And people MUCH MUCH smarter than myself so I always felt like I had lots to reach for. I was never EVER the smartest person in the room, so PLEASE don't think that I'm tooting my "smartness" horn. There is no horn. Not even a bike ding-a-ling bell.

But I have come to notice that ignorance and low intelligence is not a trait that I desire to be around. Which is not to say that I don't love a little slapstick comedy or a good fart joke. But people who I can't look up and who don't make me try to be a better person? I have no use for you. Sorry if that makes me sound like a people user. I just want to be with smart people. People who correct my English, instead of me mentally correcting theirs. So you people out there, people who read my blog and correct my English and are my friends? You are all exceptionally smart. Except for you, Mindy. PhD candidate, Physics, math and music degrees graduated with honors? Paa-shawww. You are lame. LAAAAME. Seriously, get some initiative girl. You embarrass me. Kidding of course. Which brings me to . . .

2. Funny, or at least willing to laugh at my jokes. , I'm only funny 50% of the time. And most of that time is because I'm doing a bit that I stole from someone else. I spend excessive time laughing at myself and my ridiculousness. I really think a lot of the time that I'm the only one laughing at my jokes, so it really surprises me when someone else thinks I'm funny. And I like that person right away. Because it's no fun laughing at yourself. . . ALONE I can't tell you how many times I've said to Mar "NOW COME ON!!! THAT WAS FUNNY!!!" And he only agrees with me 17-19% of the time

3. A good conversationalist. I like someone I can talk to. This must go along with the intelligence thing, but I like a good conversation. And a fun conversation. And I realize that I talk A LOT. I really do realize it. So I like a person to be willing to let me blab on and on for a while. I'll let you have your turn too, but sometimes a girl's just got to talk.

Also, what is your conversation about? Tell me about a good book you just read, or something that you know about. Like Australia or the time your family lived in Maine for 3 years. Don't talk to me about shoes, or any other fashion/article of clothing. Please don't talk to me about getting your nails done or how you "deserve" to get something. Blecch. But other topics are fine. Your child's bowel movements? Bring it on! An awesome mission story? I'm ready and waiting. The embarrassing date you went on in high school/college? Do it up! That's the kind of stuff I can sit around and listen to for hours. Which brings me to the final item:

4. Returned Missionaries. This isn't a blanket statement. Which is to say that if you are a RM, I don't instantly like you. Nor is it true that if you aren't an RM, we have nothing to say to each other. But I have come to notice that my closest friend are RMs. And the women that I naturally relate to the most in my ward are RMs. And the sites that I blog-stalk? Those that I love the most are written by RMs.

On a side note, I just had to unsubscribe to a blog that I found especially annoying. Written by a Utah dwelling non-RM, who lauded the fact that she wasn't one and that she was so much better than everyone else because she chose education above a mission. I almost left a nasty comment on the way out, but I figured she wasn't worth my time. Blog. . . DELETED!! Why did I hang around there so long? Well, because I enjoyed reading her words and secretly judging and making fun of her. But I decided that wasn't good for me and my pride level, so I just deleted it all together.

But back to being an RM. I don't know. I think it's because missions form you in a way that marriage and school and a normal 18 months or 2 years of life could never do. Again, I don't think I'm better than you because I served and you didn't. Some of my closest friends and family members didn't serve missions. But in a friend, when you find out that someone served a mission, it turns a little switch on in my brain that says, "no wonder this person is cool! I think we are going to get along JUUUUUST FIIIINNNEE!"

Ok, so that's my rant for the day. I need to go and prepare lunch for the Bibbers.

And to answer your question, no, she still doesn't talk. Little thing is doing it now just to piss me off. I know it. Dang girl is too smart for her own good.

Have a good day. And my fellow RMs? Do you remember THIISSSSS??


Do you have a similar one? I know you you!

P.S. I don't know the person in the picture. I found it online. So don't think I sneaked into the boy's dorms to get this picture. That would just be scary. What with all the "Tree of Life" stories. Yuck.

Apology and Pictures of Evita

Judd said I should write the full story about why I'm apologizing to Reagan. It's because I'm a horrible person. See Reagan worked her butt off and got accepted to an orchestra. So not only is she a full time mom, a part time sleep institute worker, and a part time orchestra member. She works herself to the bone and every time she tells me about a performance, I promise her that I'll be there.

And I have now missed two of them. Behold the horrible friend that I am. I missed her first one, and then she told me about the second performance last night. I PROMISED that I would be there, no matter what. And then my baby got sick and I didn't go. I'm a HORRIBLE person. Feel free to ignore me every time I make a promise to you. Especially if we are friends. Because apparently I am the most un-trustworthy person and friend on the planet. Boo, boo on me.

So after that self-flogging, I will move on. Well, Evita is getting more and more fun every day. She loves her high chair, and she loves all the different fruits and veggies we give her. We haven't started with the rice cereal yet. Maybe for Thanksgiving, I'll give her a special rice treat!! Yum.

But here are some pictures of her:

This is her in her high chair. She loves it. I can just put her in it and she'll watch me make dinner, or do the dishes or just clean up the rest of the house. See, here she is getting ready to eat
















And here she is playing with her new favorite toy: any water bottle.
















And here she is on Halloween. I didn't get any pictures of her costume. I need to get some of those soon. But here is the onsie she wore all day:






And here she is the day we went voting. It was raining a lot that day, and then it ended up sleeting a little bit. We got wet, but she didn't care. She loves being outside no matter what the weather. Notice that she's wearing my "I voted" sticker. And she's wearing the awesome hat that Lisa gave me. She LOVES that hat. And I love how warm it keeps her little head. Please notice all the rain on the stroller. But she does a good job of keeping her hands inside all warm.















Just look at that smile!! Have you ever seen a smile like that? She must REALLY love the democratic process. Or she must really love me. I hope its the later.

I think dad took this picture while he was changing her. He was trying to show how she puts her feet into her mouth during changing time. It's awesome.

And finally, this is my favorite picture these days. My two girls. Just enjoying the view.
















So that's my life these days. I hope you are all having a good day. And I'm sorry again, Reagan. Why can't I be a better friend? Curse me!!

(Oh, and maybe my next blog will be about how 3 people think I'm a whore who deserves to burn in Hell!! Hello?!?!?)

Sick

Sick. Sick. Everyone is sick. Marcelo is sick. And so of course that means that Evita is sick. Sick babies are the worst. Running nose, congestion, the whole works. Naps were a nightmare today. My boobs are ready to explode because she doesn't want to eat. Did I mention that I hate sick babies?

Oh man, my life sucks right now. She wasn't sleeping too well anyway before that, and then the sickness is making things so horrible. I think that maybe that's why nighttime has been so terrible for the last few days: because she was getting sick for a while now. And when she can't sleep, I can't sleep (we share a bedroom, of course). She's been having some rough days. And so have I.

Oh, and I'm a bad friend to Reagan. I'm sorry Reagan. I really really don't deserve your friendship.

So basically, I feel lame because I have nothing to post, and no energy to post my nothing. Should I just post something lame, or should I wait until I have something "interesting" to say? Please let me know.

. . . Now I'm a believer

I love Reagan. I mean, I love lots of people, but Reagan ranks right up there with Judd and wedding cake. If I had to choose between the three of them I don't think I could. I think my dream day would be sitting down in Judd's living room with Reagan on the brown couch, me on the red lounger and Judd on the main red couch, all of us watching our girls run around, and a big plater of wedding cake for us to eat. I would love that.

