Email Forward from Cousin Erin = Hopeful cure for Tired Sleeplessness

USING ONLY ONE WORD

Not as easy as you might think! Now forward, change the answers to suit you, and pass it on. It's really hard to only use one word answers. Be sure to send back to the person from whom you received it!

Where is your cell phone? Table
Do you have a significant other? Jeffreykins
Your hair? Longish
Your mother? Resourceful
Your favorite thing? Jeffreykins
Your dream last night? Stressful
Your favorite drink? Diet
What room are you in? Bedroom
Your fear? Burns
Where do you want to be in six years? Mumsy
Where were you last night? Brad's
Something that you aren't? Alert
Muffins? Apple
Wish list item? Camera
Last thing you did? Drive
What are you wearing? Pjs
TV? Sometimes
Your pets? Nope
Friends? Hilarious
Your life? Blessed
Your mood? Sleepy
Missing someone? Yes
Drinking? Nope
Your car? Cleanish
Something you're not wearing? Shoes
Your favorite store? Crew
Your favorite color? None
When is the last time you cried? Yesterday
Where do you go over and over? Work
Five people who email me regularly? Jeff, Sarah, Ashlee,
Mom, Elizabeth
My favorite place to eat? Natraj
Favorite place I'd like to be right now? Monaco
Four people I think will respond? Nobody I, II, III, IV

Meredith got glasses.

Meredith has never had them before.

Meredith was told last week by her optometrist that she has astigmatism.

Astigmatism is when the invisible whatever over the color of your eye is oval, when it should be circular.

This is why things appear blurry much of the time in Meredith's world. Because of Astigmatism.

If Meredith were still in Costa Rica they would say it is an Estigmatism.

Meredith has a headache from wearing her new glasses today.

Meredith's optometrist warned her of this.

Meredith looks at her reflection and thinks, "Huh?? Who IS that??"

Meredith's supposes she will get used to it.

Narcissism at its finest!

Get ready to drum up your pity laughs, because I'm forced to work on a Sunday, I'm hungry, bored as H---, and this is all I can think to do....a TAG!!! I stole this from Annie Warner's bloggety blog.

1. WHAT TIME DID YOU GET UP THIS MORNING? I haven't woken up yet.

2. DIAMONDS OR PEARLS? A kiss on the hand may be quite providential, but diamonds are a girl's best friend...

3. WHAT WAS THE LAST FILM YOU SAW AT THE CINEMA? I had to think about that one... and I couldn't remember so I texted Jeff to ask and it was....Duplicity. Not my favorite, but still 2 hours well spent.


4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW? Uh, something like American Freaking Idol! I need to intoxicate myself with a couple of crime dramas or something, STAT, because now American Idol has only a Power Christian, a short skinny Southern dude (whom I love), and that girly guy left.

5. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY HAVE FOR BREAKFAST? I'm not a big breakfast person, as I usually get a stomach ache if I eat before noon. Sometimes I have Edamame. I know, ridiculous.

6. WHAT IS YOUR MIDDLE NAME? Kathryn, and I've always been very proud of it.

7. WHAT FOOD DO YOU DISLIKE? MEAT. Barf. When I see a hamburger, I see a cow standing in tall grasses, chewin some cud, swishing its tail to get away the flies. If some farmer didn't shoot it between the eyes, it'd still be eating, pooping, reproducing...basically I over-analyze meat, just like almost everything else in life.

8. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CD? Meh... Easy Tiger by Ryan Adams, but it's hard to say. Sarah played something for me the other day that was awesome and I'm going to snake it from her and it might bump Ryan out of the running.

9. WHAT KIND OF CAR DO YOU DRIVE? Scion xA. Last night Jeff told me it's a smart car with a few more inches and seat belts.

10. WHAT IS YOU FAVORITE SANDWICH? Grilled cheese with thick bread and lots of cheese....ooh I could do myself in with those. The cheese + bread combo is my own personal brand of heroine (What did I just say?).

11. WHAT CHARACTERISTIC DO YOU DESPISE? In others, the characteristic of not paying me continual compliments, ad nauseum et infinitum.

