Monroe can say "Sh!t", and Other Things

Yep. She sure learned that from both of us. I don't mind swears really, and neither does Hondo, but we have both realized after our beautiful one-year-old yelled out "SH!T" after I did (because I dropped a gallon of milk on my finger and it hurt!) that we should be a lot more careful about what we say around her. She's a little parrot right now, saying everything I say and learning words like mad. She's moving from just repeating everything I say into saying words that I don't necessarily teach her but that she has obviously heard (example: "box." Why would I teach her that word? but she walked up to a present on Christmas, pointed at it and said, "Box." She's a genius.)

From our Friend Christmas Party

We had a very blessed Christmas. Hondo completely spoiled me (not complaining!!!) and I got some fabulous new toys. A speaker/ipod dock, a jewelry box, a Kate Spade purse and iphone case. But the real doozy is.... wait for it...

A piano.

WHOOOP WHOOP!

It's digital and we don't actually have it yet, but should get it today or tomorrow. They were out of stock (right before Christmas, go figure). Hondo wanted to just tell me what it was but I said no I needed him to draw me a picture, so this is what I got to open on Christmas morning.

My favorite part is that he wrote "It's a piano!" at the bottom. Just in case I couldn't tell.

He got the full set of Harry Potter books, a movie he wanted, socks, some new running shoes and I registered him for a Half Marathon in May. I registered myself too but we'll see how gutsy I'm feeling come May. 

Monroe is funny, she doesn't like the act of opening presents, she wants them to be already open. So I'd try to get her to tear the paper and she would just grunt in frustration that it wasn't already open. She got some new books (which are as much for me as her, I can only read "Put Me In the Zoo" so many times a day), some bath toys and a Disney Princess chair. She loves to climb on things and has already colored all over the new chair with a blue pen.

You can just tell from the look on her face that she is a rascal. 

But really Mo is the best kid. She listens so well, I've had people compliment me when we are in public on how well she behaves, which I appreciate. I'm so grateful for how happy and healthy she is. She is teething a lot now (molars) and hasn't been sleeping as well as she used to but that is hardly something to complain about. Especially since when she takes naps during the day, I can too.

I think we've adjusted into me being home during the day pretty well. I never felt like I was ready before, when Monroe was littler I would get restless easily. Now that we can play and talk all day it's been a lot easier for me to be home. I was really ready to be done with the company I had been working for, this last year was so crazy there and I don't envy the people who are still working there.

I don't really set New Years resolutions because I'm horrible at setting goals. But in 2012 Hondo and I made it our goal to get out of debt, and we have (almost) done that. It is a huge relief to be able to move forward with our lives. 

2013 should be interesting. Our 2 year anniversary is in February already, and Mo will be 2 in July. I've submitted some applications to graduate schools to start in the Fall semester, although i'm nervous about my chances of being accepted. We could move, if school takes us in that direction. Hondo's job has continued to bless our family, and it looks as though it will continue to do so as long as we stay in this area. We shall see.

Welp. See ya later.

The Coolest People You Will Ever Meet

October Week 1

I didn't realize how truly great my parents are and were growing up until I moved out, which probably a lot of people could say. But once I saw how absolutely insane other people's mother's were, and how crazy their father's were, I began to appreciate how good I had it. Yes, we were poor, but we had a lot more going for us than most people.

Out of every thing though, one of the things I admire most about my parents as a couple is their politics.

This may come as a surprise to some, seeing as my parents (particularly my Dad) are very, very Conservative and I am very, very Liberal. Although I do not agree with much of their ideas and they for sure don't agree with mine, I have had several experiences that have impressed me. I have seen my parents sitting at the kitchen table, discussing and researching the candidates for an upcoming local election together. My mom told me later that even though they discuss things together, they choose to vote personally and don't necessarily always vote the same. I know that they do not believe in voting strictly according to party lines, but will vote for who they believe is the best candidate, even if that means they vote for a Democrat. I'm grateful to know that I have parents who care, who take their right to vote seriously. It is a great example to me that they can discuss issues and not necessarily agree or vote the same, but have the respect for each other's opinions to not allow it to cause an issue at home.

I also love my Dad's ghostie pants dance and my Mom's "Bland" moments.

Being the 5th of 6 kids I've had the unique opportunity to spend time with each of my siblings and their significant others as the "third wheel" in multiple instances. Because of this, I feel blessed to know my in-laws well and have a personal relationship with each of them. I have also been able to observe them together as couples.

The Sadlers and I go way back. There were several Christmas Breaks and Summers where Jen and I lived together/lived in the same town and spent our free time together. I think I was the first Mahan to officially meet Nick. I have been there to see the many ups and downs they have had in their relationship. They are in one of the most trying downs of their lives right now, and I can only pray that things are never this hellish again. But I admire their willingness to fight. They both, particularly my sister but I give him credit too, have refused to give up on their relationship. In a world where divorce is all too common, and people split because of "irreconciable difference" or lesser reasons, it is admirable that they have stuck things out. I love them both, and I pray that things do work out for the best for their family.