So back to my point. I got to spend 3 amazing days with Reagan. Her husband was out of town for a conference and she invited me out to her house to spend 3 days and 2 nights of heaven. There were cookies and panini's on garlic bread (with Jalapeño jelly) and spinach dip and trips to the gym and fusion classes.

It. Was. Heaven.

We had the best time. But the absolute best thing that came out of it was my child's nighttime habits. See, When I saw my pediatrician on the 8th, I asked him about when my child should be sleeping thought the night. He said that some kids already are. That made me feel badly. And he said that if she was getting up to eat, that was fine, but if she was getting up to just play around, then that was NOT good.

Well, that very night she got up and was just cooing and playing and being 100% cute. She sucks in her father and he plays with her at all hours of the night. When I stopped and thought about it, I realized that she was waking up 3-4 times in the night and that this just wouldn't do anymore. She didn't need that much food, and she was just playing (with her father of course) most of those times. I decided then and there that we have to stop this.

See, for a while, I didn't care if she woke up in the night. I mean, I'm a stay at home mom, what do I need to worry about? I can sleep during the day if I need to, right? And I really didn't care If she didn't sleep through the night. But Reagan said something that really stuck with me. She said that kids NEED a schedule and that they want it. I had to agree with her. All those kids that are trained to sleep instantly upon hitting the crib always seem to be happier. Like they know what's coming and their lives are a little less chaotic.

Anyway, Saturday night I decided to try it out. It was horrible. She screamed for an hour. And I learned one thing: Marcelo is TONS weaker then me. He was the one sabotaging the plan. He would come and stand over her crib with his arms folded and then look at me and say, "should I bring her to you?" HA!! What a wuss!! The next day I felt like crap because she was slightly hoarse. And I decided I couldn't do it. I didn't want her screaming all the time and I just couldn't. So Sunday I didn't let her cry. And she was up at 2, 4, 6 and the finally at 8 am.

When Reagan heard this she was not having it. She said that this was the time to get her on schedule because Marcelo wouldn't be there to fight it. I won't tell you all the ins and outs of that first night. But let me just say that 4:45 found me sleeping on the floor, bawling my eyes out, listening to my baby scream for the next hour and 45 minutes. I finally took pity on her and fed her at 6 am after which she slept just fine. Well. That was the worst day. She was TOTALLY hoarse the next day. Not just a little bit, her voice was GONE. I felt horrible, but knew this was the only way.

But every day since then has been so much easier!! And last night she only had to cry for 5 minutes, and she put herself to sleep! And I'm bundling her. She LOVES it!! It's her "sign". Once I pin her arms to her sides, she looks up at me with those doe eyes and she's ready to sleep. Oh, I love my girl when she's my little comatose caterpillar.

So, I'm a believer. She gets one feeding around 2 am (sometimes it's 1, sometimes it's later) but that's the last one. If she wakes up after that, she's all alone. I'll bind her again and stick in the "chupa" and let her go. And it's working!! Oh man, I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. And my baby will be happier for it. Well, that's what I keep telling myself when I hear her screaming.

Oh, and we gave her some food for the first time yesterday. Sweet potatoes. She makes a horrible face when she sees the spoon coming. I need to get it on film. Tomorrow we are going to try bananas and see if she likes those any more. But right now I think that her thrust reflex hasn't let up yet. Hence the fact that the food doesn't want to go down.

Anyway, I'm a believer of good sleep!! I wish I would've done this months ago. Thanks Reagan for being a good friend and making me do it!!

What a hilarious misunderstanding!!

Friday night Reagan asked me if I wanted to come to the Twilight party with her. I said I did, but I didn't know when my baby was going to wake up, I hadn't taken a shower for 2 days and i didn't know when my husband was getting home. I'm glad I didn't commit to going because he didn't get home till like 11:30 pm. Anyway, she did end up going and had a great time. She had wedding cake. I LOVE wedding cake. I'm so mad I didn't go.

But I'm glad I got to see Reagan the next day. See, she invited me to come and crash a baby shower the very next day. Reagan came down for a work baby shower and I went too. It was one of those showers with GAMES and PRIZES. UGH, games. We had the "Don't Say the Word Baby or Lose Your Sticker" game and the "Try to Remember all the Things on This Tray" Game. We left too early, but I'm guessing that later on they had the "What Animal Baby Names Do you Know?"game where you have to pair animals with the names of their young. i.e. Cow/Calf, Kangaroo/Joey. You get it.

I find games lame. You don't need to entertain me!! Just put me in a room with some interesting people and I can make my own entertainment. Don't you have confidence in my intelligence? Also you can put a cake out and then let me fantasize about what it will taste like and when we get to eat it. I could spend 20 minutes alone just doing that that. Ahhh, cake.

Anyway, we left early. Reagan said I had to come to her car and pick something up before I left. She mentioned it like 3 times because she didn't want to forget about it. We walked over to her car and she opened the passenger side. She bent down and picked up something. She came out with the new Twilight book!! I was so shocked!! That was so nice of her to get me one!! I said, "Oh my gosh, you got me one!! That's so nice of you!!!" And she said, "Uhhh. . . .no."

HA!!!!!!! I was laughing so hard at the hilarious misunderstanding. But you don't blame me, do you? She tells me 3 times I need to come get something, and so I don't think I'm crazy for jumping to a conclusion about the thing she pulled out of the car. She later said that she thought for of half second about just handing it over and being like "uhhhh, yeeaaaaah. I DID get you this book!! I even started reading it for you and marked my place in it right here, but you can disregard that" HA! Hilarious misunderstanding indeed. But it was embarrassing for a split second when I was presumptive enough to think that she had bought me one. Oh well, she'll forgive me for that.

So to answer your questions, NO, I don't have the new twilight book. And no, I probably won't buy it either. I'll just wait for Reagan or Lisa to finish it and let me borrow it. I don't have any of the other books either, so I figure why start now?

But could one of you hurry up and finish, please?

It's Estée Lauder!!

I had the BEST time last night. I am talking a pee your pants good time. And what did I do? Well, about 9:30 pm I headed up to Lisa's house with the promise of some amazing peach cobbler awaiting me. As I drove into her neighborhood, I notice that it must be trash day. There were piles of debris and tree limbs lining the street.

Well, as get to her house, she tells me that it's not trash day, but it's something called "neighborhood clean up day" and you can put anything you want out on the curb (except toxic stuff, of course) and they will come and take it away!! She then tells me a story about how her neighbor across the street put out some Terra Cota planters and she saw them and immediately wanted them.

BUUUUT someone had spotted them too! There was a sneaky man in a dirty truck driving around. He obviously was going around looking for stuff to swipe. Lisa said his truck was already full of crap. But he saw her and drove away. She knew this was her moment so she ran across the street and grabbed them. As she was walking back with the second one in her arms, the truck guy came back. She quickly stashed it so he wouldn't see her with it. He saw that the pots were gone and saw Lisa messing around in her garage. He shouts, "did you take those pots?" and Lisa said, "A BOX? I HAVEN'T SEEN A BOX!!"

Then she told him that people have been coming and going so she can't help him locate it. Even though both she and the guy KNOW that the pots were there only 2 minutes before. We laughed about it, and the realized that that guy really had a good idea: neighborhood shopping!! We ate our peach cobbler (with vanilla ice cream, of course) and it was freaking delicious. So amazingly delicious. The crust was hot and crusty and buttery and just. . . . . ahhhhh! You have no idea.