12. FAVORITE ITEM OF CLOTHING? Suit me up with a turtleneck any day.

13. IF YOU COULD GO ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD ON VACATION, WHERE WOULD YOU GO? Oregon, Washington, and Vancouver. Preferably on a boat. Not really. Basically anywhere that would get me a passport stamp would be interesting and dreamy to me, but I suppose I'd choose Monaco first. I've always wanted to go there for some reason.

14. WHAT COLOR IS YOUR BATHROOM? Blue and White

15. FAVORITE BRAND OF CLOTHING? The older I get, the more I like J. Crew.

16. WHERE WOULD YOU RETIRE? My retirement plan when I was young was La Jolla, right across the street from the temple. Now I say France, and if my posterity wants a penny of inheritance, they better come visit m' old bones regularly!

17. WHAT WAS YOUR MOST MEMORABLE BIRTHDAY? 16. Elizabeth and I had a double bday party, and my crush of all crushes, Billy to the Nelson, came. Woot woot!

18. FAVORITE SPORT TO WATCH? Ryan Gosling. Oh, I mean, uh, golf?

19. FAVORITE HOBBY? Knitting? I fly by the seat of my pants right now, and my hobbies come with me.

20. LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Yesterday. Somewhere along the lines on my mission I became tough as nails and my tear ducts were soldered shut. In the time I've been home, that decayed and now I cry fairly easily. As Jude Law said in The Holiday, I'm a weeper.

21. FAVORITE PLACE YOU LIVED? Costa Rica and Huntington Beach (besides home)

22. FAVORITE QUOTE? "A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal."

24. ARE YOU A MORNING OR NIGHT PERSON? Eh, I'm a downright beast until about 20 minutes after I first crack open my eyelids in the morning, but beyond that I wouldn't say I'm really one so much more than the other.

25. WHAT IS YOUR SHOE SIZE: 9.5

26. PETS? The sprightly and innocent Meredith of the 80s loved all things furry. Now in my snobbish adulthood, I can't stand dogs licking me, shedding their fuzz all over, and don't even get me started on demonic cats. I'd like to drop them all into a tub of vinegar. I appreciate animals' right to thrive and live, just not on my watch. Maybe I'll have a beta fish for my kids one day.

27. ANY NEW AND EXCITING NEWS YOU WANT TO SHARE? My mom makes the best fudge sauce known to mankind!!!!!

28. WHAT DID YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU WERE LITTLE? She-ra, Princess of Power, or a Rock Starlet

29. THINGS YOU ARE LOOKING FORWARD TO? Despite the lame destination, 1 week of vacation which begins next Sunday.

30. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CANDY? A Milk Bordeaux from See's Candies

31. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FLOWER? The Sweet Peas that my mom propagates every year

32. WHAT IS A DAY ON THE CALENDAR YOU ARE LOOKING FORWARD TO? July 11, my bday, baby! Pony rides and juggling for one and all!!!

34. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? A Sees Chocolate truffle from church -- in Irvine, they give you a pity chocolate on Mother's Day even if you haven't procreated, and I love them for it.

35. DO YOU WISH ON STARS? Huh?

36. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON COLOR WHAT WOULD COLOR WOULD YOU BE? The one that's easy to use.

37. FAVORITE SOFT DRINK? Any diet cola with crushed ice

38. FAVORITE RESTAURANT? California Pizza Kitchen or this little Greek place Jeff introduced me to

39. SIBLINGS? 2 sisters and 1 brother

40. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR? Christmas

41. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD? Whatever toy my older sister had received for her bday.

42. SUMMER OR WINTER? Eh, I'm bursting out of my skin with excitement for both by the time they switch shifts.

43. HUGS OR KISSES? Depends on who it's coming from ;)

44. COFFEE OR TEA? I'm Mormon, so nix the coffee, and anyone who says herbal tea is good is lying.

45. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA? The former. :)

47. FAVORITE STORE? Costco. Always something free to munch on, and you never know when they're going to sell something like Citizens of Humanity jeans for a screamin deal.