I also love Jen's hilarious openness about all things personal and Nick's obsession with his hair.

The Mahans have been together the longest out of all of the couples. They started dating right after Adam graduated high school. They got engaged the day Kara graduated from high school. They just had their first baby, Paisley, and they have built their home in Broomfield after moving around and being apart for several years while Adam finished his service in the Marines. Through all that time, one thing I have noticed and I love about them as a couple is that they always do small, nice things for each other. You can tell that they care by looking at how they treat each other. I remember once Kara was at our house and Adam got home and he gave Kara a mini Nalgene bottle because he saw it at the store and knew she would like it. She was so excited because she likes small things. You can see how Kara decorates and prepares for Adam's birthday, making it different and special every year. I love to see that. It inspires me to try and do the same in my relationship.

I also love Adam's giggle and Kara's inability to laugh hard without also crying.

The Griffiths are so talented and have done so many things together as a couple that I'm pretty jealous. They have traveled together, played together, suffered together, had babies, you name it. What I admire most about them is that they are truly chasing their dreams. Matt is a phenomenal musician, and their mutual love of music has led them to Nashville, where they live with their two girls while he pursues his career in music. I love that Stef loves him and is so supportive of his dream. It takes a lot of guts to move away from home and family to make a living doing something you love that is crazy hard. I wish we were more like them, unafraid (or at least brave enough) to go after something we loved.

I also love Stef's facial expressions and Matt's bizarre comments.

The Glems are the ones I have spent the most time with, having lived with them on and off for the first 3 years of their marriage and in the same town since they started dating. Holly is my other soul mate, and I'm grateful that I have been able to establish a great relationship with Eric as well. Spend ten minutes with them together and you will see that they have the most genuine mutual enjoyment of the other's company of anyone I've ever met. They are best friends before anything, and with everything that they have been through as a couple and still are going through even now, they love each other so much. They both think each other is hilarious, and they laugh and play together almost as if their love is new, even though they have been together for several years.

I also love Holly's freak outs and Eric's wheeling and dealing.

Kelli is the youngest, and although she has an adorable boyfriend that I love, I will not put any undue pressure on that relationship by writing about it here. :) So it's just Kelli, my only single sibling left. Her and I had some time together at home without any other siblings since we are the two youngest, and let me tell you, no one can get under my skin and bug me more than her. She knows exactly how to push my buttons and she is not afraid to do so. (We get along better now that we don't live together or share a room.) She is funny and has a strange sense of humor that is hilarious and weird all at the same time. I love her a lot, but I admire her commitment and loyalty to people and jobs that she loves the most. She has worked at some great places with some great people, and also some not so great people, but she sticks it out a refuses to sink to the level of some other more immature people who try and tear her down. (PS if I ever meet those people, I WILL have a thing or two to say and they should be scared) She is great at rising above, and I love that about her.

I also love her permapart. I miss it.

As you can see, these are some pretty cool peeps. You should try to be their friend, if you aren't already.

"So how's my butt?" " I don't know, are we grading on a curve?"

Let's talk about Seattle.

Hondo's birthday was last week (which I wrote about here.) He has been practically begging me to go on a trip, a "real vacation" where we could spend some time together somewhere that wasn't here.

I debated many locations, and searched for deals for several weeks before settling on the idea of Seattle a couple weeks ago. I told Hondo about the surprise the day I booked it because I am the worst at keeping surprises secret, and also I hate surprises myself.

Our flight was super early Friday morning. We landed in Seattle at 8 am. We were super tired but we couldn't check in to our hotel til the afternoon so...away we went. We found a place called Lola's for breakfast that was absolutely delicious. Everything locally grown, all natural farm raised animals, fresh squeezed juice and not a regular soda to be found. Mexican Coke is allowed, but not anything else. (This was the case at almost every restaurant we went to. What is this obsession with Mexican Coke? I don't even think it's good! And are they thinking it's healthier or something? Because really...I doubt it.)

Seriously, if you go to Seattle go eat here. Totally worth it!

Since we had time still we decided to fill it by sight-seeing right away. First stop--Space Needle. It was a little cold but not too cloudy so the observation deck was great. 

We also went to Chihuly Gardens, which was awesome. If the exhibit comes to your town, go see it. I heard that it is especially cool at night. What must it be like to be the guy who pioneers an entire art form?

We were so tired that we went after lunch at Red Mill Burgers we went to our hotel and took at long nap. Which is kind of a vacation unto itself seeing as that can't happen with a baby around.

Dinner at Ivar's down by the water was pretty good too. I tasted salmon (it's a little fishy) and we walked around the pier a bit, then went to a movie (which we also rarely get to do anymore.)

Parking in Seattle is a bit ridiculous, and by ridiculous I mean expensive. I think we literally spent about $100 just on parking this whole weekend.