And then we jumped in the car and started shopping. I'm going to say this: there was some boob grabbing, some peeing of the pants, some vomiting and lots of Mexican Ranchero music. AND LOTS OF FREE STUFF!!! We were out there till 2 am and here are some photos of the night:


This is a picture of us "spotting a possible goody bag" on the side of the road. Notice the look of anticipation on our faces. Unfortunately there was nothing good in the box.

This is Reagan with just ONE of the car seats she got. They are booster seats that she and Lisa will use for their little kids!! Car seats? Are you kidding me? SCORE!
















This is a awesome rug that Reagan found. Her new house has lots of hardwood floors, so this rug is really going to come in handy. And it's a nice one!

And right here is where we get the title of this blog. Inside this bag, Reagan found a brand new jumbo pack of pampers wipes which she immediately gave to me. (I still don't know why she didn't keep them for herself, or give them to Lisa. Last I checked, both of them still have kids in diapers! THANKS AGAIN REAGAN!!) Anyway, she started rummaging through the bag, and she starts pulling out face cremes and other cosmetics. Lisa says, "Maybe we shouldn't do this in the middle of the street" and Reagan says, "But, It's Estée Lauder!" HA!! We told her to grab the whole bag and sift through it later, but she changed her mind. She said it made her feel like a raccoon to tear into a plastic bag and rummage around. That raccoon comment almost made me pee my pants (again).
















Regan found these two chests to put at the end of her bed. The one on the left was crappier than the one on the right, so she decided she only wanted the good one. So she and Lisa are picking it up while Reagan says something hilarious, I'm sure. All I know is that right after I took this picture, Lisa had to put the chest down because she was hopping around, crossing her legs and peeing her pants. So here is a photo of Lisa ACTUALLY in the process of peeing her pants. (I think she learned right then that tightly close eyes do NOT equal a tightly closed pee spout.)















We drive into a cul-de-sac and Lisa screams "WICKER FURNITURE!!" Reagan had already scored one wicker chair, and these two just added that much more to the set. We actually had to drive to Reagan's house with the CAR SIDE DOOR OPEN and the wicker chair 90% out the door (Reagan was holding onto it for dear life, even as it started to rain) because there wasn't room enough for all the goodies. We actually made multiple trips back to Lisa's house to unload so we could get more stuff. But this time we decided that we needed to just take the stuff directly to Reagan's house.

And this is a video of Reagan trying to put that brown chair you see up there on the right in front of the car and get pushed by the car: It didn't quite work, but it was VERY entertaining.



Notice how there is Ranchero music in the background. And how Reagan has to dance around to avoid peeing in her pants. Oh the urine!!

Here is the best story of the night: We saw a TV in front of the neighbor's house. We didn't want to examine it too closely there (in case our loud laughing and Ranchero music had already woken them up and they were watching us from their windows) and so we got it in the car quickly so we could get it back to Lisa's to examine it. (Side note, I've finally accepted the fact that I'm pregnant. I tried to help Regan pick up the TV and realized that I couldn't bend over easily, and I couldn't pick it up with my belly in the way. So I guess it's official: I'm having a baby.)

So when we get it to Lisa's we realize it is missing a cord to plug it into the wall, and it's a crazy complicated cord and would probably be more money than the actual TV is worth. So we decide to put it out on front of Lisa's house so we don't have to cart it all the way back to the neighbor's house. So Reagan and Lisa try to pick it up together. But Lisa gets her arms all the way around it. And Reagan can't get a good grip on it. So Lisa is staggering, falling into Reagan, and her hand is like smashed up against Reagan's boob. She shouts, "Help me, all I'm holding is your boob here!!"

They put down the TV and dance around (again, trying to keep from peeing their pants) and try to decide what to do. They decide to go get the kids' little wagon and pull the TV to the street. So they get the wagon and now it's time to lift it up again and put it inside. Reagan says, "on the count of three: One, Two, Three." However, on three, Reagan does NOT pick up the TV. She instead reaches out across the top of it and grabs Lisa's boob!! It was OVER.

Maybe you think that I'm kidding when I say that I was laughing so hard I peed my pants. I AM NOT KIDDING. A good teaspoon of my own liquid came out over that boob incident. I don't know how much the other girls peed, but I definitely had damp pants.

But it doesn't end there. Boob shenanigans over, we wheel it to the curb. I notice a nice down comforter in front of Lisa's house and I ask her about it. She said that it's all torn up and not usable anymore. Well, Lisa then comments on how she wants to kind of "hide" the TV so her neighbors don't notice that we moved their TV from across the street and into the cul-de-sac. She says she wants to hide it. she starts to pull out like a board or something when I remember the comforter! Well, I grab it and start to lay it on the TV. I notice that it needs to be pulled out from under the box it's currently laying, and so I give it a good tug. FEATHERS EVERYWHERE!!

CURSE YOU PREGNANCY MEMORY! Didn't Lisa JUST say that it was all torn up? And wouldn't that mean that feathers would be able to get out? DUH!! But it was like that one gentle tug sent a blast of air and feathers up into my face, mouth, nose, eyes. I was blinded for 2o seconds while I listen to Joel, Lisa and Reagan howl with laughter around me. Once I get the feathers out of my nose, I too laugh with them.

However, the damage has been done, and there are feathers down my throat. I start coughing, and then it's all over. I start dry heaving and then I start puking. MY COBBLER!!! Awww, rats! Oh well, at least it's over quickly. Reagan felt badly, but honestly, I'm glad I did it rather than not do it and feel crappy for the rest of the night. So that's the puking story.

I actually didn't get a picture of the BEST score of the night: MY PACK AND PLAY!! It was one of the first things that we scored, and it was seriously the steal of the night. Brand new, perfect condition, perfect for my little one. It even has a sun shade!! I will be LOVING having this thing at Lake Powell in a month or two. Seriously, it was a major steal.

So here is a final list of the loot we scored: Help me out if I forgot anything, will you ladies?
Me: New jumbo pack of wipes
Pack & Play
Little Tikes plastic rocket swing.

Reagan: Rugs (3 total. One of them being a "kid's rug" that has streets on it to use to drive around cars. It's awesome)
Plastic Cozy Cruiser
Little girl playsets:One Dora The Explorer Kitchen and one Vanity play set.
2 computer monitors
Wicker furniture for her front porch
Wooden chest for the foot of her bed

Lisa: Couches (Nice set of couches)
Plastic Cozy Cruiser
What else did you get Lisa? I'm sure you scored more stuff. Sorry, can't remember

And finally, you might notice that Reagan now has bangs. She got them cut JUST that day. When she walked it, I totally thought that she looked like Brittany from the 4th Cycle of America's Next Top Model. You tell me if you agree:




















Don't you think that she totally looks like her!?!?! Especially with the bangs in the picture on the left. Anyway, this post has been WAY too long, but I enjoyed giggling as I remembered the fun times we had last night. Let's go dumpster diving again soon, ladies!!!

