Wednesday, December 28, 2011

My Top 5

I think I'm suffering from post-Christmas depression.  Do you have it too?  I grouched through most of yesterday, saying things to my homies like, "Get your box of See's candy and all your other crap off this couch."  I'm toxic, I tell you, and my homies are steering clear of this hag.

Today is much better, though.  I started my morning off with my step class, and then I came home and took an extra-long, hot shower.  While in the shower I decided I should share with you a few of my favorite things.

1.  Alterna's Caviar hair care line has the best, I repeat, the best shampoo and conditioner I've ever tried (and I've tried them all).  They will blow away any other professional hair care line sitting in your shower's caddy.  Here's a picture and a link:

2.  I've been thinking about Bill Cunningham all week.  I admire his passion for fashion, not to be cliche, and I can't get him out of my mind.  His documentary, offered on Netflix, is a must-see. We have even started taking the Sunday New York Times, just so we can read his column each week.  Here's a sneak-peek in case you're interested.  *WARNING*  He does use the d-word and h-word, FYI, and so do I (New Year's resolution #1).
3.  Nothing has ever made my eye shawdow stay on better than Too Faced Shadow Primer.  Have you tried it?  If not, your local Ulta store should have samples you can try.  Here's a link with more product info.

4.  I'm reading and loving this book:

5.  I love the Christmas card I ordered this year.  This talented gal on Etsy made them for me.

P.S. Guess who I saw at Costa Vida yesterday?  Brooke White.  I bumped into her while refilling my Diet Coke.  We're kind of like best friends now, and she almost let me take a picture with her.  Don't be jeal of me, OK?

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Midnight in Paris

This Saturday Highland High is having its mid-winter formal.  Are you going?  Do you wish you were 16 again and going? Do you wish you could spend hours in the mirror getting your lips ready for your first kiss? No way. We're glad we're old ladies now! And now we don't have to worry about where to place our sweaty palms while dancing to Chicago's "You're the Inspiration."(Do you still love that song or what?)

Well, the girl down the street is going to the dance, but she won't be dancing to Chicago.  L. Gaga, B. Spears, and a little Jay-Z will rock her through her magical night in Paris.  She asked if I'd make her something special, something that would make her stand-out from all the other danes.  You may know that I'm always up for a let's-outdo-every-girl-here challenge, so we designed this little sash.  Do you like how it looks on my head?

Just an FYI: I went to my senior homecoming dance with my brother David.  Remember that, David?  

Tuesday, November 29, 2011


These were yesterday's best shots.  They're not good enough, so we'll have to take more on Friday.  Are you sad for me, Jill?

I may have acted like a swamp witch while asking them to smile for the billionth time.  I've repented.

I may have turned gangsta' on the man who, my homegurl warned, was coming up from behind as I stood snapping pictures on a remote street in downtown Phoenix.  The guy asked, "Have you seen my friend...

"No," I cut him off mid-sentence.  "I have not seen your friend.  We just got here!"  I stared him in the eye and gave him the what's-your-next-question, chump? look.  Then I slightly wagged my head and neck while waiting for his response, and that's when he decided to turn and walk the other direction.

"That's what I thought," I said under my breath as he walked away.

"You're kind of tough," my homegurl noted.  And I said, "Dang-straight! That's how we do."

Then I turned and saw that Bryce was coming out from behind the building, so maybe it was Bryce who scared him off.  No...

P.S. Maybe I should repent for being rude to the man.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Tooth Fairy, Caesar, and Huck

Only three days left of teaching, and I've mixed emotions about it ending.  I love the students, like really love them.  I think about them as I lie awake in bed at night.  I think about the literature we're reading and how I will  make Shakespeare's Julius Caesar relevant to a room filled with eager to learn, but easily bored, tenth-graders.  I think about how I will skirt the 215 "n"words in Huck Finn. (We don't read the word aloud, ever.)  I think about how I teared-up (not cool) when I read to the class Jim's hurt-filled response to Huck's mean trick,

"When I got all wore out wid work, en wid de callin' for you, en went to sleep, my heart wuz mos' broke bekase you wuz los', en I didn't k'yer no' mo' what become er me en de raf'. En when I wake up en fine you back ag'in, all safe en soun', de tears come, en I could 'a' got down on my knees en kiss yo' foot, I's so thankful. En all you wuz thinkin' 'bout wuz how you could make a fool uv ole Jim wid a lie. Dat truck dah is trash; en trash is what people dat puts dirt on de head er day fren's en makes 'em ashamed. (Twain, 83) 

I think about how some days the students like me, and the other days they want to hop on a raft to Cairo or put me at the base of Pompey's statue.  Just kidding; they don't want to kill me, I pray.