Saturday, since parking is so horrible, after brunch at Boat House Cafe (which was fine but took too long) we parked and walked around downtown for the next four hours. We saw the famous market, sampled some local fruit and baked goods, saw the Gum Wall and then went on the Underground Tour, which is pretty cool. You learn a lot about the history of Seattle and get to see some of the oldest parts of the city.

Hondo "Underground"

For dinner we wanted to try the best pizza in Seattle, so we went to a place called Serious Pie and if that is the best then that sucks for Seattlites. It wasn't bad, but we got an appetizer that was possibly the worst thing I've ever put in my mouth. Thankfully we had a great waiter who didn't charge us for the gross food that we hated.

Sunday was our last full day so we went to breakfast at The Lucky Diner (who served normal Coke products, along with the Mexican Coke) which was everything you want a diner to be, but still a little healthier. They didn't serve hash browns or pancakes as a side, they served sliced fresh tomatoes and fruit cocktail. It was pretty good. The tomatoes made me miss Mo a lot (she would eat them whole like an apple if I would let her.)

We stopped by the Pacific Science Center to see the King Tut exhibit there and play at the other exhibits a bit. My favorite pics from the whole trip came as a result--gotta love photo booths.

We went up to Kerry Park to catch the great views of the city and Mt. Rainier, which is huge. We kind of slowed down that afternoon, after going back to the Market to pick up some souveniers and fresh fruit, we headed to Daniel's Broiler for dinner. It's a great steak and seafood house that I would also recommend, if you don't mind spending lots of money on great steak. We agreed at dinner that we felt good about our trip, and neither of us really felt like we had missed out on anything while we were there. We walked around downtown enough to last us quite awhile, and I know we were both anxious to get back to Monroe. 

Thanks so much to Holly and Eric who had Mo for the weekend so we could have some time alone. If you want to see how crazy Mo can be on a day-to-day basis, head over to Holly's blog here and see how the weekend went in pictures/video.

I'm very grateful that we have been so blessed to be able to afford this vacation. We definitely appreciate spending time together and getting to experience a new place. I love being able to try new things and see new places and I'm so lucky to have such a handsome man to experience  it all with!

"If I had ever learned, I would have been a true proficient."

Name that movie.

If I could be instantly proficient at one thing, it would be a foreign language. I really wish I could speak completely fluently another language, probably French but I'm not necessarily particular. I did take several years of French in high school and college but that unfortunately doesn't mean that I remember much. I can still understand French pretty well but responding...that would be a little touch and go.

I do miss it. I want to go to Paris more than anything.

It's Pride and Prejudice, the BBC version. Obviously. If you knew that we could probably be best friends. If you didn't well...thanks for stopping by.

Things that almost always give me chills

A great song. For example, the first song on the Mumford and Sons new album Babel...instant chills.

Pictures of cold weather.

Even this much snow makes me feel cold

When my hands are wrinkly from washing dishes or swimming...I get chills just thinking about it. In a bad way.

Touching construction paper.

Movies that show landscapes/cityscapes of Paris. These tend to produce tears as well.

The beginning of a play or movie I've been anticipating.

Hondo kissing the gap between my neck and shoulder on my back.

A moving political speech.

"We believe that a little girl who's offered an escape from poverty by a great teacher or a grant for college could become the founder of the next Google, or the scientist who cures cancer, or the President of the United States – and it's in our power to give her that chance."

I can't help but think of my daughter and the enormous potential that she has.

A moving religious speech.

"Though we will face trials, adversities, disabilities, heartaches, and all manner of afflictions, our caring, loving Savior will always be there for us. He has promised:

'I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you. …

'My peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.' John 14: 18,27"

And of course, other random things. But these? They get me every time.

A Proposal, A List, Some Cheese, and a Birthday

It's Hondo's birthday!

And as such, I feel it is time for a list.

First, small anecdote.

Once when Hondo and I were engaged, someone asked me, point blank, "Why do you love him?"

I was caught off guard. I didn't expect anyone else to really care that much about my actual reasons for loving him, just maybe about the fact that I did (and do.) I thought it was a strange question to ask. I mean, it's fine to ask. Sure, maybe you just want to hear...about...how we love each other...or something... (I actually don't really understand why anyone would ask this question, but that is okay, I don't have to understand everything.)

Second, I was like "This is a test and I'm about to fail." I don't think I've ever had to explain why I love Hondo to anyone before or since this, and even though I'm sure it was not the intent of the question, I felt cornered a bit.

So my answer came out in some generic form of, "Well, we fit together. It just makes sense." Which is perfectly reasonable.

But today, in honor of Hondo's birthday, here is a list of things that when added together, make up the reasons that I love him. Which I do.

Most passionately.

1. He is obsessed with turkey. Most people think turkey is a thanksgiving thing, but not at our house. It is at least a quarterly thing, if not every other month.

2. When he gets mad and says something (usually me) is "frustrating," he actually says "fustrating." It's all I can do to not laugh at how cute it is.

3. He sings slightly off key. Mo laughs every time he sings, and I think it is because it makes her so happy. Me too, Mo. Me too.