The Watch Story and a Lesson in Making out

That wedding blog got so many comments!! I should've done it a long time ago!! But I think the reason that it got so many is because all the people who read and comment on my blog were IN those pictures. Do you notice how Reagan didn't and wasn't in the pictures? She was actually going to be bridesmaid #9, but she couldn't make it. She had a family/personal emergency. Ok, wanna know the truth? She heard that Judd was going to be there and she didn't want to see her I'M KIDDING!!!! She didn't even know Judd back then Anyway Judd is right. I don't know if you all read her comments on my wedding blog. But here's what she said:

"I came back to your page to admire your beautifulness again when i remembered something else (with Frankie's help). you wore your plastic blue and black ecua watch to your sealing! for those of you who missed this tiny detail, check out Ali'sannouncement picture. it appears there, too! that is one important and celestial watch. do you think it is sealed to you both? like, it was worn under the covenant? not trying to be sacreligious here, but that was phenomenal"

So here is the story of the watch. While in the MTC I needed a watch. Well, seeing is how there are about a million boys and only a few sisters, you can imagine the type of selection they had there. I opted for this blue/silver monstrosity that was digital and also had a stop watch!! The wrist strap was made of the most synthetic rubber/plastic you can imagine, and the thing beeped when you set the alarm. Let me tell you, this was the best option available. Plus, it was like a "throw away" watch. I planned on using it up and then throwing it out. (I say this even as I KNOW that I wore it in my wedding)

Anyway, because I wore it everyday, the wrist strap (which was that hard plastic) eventually broke. It was time to get another one. Well, that wasn't as easy as it sounds because of the engineering of the straps. I eventually found one, courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger. That's right, the old TH band was the only one that fit. It was blue band with a white and red square on each side. You know, the Hilfiger trademark. Anyway, that one lasted till the end of my mission.

When I went back to Ecuador the first time I noticed that the band was falling apart, so I got another one while I was down there. Apparently I ONLY get watch bands in Ecuador. And Judd is right: I DID wear it in my engagement photos. And I wore it in the Temple to get married. Here's the thing: Lee got me sleeping and bathing in my watch. (Lee is Hermana Lee, my last companion). But she totally got me doing it. So on the day of my wedding I did everything like normal: shower, dry hair, get married. I just forgot to take off the watch.

And here's the thing, I had a REALLY pretty silver Fossil watch to wear on my wedding day. But in all the marriage wedding fiasco, I totally forgot all about it. And I wore it in the sealing, and then walked out to take pictures with it. So in the first roll and a half of my pictures, it is all there. Here it is in the group photo. (Click on the photo and it will open in it's own page and you can see the watch on my wrist.) But below, I've done a blown up shot of it so you can really get all of it's glory:


See how yucky it is? AND I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE!! I was just going about my day, merrily taking "kissy" pictures with my husband (as Beth puts it) and worrying about if my bra strap was hanging out my dress.

Anyway, Wanna know who alerted me to the watch? You guessed it!! Judd. Here we are talking to each other, and you can see the watch JUST as the side of the picture cuts off. Well, maybe you can't see it very well But it's there on my wrist. And I think it was RIGHT AFTER this conversation that she was like "WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?!!?? Take that nasty thing off!! I can't believe you wore that in the temple to get married."

And I think she took it. All I know is that in the rest of the pictures, it's not there. See, look! No watch on the left wrist.

Well, here's the very suspicious thing. I "mysteriously" lost that watch after my wedding. I can't remember seeing it after that day. I think that Judd took it and threw it away. AND YOU SHOULD ALL THANK HER FOR IT! That watch was NASTY and smelled like Ecua-cheese. If you don't know how bad that is, believe me, you don't want to know.

Anyway, enough talk about my watch. Let's move on to another question that everyone asked me. You all want to know how I was able to make out with Marcelo on a buss that his parents were also riding. Those who have served missions in South America and SPECIFICALLY in Ecuador will know that the "long distance" buses look like Greyhound buses. They have rows and rows of high backed seats. So if your in-laws get on the bus and sit on the third row on the left, and you and your soon to be fiance get on the bus and sit on the 6th row, ALSO on the left, there is no way for them to see you.

And if you happen to have arrived on an airplane at 3 in the afternoon, and then got on your FIRST bus at 5 or so, you only have 1 more hour of light that you have to wait out until you get to make out in darkness. The sun sets at 6 pm in Ecuador (it being the EQUATOR AND ALL) and so you get to learn how to kiss in darkness, in a public place yes, but also in darkness while everyone else is asleep.

I must say, Marcelo and I didn't do ANYTHING except make out for 3 weeks solid. We took naps together and made out. Now before everyone starts to JUDGE me for "sleeping" with Marcelo, I need you all to look at this little map I've created that does a pretty good job of showing the layout of their home. Please note the home is not 100% accurate to scale, but it does a pretty good job showing how things were laid out. Take a look:
Again, click on the picture and it will open up bigger. Well, as you might have guessed, I slept in Lety's room. As you can see, that room is only accessible through the boys' room. They gave me that room becuase it was the only one that had a door on it. But when Mar and I would take naps, we would never sleep there. We would only sleep in the boy's room on the double bed that was visible from the doorway as everyone walks by.

So if we wanted to do anything, we needed to remember that it was going to be visible to everyone passing by. If the thought of your father in law (who is the Stake president) walking by at any moment isn't enough to scare the randy-ness right out of you, I don't know what is. So yes, I did make out the whole time I was there, but it had to be "chaste" making out because it was very public.

Oh, and the square by the back door is their "indoor" laundry. Also known as "big cement block where you hand wash your clothes." Ahh, I love the cement block. I'm sorry, but your clothes just get SOOO much cleaner being beaten against a cement slab. Am I right ladies? You know I am.

And finally, I would like to wish a happy birthday to my little Marcelino. He's 28 years old today. But he's still just like a little kid too!! Like for example, as I type, he's watching the finale of Disney's live action 102 Dalmatians and giggling like a little boy. He thinks that kind of humor is HILARIOUS.. I think I like the fact that he's still young at heart. And he gets joy out of the simple things So baby, this one's for you!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

I'm back! Let the rejoicing begin!

I know that many of you don't really give a crap that I was out of town for a week. But I know that some of you DO!! And that makes me SOOOO happy. And loved. Know what else made me feel loved when I was gone? Marcelo. He called me all the time. At least once a day, and most times more. Finally on like Tuesday I said, "do you miss me or something?" and he said, "YES! I thought it would be cool having the house to myself. But it's boring being just me and Raya."

He loves me!! He missed me! He missed me so much, he offered to come pick me up from the airport. Reagan was going to come and do it, and I think she was kind of upset that Marcelo was missing me and volunteered to come get me. Anyway, it was nice to be missed.

And what did I do on my vacation? NOTHING!! And that's just how I wanted it to be. I *would* break down what I did day by day, but it was the same every day. And it went like this:

7:00 am -Wake up
8:00 am- Have my first breakfast. Usually consisting of about 3 bowls of cereal.
Lay on couch. Chat with Judd. Laugh hysterically until I cry
11:00 am-Realize I'm sweating horribly and decide it's time for some Tropical Otter Pops. I eat about 12-15 of them. That is the second breakfast.
Go back to laying on couch. Watch her child destroy her house. Watch Barney videos until nap time.
Eat more Otter Pops
1:00 pm-When nap time is over, we go and get food. It most likely involves fries and an Oreo milkshake. It's lovely.
3:00 pm-Back to laying on the couch laughing my guts out. Watching more Barney and watching her child destroy more of the house.
5:30 pm- My naptime. On Judd's bed. I love naps
7:30 pm-Parmenter gets home. He makes no comments about how Judd has let the child destroy the house, and she hasn't done a single dish or washed a single article of clothing. I really REALLY want Marcelo to be that kind and understanding on those "special" days. But I know that won't always be the case. And who knows? Maybe Parmenter was being on his "Good" behavior since I was there. But I don't think so. I'm sure that he's like that always. He's SOOO calm and cool all the time. I bet he could walk in to his house on fire and still just be calm and cool.
7:45 pm- Eat another 45 Otter Pops
8:00 pm-Judd apologizes once again about the fact that we haven't done anything. I tell her again that I don't care
We spend the next few hours talking about the mission, about members and missionaries that were in love with us (ok, mostly with her, but I had one or two here and there) And catching up on our families. It's ridiculous how much we know about the lives of each other. And it was awesome to just have the time to sit and enjoy conversation without having to worry about having to be somewhere in a few minutes.
12:00 am-We finally go to bed. I feel badly because i know that her baby will be up in a few hours.

