El Oso Grande

This morning I woke up with a throbbing in my noggin. I'm not often with headache, but whoah nelly, that is not true of this moment in time. But the truth of it is, the bone splitting nature of this headache is taking a back seat to the stomach tickle that rumbles in anticipation over the activities to be embarked upon over the next 48 hours. It's going to be an empirically good time. Just picture it to be something along the lines of (minus the angsty lyrical content):

 

Fam Pic

Getting an Eaton family picture is sort of like getting Paris Hilton to don a turtleneck. It nigh to doesn't happen, and not to be all, "I carry this family ON MY BACK!"-ish, but if the picture IS taken, it's really a result of my arm twisting. Since Cam and Elizabeth were nowhere to be seen this holiday, it wasn't high on the priority list since it couldn't be the complete gene pool, but on Sunday as we scampered out of the house for religious reasons, all spiffed in our finery, I suggested a photo shoot. Nothing doing. "We'll take it when we get home, Merzy, we promise!" As we drove up to the house listening to Road to Andromeda, my suggestion again fell upon deaf ears, as food is surely and ever the #1 focus of Mormons post-Sunday block. Fine. We took it tonight right before dinner. The thing is, I don't really care a snip if we're in coordinating khaki and navy blue, or if our hairs are did, or if we've got a fake waterfall behind us. I just want to mark on film (or digitality) the togetherness of the togethers, the fact that we were there and we all liked each other. Especially after spending ALLLLLL WEEK together, still liking each other is actually kind of a big deal. So in all our glory, here we are, the formidable Eaton foursome of Christmas 2008:

And here's the real family picture. Darn it, we are just so cool.

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. I actually had one for the ages. The excessive moments of gluttony were balanced out by the extremely effective exercise of frequently occurring laughter. These people are just unadulterated comedy.

Again, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

P.S. to the previous post:

I just got, along with those pictures, Cam's weekly letter. I've never known a missionary to write letters like this. Just in case you want a taste of my darling, favorite brother, here is his email from this week, warts and all:

Oooooo!!!

We have had a most excellent week. First of all it was tastey to talk to everyone. Everyone sounds so good and unchanged in their perfect Eatonesque ways. It was kind of strange hanging up because I felt like part of me was at home, but I was still in Ecuador. Didn´t really dig jumping between the two worlds. I prefer to be in one at a time. But it was a fun experience wasn't it?! Christmas was the same as any other day. People go after the Christmas Eve dealio. They open presents, have the feast, everything christmas eve and nothing the next day. Since then, we`ve been charging forward as usual.


This Saturday we had a baptism!! IN THE OCEAN!!! I never thought in my life I would be so lucky to participate in a baptism in the ocean. Normally we aren`t allowed, but my comp called the mish pres to get permission and either he´s really good a sucking up or the pres has mercy on his dying soul, he let us do it in the ocean. It was sureal. I had forgotten how good the sand feels and the water-how rich indeed it was! Perfect temp. All was perfect.Except for having to charge over some sharp rocks that were well hidden and almost tripping and falling completely in the ocean, it was a once in a life time experience. I was a witness with another person from the ward who`s working on his mission papers. I cannot tell you how happy that day was. It was also my comp`s birthday! We found an ice cream place like cold stone and just about died from rich ice cream. It was dirt cheap but really good. That was te first of many treats that we got that day. With christmas, his birthday, and a family that took us out to dinner this week, I a little more plump!

My comp also got me 2 6 packs of Pony Malta. YES! That has been wonderful. [Note from the sister: Does anyone know what the sort of a beverage Pony Malta is???]

Funny Eaton moment at district meeting. At the end of the lesson by the wonderful Elder Mundy, we played a World Cup Soccer Shoot out game. We used a tape ball to shoot the goals with the goal keeper on his knees. As my time came to kick, I aproached the kicking spot with a smart alec remark “They called me Big Toe in High School.” In the moment it was very funny, but unfortunately I didnt put my money where my mouth was and failed miserably to make a goal. But now Im known as “Big Toe” in the mission.