4. He calls a group of men "cats" and often refers to girls as "kid." Very Casablanca.

5. He swears like a sailor while driving and exercising (not at the same time). I shouldn't laugh, but I do.

6. He gets a little handsy when he takes sleeping pills/cough medicine.

7. He stresses all the time about the kind of Dad he is going to be for Mo as she gets older. Which I think proves that he is going to be a great one.

8. He gave me Monroe.

9. He supports me in every decision that I make and wants nothing more than for me to be happy.

10. He loves celebrity gossip.

11. He loves talking politics. Which is great, since I do too. Luckily we agree on (most) things.

12. He loves and looks after my family.

13. When he talks about exercising, he refers to it as "Bringing sexy back."

14. He's the only person I know who calls "sherbet" "sherbet ice cream." Most people say either "sherbet" or "ice cream," but to him it's both.

15. He listens to me well enough that even if I'm having a conversation with someone else and I say something, he'll respond and that reponse will be completely out of context and irrelevant to the conversation. It's quite funny.

16. He thinks it's funny that I'm competative. Which is a good thing, especially when we're on the same team.

Of course, there are more but i'm at work and out of time. "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..."

I love you, Hondo. I love you for the man that you are and the man that you are going to be as we grow old together. I couldn't have picked a better partner to navigate through life with. Marry me!

And Happy Birthday!

If you need help moving...

do not ask me. I may come try to help you, out of some sorry sense of obligation, but I will most likely find some way to sit on the only cushion left in the house and eat snacks, probably using the excuse that I need to be out of the way.

No joke. This may or may not have recently happened when Holly and Eric moved. (I'm sure if you asked, they would say it most definitely did happen.)

Of course, I also had the perfectly resonable excuse of keeping Mo out of the way as well, as they were carrying big heavy things out of the house.

I. HATE. PACKING.

Least favorite thing to do, maybe ever. I'm the worst mover, and I will procrastinate as long as I possibly can. When I was living in Jen's townhouse in Thornton, and I had to work from 6:45am-6:00pm at Camp on a Friday and also had to be out of that house by 6:00pm the same Friday, you would think that Thursday night you would find me packing/cleaning like a madwoman.

But no. I went out to staff dinner, went home, and read The Lightening Thief from beginning to end. I started packing around 12:30am. And slept for approximately 20 minutes that morning before loading up my car and heading to work.

I'm ridiculous. And awful. And if I ever have to move again, I will pay as much money as it takes to hire someone else to come in and pack up my house for me, and unpack it for me in it's new location.

And That is How the Superheroes Do It!

Back in the day when I was a camp counselor we had this one kid who drove everyone crazy. Okay, a lot of kids drove everyone crazy but this kid was a bit worse. Just a really high maintenance, annoying, always getting in trouble/never listening 6-year-old who was a bit chubby. I'll call him "M."

Every week as a camp we would go to the Rec Center to swim, play in the gym, and go rock climbing on their indoor wall. Some of the kids were brave little monkeys and they would climb the wall to the top in 2 minutes like it was no big deal. So this kid, M, wanted to go rock climbing. He had never done it before but his friends were doing it too so obviously he had to do it. A lot of the younger kids would try it and not get very high before they'd get scared and we'd lower them back down.

M got in the harness and got roped in by one of the workers at the rec center. He was afraid to grab onto the wall, so the person belaying him lifted him about 12 inches off the ground and had him put his feet and hands on a few of the holds. We were able to coax him to lift one foot up one hold and one hand up one hold before he freaked out, "I want down! I want down!" So the belayer walked over and set him back on the ground. (He was still only about 12 inches off the ground, mind you.)

He walked over to me and as I was helping him take off the harness he said, "And that is how the superheroes do it."

I died. Laughing, that is. After he left.


In real life, I have no desire to be a superhero. There are many things I want to be, but I think I've been jaded by superhero movies too much to actual crave that lifestyle. It seems like in the movies the superheroes always have so much to give and also so much they have to give up in order to lead the life of saving the world.

But if I was going to be a superhero my super power would be psychic powers. Like real ones. I think it would be cool. And my name would be "Raven."

Hahahahaha

Ok but really I think I would like super strength without the ridiculous muscles. I'd like to be named after one of the Greek Godesses, like Aphrodite or Athena.

To Every ACTION There is an Equal and Opposite REACTION

Since I am no longer obliged to write about things chosen for me by a blog challenge, I will now write whatever the heck I want. 


This is what I am feeling like right now.


Have you seen the video of Kristen Bell when she meets a sloth? If you haven't, you can watch it here, because it is hilarious.

This poor girl and I suffer from the same thing, in that neither of us can control the depth of our reactions.

(Hers might be a little bit worse than mine. Possibly)


I suck at reacting. I tell this to my husband often to try and dissuade him from surprising me with anything. EVER. I hate surprises. Because I never react appropriately.


Here's how my levels go.