I asked my homies last night, "What if I become a full-time teacher?" They said, "We miss you when you're not here in the mornings."

"I miss seeing you in the mornings, too."

Unrelated to the above thought process, I found this Tooth Fairy letter from years ago.  Haven't I shared it with you already?  It's too cute, and I think I'm getting Alzheimer's.

We're still waiting for the magic, Tooth Fairy.  And I would like to retract the crossing out of "Clean the whole house in a second."  We'd still like that, too.

Monday, October 3, 2011


Mrs. Schlessinger's Honors sophomores will tell you the meaning of jingoism, especially when their sub mispronounces the word while lecturing from the PP presentation she's created herself. (The presentation took me hours, and I practiced it a million times.  How did I miss looking up that dang word?)

"The word is jingoism, Mrs. Suzuki, pronounced jin-go-ism."

"Say it again, Harris, along with its definition.  I'm so embarrassed up here and I need a minute to recover."

Harris says the word again, propping me up from my dictionary of shame.  "Jingoism.  It means extreme patriotism." (This is a beginner's definition, but his definition was better than what I had.  If you're really curious about the word, read here.)

Maybe I should purchase Catherine Maladrino's  American flag dress dress.  Then on Monday, during 2nd hour, I will sing the National Anthem while wearing that dress.


Friday, September 30, 2011


I have unnatural addiction to Ke$ha's "Tik Tok" song.  I know what you're thinking: She's such a trashy pop chart bottom feeder. Why would a religious gal like you want to listen to such filth?

I've listened to it every day, multiple times, for a week straight. "There's something wrong with you," I thought to myself while singing along, "Before I leave brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack."  I even bumped my base while doing tonight's drive-by visiting teaching.

Do you see the above posted picture?  Well, I'm not in it.  That's because this is my fourth month in a row doing a drive-by.  Let me define: cookies on a plate+note+ding-dong ditch+9:30 p.m. on the last night of the month=me.

The first line of this month's note went,

Dear Jenny,

I've reached a new visiting teaching low.  Sorry I have not been by this month (again), but I want to tell you how much I love you and your boys...

The church is still true and so is visiting teaching. (This last part was not in the note.)

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Iambic Pentameter and Bad Words

I thought this video would be an engaging intro to iambic pentameter.  It's so clever, really, and high schoolers, even the smart ones, get bored so easily.  They're so used to jumping from one information source to another.  They like their information to be quick and fast-paced, and they don't want to spend a bunch of time processing it.  That's what computers are for, not their brains.  All the information they need is just a click away, so why write it down or even memorize it?

New story:

Yesterday on the kindergarten playground, Alisia's and my conversation went like this:

"Ms. S., Ethan is saying bad words."
"What kind of words is he saying, Alisia?" I asked.
"Well he-he, well when he jumped off the swing he said, 'Oh my Bob!'" (Insert Lord's name in vain here.)
"I have to tell you that in some homes that's not a bad word.  I can tell in your home it is, so you can politely ask him not say that word around you."

Alisia, not satisfied with my disciplining measures, went on.

"He said a lot more bad words, Ms. S."
And before I could even stop her, "Moms don't let their kids say, 'Oh, spit!'" (You know what word to insert here.)

I covered my mouth to keep from giggling.  It's not often I hear a bright-eyed, pony tailed five-year-old girls spout out some real swear words.

"Alisia, I will talk to Ethan, but you just said all the bad words, too."

"Oops!" she said, covering her mouth.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Listening and Thinking

I'm eating a chicken salad sandwich while I'm listening and sweeping and scrubbing.  Do you listen to this channel or what?  Mrs. Virginia Pearce's stories have been making me tear-up and smile all afternoon, so now I may have to send her a BFF charm in the mail.  Don't get jealous, Babs.