Sunday we did the confirmation. Towards the end of Sacrament Meeting I went up to Jhannella (Baptised personel) and asked who she wanted to confirm her. With little discussion with those around her, she decided to have me confirm her. Derrr I had never confirmed anyone before. I quickly dashed over to my comp who was at the sacrament table, told him what happened, though it didn`t matter-he knew by the suprised look on my face what had happened. With a quick review in the missionary handbook I confirmed Jhanelle during sacrament meeting. It was an amazing experience. Just about killed me, but was a great exerience.

We have an investigator who works in the political system. He`s extremely smart and he and his wife will soon be baptised. We`re putting the date with them this week. But the other day we went over to see why he hadnt come to the baptism. Turns out he had a meeting with President Correa-President of Ecuador. Upon hearing this news I couldn`t help but ask “Oh, and how`s he doing these days?” “Pretty good. He`s a little worried about the war with Columbia, but he`s good.” Yeaaah.

New years gets pretty crazy here. People make manikens and blow them up with fireworks. I`m not sure if we´re going to be able to work on new years just because everyone gets drunk and it gets a little dangerous. I´ll let you know what happens.

Sorry I didn`t get individual letters out today. Getting pics on takes a little longer. But we had a great christmas-stuffed ourselves full with 2 dinners and sweets all the week long. I hope everyone has a great christmas break and happy new year.

Power to the People

Elder Eaton

My Darling Brother

We got to talk to Elder Cameron on Christmas Day. He didn't cry, which is more than I can say for myself, and I was happy to hear his confident, hard working, missionary voice. Then we got these pictures this morning:

Yeah, I wouldn't cry on the phone with my sister, either. Baptism + Ocean = He's having a great time.

Car ride home from church today:

Scene: Dad turns on the radio to some dissonant jazz music.

Dad: Here are some atonal tunes for you.
Sarah: I call this Road to Andromeda. (She giggles at her own joke.)
Dad: Andromeda always is nice. I've SEEN it!! I've seen it through a telescope.
Sarah: (referring to Dad's rap star alter-ego, "Boana Six-Pack" which is pronounced "Sis-Pack") This arrangement is now called, Boana Cruisin Andromeda.
Me: In his Escalade.
Sarah: Pimp my Andromeda!
Dad: Drive By Shooting at Andromeda crossing!
Me: Andromeda No Mo!

All within 30 seconds of leaving our churchful services. What would Cameron think of us now?

People that aren't married get to blog things like this without feeling pinches of guilt:

I'm doing this quickly before the sabbath.

3 things:

I actually try to make myself not look like a total twerp on this blog. However, today those efforts shall dribble fruitless, for I am directly or indirectly focusing on 3 areas of life in which I do not excel (I do, however, know how to use Microsoft Excel, if that gets me any sorts of points). These 3 areas are: Exercise, Cooking, and Navigation.

1. I went running. 3 days ago, and not once since, I went running. My annual run consisted of a whole 3 miles! Yes, there may have been a bit of walking, but 3 miles?! Anyway, the point of this picture is to show how neat it is when your running shorts, which you've had for 11 years (almost to the day, as they were a Christmas gift for the former sophomore-in-high school track runner), match the Prop 8 campaign shirt you wore to Costco one Saturday (and resiliently paid for it with a few dirty looks), and then these 2 things ALSO match the Christmas ornament that one apparently receives upon coming into money at Anthropologie (my gift certificate was stuck inside it. Rather cute).

2. I cooked. Twice! I am little by little becoming rather fond of cooking, and plan to try a few Miss Fancy Pants recipes soon. But in the McOmber family (especially the Palo Alto McMcs) there is a love for German Pancakes. Zee German Pancake ees unt lovely treat een zee Chreestmas time. I made it on Christmas morning, and for the first time, I was pleased with something I cooked first time around. Please ogle now at the poofy mountains and quite edible valleys of the finished product. For some reason, this is very good news for Zee German Pancake. It means you did a good job. And is it just me, or does my forehead look enormous in this picture?