48. WHERE DID YOU LAST VACATION? Las Vegas, and I'm stealing the proof from my boyfriend's family blog.

49. WHAT IS UNDER YOUR BED? Oh my gosh. Bolts and bolts and bolts of fabric my mom's stashing away. My room in Irvine, which I'm inhabiting for the month of May, is only 10% my own now. Apparently in the Eaton family when you move out, your mom's shiz moves in.

50. WHO IS THE FRIEND YOU HAVE HAD THE LONGEST? Elizabeth was there showing violent affection from Day 1.

51. WHAT DID YOU DO LAST NIGHT? Jeff and I went to CPK for dinner, then watched a movie at his house and snuggled. My idea of a perfect evening, actually.

52. FAVORITE SMELL? Orange rolls

53. WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF? Drowning, burning, or being mortally wounded.

54. SALTY OR SWEET? There comes a time each Sunday evening when I have overdosed on sweets and want for some fritos and guacamole, but on a regular basis you could say I want sweets.

55. HOW MANY KEYS ON YOUR RING? 3 -- 1 for my car, 1 for my parents' house, and 1 for my old HB apartment (which I need to return still....)

56. HOW MANY YEARS AT YOUR CURRENT JOB? Ha!! Let's see if I make it to 3 months :).

57. FAVORITE DAY OF THE WEEK? Friday

58. HOW MANY TOWNS HAVE YOU LIVED IN? 9 in order: Farmington, UT/Palo Alto, CA/Irvine, CA/Provo, UT/San Jose, Costa Rica/Alajuela, Costa Rica/San Isidro, Costa Rica/Las Vegas, NV/Huntington Beach, CA

59. FAVORITE THING TO DO ON YOUR DAY OFF? Sleep in, rob a bank, pluck the wings off butterflies, eat lunch with friends, run errands, be SCHEDULE-LESS!

There. That took up some significant time on this duty-less shift of work.

UK Elle

Today I was in Barnes & Noble on my lunch break, walkin around lookin around, picking up this, reading the last page of that, when I found myself in the periodicals.  I saw Jennifer Aniston giving all us shoppers a sultry glance by way of Elle magazine.  I wanted to see if she would mention in this article anything about the demise of her and John Mayer.  Not that I'll ever know John Mayer personally, and I can't help being annoyed with myself for even caring in the first place, but he seems like a world class rug burn to me.  I enjoy from time to time his music, I appreciate his abilities, but the love stops there.  I wanted to know where her love stopped, because I have an inquiring mind.  And I like to do mindless things for an hour of every day (if not many more).

Anyway, I started reading the article, and I was floored, yes, floored.  Instead of being this toady, kiss-up article written by a cool-kid table back scratcher (like every article in a fashion magazine seems to be), it was crisp, it was melodic, the sentence structure was here and there, it was fun to read.  In the most splendid, snappy way ever conceived, the person who wrote this article whipped up a piece about an ordinary person with a high profile job, and served it a flambé.  I kept thinking, "Ooooh that's the coolest way to say that!  WHY I didn't think of that first!!!"  as I often do when I'm reading things written by Oscar Wilde, David Sedaris, Louise Plummer, Ann Dee Knight, Annie Garlock Reynolds, and Ken Craig.

About the time my ears had started smoking for both thrill and envy, I turned over this magazine and saw that it was the British copy of Elle magazine.  3 pounds 50.  Of course. (!!!)

Bah, must the English beat us at ALL things artistic?

But anyway, it was another one of those, "you lazy git" moments.  If I ever had any talent in writing, I certainly haven't been doing anything to fluff and primp it for the last several months.  In so many ways and for some lame reason (I can't afford to have a shrink analyze why) I've stopped trying to better myself at something I do love to do.  I usually stop writing well when I start worrying so much about what other people will think of it.  Anyway, as Yoda might have said, "Wake up call I had," and I need to put writing back into my brain, and work on it in the miscellaneous areas of life, like this here bloggy blog.  

I bought the UK Elle, to remind me.  And it cost an arm and a leg, thankyouverymuch weakened dollar.