You need to know that Judd wouldn't let me pick up anything, or pay for anything. She was diligent about making sure that her baby didn't dive bomb me and end up jumping on my head or belly. (Her baby REALLY wanted to be crawling across my belly all the time). She wouldn't let me help her bring in groceries or do her dishes. I felt like I needed to "earn my keep" but she wouldn't let me!!

THAT'S what I'm talking about! I didn't know someone could be so nice to pregnant women. At my office I'm instructed to move desks and carry files and bend over all the time. No one cares that I'm pregnant, and if I were to groan from belly pain, I'm sure I would have someone take it out on me because they were pissed at being reminded again that I'm pregnant. Judd is like the best caretaker anyone could every ask for. She's what my mom SHOULD be. Instead of trying to get me to cut down to 1 egg and 1 piece of toast, she tells me that I should make my value meal a large so I get the big fries. Love love LOVE her.

And Judd is a great mom. Her little girl is suffering some pretty hard urology problems, and she takes 5 days to dote on her friend from out of town. I give Judd some serious credit for keeping her cool with possible Darby surgery on the horizon. (You would too if you knew her meticulous and worrying tendencies). But honestly, she's taking this all in stride and doing so well. With company!! Who does nothing but watch her TV and eat all her Otter Pops.

But we had some freaking great times doing nothing. I really did laugh so hard I cried. And Judd laughed so hard she almost wet her pants. THAT'S what I'm talking about! And I didn't say this to Judd before I left but I was so jealous of how much she and her husband cuddled and snuggled together. I'm not "cuddle" size right now and Marcelo and I can't both fit on the couch. Judd and her husband can fit on ONE couch and they are so freaking cute. Alicia=jealous

Anyway, I loved being able to take naps whenever I wanted and read the book Reagan loaned me, "The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy". TANGENT: I find the book informative, but SUPER biased. Like the author says that you should take your time, sleep whenever you want, and why risk doing something that MIGHT hurt your baby? (like exercise) And then she goes off about how dying your hair *probably* wouldn't' do anything. She says the jury is still out on weather the toxins will do anything to your baby. Some say that it will, others say that it won't. But she doesn't care becuase she's not going to give up her weekly dye job. It just seems that she's conservative and cautious when it comes to pregnancy only when it doesn't disturb her vanity. TANGENT OVER

I am glad to be home, but I wish Judd lived closer. Or I lived closer to her. Well, actually it's better because we would probably never get anything done if we lived close to each other. I guess it's just good to go and see your best friends once in a while, and not all the time. You know, so that laundry and dishes can be done SOMETIME!

And finally, I was really happy to get home to Raya and Marcelo. And walk around in my underwear. For some reason Judd and Parmenter always got really uncomfortable when I took off my pants and walked around in just my chones. Seriously, what gives? Just kidding. But I do miss the Otter Pops. I'm going to have to get my own box soon.

I'm back!! Be prepared for frequent hilarity now that I'm here again!

I miss you Judd!

Bored

I am blissfully bored today. And why is that? Because both Jean AND Dan have gone to a conference in Phoenix until next Monday. Jean left yesterday at like 9 am. So the whole day was Jean-free. And Jamie was here helping me, so I got 100% caught up on everything. So now I'm sitting here wondering what to do. I'm sure I can think of something.

I called Judd last night, and we somehow got started talking mission stories. We were together right in the middle of both our missions so some of the stories we have the other one hasn't heard. She told me about how one time her DL said they couldn't teach someone because they didn't know how to read, and Judd said, "Well, you know, as WELFARE sisters, we have been SPECIFICALLY trained on how to teach someone to read." And that dips**t missionary (excuse my language) says, "OHHHHH don't get me going about your 'welfare' training! (apparently he even did the air quotes too) That's just an excuse for you to be lazy."

Now, you need to know something about Judd. She is from the South. She is all civility and gentility and sweetness UNTIL YOU CROSS HER. Seriously, she has a way to knock you down and put her shoe on your throat so you don't DARE make a move. (verbally speaking, that is) This was one of those times. It should also be noted that the elders that were questioning her work ethic had ONLY been out of their home ONE DAY that week. Can anyone guess what day that might have been? If you guessed P-day, then you are right. Also you should know that Judd is a Missionary working MANIAC. Seriously, a workaholic, people.

So Judd LOSES it. She starts yelling (in Spanish) about how they, the wise and great elders, have only been outside one day that week, so they must know ALL about being lazy, right? And even though they do hours and hours of welfare stuff every week, her and her companion's numbers are consistently the highest in the whole ZONE! To emphasize this, she picks up all the papers that are going to be mailed to the president that week (probably 30 in total) and flings them at this moron elder's face. Papers and silence distill upon the group.

What would you give to have been there and seen the looks on all their faces? I would've given my left boob to see that. Finally, after a few moments of stunned silence, the moron elder's NOT so moronic companion says, "Hna Judd, we KNOW that the welfare sisters work hard." Judd of course felt silly because she had made such a huge fuss, but you know what? That elder didn't dare open his mouth to her the rest of the time she was in his district. How could he with her foot on his throat?

Anyway, I loved this story. I had a few to share of my own that she hadn't heard, so we had a good chat for a while. And then her little girl fell down and hit her head and she had to get off the phone.

But Judd and I had some GREAT times on the mission. I think we had fun together, but I also think we had LOTS of fun apart. So being able to get together and share stories with each other about the times that we weren't together makes it that much better. And talking with her made me miss Ecuador so much. Especially when Marcelo said we could buy a condo on the beach in Manta for like $30,000. I REALLY WANT THAT, especially right now when I look outside and it's STILL storming here in Utah.

Anyway, here are some things I miss about Ecuador:

*They don't refrigerate hardly anything. Even the things that SHOULD be refrigerated 100% of the time. I'm talking like milk, eggs, cheese, fruits, vegetables, meat. . . I could go on, but why should I? I actually never worried that I bought my eggs off the street, out of a little bodega that JUST sells eggs, and there was nothing in there but palates and palates of them. It seemed natural to do it like that. Why mess with Ecuadorian wisdom? (It's not like they have weird theories about food and TREES, right Reagan?)

Also, they usually go to the market once a day to get the freshest stuff. Why do you need a fridge if you go shopping every day and there is no such thing as leftovers in your house? I wouldn't have one either. In my first home, there were 6 girls living there and we had a fridge the size of one of those "college" fridges. And there was always plenty of room. That's because K-Chitos don't need to be refrigerated. Am I right people? (I REALLY WANT SOME K-Chitos RIGHT NOW!!!)

* The million varieties of corn. In the high mountain areas of Ecuador, they are known for their corn. I know that many of you have seen that "Mexican" corn also called hominy. Ecuador looks at that one type of corn and they spit on it!! Imagine if you went to a store that had NOTHING BUT CORN. You no longer have to imagine, such places exist in Ecuador. We are talking bags and bags of different sizes, colors, shapes styles of corn. There had to be 30+ varieties. This is the ONLY good memory I have of Hermana Eckert (she was my companion aged 66, remember?). We found this great store outside the huérfanas' house in San Rafael and we bought like 10 different kinds. Why? Because we were OBSESSED with "tosados." (If you don't know what tostados are, I'll look for a picture for you.) They have a similar product in stores, and it's basically dried corn that's fried. Almost like Corn Nuts. But Corn nuts are REALLY hard and break your teeth, where as tosados burst open in the frying process and so they are all soft and salty and delicious.