The next day I made it again, and this time tried something new, and eet turn't aout even bettah! Please now ogle AND drool at the Mount Everest-ish poof and the even MORE edible valleys of the finished product. It must be my late Grandfazer McOmber, who served his mission in Deutschland, whispering into my novice ear the tricks of the trade that ultimately allowed for such a whoopingly successful pancake.

3. I got a GPSweeet for Christmas! My last name should be "Is-Lost." Meredith Is-Lost no more!!! I used this thing all day today and found fast and frilly routes, with traffic time projections and all. The only complaint I have: how is it that I can have this thing talk to me in a myriad of languages, but I only can have a raspy voiced woman communicating directions? Why is there no "Tall, Dark, and Handsome Male" option on the set-up menu??

2 things:

#1 My fortune cookie implored on Christmas Eve: "Don't underestimate yourself. Your social skills are needed by others at this time." I knew it! Guys, I'm here for you. For reals, man.
#2 Whoever said money can't buy happiness didn't see my nephew Christmas morning, and had never crossed paths with a Wii.

Why Christmas is Better When You're 26:

Or maybe it would be more appropriate to say, "Why Christmas Gets Better With Age:"

#1 They say to look through the eyes of a child in order to really relish in Christmas properly. Not so. When I was a greedy little weasle, all I thought about from the Autumnal Equinox on until wetting my pants for glee Christmas morning was, "presentspresentspresentspresentspresents!!!!" Of course I was, in part, mindful of the reason for the season, of course I felt stirrings of truthful manifestation in my bosom as I portrayed the virgin Mary in our re-enactment of the Nativity, and of course I was grateful for the life of Christ. But really, I would have to confess here and now on my small slice of internet that only time can hand one, or has handed me, the difficult and blissful experiences that are the consummate curriculum of appreciation for the Lord's sacrifice. The gratitude that vibrates within for my knowledge of Christ's overwhelming and incomprehensible Atonement is something that I hope (with continued effort on my part) proceeds to evolve and deepen. Maybe I've lost some innocence, but I've also shed some of the narrow-minded obsession with things, yes, things. I like to think I've gained over the years a greater share of the wisdom that leads us to feel more keenly the joyful significance of Christmas day. And please, as a favor to me, please please tell me I was not the only wretched child who largely thought of the boxes wrapped with pretty bows during this time o' year, because that would make me feel even more wretched now than I was then. And plus, would I really be right to believe you in any case?

#2 They (again with that lousy "they") say it's more fun to give than to receive. So how can a youngling digest that breed of fun? Since child labor laws were in the 80s what they are today, the most I could afford to give someone each bday or 25th de December was something a la gratis, that is, paper covered in crayon or a hug or a kiss. Now we all know my hugs and kisses are abstractly worth their weight in mighty fine gold, but (time out: that means no mighty fine gold...I take it back, my hugs and kisses are/were worth an elephant's weight in mighty fine gold...) since I became ripe enough to ingress my own smack, it has been much more rejoice-esque to bequeath unto the many disgustingly marvelous people who are my frequent associates THINGS to make them happy. I say that adulthood brings with it the soul invigorating experience of gifting. While we know that our own possessions aren't everything, it's nice to throw that out the window and impose materialism on someone else. Hopefully it is presented by Crap Wrap, LLC.

Line on Bottom: Christmas is better with a stronger testimony of Christ's divinity, the acceptance that things are nice but don't ultimately fix problems or singularly make us happy, but also that in the case of those we love, it is wonderful to transfer tangible niceties. Kapeesh?

And now I'm going to watch a movie and soak myself in home-brewed fudge, which, no matter how many rounds I go at it, never turns out quite like Mother Meri's.

FHE

My calling in my ward is FHE co-chair. Last night's activity was watching Elf whilst flexing our service/charity muscles and writing letters to missionaries in our Stake. With many people already departed for holiday glee in their tierras materna, it was a small, cozy group of us scribbling away. I still have some Costco cookies leftover, macadamia nut/white chocolate chunk included, so if you happen to be happening by and hear a growl in your tummy, feel free to steal one.