I'm sprucing up this place for when my homies get home.  My house smells like bleach mixed with my favorite candle's scent. It's what makes my homies say, "We love when we come home to a clean house."  After I'm done sprucing I'm going to make salsa.  Then I can greet Mi Amor with my dragon breath when he gets home.

P.S.  I may have too many eggs.  Someone needs to write a list before she goes to the store...

P.P.S.  My homgurl just pointed out that one of the egg carton's expiration date was in April of 2010.  I guess this picture is old, but I thought I took it recently because I still have a four-stack of half empty egg cartons shoved in my fridge.  Also, the Claussen pickles are still there.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Mathematical Heir

Have I told you my overall high school math GPA was a D, a 1.0? I tell you this because I chose my college major based on prerequisites that required little or no math skill.  I did fine in my college math classes, but an English major only had to take Pre-Algebra, which didn't require use of a TI30 calculator and was really a review of what I didn't understand in high school.

Each night, this English major and her homgurl park their derrieres at the kitchen table and have a math par-tay. Our nightly "incapable leading the blind" math celebrations are mixed with lots of Diet Dr. Peppers and episodes of tear-jerking frustration (me) and endless teeth gnashing (my homegurl).

(Not to brag, but OUR overall homework score is a 94.4%, FYI, so don't put this gal out to pasture yet.)

But our nightly math parties are doing the two of us a disservice, so that's why we're signing up here, together.

Now we'll park our derrieres at Larry's table, and just maybe we can conclude our "par-tays" tear-free. Right, Larry?

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Ballet Girl

Here's my homegurl during her audition.  Her severity is inspiring.

P.S.  My homegurl just told me her posture is horrible in this picture, and I shouldn't feel anything close to being inspired. What do I know?

Friday, September 2, 2011

The Upchuck Bus

Last year's bus driver was mean.  My homies would come home everyday with stories about how he'd yell, and when he'd yell, a grey-white foam would collect in the corners of his mouth, and they said they'd stare at his teeth hanging from his gums like butter sticks.

"He doesn't brush his teeth, Mom.  And, he hates kids."
"He doesn't hate you, right?  You two behave, right?" I'd say.
"Oh, yes!" They'd say in unison.

I continued making them ride the bus until one day they came home and told me how the bus driver intentionally slammed on the breaks and made a bunch of the naughty kids fall from their seats onto the black, rubber floor.  I called the district office and complained.  Then I told my homies they didn't have to ride the bus anymore.

But now I miss how convenient the bus makes my life, so I'm making them try it again this year.  After all, I rode the bus, and in exchange I received an invaluable education.  I learned how to say bad words, had my first crush, and got a bus ticket for yelling "Bald Eagle!" out the window to a bald cyclist.  The whole experience put hair on my chest and made me a stronger woman, so on the bus my homies go.

But on yesterday's bus ride things got a little too hairy.  My homies said,

"Guess what?"
"We were really late for school."
"What happened?  Did the bus breakdown?" I asked.
"No!" Jacob P. puked his brains out and it stunk up the whole bus.  It smelled like goat cheese, so we rolled down the widows.  Only, the hot air blowing in from the outside made the bus smell even worse."
"What did the bus driver do?"  I asked.
"Well she parked in front of the church and cleaned him up.  Everyone started chanting, 'No school! No school! No school!'"
"So, now you don't want to ride the bus anymore, huh?"  I said.

"No.  We still do.  Tomorrow Zack is bringing his lizard, and he said we could pet him for a quarter."

Thursday, September 1, 2011

The Clique

When my homegurl climbs into the car after school, our conversations go like this:

"Who did you hang out with today?"
"Um...Bailey, Elle, and all those girls."
"Any boys?  Like, did you kiss a boy and like it?" I teasingly ask.
"Ewww, Mom! I'm not like that.  Besides,  I don't even have a crush on ANYONE."
"Guess what, Mom?
"Maddie quit the B.D.C..."
"What?"  I say in complete horror.

If you're not already aware, the B.D.C is short for the Barbie Doll Crew, a self-titled group of girlfriends who attend Hannah's school.  Their clothes are cute; they're selectively nice to others; and they're totally exclusive.  Our conversation continues.

"Why did Maddie quit?"  I ask.
"She just wants to do her own thing; she gets tired of people easily.  You know, too much drama."
"Do you wish you could hang with the B.D.C?  Looks like there's an opening"  I say.
"No way.  We'd have nothing in common."
"What does that mean?"
"They're not like me, Mom."
"What does that mean, Hannah?"
"I don't know, Mom.  I'm done talking about this.
"Where's my Paradise cookie?  You brought me one, right, Mom?"