Well, we wanted to see how all these different varieties would be if we tried to make tosados out of all of them. Let me tell you, that was the only day I ate with Hermana Eckert. (Most days I feigned a stomach ache and continued down my destructive cycle of anorexia) But we had a blast frying up those corn kernels and seeing which ones popped open, and which ones stayed in a tight ball like Cornuts. Like I said, it was my only good day with her. (other than the day she left, that is) The best ones were the little ones. They burst open. The big ones were stubborn and didn't want to do anything (that's what she said). Moving on

*Using halls Mentho-lyptus as an "after dinner mint". I honestly miss that!! I don't know why they think that cough drops are good for after dinner palate refreshers, but they do. Even in high end upscale restaurants they use these. And the Latinos LOVE them. They sell them at little tiendas for like 3 cents or 5 cents a piece, and kids decide they want to waste their money on them instead of good old-fashioned-rot-your-teeth sugar.

The first time I got a cold after we were married, I bought a package of these at the store, and Marcelo asked me what they were. I said they were to clear my nose and throat. He asked if he could try one and I said of course, but they are medicine, so he might not like them. I had obviously forgotten about the fact that my husband's palate has been trained to recognize this particular taste as decadent. He ate the whole bag. I had to go and buy myself some more, because my husband ate the WHOLE BAG. Ahhh, Latinos.

That's all I can think of right now. Well, that's not true. I got about a million other things that I miss about Ecuador floating around in my brain right now. But Jean's annoying niece/turd from next door keeps popping over here to try and snoop on my computer and see what I'm doing. I'm going to tell her the next time she comes over, "whew! You almost caught me looking at my stash of work porn. It's some I've compiled just for work; I have another stash of home porn". It would serve her right to get a smack of sarcasm in her face. And I would love if that sarcasm was attached to my hand.

I love it when Jean is out of town!! I hope the rest of the week is as "boring" as today!

Happy Balentimes Day!

I hope all of you had a good Balentimes Day. Mine was ok. At about 3:30 I received a call from my mom and she told me that my brother had call her. He said, "Sooooo, what are you doing for Valentine's Day?" My mom told him that she, Marcelo and I were going to have a lasagna dinner together. And then he said, "Oh. Can we come over?"

So that's how he ended up over at my house last night eating my food and letting his dog run around my living room. The dinner was freaking awesome (because I made it, of course) but the desert was less effective. My mom was going to get Lofthouse cookies, but when she got to the store, they were all gone. At that point, I think that she should've bought some thing chocolate and/or ice cream like. She did not. She bought some un-frosted sugar cookies, a tub of low-sugar icing and 1 small bag of M&M's. Bastard.

Dessert was not great. I'm going to have to go make myself a sundae to help wash the memory of that horrible dessert from my mind.

Speaking of desserts, Lynn and I were talking about food today. (Reagan, you have a rival for food talk. You know I can't go more than 4 hours without talking about food) The conversation started my telling her that my hands smelled like bologna. The pre-molded kind where you have to remove the red tape around the outer rim before you eat it and you have to pick out suspicious little black things out of the nut meat.

She said that that kind is her FAVORITE and that growing up she was never allowed to have it. So she said that when she came to college she had at least 2 of those sandwiches a day. Did I mention that when she had those sandwiches they were fried. I think that is the best thing I've ever heard.

I said that my childhood decadence was Little Debbie snack cakes. And I never got to have them, so as soon as I came to school, I ate FAAAAAAR to many of them. I told her that 25 of the 40 pounds I put on my freshman year were due to these little fantastic pieces of sugared heaven. She said that she LOOOVES zebra cakes. She said that if she had a choice between zebra cakes and sleeping with Enrique Iglesias, she would most like choose the zebra cakes.

I had to agree with her. Who knows what kind of lover Enrique is. Yes, he's fantastically Latin and smarmy, but how quick is he? I mean, I'm going to be cheating on my husband and forfeiting 2 zebra cakes in the process. This is a big risk. I mean, with 2 zebra cakes, I know how long they will last, and how high my level of enjoyment will be with them. With Enrique, however, there is no such guarantee! That is a risk I don't think I'm willing to take!!

The morale of the story breaks down thusly; My knowledge of Zebra cakes:secure. My knowledge and trust in the lovin' skills of Enrique Iglesias:not so secure. It's really not a hard decision when you put colons in your sentence.

Guess what? I tricked Jean into giving me Monday off. How did I do that, might you wonder? Well, Martin Luther King Day was the first Monday that Lynn was gone. Everyone else was gone out of the office too. All the banks were closed, the title company was closed and so were all the mortgage companies. But I still had to come in and do nothing all day. And the Friday before, Jean said, "Oh, Monday is a holiday? But you don't get it off right?" I said, "Uhhhhh. . . " and she said, "I think you don't get this Monday off, but you get President's Day off, right?"

I knew for a FACT that we got neither of them off. So I quickly said, "Yeah, that sounds right." She said, "Go check the book" and I said "Oh I've seen it. That's right." And then guess what I did? I changed the book. (Heather, why didn't we think about this before? You KNOW that she has no idea what's going on unless she sees it in the book) I changed the book to give the assistants more days off. I forgot that the book actually says that you only get those days AFTER you have worked for a year. What a joke!

So, the next assistants can thank me. Even though Jean will probably try to change it later when she finds out what I did, but whatever, I'll be gone by then.

And finally, I was going to put this bacon flow chart on my blog, but I couldn't get it big enough to be clear. I really like bacon, and I think all of your do too, so you will totally be able to relate with me on this bacon-y turn of events. I'm just going to have to put the link. Please enjoy.

http://s7.photobucket.com/albums/y255/PinkRevival/lmao/?action=view&current=baconflowchart_700.jpg

I'm sorry!!

Heather always used to laugh at me when I would walk in the office and the first word out of my mouth was "Sorry." But I was ALWAYS late, so I was always sorry. On a weird tangent, I had a high school teacher would always say, "Don't be sorry, just don't do it again." He was NOT a religious man, but I think that could very well be a gospel principle.

Moving on. The reason I'm sorry is that I can't believe it's been a week since I've posted. I'll always look at the blogs of others and be like "WHAT IS THEIR PROBLEM!?!? THEY HAVEN'T PUT UP ANYTHING IN SO LONG!" And look, I am now one of "those" people.

I guess I didn't have anything cool to post, and so I think that if I don't have a good story then I can't say anything. I should start telling embarrassing stories from my youth/childhood/college days. Heaven knows I have PLENTY of those. But Reagan and Judd will have to skim those, I'm sure they've heard all my embarrassing stories. But don't worry ladies, we know more are coming soon. They happen on a DAILY basis. (I would start telling them more often, but most of them involve my pants falling down at work and other such atrocities that no one really wants to think about)

But I had a few things happen to me that I thought you would all enjoy. Well, maybe not ENJOY, but at least you wouldn't have nightmares about them. Speaking of nightmares, that is my first story. I believe it's due to the fact that we are going to be surprised about the baby's sex. But both Marcelo and I have been having lots of dreams about the baby. The other night I had a dream that I gave birth not to a boy and not to a girl, but instead to a real live Gloworm. For those of you who weren't allowed to watch TV growing up, here is what a Gloworm is. I never had one, but I always wanted one. Being poor growing up, however, this was not possible.

So in my dream my baby had no arms, (I guess I didn't remember those little arm shoots from my childhood) no legs, but it was so happy and I loved it anyway.