Anyway, before I sent out these letters to these Elders and 1 senior sister, I had to read through each note. Michael "Sanchez" Santiago by far and away wins the award for...whatever.

#1 to an Elder in Puerto Rico

Elder,

I was told in the MTC in Spain that if I worked hard in the mission field, that my wife would be be beautiful. Something like the harder you work the hotter your wife will be. Bullocks. Utter bullocks. I ain't married and I worked very, very hard. Like I was an amazing missionary. But now I know you should work hard not for what you get our of it, but for what you can give as a servant of the Lord on His errand. You will perform miracles if you have the faith. Merry Christmas, Elder.

#2 to an single sister in her 60s, serving in Salt Lake, Family History style:

Thanks for your hard work. [As a command:] The Lord bless your great service. Keep up the great work. Feel free to call me when you come home. I'll buy dinner (949) the-rest-of-his-real-number-which-i-won't-post-out-of-respect-for-his-privacy.

#3 to an Elder in Ogden, UT

Elder,

If I had to choose between making out with a beautiful girl or knocking doors and serving the Lord, I would probably choose making out. But what is more important? Making out is a mere temporary pleasure. But service to the Lord changes lives for eternity. Your works echo in the eternities. You can perform miracles if you have faith in the Lord. That kind of service brings eternal pleasure. May you see miracles, Elder, is my prayer.

There were more. I'll stop there.

Happy Christmas FHE to all and to all a goodnight!

My 12 Days of Christmas in 1 for Saturday, December 20, 2008

12 seconds spent watching the live performance of the song where are you christmas? by a platinum blonde in a satin shawl in front of south coast plaza's macy's. some would say that those were 12 seconds too many, indeed, 12 seconds i'll never get back again. now, some might disagree...i'm pretty sure i saw jeff wipe away a tear of wonderment and heart warmed appreciation.
11 extra miles on the road when i got on the wrong freeway after dropping off a friend at the long beach airport...or maybe a few miles more than 11, considering the fact that i made it to inglewood before paying attention to the exit signs.  [fuming]
10 pieces of fudge consumed by some spineless sugar addict (me) at jeff's house before christmas shopping lift-off
9 tattoos on my forearm (the names of musical sensations the jonas brothers, n*sync band members, and criss cross)
8 x 5 minutes to find a parking spot at south coast plaza
7 of your mamas at the aforementioned mall throwing down the big bucks on fur coats for each of you.  yes even!
6 non-caffeinated beverages at starbucks (mom got an ice water; does that count?!  who gets an ICE WATER at starbucks????????????????????)
5 companions at roger's gardens and the fashion island "toppest tree"
4 times sarah o'fair-ah and i rehearsed christ child with accompanist extraordinaire ruthann evans, to be sung at church the next day
3 times i thought, "why don't they carpet this stupid mall? people (i) could walk for hours and hours in ballet flats on carpet."
2 trips into baby gap
1 viewing of baby mama (amy poehler was riding the comedy fusion wave way more frequently than was tina fey, and i'll not discuss the matter further.)

and a partriage in a pear tree.

to watch it is to love it.

this short little movie, semi-high on the fuzz factor, has me wrapped around its pinky. 

i love you, jimmy stewart.

story time: my most sincere apologies

about 2 months ago, a total betty named nicole moved into my ward and (get ready for your mind to blow) apartment complex.  she hails from UT, is an RN, a beautiful brunette, speaks portuguese, and i love having her around.

hold up, i need to explain something else: i had some bad luck with keeping cell phones alive this last year.  don't ask me how, but i went through 4 very quickly.  as cameron departed for his mission, he bequeathed unto me his cell phone in a moment of oozing generosity.  he had but one request: that i not delete any of his contacts, as he'd surely want to transfer them over to the new swanky phone he'll get in 17 months when he returns home an awkward farmer's tanned dude.  cool, done and done.