I've always been so interested in how peer groups form and what criteria determines whether or not a person will belong.  The "cool group" at my high school called themselves the Brat Pack.  Again, like the B.D.C., it was a group of cute girls who really didn't notice anything or anyone on the outside of their predefined group.  Now that I'm an old lady, I realize there wasn't anything going on in their world that wasn't already going on in my own.  But when I was Hannah's age, I was so curious about those girls, and I would go out of my way to talk to them one-on-one, just to see what their secrets were. Why did swarms of girls aspire to be that "cool?" I really wanted to know.

I hope Hannah bypasses the phase of caring about being a part of a supposedly cool girl clique.  Because, seriously, what. a. waste. of. time.  As I add new friends on facebook, who used to be my old friends, I always find myself telling Bryce, "I wish in high school I would have been less attracted to cool and more attracted to interesting.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

It's Official

If your child is in Jill Schlessinger's sophomore Honors English at Highland High, I will be his or her new substitute teacher.  The kids adore her, and I'll have big shoes to fill while she's away.  That's why I'm balancing The Complete Works of William Shakespeare on my head.  I'm hoping it will all come back to me through osmosis.  Do you remember your high school teachers saying that to you?

We'll be covering Julius Ceasar, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and The Crucible, and I can't wait to dig in.  But mostly I cant wait to be around all those high schoolers.  I love watching them interact, and I actually keep a log of things they say to one another.  Just the other day this Justin Bieber look-a-like kid said to me,

"Hey, Mrs. S! Do you hear wedding bells?"
"No, Jarrod."  
"That's funny cuz me and this girl are getting married right now."
"You mean, 'This girl and I are getting married right now.'"
"Yeah, that."

I'd better write that one down.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Just Being Audrey

Have you read this book?  It's adorable; and if you're one of Audrey Hepburn's adoring fans, this children's picture book is for you (so is this UK-based website filled with Hepburn paraphernalia).

Just Being Audrey is about how Audrey has a passion for ballet, but eventually she discovers that she is too tall, and her height will always ruin her chances of becoming a prima ballerina.  So, she decides to become an actress.  But her most favorite job of all is being a mom.  Isn't that sweet?

The real reason I bought four copies of this adorable book is because my homegurl is changing dance studios, and we needed a thank you/parting gift to give to her awesome teachers at Dance Connection Too.  Like Audrey, Hannah wants to be a ballerina, and luckily, I don't think she'll end up being too tall. Thanks to some guidance from my good friend, Brandee (her daughter studied ballet for years), we're off on a new dance adventure at Ballet Etudes.

Don't you just love ballet?  My homegurl will dance in the Nutcracker, Swan Lake, and Cinderella. (Not Black Swan, though, right?)  I even tried on her pointe shoes the other day and tried to do a twirl-jump.  Not so pretty.

P.S.  Please make note of how my homegurl put a little piece of fabric under her costume so her cute little bellybutton wouldn't show.  I didn't even make her do it, because, frankly, I love me a two piece.  Remember, Mi Madre, when I wanted to wear a two piece so bad?  How did you survive me?

Friday, August 26, 2011

Dance for Heidi

OK, chicas, I've been missin' this little blog of mine.  So, to celebrate getting back into the groove of posting, my homegurl and I have put together a little dance for you and Heidi.
OK, this dance is actually for our stake's activity day girls.  They're having a ginorm shindig at our  stake center tomorrow, and I've been practicing the dance we're teaching them all week.  I now have a  bruise the size of a russet potato on my left rear cheek.  It's a deep violet color, and I'm kind of proud of it.  I keep taking a peek at it in the mirror, and I was even debating if I should post a picture so you could see.  But then I thought that might be a titch inappropriate?

Tomorrow I will post videos of the girls doing the dance, all 350 of them.  Also, Chelsea, from Dance Connection Too, choreographed the dance, so I can't take credit for all those smooth moves.  That's why we say "We love you Chelsea" at the very end, in case you were wondering.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

So Rude

Tonight mi Amor said he could relate to the man in this commercial, and now my eyes are welling up with tears as I'm typing these words to you.  He's so rude.