And then Marcelo had a dream Sunday night. He said that we had a boy, but the baby's head hadn't formed all the way, and it had a hole scooped out of the side of it's head. Like someone had wanted a scoop of Baby Loor flavored ice cream, and had decided to take it from the head.

** Begin Tangent. What would Baby Loor flavored ice cream taste like? I'm guessing a little bit like mango, and a lot like Salsa! Did anyone read those books "Sideways Stories from Wayside School" growing up? By Louis Sacher? And in the first one they had a teacher who made a flavor for every child in the class. Some were sweet, some tart. I just always wondered what my flavor would taste like. I'm ESPECIALLY wondering now what my baby's flavor would taste like. Tangent over**

So if any of you have dealt with Latinos, you know that they are a VERY superstitious people. They don't take dreams lightly and so I was a little worried when he told me about his dream. Like when we bought a pig together when I was down in Ecuador, and it died 6 months later. He didn't want to tell me about it becuase he thought the pig symbolized us and our relationship. See? Superstitious, I told you so.

So I asked him what he thought the dream meant. He totally floored me and said, "Oh, probably nothing. It's just a dream." (Is it weird that I'm a little sad that he's becoming so Americanized? I mean, It's not like I want him to kill a chicken on our back porch and then ask me to cook it for dinner. But I miss the little things that came with him from Ecuador. Sad.) Hoping to get some of that Latino superstition out of him, I asked him if he was worried about the dream. Well, he follows up the comment by flooring me YET AGAIN and saying "No, not really. I think that the dream made me realize that even if there are problems with the baby, we will be able to handle it"

When did my husband become all wise and not crazy Latino superstition guy telling me to cure my headache by pressing a lemon to my forehead? (My husband never said, that, by the way. I got that little ditty from another crazy Latino woman) Well, needless to say that I will have to come to terms with my new wise Confucius-like husband and his very sensible comprehension of dreams.

My second story is, of course, about food. For breakfast, I went to the Maverick gas station and got a nice cup of Hot Chocolate (with hazelnut creamer, of course) and a bag of Corn Nuts. I enjoyed those Nuts all throughout the day, but I've now discovered that I need to eat them with a spoon. They fall under the popcorn/Cheeto's category now: I don't like the residue on my fingers so I'll be using a spoon from now on.

Well, we all know where a bag of Corn Nuts and a hot chocolate led me: That's right, say it with me people. . .Horrible corn nuts breath. Nothing could be done because I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off today without a minute to myself. I kept trying to sneak away and go brush my teeth with the toothbrush I keep in my desk for situations such as these. Well, actually I've never had a Corn Nuts/Hot chocolate situation at work before. I usually use it when I forget to brush my teeth before I leave the house. And let me tell you, that toothbrush is my favorite!! Nothing like having clean teeth in the middle of the day.

But due to the fact that my "get it done" (YEAH RIGHT!) boss was calling me every 20 seconds to fix it things for her, I didn't have any chance to use my favorite pink toothbrush. What infuriated me was that when I told her how to fix the thing, she wouldn't listen to me. So I had to explain it to her step by step very SLOWLY and then when she couldn't get it, I had to go in and do it for her. Yeah, right. ("Get it done" my ass!)

But enough about my boss. I whine about her plenty enough as it is. Let me tell you another funny work story. I had to stop payment on a check by calling Zions Bank. The funny thing is that the check was only for $50, and to stop payment was a fee of $25. But I do what I'm told. So when I called the bank, the lady asked me what the check number was and who the check was made out to. I told her it was made out to "National Republican Congressional Committee."

And then I thought about what if I were trying to cancel a check for something really embarrassing? Like a subscription to "Large, Buff Men Quarterly" or a prescription for "Toe Fungal Salve" or my subscription to licorice of the month. (Jean actually gets that. You may all make fun of her starting. . . . NOW!)

When my brother used to work for the Bank of America people would call in and try to cancel certain charges on their account. Like if someone wouldn't give them their money back, they would try to call and dispute it and say that it was a "fraudulent" charge. So my brother was like "well, you didn't report the card stolen. And it looks like since that charge it has been used quite a bit. Would you like to explain that?" And then they would fold like a cheap suit. Did I mention that half the time he was doing this in Spanish? Good times.

One last totally non-related story (I could go on telling ridiculous non-related stories like this forever) I wear knee highs under my work pants. I don't pull them up to my knee, because that annoys me. So I take that part that cuts off your circulation, and I fold it down and put it right nice on my ankle. Well, when I took it off yesterday, that part had folded on top of it's self and was DIGGING into my ankle. I had like a full on LINE from the nylons. Does everyone know what pitted edema is? Well, that's what my ankles looked like. It was DELICIOUS to look at and touch.

And then today, as I was walking around my house preparing dinner, I felt something "funny" on my lower leg. I thought that maybe my pants were falling down again, but then I realized that I wasn't WEARING any pants. So I look down at my leg as I walk and discover that it's me!! It's my leg fat/lower leg water retention!! MY ANKLES ARE JIGGLING AS I WALK!!! Now, I am used to leg or arm or a belly jiggle every once in a while. But an ANKLE jiggle? Well, that's just depressing. And let's be honest: They are more like CANKLES now.

So, to wrap up this very random post: I didn't have a Gloworm growing up, Marcelo has become wise, I have spent FAR too much at the Maverick these last few days, I subscribe to some sketchy magazines and my feet fat jiggles as I walk. It's been a good day.

And one last thing, I promise, I would like to send a very special "request and dedication" to my two bestest of best friends Judd and Reagan. I am so blessed to have you both in my life, and I just want you to know how much I love you. If either of you ever needed it, I would happily donate a kidney, or a piece of my liver, or one of my eyebrows to each one (or both!) of you. A girl considers herself lucky to have someone in her life that she can turn to at any moment, and I am blessed with two of you. I have an idea. Lets all get matching stretch marks somewhere on our bodies to cement our enduring friendship. I've already gotten mine, so it's up to you two to do it now. GO!

I love you two.

Hey Dickson's. . . This one's for you

A New Post for Lynn

Lynn told me that I need to post something new. Not only did she tell me that, but she also clued me in that also that today is TAT's Birthday. (That's Tiffany Amber Thiessen for you laymen). I think Marcelo and I should celebrate this momentous occasion with a can of 7-up and some chicken. Thanks Lynn.

As for her comment that I need to post again, well, I think that everyone needs to post more. And none of this "I like the color blue!" crappy posts. I want something that's going to make me snort chocolate milk out my nose as I read. Or some pictures of yourself in a very compromising and/or embarrassing situation. (All of my current photos fall under that category because I'm roughly the size of a barge)

So I will do my best to give you a snort worth post right now. Well, I'll just tell you that I'm loving the fact that everyone is out of town right now. Except for the fact that I'll get text messages every 20 minutes or so where she tells me to do things. She'll ask me questions and then TOTALLY ignore my answers. Like she'll ask me (multiple times, mind you) if she needs to call someone, and I'll say, "No, I've taken care of it" and then a while later she sends me a message saying, "Well, I called them. It's all taken care of."

I'm thinking. "Uh, yeah, I know it is, because I'M FREAKING TAKING CARE OF IT!" Every once in a while she'll send a message saying, "URGENT. Please call _______." And then I'll call them and it will be so NOT urgent.

Today I got a text from her saying that I need to call Nordstrom and make plans to go pick up some pants for her. You know, they are a part of one of her "cruise outfits" and she wouldn't want to have one less pair of pants for her cruise. HEAVEN FORBID. Oh, did I mention they are VELVET pants? I think that if you have any amount of fat on your legs, you shouldn't wear velvet pants. You might start a fire with the legs rubbing together.