Level 1: I get a surprise and I was expecting it/knew about it/didn't really want it. I try to act like I was genuinely surprised and that I wanted it, but I'm not fooling anyone. My face is like an open book, and this one will leave the giver with a fake grin and hurt feelings because they think I didn't like their surprise. (Sometimes I didn't. I'm not the only person in the world who has received something they didn't really want.) (I'm trying really hard to justify myself here.)


Level 2: This is the rarest of the rare...I react normally. Like any other sane person would react, I show moderate excitement and genuine gratitude to whomever is bestowing a surprise on me.


Level 3: This is the reaction I have most often, and I find it quite humiliating. Allow me to demonstrate with an anecdote.


Hondo and I are dating. I am at work, but I am having a bit of an off day. I was feeling rather un-pretty, which can really ruin a girl's day. He, being the charming and caring man that he is, sends me flowers at work with a card that reads, "Daay-uuummm, you look good." I am called to the front desk because I have a "delivery." I casually walk up and ask what's up. They point to the flowers. I immediately spring tears (I don't even know who the flowers are from yet, mind you) and say, "These are for me? From who?" I look at the card and begin shaking.


Yes, that's right. Literally shaking, as if I have been outside in the cold for hours. I try to cover it by grabbing the vase and saying, "Oh, that's so nice," but I can't fool my friends and one says, "Are you shaking?", compounding my embarrassment by pointing out such a ridiculous over-reaction.


Seriously. Who shakes because they got flowers? FLOWERS! It wasn't like he sent me John Mayer in a cake.


There have been various instances in my life where an actual person surprising me with their presence has led to an uncanny ability to teleport across rooms and into that person's arms. Others in my path in these instances may or may not have been knocked to the ground, even the sick and the elderly. 


My reactions could be generally classified as "over-reactions." And even though everyone else may not care, or even think it's cute (these would not be the people laying prostrate on the floor), I care. I really find it embarrassing. And annoying.


It's hard being me.

Quirky and Weird are two very different things

Me: Knock knock.

You: Who's there?

Me: Impatient cow.

You: im...Me: MOOOO!






It's better in person.

It's hard to say what "quirk" I have because I think I'm normal. I do things every day so they aren't weird to me even if someone else might think they are weird.

For example, I tried to have a "foot fight" with Hondo on the floor the other day, only to find out that no one else knows what that is. You put your feet against each other (bottom to bottom) and on the count of 3 try to push the other person's legs so they are bent up by their face and they're squished, and your legs are straight. Apparently, it's a game the Mahan kids made up.

I had no idea we were so creative.

I texted Hondo and asked him "What should I put for a weird quirk? Of mine. In case that wasn't clear."

His response? "You have to keep the shower curtain closed."

Wow. I'm the most boring person ever.

He says "Quirks aren't supposed to be cool babe..."

I say, "But I'm cool. And popular."

You know what he said? Nothing. He laughed.

So I've decided that my best "quirk" is my ability to interrupt conversations, even the most intense argument or important thing ever, by changing the subject.

I don't mean to be rude, and I'm really not trying to divert the conversation (most of the time), but sometimes I have a thought and I remember I want to ask about something or tell a story or something and if I don't say it right then and there, I'll forget. So I do. Interrupt, I mean.

Sorry about that.

Mock Lasagna Casserole

This is real lasagna. If you try to make the recipe I'm sharing and it looks like this, you're doing it wrong. Even though this does look delicious. I might have real lasagna for dinner tonight.
Photo credit here

My favorite "if I was on death row and had a last meal this would be it" food.

1 package noodles--your choice. I like to use shells, but you could use any really. Probably not spaghetti.

Boil the noodles in lightly salted water until done. Drain.

Sausage--I like to use the sage or hot flavored kind. Not breakfast sausage, ground sausage.

Brown sausage with approx. 1 tbsp italian seasoning, 1 tsp crushed red pepper flakes, 1 tsp onion powder, and any other seasonings you like. I'll add more if I'm using ground beef instead of sausage, which you can do.

Drain the grease, and return to pan. Add 1 jar of spaghetti sauce (or if you're a better cook than me, make your own. But only if you're a better one. If you're worse than me, don't bother. Just use the pre-packaged stuff.)

Layer noodles, 1/2 container of cottage cheese, 1/2 bag of shredded cheddar cheese, then meat sauce. Twice.

Put in the oven at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.

Gobble. I love this because it is one of the only foods I like to have when it's fresh, and when it's leftover. I hate leftovers. But with mock lasagna, it's delicious.

Say What You Need to Say

Bucket List:

Ride in a hot air balloon (this is the closest I will ever go to skydiving.)
Travel. Everywhere.
Own a piano
Become a yoga teacher
Live in another country
Adopt a baby
Learn how to swim



I'm not very adventurous. I'm not very brave. But that is ok. I'll still try to stretch my comfort level.

Colorado My Home

The last time I cried was yesterday. Tears of Joy. Because the Affordable Care Act was ruled constitutional in its entirety.


I know there are many people who are not happy about this. But I am.