In all seriousness, though, I do jibber-jabber on and on about stuff that's inconsequential, just ask mi Madre.  When I was a girl I asked her so many questions and went on and on about nothing, she finally decided to respond with, "I don't know the answer to that question; you tell me."  She knew all those questions were just a front for trapping her ears with the sounds of my incessant voice.

P.S.  Do you know what's even ruder than the sound of my non-stop chitter-chatter? When a girl almost crashes into you because she's checking e-mail on her phone.  So rude! Right, Jill?

Monday, June 6, 2011

Better Than Chocolate

Run over to your nearest Wal-Mart and buy a year supply of lavender Purex Crystals.  Although the bottle's label says it's a softner, its main purpose is to freshen your laundry with a long-lasting scent that will mask that unbearable dogboy smell your homies and their clothes get after playing outside for 5 minutes.

Trust me, I've tried E-V-E-R-Y fabric freshener and this one, chica, is the very best.  If you want more product information, read here.

P.S. No one paid me to plug this product.

Monday, May 30, 2011

Summer Reading

If you are looking for some summer reading, here is Gilbert Public School's Battle of the Books reading list for 2011-2012.  Most of these books, if not all, were awarded the Newberry Medal or Honor.  My homies and I selected The View From Saturday, The Lightning Theif, and Everything on a Waffle for our summer reading.  We're also reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, because, you know, it's the greatest American novel, according to mi Amor.

Happy reading!

Frindle by Andrew Clements
Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer
Everything on a Waffle by Polly Horvath
Number the Stars by Lois Lowry
The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo
Among the Hidden by Margaret Peterson Haddix
Bunnicula by James Howe
Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell
The View From Saturday by E.L. Konigsburg
Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan
The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan
The Castle in the Attic by Elizabeth Winthrop

P.S. This post is dedicated to Jill Ison.

P.P.S Finding Daddy by Louise Plummer, the book my homgurl is holding in this picture, is a suspenseful thriller that your teen won't want to put down.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Women's Conference

Do you love this picture of mi madre-in-law and me?  The REAL reason I went to Women's Conference was to see this wonderful lady speak.  I adore Babs and all, but I really adore mi madre-in-law.  I thank her  all the time for raising such a wonderful son--you know, mi Amor.  I owe her a million-bazillion bucks for that foxy guy.

Anyhoo, a group of girlfriends and I travelled 10 hours from Gilbert to Provo just to hear her speak. We laughed all the way there and back as we discussed how to be better mothers to our children and better lovers to our husbands (in an appropriate RS way).  I came home a stronger woman, mother, and friend. 

Mi madre's talk touched all of our hearts and made us cry.  We think she did such a spectacular job that we suspect she'll be sitting in the red velvet chairs next general conference.

Monday, May 23, 2011


Guess who forgot to show up for her big day?  Bingo.

I'll post from jail.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Have a Nice Day

Two words: teacher's gift.

One of my homies loves his teacher more than he loves me.  That's why we had to buy her this blanket for our end of the year teacher thank you gift.  She's going to DIE because she loves Bon Jovi more than her husband, dog, and two cats.  She has vinyl quotes of his songs plastered all over the walls in her classroom.  Pray the blanket is delivered by this Thursday.

P.S. My homie and I are planning to sing "Never Say Goodbye" to her as our last and parting words.  Too over the top?

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Babs Squared

I have a deep love for two ladies by the name of Barbara. The first Babs is Barbara Streisand. When I'm feeling sentimental, I'll blast "Superman" in the car and sing it to my homies through my microphone made of air. They laugh and laugh and tell me they can see why I like her.

My dad told me once that Babs wanted plastic surgery to make her nose smaller. The doctors said the surgery could alter her voice and she'd never sing the same again. She opted to keep her banana-shaped nose, and when I'm wishing I could alter my AA (double As), I think of Babs's example. Chances are, my new chest size would prevent me from doing perfect belly flops this summer, and that, mis amigas, would be a shame.

My deep love for Babs number two stems from this talk. As you can see, I chased her down in the parking lot during Women's Conference and asked for a picture. Can you believe how awesome we are together? I'm mailing her a BFF charm tonight.

P.S. Take notice of how my fingers are creeping, closer and closer. Abnormal hand placement?