ok back on track.  so due to the fact that in my apartment complex, you are unable to swing a dead cat without it hitting nicole's apartment, when i need to tell/ask her something or just visit, i just gyrate on over.  on occasion people have asked me for her number, and so i dug up on my/camer's phone nicole's utah area-coded number, and passed it along.  the last couple of days we've been trying to get a disneyland trip together, and i was most displeased that she never answered my phone calls and never texted me back.  [growl and sigh]  then this morning i was invited to disneyland by our friend brad and wasn't sure if i could go (we unemployed people are insanely busy, you know).  a few minutes later i got a text from an unknown number that said something to the effect of:

"hey meredith!  it's nicole!!!  what is this about you not coming to disneyland?!  please come."

uh, who is that other nicole that i've texted and whom other people, through my sharing technique, have also texted and/or called?

to   if i know!

well, no, i know, it's got to be one of cam's friends, to whom i issue my most drippy apology for causing you confusion.  i only hope you're not contracted to an AT&T stingy text messaging plan.  and, as ever, MERZY CHRISTMAS!

thar she bloweth.

This is the first piece of furniture I'm coveting.

I love dark wood, and I love being encased.

I believe this piece of furniture begs a new, properly functioning macbook, an "I Heart Jim" Office mug to herd my pens, my wire Eiffel Tower and Big Ben thingies from Target, a picture frame or two, and the smushiest office chair around.

It would be my small spot.

I covet, I dream.

Happy 30th to my darlings!

30 years ago this day, there were nuptials.  Nuptials of joy, nuptials of -- dare I say it -- love, nuptials of which I am a product.

Happy Anniversary to 2 of the silliest cats I know, and here's to millions more of the same!

(10 bucks says they celebrate by eating homemade fudge sauce on fat-free Dreyers and watching Horation Hornblower.)

2 pictures from the days of yore for a Monday at 12:15am:

Dad was taking the picture.  Check out mine and Elizabeth's hot pastel outfits.

I get to talk to this fat baby on Christmas.  This was during Mom's blue eye shadow era, and oh, but what an era it was.

things that i can get behind, and ARE indisputably worth the guacamole:

1. a swiffer.  now i am not THE cleanest person ever to tiptoe around clothes piles in a room, but i do enjoy clean floors.  no, i LOVE clean floors.  i love them so much i want to MARRY clean floors.  me and my honey bunch clean non-carpeted floors keep things happy at home with a SWIFFER.

2. Dericious.if anyone just said, "those look like rodent droppings!" you're invited to leave the blog forth wit. THIS is bridge mix, and you can buy it from several different locations, but my favorite is the bins at albertsons. i like to mix several kinds of bridge and/or trail mix (of the same price) and dump them into a jar at jeff's house so 1) he and his roommates pick me as their favorite 2) i'm over there often enough so that when i'm in the mood for some chocolatey treats, chances are i'm within arm's length of the jar, and 3) it's not at MY house so when i'm on the internet at 1am for no good reason and i decide the time is ripe for a little snackety snack, they're NOT what i end up eating 5 million of. bridge mix is naturally an assortment, but often that assortment involves some sort of a nut, so if you're allergic to nuts, it's not worth a trip to the hospital and i wouldn't eat it if i were you. also, the other problem is that since nuts are for some reason priced akin to heroine, bridge mix is not exactly your top ramen. it's $8 per pound! yikes! YET as this post title states, i have deemed bridge mix as something i can get behind, and something that is so worth those dollars.

3. an egg shell foam mattress pad
ahem, PAPA NOEL, i don't have one of these right now, but i had one in college, and my sleep patterns and i miss it terribly. done and done.

things that make me want to

1. yesterday i went to lunch with katie weaver and amber corbin and their cute little muffins. 

amber: katie, i thought you were moving to riverside.

me: oh no, i can't picture you ever living in riverside, katie.

katie: i'd rather live in utah.  you're half way there at that point!