Tears of sadness? The other night we took Mo to her first movie. We went to see "Brave," which I loved and the baby did so well in the movie. Holly and I were dying at how cute she was when it started...she was dancing and singing with the music, I could hardly even handle it.


That isn't why I cried.


On the way home from the movie I was perusing Facebook and I was overwhelmed by the pictures of the fires in Colorado.


Colorado my home.

http://www.reverbnation.com/open_graph/song/12606394 Listen to this song. Please.


Oh, beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain! For purple mountains majesty, above the fruited plain!


I hear those lyrics and I can't help but think of my home state. It's got the best of almost everything. Pride in being from Colorado is rivaled only by people from Texas, and maybe California. In my opinion.


Coloradans are extremely protective of their open spaces. It isn't something I've experienced in other state I've been to...we are obsessed with preserving the land for various reasons, some environmental, some recreational.


And it is on fire. I am so heartbroken.


I know this happens. A lot. Unfortunately, it has happened quite a lot in my lifetime. It never gets easier to deal with. Especially when so many are happening at once, and people are losing not only the land but the homes they live in. Our favorite places and spaces, consumed.


The world may very well end in fire. It's utterly frightening. And makes me weep.

Everything is not always all right. A lot of things will never make sense to me. There are fires in Utah as well, and apparently one in Pocatello, ID now. I walk outside and it smells like a giant campfire, usually a smell we associate with fun times but it is now the haunting smell of destruction. 

Before--The Flying Ranch, Colorado Springs. Photo credit BING screen shot

After--The Flying Ranch, Colorado Springs. Photo credit RJ Sanjosti, The Denver Post

A Face to Call Home

Things that make me feel better, ALWAYS

Holly. Especially when I'm in a bad mood and she laughs and we have conversations where we both freak out about whatever we want and it is always funny. We seriously should have a reality show.

This is just to show what kind of mood I'm talking about.

Hondo. I love spending time with him, and when he snuggles me or hugs me I feel great.

If you can't tell, he makes me happy

Hugs from my mom. As someone recently told her, they are very healing hugs.

Facetime. With any or all of my sisters or Mom. Getting to see my neices always cheers me.

And, last but definitely not least, this face.

Literally the best thing ever.

Bloggity Blog Blog

Where did the word blog come from? I genuinely want to know. It's a weird word.

I must confess...I love reading blogs. I find them extremely entertaining. And I have quite a few that I follow regularly. So I'm breaking them down into categories.

Category 1: My Family's Blogs

Mom's: mahanthing.blogspot.com
Jen's: whatnowjen.blogspot.com
Stef's: thenashgriffiths.blogspot.com
Holly's: theglems.blogspot.com

I highly recommend each of these, especially if you are at all interested in getting to know any of my sisters or Mom better. I know that Hondo has really enjoyed reading all of our blogs as we've been doing this challenge together, and just told me last night how much he appreciates getting to know my family better through this forum (he said, in so many words.)

Category 2: Other People I know, Who's Blogs I Stalk Read

Amy Reeves: amyandcary.blogspot.com  Amy and I went to high school together, but I don't know if we ever actually spoke. We're friends on Facebook, which is how I started reading her blog, and I must say she is quite amusing.

Matt Reichman: http://www.mattreichman.com/ The brother of Amy who I just mentioned. Also went to high school, also have never spoken and he probably doesn't even know who I am. But I'm counting it as someone I know. He writes a column for the Springville, UT newspaper and also posts those articles on his blog.

Ali Rettedal: thejarettedal.blogspot.com A friend from high school, who I don't always agree with but inspires me nonetheless. She's a great mom and very dedicated to her beliefs.

I'm sure I have other friends who have blogs that I don't read, and if you think that I should, please send me the link to your blog! I will read it, a lot. I promise.

Category 3: Guilty Pleasures/Hilarious People

Suri's Burn Book: A study in Suri and the people who disappoint her
If you enjoy celebrity gossip you'll probably laugh at this blog. It's a ghost writer for "Suri Cruise," who is basically critiquing and criticizing other celebrity children.

One Forty Plus: John Mayer's blog. I don't think this needs further explanation.

The Weed: I recently found this blog because of his recent coming out post. He has been married for 10 years and is an active member of the LDS community, who is gay. The post is long, but his story is interesting and worth the read, if you're up for it. But as I went back through some of his previous posts, I was laughing literally out loud at his daughter the therapist and Bambi nuggets.

The Bloggess: This lady cracks me up. But I must warn you, she does not hold back. There is swearing and some inappropriate discussion on her blog, as well as inspiration and help for anyone suffering from depression or anxiety. The post that led me to her was this one about Beyonce the Giant Metal Chicken. ok, as I just was looking through her blog and thinking about my Mom reading it, I realized this is probably a little too inappropriate for many. Only go to it if you are not easily offended/think swearing is funny. Mom...don't go to it. She also recently had her first book published, which I haven't read yet but am planning on reading soon, which you can buy here.