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

I Have a Dream

Actually, I have two. First, I want to become a Rockette. Second, I want to play the piano.

Sometimes I practice my kicks in my Bodyattack class. I can kick as high as Lori (my instructor, FYI), so I'm close to a professional's ability to kick. But, I hear the Rockette scouts don't usually cast gals approaching age forty, so maybe my Rockette ship has sailed?

Let me be realistic: I didn't land a spot in the chorus in our community's production of Annie, so my common sense tells me the theatre and dance aren't my gifts. And, sometimes, dreams are born to stay dreams. This rationale then moves me to my second dream: playing the piano.

I took years of lessons from old, grouchy--but talented--Ben. I played scales. I played "Fur Elise," and lied to his face about my practicing every day. I also helped myself to Ben's Saltines and hid his Marlboro Reds in the garbage while my brother was in his lesson. Then I quit piano, committing the biggest mistake in my life (there are many more, really).

When I turned eighteen and received my patriarchal blessing, one of the Lord's suggestions was that I enlarge my musical talents. Of course, at the time, I thought, too late, damage done. But as I've repeated the cycle of forcing my children to take piano, I have realized that I can fulfill this blessing through my children. I sit with my homies, most days, and make them play songs like "The Pink Panther" and 'Tingalayo" over and over again, and then I tell them they can never be piano dropouts. They hate me for it, but I tell them that it's my job to help them learn to play, my patriarchal blessing says so. The Lord says so.

But then, maybe that's not really what the Lord meant. Maybe He really wants ME to finish what I started. With that thought, I practice, most days, beginning my practice on my knees. You stink at piano, I think to myself as I struggle through playing "This Is My Beloved Son." He couldn't have meant for you to learn now, when you're close to forty and so much slower at learning new things. My thoughts continue, You'll never play like Verna, the ward organist. Just give up, you crazy lady. But I don't.

Thursday, March 31, 2011


I should be folding the the nine load laundry explosion on my bed, but, instead, I'm polishing off a box of Jordan Almonds. The last time I overdosed on Jordan Almonds, I busted my grandma-like molar and had to have it replaced with an eight hundred dollar crown. I'm now chewing them on the opposite side of my mouth and proceeding with caution.

In case you're wondering, my hatred for folding laundry stems from the hot summer days when Mi Madre would send me to the sewing room to fold Mt. Fuji. I would fold, sweat, and listen to Siouxie and the Banshees until sundown. This was the only way I'd be allowed to spend my nights patrolling the neighborhood with my neighborhood gang.

But our current laundry situation is dire. My homgurl has been borrowing my athletic underwear because she fears digging in the mountain, and my boys have been wearing flip-flops instead of asking if there are any clean socks. They want to avoid hearing me rant: "Do you think I was born to fold laundry?" and, "If you can't find your jeans, wear your church pants."

When will it occur to them that the only solution to this laundry situation is to pop on the iPod and just start folding? Never. Some of us never get it.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Wedding Flowers

I'm posting a picture of the wedding flowers I made for Gilbert's Couple of the Year. I heard Prince Will reads this blog, so I'm hoping he'll place his order soon.

I love this trend of using fabric flowers instead of fresh flowers. Fabric flowers offer limitless color options and are cost effective. When I was married, I had a fresh bouquet and a silk bouquet. I didn't save either and I regret it. The bride is having me make a boutonniere out of her wedding dress for her groom to wear at the dinner party. Isn't that so sweet?

Tuesday, March 22, 2011


I hadn't been to the gym in over a week, so when I went to Bodyattack yesterday, my behavior may have been a bit overzealous.

Have I mentioned that I LOVE my fitness instructor? It's just that I really admire her. The fact that she has served a mission, was a school teacher, has five kids and wants one more, is thirty-nine, teaches piano lessons, gets up at 3:50 (that's a.m.) to practice the correct choreography for our class, really impresses me. She's inspiring and immortal, I think.

Anyway, yesterday after class I ran up to her to tell her how much I missed exercising last week. Except, instead of saying how much I missed my workouts and her class, I said, "I missed you so much last week." Then I put my hand on her shoulder, cocked my head to the side and smiled and blinked--too many blinks.

The awkward pause forced her to give me an obligatory I missed seeing you too. I could tell she thought I was a little too...What would you call it? Obsessed.