The End

Yes I know that's not Jennifer Aniston, but this is apparently last month's UK Elle, and this is a much more modest outfit, and Gwyneth Paltrow is my favorite actress.

this might just show how selfish my life is, but something has been really stressing me out, and if you read on, you'll find out what.

i'm going on a cruise in less than 6 weeks. i've never been on a cruise before, but what they tell me is we're going to glide along the mexican riviera, basking in the UVs for 7 days and 7 nights. the problem just comes in at the part where i'm in my bathing suit probably all day (again, what "they" tell me), for the duration of that time.  oh the exposure of it all.  gasp. wheeze. cough. choke. when we bought the tickets it was in a moment of, "shall we do it???? we have 2.4 seconds to decide!!!!! ok!!! yeah!!!!" and i think deep down i imagined may 17th would never come. it was just a moment when i could be spontaneous or safe, and i chose spontaneity (pat pat on the back) but then didn't have to do anything but pay some money.  the rest lay in a horizon too distant to contemplate.

if you read my blog you probably correctly assume it's so entitled because of a great affinity for turtlenecks that would be mine.  i have strong opinions about my garb, and the consistency lies in the covering up of my mortal casing. i think it just looks better. it feels better. i love tights, coats, sweaters, pants, closed toed shoes, etc. i love going to the beach, the pool, the JACUZI (oh how i love the jacuzi!) but after an hour or so I can't wait to be swaddled in some heavy duty clothing.  exposure = bad.  

don't think me ungrateful or unenthusiastic. TRUST me, i am thrilled about the cruise group, the passport stamp, the free room service, the time off work, the snuggle time, etc., i just keep coming back to the scantily cladiness of it all.  i have looked on line for bathing suits probably twice a day for the last month, stopped into any store i'm able.  bathing suit shopping has got to be the most demoralizing activity known to femme fatale humanity, and on so many miserable levels.  and after all this, i've only found 1 that seems to be suitable. i bought another but returned it because i felt sure it would change everything i stand for as a human being ;).  so i can't spend any more time looking for a bathing suit, because i finally realized i'm not even earnestly seeking.  i just want cruise attire to suddenly be my wide leg jeans and black and grey striped turtleneck.  holding out for a miracle? i decided instead i'm going to stock up on some of these beauties:

a cuter compromise i've never seen.

per nat's request:

She is so good at cutting hairs, and so fun to talk to, it's just ridiculous.

Thanks, Natalie.  I can see again!

Vote 2009!

Yep! It's your consitutional right.

Trim the bangs and keep em blunt, orrrrrrrr

Grow em out and do the swoopy thing.

I'm serious, you have to give your opinion. You're the ones who have to look at me.

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.

another one

no, not another update from an obsessive aunt, another tag from a narcissist. here is one i haven't seen yet, and 'twas plunked upon my laptop lap from natalie cooler-than-your-momma dulaney, featuring:

a bunch of 8s (having zilch to do with a proposition):

8 favorite tv shows:

*please note: i don't have 8 currents, so i'll also list favorite tv shows of the past.

1. grey's anatomy (although the current season is breakin my heart. they're trying too hard.)
2. the office " 'would i rather be loved or feared?' both. i want people to be afraid of how much they love me."
3. gilmore girls 2005 -- horribly bitter that jess isn't rory's husband o' love.  
4. lost -- although i don't know how much umph i have left in me for it.  if matthew fox gets killed off, so does my stamina for the show.
5. the closer 2006 -- i now actually believe deep within myself that kiera sedgewick is southern.
6. 24 seasons 1-3, 5, and i will be on the edge of my seat for the season premiere next week. extra inside track advice: to be a jack bauer protege all you need are 3 ingredients:
a) a flashy sprint cell phone
b) a gun
c) expansive lungs so you can yell out commands, and then yell it a bit louder the second time, and then split ear drums the third.
MOVING. ON.
7. 60 minutes 
8. primetime glick (is there anything martin short cannot do?)

8 favorite restaurants

1. california pizza kitchen -- grilled vegetable salad, please.

2. pain du monde -- greek salad sans olives, please.

3. boudin's san fransisco whatever -- spring salad

4. natraj indian tandoori -- just don't kiss anyone for 36 hours, there's no brushing or flossing that flavor out right away.  time takes time.

5. that one place i ate at one time and really liked.

6. golden spoon (it counts.)

7. yogurtland (yep, that counts too.)