Wow and I was only supposed to list 5. My bad. I actually have more, but I'll stop.

I think I just realized I might have a problem.

I'm Sexy and I Know It

I wish.

I haven't been feeling great about myself lately...pretty much ever since I got pregnant and gained significant amounts of weight, followed by almost a year and not losing all that weight...yeah, I'm struggling.

But it's ok. I still have cute feet, relatively nice legs and knees, and pretty hands.

Death---the last sleep? No, the final awakening. ~Walter Scott

First off, I would like to recommend that you read the post "On Death" from my sister Holly's blog. It is silly, really, because I should be allowed to feel how I feel but even now I am afraid of someone being angry at my emotions, and Holly does an excellent job of explaining those feelings. If anyone reads this and is offended for any reason, please let me know. I would rather talk about it than create some sort of unresolved resentment. That's the last thing anyone needs.

When I was a Junior in college, a girl named Rebecca Peterson was killed in a car accident in Vail, CO. Becky had dated and was still best friends with my then boyfriend's younger brother, we'll call him P. I did not know her very well, but as I was close to members of that family I was deeply affected by this loss. I was actually in Denver visiting for the weekend when it happened. It was late September, and right before we were leaving to head to the airport so I could fly back to Utah, P came running downstairs to where we were and told us hurridly that Becky had been in a car accident and was life-flighted to a Denver hospital. He was headed there. Less than two hours later as I sat at the gate in DIA I got the call that she had not survived.

That next week was rough. I wanted to badly to be there for these people that I loved but I had school and I was working two jobs and I was afraid I couldn't afford to travel back to Colorado for the funeral. So I worked, and went to class, but nothing felt normal. Finally Wednesday night, after much debating, I decided that I couldn't not be there.

Thursday morning came, and I dressed in some nice clothes and drove by myself 8 hours to Broomfield, where I made it literally just in time for the candlelight vigil that was held in Becky's honor. I was able to stay through the weekend and attend all the services held.

Flash forward a few months...I was having the worst semester of my life, both scholasticly and emotionally. And yes, those things were closely connected. I had my heart broken, really broken, for the first time in my life and I was not functioning at normal levels in any aspects of life. I was taking a Creative Writing class that semester, from a professor who became one of my favorites. We still keep in contact through email. One of the assignments was to write a personal essay. So maybe for this blog challenge I am cheating a little bit, since this was already written. But aside from the people in that class and my husband, I have not shared this personal essay with anyone. My hands are shaking as I write this because it is hard for me to be this open, it is hard for me to share my writing, and it is extremely hard to remember.

Becky

On the first day of class, about halfway through the course overview, I looked over and saw a girl who looks like Becky. Not exactly like her, but enough that I found myself staring at her. Becky's hair was shorter and somewhat curly. The way this girl's bangs fell to the right across her forehead reminded me of Becky's bangs and how they fell to the right across her forehead not when she was alive but in her coffin at her funeral. They were fixed so perfectly, those bangs, and I remember thinking that whoever fixed her hair like that probably didn't know her when she was alive. They just arranged her bangs like that now that she was dead.

I met Becky through a mutual aquaintance. Our two lives mixed within a family atmosphere, each of us a girlfriend and an outsider. In a family full of brothers and only one sister, I think that I felt like more of an outsider than she did. Her love of cooking made it easy for her to share something with the family--especially the boys--in preparation of daily meals, wheras my lack of interesting ability pushed me to the outskirts. It didn't bother me that much. What bothered me was that when she died the family made extra efforts to include me in things: a sudden influx of emails and phone calls checking to see how I was doing, invites from the whole family to attend random get-togethers, and the expression "I love you" was even tossed arond a few times. I felt like I was supposed to be her replacement, and it bothered me because the shoes of the dead are hard to fill.

She sat right next to me at a birthday lunch once, but I said little or nothing to her. She was friendly and charming, full of contagious laughter and smiling eyes but I was shy and focused on other people. Usually, when I saw her, she was watching the Food Network with the brother who loved her or creating an elaborate feast, like chicken nuggets made from cereal, or ham and bacon kebabs. I never ate her food because I'd always already eaten or was on my way out. Now that she can't make food anymore, I wish I had eaten it once or twice when I had the chance.

The day before she died Becky moved three hours away from home for the first time to attend culinary school. She had scholarships and internships already set up for her once she got there. She was only there for one day before a single-car rollover accident. A friend was driving, but Becky was partially ejected from the vehicle and suffered severe head trauma. By the time the Flight-for-Life helicopter made it to the hospital, it was too late.

Her dad stood at a candlelight vigil a week later and said, remember to hug your children every day because I was lucky enough to have said goodbye to her before she died. He said he had no idea that it would be his last goodbye, but he was glad that he had held her in his arms and said I love you when he dropped her off at school.

The boy who loved her stood at the candlelight vigil and said that his heart hurt the same as it did when he felt love. He said he'd never forget her infectious laughter and smile. He said he loved her, and everyone gathered there could see that he meant it. I knew that he meant it. And now she was dead.