2. last night i went on a no-booze cruise, where i danced my little heart out.  i don't know if it's something in the water, or if music's gotten better since my mission, but i have so much more fun cutting a rug than i ever did at any stake dance, and if you were there for any of those, you know that i could flail a limb in them days.  oh, the dancing hangover i'm currently abiding.  please pass the advil and another cup of the swilling sauce.

3. tonight i'm going to a snooty holiday party for which "women may wear cocktail dresses if they choose."  finally!  a reason to wear my sternum dress!  

i love this movie:

i probably watch it 73 times each christmas season.  it makes your innards glow with fuzzy gratitude.

and it's very G rated, except for that one scene in which george bailey is temporarily being a louse of a suitor and so in mary hatch's aggravation and disappointment she answers her gold digging mother's question of, "george bailey?!  what's he want?!" with the uncharacteristically shocking, "he's making VIOlent love to me, mother!"

and remember that one time at the dinner table when we were on a movie quoting rampage and my naive 9 year old brother picked THAT line to throw out there at an amplified volume?  the meaning of this line was surely, to him, a mystery, but quote it he did, and the rest of us fell silent and started gingerly scooting our broccoli around on our plates until probably elizabeth picked it up again with while you were sleeping's "i love y' new cologne!"  "it's called paris guy, it's from france!"

merzy christmas.

P.S. to the previous post

Not in the name of terror, but perhaps jarring stupefaction and surprise, I have to wonder what was going on in my niece's head when they snatched this shot of her a few days ago?

Maybe her older siblings were doing their custom version of the Hokey Pokey. That could evoke such a reaction from anyone.

Tower of Truth

I adore Disneyland, especially during the final 3 months o' the year, but I'm not quite sure they make good on their claim that it's the happiest place on earth. It certainly is happy, but the happiest? Debatable. However, they did accurately choose a name for their ride "Tower of Terror," which I experienced on Friday night with some of my homies. I finally know what it looks like when I'm truly, most authentically, screaming my guts out.

(you might want to click on the image to get a better look.  also, ten points if you can spy or are one of the 7 homies in the shot!)

I hadn't screamed so loud since the day I thought Alyson had dropped her pet hermit crab in the running disposal.

even if you know me, you might not know that

1) i can find the alto line to almost any melody.

2) my two kanine teeth are FAKE. they grew in as tiny upside down triangles, and so i had to get veneers on them when i was 15, just after my braces were removed. they weren't cheap; i've actually had 49 marriage proposals in my life, but when each suitor became privy to the fact that he would one day have to pay for their replacement (nothing lasts forever, even in dentistry!), it turned into the deal breaker.

3) i despise decorative bed pillows.

it seems every girl i know loves and has them, but to me, those little euro squares, neck rolls, etc. (and i had to look those names up on aubrey's blog because to me they're all just called "stupid baby pillows") symbolize an obligatory waste of time. their existence means that if/when (emphasis on the if) i make my bed, i have to chase them down from whatever corner of my room i've chucked them into the night (or 3 weeks) before, and then i must most daintily arrange them in a bouquet of cotton or linen or what have you onto the poofy douvet cover (which i am ALL ABOUT) under which i have slumbered and dreamed. then just a number of hours later all that exquisite arranging must be undone, and you must find something to do with the little cutsies all over again. there. i said it. i despise them, and wish for just a simple pillow at the head of the bedsky. done and done.

4) i love the carpenters. karen carpenter, what a voice. another drippy old singer i love is judy collins.

5) when i "go to my happy place" my mind escorts me back to the day i spent at versailles with mum and sarah. particularly the walk down to the little hamlet "peasant" village that marie antoinette commissioned; they have a 4 horned billy goat there! WHO ELSE has a 4 horned billy goat, i ask you?!