I'm not obsessed. Sometimes I'm just a little too expressive. I just really love people, and Lori.

P.S. I will really know I'm abnormal if I hear the sound of crickets in the comment section of this blog. Please tell me you've done the same thing in your life.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Cupcake Girl

This girl is a cupcake expert, a cupcake foodie to her core. She's traveled from New York to Los Angeles, trying different varieties of luscious lemon chiffon, rockin' red velvet, and marvelous milk chocolate cupcakes. She's ruled that the Sweet Tooth Fairy (Provo, Utah's finest cake bakery) is the very best, and Sprinkles is a close second, along with The Coffee Shop and Magnolia Bakery.

But as I look at this picture of the two of us, I don't think about our trip to Casey's Cupcakes. Instead, I notice the feather peeking out from underneath her golden hair--how hip she is--and how she's almost as tall as me. When we talk, we look at each other, eye to eye. And when we hug, her head rests on my shoulder. And when we argue, I can no longer see the little girl who used to tug my hand and say, "Let's go play Barbies. You can be Ken."

She's changing. And when I'm really thinking of all that's right in my life, I fall down on my knees and thank heaven for the privilege of watching her grow.

P.S. Does my shirt remind you of Irene Cara's in Flashdance? Trust me, I'm wearing my religion under that shirt, even though it doesn't look like it. You weren't judging me, though.

P.P.S. Please take note of the lovebirds in the first picture. They were kissing and eating their cupcake like it was their wedding day. So in love.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Prince in Ruffles

I bought this lacy blouse at Last Chance yesterday. I'm attracted to this style of blouse, and I have purchased others just like it. But guess who doesn't like this look on me? Mi Amor. When he comes home tonight and sees me in this blouse, he'll sing in his falsetto, "Prince show. We're at a Prince show. A Prince show-o-o-o!" He'll think I look like Prince, all ruffled-up on the cover of his Purple Rain album. Maybe he's right, but you know what? IDC (I don't care).

Monday, March 7, 2011

I Finished the Sash

I don't know if the bride-to-be will actually wear this sash, but it turned out better than I had thought. I had nightmares over what flowers should go where, and I was nervous that it would turn out looking too homemade--something I barfed up at an R.S. Super Saturday. Do we even do those anymore?

Monday, February 28, 2011

Going to the Temple, and We're Going to Get Married

One of my most favorite young women, in the whole wide world, is getting married in May. Today I've been working on a bridal sash, in hopes of coming up with the most perfect piece for her big day. I will keep you posted on this project and will take better photos so you can get a better look. The sash is only half way done, so we'll have to see...Potential???

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Tyler, R.I.P.

Maybe there should be a comma between someone and help me? Maybe not.

For about a week one of my homies toted Tyler the plastic fish around in a glass bowl. Since the bowl was without a lid (How many times must I buy replacement Pyrex?), he would put Tyler in a plastic baggie when we had to go out. He'd slosh him around in water that turned a cloudy, filmy beige by the end of the day. I can't tell you how many times the baggie leaked--in the car, at the basketball game, and during the Pledge at the cub scouts' Blue and Gold banquet.

After about a week of cleaning up after Tyler and moving his lidless bowl around to different places in the kitchen--Tyler's resting place--I told my homie, "I don't like Tyler anymore. He doesn't lower my blood pressure." And he said, "Nothing does." So as I was cleaning the kitchen that night, I murdered Tyler.

When my homie woke up in the morning and found the note and his beloved Tyler, he said, "Tyler's not dead, Mom. See him? He still has one drop of water on him, so he's alive." I smiled and said, "He must be magic."

My homie walked to the water cooler and filled Tyler's bowl, plopping him back into the water just as it neared the brim. He put the bowl back on the counter and gave him some crushed Saltines for fish food.

I let Tyler stay for one more day, then it was over...

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Huffing Sharpies

I've spent the last two hours making this poster for tomorrow's primary singing time. I'm the new primary music leader, you know, and I now spend most of my Saturday nights plotting a way to wow the ties off the senior primary boys. There's a herd of them, and they can easily turn Singing Time into Torture the Chorister Time. One of my homies is a member of the boy herd, and he's got my back, most of the time.

The above posters are for the song, "The Books of the New Testament," and it's one of my favorite primary tunes. As some of you may know, its melody is the same as "Praise to the Man," also a personal fave.