I had a conversation with the boy I loved after she died. She was only eighteen, he said.
She didn't get to get married, he said.
She didn't have any babies.
Maybe people like Becky who die really young get to be the Moms of all the babies who die and go to heaven, too, I said.
He didn't answer.
Maybe God is trying to teach us that life is fragile, I said.
She didn't even get to live on her own, or go to school, or be a grown up at all, he said.
Maybe God knew it was her time to go, so He let her say goodbye to everyone right before, I said.
Maybe God is trying to teach us to appreciate the people who are around us every day, I said.
I'd think that God could come up with a better way of teaching us lessons, he said.
I didn't know what to say back.

The brother who loved her forgave her her faults while she was alive and then they didn't matter anymore when she was dead. But I didn't forgive her--I dwelt. And they do still matter now that she is dead because of all the things they kept me from doing while she was alive.

The chicken nuggets were real. So was the boy who loved her and the Food Network and the laughter and the smiling blue eyes. And her hair. That was real. But that's as far as my superficial knowledge of a girl named Becky who was alive once goes. And I could've known her. I could've eaten her food and spoken to her about her talents. I could've joked with her about us both being outsiders when we sat together at lunch. I could've tried to be her friend.

So it's really not her faults that matter anymore. It's mine.

Now every time I go to that class I sit and wait for the girl who looks like Becky to come into the room. I watch her walk to the same seat that she sits in every day, and say a friendly hello to all the people sitting around her. I watch her flip her bangs ever so slightlly to the right every few minutes. I watch her blink her big blue eyes, breathe in through her mouth, laugh when someone says something funny. And I feel like I'm watching Becky.

But I'm not.

There are things that I would change now, reading this again. For example, now I have the maturity to recognize that the family reaching out to me was not because they wished for a replacement, but most likely because they wished to appreciate the people in their lives, and I was one of those people. But I was foolish and didn't let them. I still am a little foolish when it comes to letting people in.

And I do think that parts of my writing are a bit dramatic. But I wrote with sincerity, and so I didn't change those parts either.

The girl, the one from my class, I actually still see her. She started working for the company that I work for about a year after I wrote this. I don't think she recognizes me, but I will never forget her face. We've spoken a few times, first when she changed her name because she got married and more recently because she had a baby. Her first. It was a girl.

What a bizzare world we live in.

Rebecca Peterson, July 1989-September 2007
Photo by P. Murphy

I HATE IT

When anyone puts things on my bed. Stop it. I'd rather have it on the floor because I can still sleep at night with stuff on the floor. It's a lot more difficult if you put crap on my bed.

When people use the paper cover of a book as a book mark, aka the "book flaps." Use your gum wrapper. Use a receipt. Make a book mark. I will make you a book mark if you will just stop ruining the book flaps!

When people leave time on the microwave. Hit clear already. Sheesh.

When people quote themselves. Actually, I think it is kind of funny, even though it is annoying.

When people compare ANY president EVER to Hitler. Are you kidding me?! Hitler?! No one should be compared to that man. I can't believe anyone would be so ridiculous as to do such a thing. However much you disagree with their politics, policies, or personal life, there has not and I doubt there ever will be a leader of the United States who is as evil as Adolf Hitler.

When people judge. Hey, I'm not perfect. I know it's hard to not judge. And yes, I recognize the irony of my hating people judging other people. "You know what I hate? People who don't tolerate other peoples' cultures, and the Dutch." Name that movie.

When my smart phone is dumb. I just want it to work all the time. I don't want to watch the icon loading for 5 minutes, I need instant gratification, please and thank you.

When people leave bags of trash right outside their front door and walk right past them instead of taking them to the dumpster. Since when is the porch the dumpster? The DUMPSTER is the dumpster. Figure it out.

When I'm stuck behind someone who is driving just under the speed limit. Either go the speed limit, speed, or get out of my way.

On Pinterest, when people refer to everything as "Genius." Oh, I can use a HOLE PUNCH and RIBBON to tie my PLASTIC FORK to the NAPKIN so my guests can be lazy and only pick up ONE THING?! SOMEONE CALL THE NOBEL PRIZE COMMITTEE! Wait...I think the word you were looking for was "convenient." Or "crafty." Let's reserve "genius" for things that truly are, shall we?

When people tell me to smile. I'll smile when I feel like it. Don't tell me what to do. Nothing is more likely to make me NOT smile than someone telling me I should.




PS. I listed 11 things. On purpose. I'm sure that will drive someone somewhere crazy.

If Music be the Food of Love, Play On

Some of my favs.

The Wind, Cat Stevens

Body Language, Jesse McCartney, because it reminds me of Hondo

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room, John  Mayer

One Headlight, The Wallflowers

The First Single, The Format

The Hallelujah Chorus

The Pretender, Jackson Browne

Finale B, RENT Soundtrack

Abide With Me, Tis' Eventide, LDS Hymns #165

Nocturne in G Minor,  Chopin, because it reminds me of Holly