8. the diet cokery

8 things that happened yesterday

1. finished knitting a beanie for a spaycial miss julia

2. went to costco with my mum (which seems to be a new saturday tradition)

3. proceeded to stuff face with many samples at costco with my mum

4. saw lots of prop 8 proteskuteers in costa mesa.

5. talked to my nephew on the pheletone.

6. attended a susan easton black fireside

7. saw 007 with a lovely group o' peeps

8. played phone tag with alyson

8 things i'm looking forward to

1. the invention of 0 calorie brownies

2. a freaking job

3. teaching credential

4. meeting a spaycial miss julia

5. CHRISTMAS

6. THANKSGIVING

7. the new yanni album

8. my dvd of nightmare before christmas being deposited into my mailbox in a cozy little amazon.com pouch

8 things on my wish list

1. a new mac notebook

2. a husband for erin, preferably one who resembles gregory peck

3. 20 minutes with f. scott fitzgerald, another with my grandpa, and maybe 5 with paul mccartney

4. a summer home in monaco

5. the economy to be on the up and up

6. my beloveds to be sprightly and hap-hap-happy

7. cameron to one day marry a really cool girl (yes i already worry about that.)

8. harry potter volume 8

8 people i tag

1. elizabeth

2. margaret

3. dre

4. lindsey a.

5. aubs

6. erin mc mc 

7. hils mc mc

8. TAMN

i'll never be sick of photo booth. ever.

happy blog day to me

i started my family's blog a year ago today.  now excuse me while i do 1 round of the macarena in celebration.

******************

thank you. 

i've blogged almost every day in the last year.  my friend lindsey once sent me a link to take a quiz that ascertains a person's addiction level to blogging.  i snorted and thought about how unpleasant it would be to have a computer tell me, "sheesh.  you are 103.4% addicted to blogging.  you should take up chess for some balance.  moderation in all things, girlfriend."  some might consider my prolific blogging pathetic, some heroic, and most people probably don't consider it at all.  as my grandmammy often said, "you won't worry about what people think about you when you realize they don't."

it sounds silly, but blogging has taught me a lot about myself.  how vain and yet self-deprecating i am.  how much i love to talk about my family.  what great friends i've got.  how antsy i was in vegas.  

i know it's like a "join the club" break down, but there were blips of time in the last 365 days that were extremely difficult for me, as in, before i was born, maybe someone said up above, "2008 is going to pulverize you into graham cracker crumbs.  don't worry, it won't last forever."  when i read back on some old posts my stomach ties in knots because i can hear the struggle in my voice that i was trying so hard to ignore.  i can read how much i was trying to distract myself with anything, and a big distraction was... (you guessed it) blogging.  google has supplied a fountain of therapy even more effective than baking artery clogging brownie concoctions.  

one nice thing about blogging is it's a grand old time whether you're good, bad, happy or sad.  i have to say that right now, life is about as perfect as i'd ever want it to be.  (ijustneedajobbeforeihavetostartplayingmykazooonthestreetsoflagunabeachwith mynewsiescapinfrontofmetocollectcharityshillings.)  i'm healthy, having a ball, my family is doing well, i frequently think to sing a song of redeemed cheer.  without being sure if i'd ever deserve it, so many stress suitcases that had strapped themselves to my ankles (either for myself or for loved ones) have dissipated.  i appreciate that.  i am grateful for so many blessings, for this phase of my life.  there i go being religious.  i'll say it again: i am grateful for the overwhelming plethora of blessings which are mine, mine, mine, for whatever reason.  

and so, here's to another year of blogging, and for the therapy, the record keeping, the narcissism that it shall be!

i want this shirt for christmas.

confession:

rather than from pulpit, i choose to divulge from the blog:

[deep breath]

my name is meredith, and i have gray hairs.