Anyway, I called Nordstrom and told them that they need to put the pants back on hold and she would come to pick them up next week. Let's see when she says when she finds out I didn't pick them up, but I just deferred it for another week so she could do it. Hell, who are we kidding? I'll be the one picking them up next week.

Last Jean story, I swear. (I think that Lynn is the only one that gets anything out of these stories because she's actually EXPERIENCED the crazy that is Jean. I mean others may enjoy these stories, but there's just something that you can't put into words, that just has to be experienced first hand. Call it Jean's "Crazy Musk.") Anyway, today she texts me and says that she can't get a certain email attachment to open on her iPhone. She asks me to open it and re-send it.

Do you want do know what the email was it? I'm sure you do. It was from her builder and it was a picture of her theater room for her new house. It was more like a schematic layout computerized version showing how the walls would be decorated and painted. There was a full shot and an "up close" shot. Well, I'm almost ready to leave for the day and I just have time to do that before I leave.

So I open the file and send it. Well, after I was home she sends me a message saying, "still having problems opening file. Send it again, but send it to other email address. Also, send the email to Lani too. URGENT."

Really? It's desperately urgent that you see a digitally created mock up of your theater room that won't be ready for another 5 months? That's what's so crucially urgent? I didn't agree. So I ignored the text until tomorrow. What can she do? She's golfing in San Diego. Suck it, Jean.

Oh, and I need to send out an apology to my lobster. I didn't call you on your birthday. I'm sorry. I thought about it all day Monday and then TOTALLY forgot about it on Tuesday. And then I remembered it again today. I love you, and I'm sorry.

And I guess it goes without saying that I haven't sent out your present yet. Please don't be mad at me like your mom was mad at you. I'm a super horrible present giver. You know that. But you know what I can give you? Good memories. Remember that time you bought towallas hygienicas and you asked the guy for a bag so you didn't have to walk down the street with them in your hands? And he looked at you like you were crazy. And then we got them home and they were the size of pillows. Good times.

Oh, and remember how that little panaderia right up the street from our home that always had the panes de chocolate? And I would always buy two or three of them and you would never buy any? That was a nice self esteem booster. And how I would force you to go jogging and we would punk the elders and knock on the door and hide. Good times. And finally, two words: Fofys. . . . Galapaguitos. I will worship you forever, Galapaguitos.

Happy Birthday Hillary Claire Judd Parmenter!!

And finally, my current craving: Nothing. I just made myself two bacon, egg and cheese burritos and am no longer wanting any food. I actually want to throw up a little bit. I was talking to Reagan about getting some fries on the way home. I didn't do it. Not because I had a sudden bout of conscious. But because I forgot about it until I got home. (Curse you pregnancy memory loss!) And I didn't get that Chinese food I was craving the either day either. I don't know what happens to me, but I just get so lazy. I guess that's my best weight loss technique: I'm so freaking lazy and hence don't get have the bad food I want. Try it. It's the "Alicia Diet"

Lobsters

I have a lobster. Everyone knows about that episode of “Friends” when Ross tells Rachel that they will eventually end up together, because she is his lobster. He says when they are old they will walk around the tank holding claws. Maybe you think that my husband is my lobster. You are wrong.

Judd is my lobster. For those of you who don’t know who Judd is, she’s my favorite companion from my mission. It only took Judd and I about 3 seconds to realize that we were lobsters. And I miss her terribly. I’m really mad at myself that the last time I saw here was in the middle of the summer and it was only for about 2 hours. I’ve needed to go down and visit her and her little girl for about 2 and one half years. I’m a bad lobster.

So I would like to publicly apologize to my lobster. I am sorry it’s been so long since we’ve really gotten to spend time together and laugh until I pee my pants. No joke, one time she made me pee my pants TWICE in 20 minutes. I don’t think she ever knew that. But I had to run into our second bedroom/giant walk-in closet and change my chones, and then 20 min later, I had to do it all over again. I didn’t want to tell her, because my lobster is the cleanest person I know.

She would probably throw up and then never speak to me again. And you should you know that she hasn’t thrown up since she was 8 years old. So Judd, please forgive me. I just sang that last line to you, in the immortal music of Bryan Adams, so you know how serious I am.

I have another confession to make. My friend Reagan is my second crustacean. (She actually has a lobster bag that I covet, but that is neither here nor there) I am actually terrified of Judd and Reagan every meeting each other, because they would immediately recognize a kindred soul in each other and kick me out so they can walk around the tank together. And they are part of a secret society that I’m dying to join: the Mothers of Adorable Little Girls Club. Someday.

Other things that they have in common with each other but that I don’t have in common with either of them: They love and respect their families. And they are really tight with their families. I don’t have that. Also, they are both stay at home mothers and they live for their kids. I, on the other hand, work for the Devil. BOO. And both of them love me more than I love myself. Well, it feels that way sometimes, anyway. So those are just a few reasons why they can never meet.

Now about my blog. I promise to you, my 3 readers, that I shall always strive for hilarity and not stupidity. That might not always happen, because I love to make fun of myself and I love to laugh, but I’m not always great at narrating hilariously. But I started this blog because I loved Reagan’s blog and I think it’s so freaking awesome. I aspire to its tone of humor without sarcasm or cruelty. There is nothing uglier than that. And I despise anyone making a joke out of someone else’s pain or cruelly pointing out when others are struggling.

Ah, I feel better. Now let me off my soapbox and get back to attempting to be funny. I try.

Mostly unsuccessfully, but at least I’m trying. Usually I forget how funny I am because Marcelo never laughs at my jokes. Like something that will make others howl and pee their pants, he furrows his eyebrows and it makes me feel dumb. So I try to not tell jokes around him and only around people that will think I’m funny.

Entonces, voy a contar de mi reunión familiar durante el tiempo del Día de Gracia. Tuvimos 19 personas en mi casa y 5 perros. 3 fueron perritos, y no sabían como esperar para ir afuera al baño Entonces Marcelo tenía mucho miedo y nervios por tanta gente y artos perros. El día Viernes yo hice todo para sugerir que fuimos a un parque para jugar. Fue exitoso. El día pasó sin un accidente de un perrito. Sábado todos vinieron a mi casa nuevamente para despedirse. Mi hermano, su esposa, sus 5 hijos y 3 perros vinieron primero. Marcelo sintió mejor cuando salieron.

Algunas horas después mi hermana, su esposo y sus 3 hijos vinieron para despedirse. Estaba abrazando mi sobrino cuando ¡¡¡vi un montón de pu-pu en mi cocina!!! ¡Era enorme! ¿Quién lo hizo? ¡¡Tuvimos 5 perros in mi casa hace algunas horas a tras!! Y parecía que el perro quien lo hizo fuera infirmo porque el pu-pu no era firme. Parecía liquido. Yo sabia que seria horrible para limpiar.

Entonces yo me puse DOS bolsas plásticas en mi mano para prepararme para limpiarlo. Pero cuando me bajé para limpiarlo, ¡yo me di cuenta que no apestaba! Que raro, pensé. Y cuando lo toque, por fin me realicé que era plástico. Mi cuñado lo hizo como chiste. Y fue un chiste exitoso porque Marcelo casi vomitó al solo verlo. Todos se rieron y nosotros también nos encantó el chiste.

Well, that was my attempt at humor. For those of you who don’t speak Spanish, let me guarantee to you that that story was freaking hilarious.