Laundry

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.

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?

Awkward

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.

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.

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).

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?