17 in my last count.

whew, that feels much better.

my hair has been highlighted or dyed back to its natural color for the last year, so they've been nearly impossible to catch, but since i'm miss thrifty buns these days, i had let my roots grow a snitch, just avoiding the purchase of anything.  the roots of all but these 17 little devils are unnoticeable.  17.  gray.  hairs.

i choose to open this up now because last week someone was giving me a back scratch, they on the couch, i on the floor.  suddenly this person was combing through my hair with his fingers.  he said he was "checking for lice," you know, routine thing, but i'm suspicious, most suspicious that he had discovered the 17 gray hair roots, and was getting a kick out of it.

it started with 1 when i was 12.  i thought it was a blonde hair.  i got all excited, thinking maybe puberty, instead of handing me zits and other horrors, was going to just turn my hair from nearly black to a vibrant blonde.  after some careful analysis from female family members and girlfriends (boys still had cooties in them days), it was decidedly gray.  weird,  but whatever.  i didn't pluck it out because it was a good conversation topic in random times when it was noticeable.  

by the time i was 18 the gray hair had immaculately conceived 4 more little ones.  and then, at last count, it's a full blown polygamist family of 17.

this never bothered me, because a) obviously i wasn't old then, i'm not old now, even if my hair color juices have run dry in 17 little deposits, and b) my mom had the same thing happen so it must be something i inherited from her, and as long as i can blame my misfortunes on other people, i'm happy.

and
c) she won an academy award in all her grayness.  so although it's veiled by some feria, it's probably those 17 hairs that are awarding me ridiculous amounts of success.

100th Post (unbridled applause!)!!!

for my 100th post, i thought i'd go with the classic

100 o' my faves!!!

and they said dreams no longer came true!

1) puppies

2) butterflies

3) long walks on the beach

4) the carpenters' song, on top of the world

ok enough of that.

instead how about a martini glass full of caffeine free diet coke and a youtube.

cheers, my darlings.

almost tastes as good as the real stuff. and that's a total lie.

and now presenting, sir ian:

quick fix

my friend says if you're having a bad day you need to just go buy a new lipstick (unless you're a dude).

i say if you're having a bad day you need to go buy a new haircut.
nat, you are a genius.

brain vomit

i used to get a kick out of thinking my dreams were more like visions*.

this all started in 11th grade when i had a dream that 2 friends from different social pools started dating. both stood on their scoff boxes, and yet, about 3 months later, boom! a couple took flight (and 2 months later crashed and burned, but hey, i never said my vision included wedding bells).

fast forward to 2006. my missions papes were in, and the mail carrier and i were, of course, becoming fast friends. i was absolutely dying to know where i would go on my mission. one night i had a dream that i was called to serve in the virgin islands. haha! salt lake, don't bother sending it in writing, i know where i'm headed. then the next night i had a dream i went to costa rica. that one, interestingly enough, put a stop to me thinking my dreams were dictating my destination, since going to 2 missions at once is something i'm just flat out not talented enough to do -- i'll be the first to admit it.

i went on to have dreams that carried my missionary service to sweden, germany, and then finally i dreamed my family played a prank on me and took my real call, and made a fake call, had me read both letters, and try and figure out which was the real one. one was to texas and one was to ohio, and in my snobbery i said, "well who cares? they're both stateside!" and then i woke up on a tear soaked pillah. then got the snot-nosed wind knocked right out of me with the whole stateside-is-boring theory as soon as i entered the MTC. anyway so i thought, when i received my call, that since costa rica HAD indeed been in one of my dreams, i could still have my visionary groove....? maybe? since i ws asking myself i answered, "yep," i thought, "i still got (a little bit of) it!" carry on, carry on, carry on.

a few months ago i had a dream an ex-boyfriend of mine no longer prefers women, and i'd find out if that makes me visionary if it weren't for the fact that i don't want to know.

fast forward to last night. this is what lindsey calls a brain vomit dream. and it answers the question once and for all that my dreams are dreams, not visions, not indications of the events of the rapidly charging future, and this sits just great with me. last night's dream involved a juicy love triangle including

and

and

and david hopkins was also there wearing some awesome boots.

so yes, brain vomit.

*i hope everyone who reads this blog knows me and my sarcasm/exaggerative tendencies/self-deprecating-yet-perfectly-content-with-herself/self-appreciating-self-centered-yet-gloriously-humble ways. and if you don't, it probably would be a very annoying link to ever click on, but i don't care, because it's ALL ABOUT ME, as is, pretty much everything, right???