6) i've never been stung by a bee or broken a bone, but when i was 11, the last school day before christmas break, i fell off the monkey bars and fractured my humeris. what is the humeris, you ask? why, it's the bone betwixt the elbow and shoulder, and i did wrong by mine that day. the real tragedy, however, was not that my parents were not at home and in 1993 cell phones were non-existant for the common man. the real tragedy was not that i had to sit and wait in the school nurse's office for hours before they tracked down an emergency contact (3 cheers for julie weaver) who took me to her house and let me eat all the english toffee i wanted while watching a christmas movie. no, the real tragedy was that because of the scintillating humor of most of the then-irvine 5th ward, at the christmas party the next evening i had the following conversation oh, i'd say, about 390 times:

them: OH! and what happened to you?!
me: i fractured my humeris.
them: [chuckle chortle] golly! that's not very HUMOROUS/HUMERIS!!!!! [dissolved in hysterical laughter]
[cue me trying desperately to keep my eyes from rolling to canada and back, and aborting the conversation, looking desperately for sanctuary in the company of elizabeth and annie.]

7) ringo starr is my favorite beatle. actually, i think when i was younger i just wanted to be different from annie and elizabeth, and they were in love with paul, and i really didn't care for george or john, so my heart was always inevitably going to go to ringo. in interviews i've seen with him in recent years he comes off very bitter and blah, but i've always been a sucker for a drummer, and i think his schnoz is cute. ringo starr, you're such a grump you probably don't believe me, but i love you.

8) i am always cold. always. except for when i walk across hot coals.

9) i hate fedora hats. actually, i hate most hats, at least on mine own head.

10) i had a car "nudge" before i got my license, but never since.

and now i'm bored with this post.

a period piece

over the thanksgiving holiday, without wheels to deal of mine own, i started to go just a weeeeee bit stir crazy. some text messages were exchanged, an evacuation planned.

since there was no more shopping on the planet to be done, it became quite clear that a feature film was the only agreeable time burner, i mean, activity in which lindsey and i wanted to participate.

four christmases? australia? no! wait! what were we THINKING! there we were, 2 girls with an affinity for all things ancient, moldy, and corseted. 2 girls who typically view feature films with 2 boys who frown upon all things ancient, moldy, and corseted. the answer, once again, rang clear and true. to the theaters! make haste, make haste!

besides a few surprise moments that could have made more of a woman out of me if i hadn't been forewarned (justify justify justify), it was, as period pieces usually are, terrific.

alarm sounds like:

these are pictures that are pretty juiceless, but i stare at them in my iphoto application, feeling guilty for not giving them their moment in time. that ends now. tonight i put on your blog surfing plate a collection of photos, photos that sample random corners of my life for the last 3 1/2 months in california.

since being laid off in october i've been filling in a lot for a friend at her job. i really do love the company, and they order FABULOUS pens from staples (i would know because part of my illustrious duties are signing off on the deliveries!). these pens are most condusive to doodling in the not-much-to-do hours.

the aforementioned company is right across the street from fashion island, so on my lunch breaks i was privileged to observe the putting together of the world's largest fake christmas tree!!!! sarah used to call it "the toppest tree" and it was basically the meaning of life to her. given her current relationship status, we just don't mention the toppest tree anymore, we don't want to complicate things for the girl.

eh, this is from when i was just about to get lost trying to meet up with melissa lundquist. i may have a horrible sense of direction, but i can multi-task, driving and photographing a beauteous cloud burst (without hitting the stopped car in front of me)!

thanksgiving. mom was sick as sick can be, but still able to turn up those mouth corners a bit.

en route to surfing and pretty darn excited.

i went to elizabeth's right after the bebe was born to entertain her other 2 "old news" kids. :)

notice the look of emptiness and extremely frustrated boredom in mine eyes. this was at my last job, and i like to look at it to remember that while i miss working, i don't miss working there.

thanksgiving again. niece was also sick as sick can be -- look at her little watery, puffy eyes. but my what a cute sweater!

kind of a creepy picture, but i voted!! hear that arnold?? i voted. remember how in america that's how many things are decided?

and finally, my favorite. this is what it says on the elevator in an office building i visited a couple of times. thank you, thank you. i'll just listen for the "whoop" then, if i'm worried the building's on fire.