I decided to outline all the words to the song with a big, fat black sharpie. I want to make sure the boys in the back can see every word. As I outlined all 190 letters, the ceiling fan above my head swirled and spread the fumes throughout our house. My eyes were watering, and I think I was huffing, so Mi Amor called down from the stairs and said, "Are you about done with that thing? It's ridiculous how much time you spend on this stuff." I told him to simmer down and that I only had 5 letters left to outline.

After I finished tracing my letters, I turned up my boom box and sang along to "The Books of the New Testament" about 200 times. I kept getting stuck on the timing for "first and second Corinthians." I think Mi Amor slammed the door on round 7 of my song practice, but I've got the song down pat now.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Bad Biff and the Worst Lunch

I biffed it bad in step today, a total derriere splat. My fall made a loud noise, and I heard some snickering from behind. I thought to myself, "You should have worn the skirt." But the skirt was in the hamper, and I was out of Febreze .

Today I volunteered in the school cafeteria, and I always like seeing what moms pack in their homies' lunches. Maybe the dad or, heaven forbid, your homies pack the lunches in your house. But in our house, it's me, and I hate packing lunches--HATE IT.

I'm always looking for new ideas, and I thought I'd share my top 3 faves from today.

1. fresh blueberries, a bran muffin, yogurt, and string cheese
2. antipasti salad, a roll (homemade, I even asked if it was), and dried apricots
3. turkey wrap, ants on a log, an already PEELED orange (Is that the nicest or what?)


1. boiled egg and a small container of tuna

Someone in the 4th grade brought the above mentioned combo, and I have one word: pungent. All of the kids around her were fanning their faces and saying, "What is that smell? Did someone die in your lunch bag?" Surprisingly, the girl wasn't embarrassed. She just smeared the raw tuna on a cracker and munched away. I was proud of her bravery.

Someday I want explode off my step like the ladies pictured above.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Cheer Hair Flair

Yesterday I busted out twenty bows for my homegurl's cheer squad. The girls on her team squealed and gushed over the bows as I pulled them out of the bag and passed them out. Their reactions rocketed my self esteem to Mars, but I really just made the bows for that sweet girl of mine.

Tomorrow she turns thirteen, and I'm stealing her away from school today so we can do lunch and shop for some skinny jeans (for her, not me). We gals like getting the party started early and such.

I just got back from step class, and I wore this black tennis skirt mi Amor picked out for me during Christmas break. I told him, "I cant wear that sassy skirt. Only the professional steppers wear that kind of attire." He said, "Get the skirt."

We bought the skirt because deep down I want to have moves like Jane Fonda and my step instructor, Lori. She's the very best teacher in AZ, you know.

Anyhoo...Today, I only tripped once, so I think the skirt has magic in it. The only problem is it's too short, like daisy duke short. So during push-ups, lunges, and over back overs, I was flashing my peaches to all my step ladyfriends. I kept shimmying the skirt down, but up it came, over and over again. I need some biker shorts to wear underneath the skirt, so maybe today we'll shop for skinny jeans and some extra long biker shorts.

P.S. The president of Creamies Inc. called today and said, "Please, please, please ask your Arizona grocers to carry Creamies." They would love to be back in our market. He told me that Walmart carried them but recently discontinued selling them. If you love Creamies, tell the manager at your local grocery store.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

No Title

I can't think of a title for this post, so I'm calling it "No Title." Maybe this is a sign you should stop reading now. I'm thinking a bunch of nothing is flowing in between these ears of mine.

I should be practicing piano, then reading my scriptures, then taking a shower. But, no. Instead I'm baking in my sweaty squaller and shoveling Muddy Buddies into my mouth.

I think I'm depressed.

I hate when my kids go back to school after a long break. It's times like this that make me think I should homeschool. But then again, maybe not. Last night while I was packing their lunches (Can you believe I gave them Lunchables? Is that even real meat and cheese in there?), I decided to heart attack their lunch boxes. If I can't homeschool, I can at least leave them little remembrances of our two weeks of Christmas joy we spent together. I've even put a picture up to prove how much fun we had.

In all seriousness though, I miss them when they are gone.

That last picture is a plug for eyelashes. If you want to get them done, and you live in AZ, e-mail me at, and I will give you the hook-up.