P.S. to previous post:

*i loved e's audacity...maybe not so much that she'd use it on ME, but i love that she had the audacity to use her role as the eldest to better her life. there comes a time when we all gotta just look out for #1.

*and, the hike up mt. kilimanjaro's likeness was completely worth the time spent at the sparkling beach.

when i was but a lass i shared a room with my darling older sister. she was my hero, she was everything i wished i could beeee, and i could fly higher than an eagle, cause she was the wind beneath my wings....

one thing i admired was her brains. another thing was her self-awareness. and another thing was her audacity to use and abuse the prowess of her age and wisdom on her well intending and ADORAble younger sister, i.e. ME. i would venture a guess that on an average of 5 nights a week as we drifted off to the visionary land of sugar plums, i would get the massage request. she was so sneaky at it. with the pillow smushed against her ample cheek, she would begin her back pain campaign.

"merzyyy?"

"yes?"

"my back hurts so bad. i had to like, run to school today with my math book AND my social science book in my backpack. i am sooooo sore."

"but lizzy, i'm almost asleep."

"just 5 minutes...pleeeease? i'll give you a massage for 10 minutes when you're through."

*note: my back was in near perfect condition. i pin it on the 4 months of ballet classes i whined through as a 5 year old, but my posture was flawless and my back never bothered me, nary a twinge. therein lies the sneakiness of elizabeth. she knew to promise me something that wouldn't hurt or help me, so if she never paid up i wouldn't really care.

"but i don't need a massage, elizabeth."

"i promise it'll be good for you. loosen up the muscles. my back hurts, come on."

in the end, i would climb over from my trundle bed to hers, and 5 minutes would inevitably turn into 20, by which time elizabeth would have hit a heavy REM cycle, from which even a fog horn could not wake her. and i wouldn't really mind, because i hadn't really cared for a massage when my muscles were never tight to begine with. i was happy to oblige deep down, despite my complaints, because she was my hero, and she let me tag along ad nauseum et infinitum.

however.

i figure she owes me a good 390 hours of massages.

i climbed 200 vertical stairs then a mountain to return to our parked car on this last saturday's beach excursion. this with a purse and a beach bag beladen with trashy magazines and an idiotic vampire book and a 7-11 purchase, now that can tighten a muscle or 2. and i have some belongings left behind in vegas that i definitely have not forgotten.

elizabeth, consider the massage debts called in!

Correction:

i only refer to the awkwardness from a mission.

3 random bits

-i slept in until 15 minutes before i was supposed to be at work!!! mercy me!

-a co-worker said to me today:
her: oooh, i like your shirt! let me see the top of it, it's hidden under your jacket.
me: yeah, i like to layer stuff.
her: yeah, that's so mormon.

-in the last few days, about a million people have told me i look just like the girl on this month's cover of the ensign, or they've asked me if i have a sister who's into religious modeling. this has been bugging me ad nauseum et infinitum, and i'm not sure why. maybe it's because her bangs are greasy. whatever the reason explains why i want to look like me, me and only me, nobody else but me, only me, it'll have to wait, as my shrink is on vacay in barbados this week and out of service range. jk.

i'm not a whiner. or a wine-o.

the term wine-o just cracks me up. i just recently heard of it for the first time and suddenly everyone and their aunt jemima seems to be saying it! good times.

anyway, i'm not a whiner, either. i just have this little thing to say:

confession: i hate cooking. as far as i'm concerned, cooking can take a long walk off a short bridge. but not all cooking, because i love food cooked for me, i just refer to the cooking that i am asked to do. someday i'll find a homeboy that i want to spend the rest of my life nurturing and cooing over, but never cooking over. someday i'll have muffins of my own and i will love them more than myself, but not enough to cook for. it's the sad truth, or so i like to tell meredith, version 2008. but it's for their benefit! really! i'm no good at it. while a student at byu i went a full 8 months basically living on protein bars. by the end of it i was in desperate need of chlorophyll, but gee heck, i was alive and kicking and had a bit of muscle definition. then i went home for summer and sobered up a bit, thanks a la meri eaton's steady purchasing system in the produce department. but anyway my roommates that year of college had teased me that i'd settle down with a picket fence and when my husband came home from the office and my kids scampered in with dusty knees i'd be in an apron, unwrapping promax bars and placing them on plates, calling in a sing-song voice, "supper's readyyyyyy!" whichever roommate HADn't just told that joke (again) would chortle in agreement and i'd give a chuckle and think, "yeah? so??"

why do i stink at it? i don't know. i follow the instructions. i just don't have the....the cooker's wrist, shall we call it. those in the cooker's wrist club know how to drizzle olive oil, can knead bread dough, get the pit out of an avacado without destroying the edibles, know how often to turn over the grilling chicken without burning it and somehow making all the greased qualities you'd initially given the pan STAY AROUND so the chicken doesn't start to leach on to the teflon. *pant pant pant* i'm getting sweaty palms just remembering the last time i tried to grill chicken. and chicken i don't even want to eat. bleh.  since most of the blogs i read are done by mommies sometimes i happen upon a post that has a detailed description of what dinner will be and my inner alarm system cries out in desperation, "ABORT ABORT ABORT."  sigh.  i'm sure it's all so very tasty, but the idea of actually preparing it in truth begins to make it start to repulse my stomach and taste buds.  how can that be?  i'm just...i'm just a mess is what i am.  :)

it's something not unlike holding and/or burping a baby. i can do that. i can do an ok job as in i know to hold the head, i was initiated into the irvine babysitting brigade at age 11 (for other paying people...i suppose i was an eaton babysitter from the age of 6), i know how to keep them elevated and i know how to love love LOVE them to pieces. kinda like i know how to keep the rice from actually catching fire.  but i don't have that MOMMY HOLD down and i don't have the method to make it taste MOUTHWATERING down. it's like as soon as you bring a baby home in a car seat you just KNOW how to hold a wee bairn so they not only love the crap out of you, but they are so comfy they could fall asleep in the middle of a "monster ballads" concert. i've seen it myself countless times. especially with elizabeth. in the 90s we'd go babysitting together and be about on the same level of infant-know-how-iness. but the day her first nugget was born i called her at the hospital and she was somehow...different. her voice was just different! my big sister had become even bigger, and before mine own ears! i love her for many reasons, one of the top ones being what a wonderful mummy she is, but it's something i won't be able to share with her for a while. we share almost everything else, except for kris jex and vegetarianism, but it's like she became a mommy and just KNOWS how to hold any baby now, the chip was implanted with the epidural or something positively sneaky like that. every baby, like every version of a spinach salad, is a bit different, but elizabeth could not only make every single one of the babies on earth sweetly secure in her arms, but she could martha stewart the spinach off every spinach salad posted on www.recipes.com.

how does one acquire the cooker's wrist? to h if i know, because my elizabeth-mom-chef theory is not a blanket one.  rachel ray is not a mother and word on the street is she really knows what she's doing.  in 30 minutes, even!  that giadi gal was whipping up culinary perfection long before her baby girl was brung.  it can't be limited to mommy-dom endowments of knowledge. practice? please don't tell me it's practice, because in that case i have been practicing for YEARS and it definitely is not making anywhere NEARLY near perfect. it's way below the equator of perfect. and i'm ten times more a ragamuffin than a perfectionist, but if i'm going to mess up my mascara by chopping onions, and if i'm going to handle dead animal innards for the ones i love, it better make their tastebuds sing a song of joyful satisfaction.  so far all i've heard is crunching.  slow crunching.  i crunch reluctantly, as do they.

another thing: fruits? there. veggies? done. mother nature put them there in its fresh and delish form, throw it in the microwave with some water in the bowl or eat the apple and stop when you see seeds. humus? you buy it at the store or if you're in irvine and dad has a minute you throw chickpeas and other stuff in the quisinart and BAM!  i'm happy with my limited abilities and feel nourished.

maybe the love i should at some point feel for a certain choice dude + spawn would be enough for me to at least try to move beyond humus and broccoli. i'm willing to consider the possibility. as for  and until that moment, i'm 100% thrilled with the knowledge that my dinner tonight will be the product of the blood, sweat, and tears of some professional, and placed in front of me piping hot for my indulgence.