CUPS (like "COPS", but without the cool theme song)

When we were kids, one of the things that made my dad crazy was half drunk cups of milk left sitting around the house. (You know, like the little girl in "Signs" who left cups of water all over the place. Only we left ours around more out of lazy forgetfulness than neurotic obsessions, and ours never saved us from an alien attack.) It made him furious. Now that I'm a mom, I'm pretty sure it would make me mad too. But no matter how much my dad yelled, threatened, bribed or cajoled, we still always got more milk than we could drink, and would inevitably leave the leftovers sitting on top of the TV, or on the back of the toilet, or, my favorite, stuck back in the fridge - like we were really going to drink it later.

So in an effort to save my dad's sanity a New Cup Order was introduced. All the existing cups were replaced with smaller cups. This way it was almost impossible to get more milk than you could drink in one sitting. It was also almost impossible to get as much milk as you wanted in one sitting as the cups were about the size of those used in the sacrament.

Things have been this way in my parents house for so long that I just didn't think about it until I got married. Course, Richard didn't say anything at first. It doesn't do to insult the cups of your in-laws right off the bat. But eventually it came out. The same way Richard doesn't like little spoons, he doesn't see the point of little cups. I remember him asking me once why all of my parents cups were so small. I said "I don't know. I guess they aren't very thirsty people."

My dad tried to satisfy Richard's needs for oversized dishes by finding him what was, admittedly, a pretty big cup. Richard appreciated that, but apparently it wasn't big enough. So Richard found some HUGE 64 ounce red plastic bucket somewhere and brought that to my parents house. It is stored in a special place so that he will always be able to use it whenever we come over. So Sunday we sit around the table, all of us drinking out of thimbles while Richard drinks from his giant tub. It is a funny sight, and I think it makes Richard happy.


This isn't Richard, but it IS a big cup. If Richard sees this picture, he is going to want one.

Election Time

I just don’t get it. Everyone is so passionate this time around. They have chosen their candidate and they are sure they are right. They say things like “He is the clear choice.” Or “Obviously, I am voting for so and so”. Well the choice isn’t clear to me. I feel like everyone else has information I don’t have. I see what is shown on TV. But I have a hard time trusting believing anything that is said. Everyone has something awful to say about each candidate, and how can I know if it’s true?

It seems especially confusing to me. This year it seems like you could take everyone I know ask them who they are voting for, and then would be pretty evenly split. One half says “McCain, of course. Obama sucks.” And the other half says “Obama, naturally, we’re screwed if we don’t”.

Well, why does Obama suck? Why are we screwed if McCain wins? What are they basing their opinions on? And why do they feel like they can really trust the information they have been given? I’m not saying that they shouldn’t, I just wish I knew what they know.
Of course I think everyone should do what they feel is right. It just perplexes me because I would think most everyone I know shares the same values as me, so why are they so divided?

Maybe what gets me is that I am used to basing my judgments so much on the opinions of those around me (I know you do it too), and I can’t really do that this year because all I hear are conflicting stories. I just don’t see how one friend can love and support Obama wholeheartedly, and another friend can be positive that if he wins we are in for 4 years of hell. This makes no sense to me. Obviously, they don’t have the same information. And I don’t have either of their information.

And I guess most of all I hope that when this is all over, all these people with all this passion will be able to accept and support the winner, whoever he is, even if he is not the one he voted for. I think it’s pretty important that instead of criticizing everything the president does, we unite ourselves as a country and work for our future like it all depends on us.

Tagged by Lynsie

Here is the assignment: I must list 3 joys, 3 fears, 3 current goals, 3 current obsessions, and 3 random facts about myself.

3 Joys
1. The look on Harrison's face as he climbs into my lap for me to read him a story.
2. The Internet
3. A clean kitchen. Well, that is probably more Peace than Joy, but I'll take what I can get.

3 Fears
1. Having a psychopathic maniac break into my house in the middle of the night and kill my baby.
2. Shark Attacks.
3. Spelling Errors.

3 Current Goals
1. Eat a LOT less sugar
2. Get the Student Loan paid off.
3. Watch as much TV as possible.

3 Current Obsessions
1. Blogging. Still. I know, a bit sad maybe?
2. Dr Who (2005) - Finished season one and just started on season 2. Christopher Eccleston was good, but David Tennant IS The Doctor.
3. Cake. Now I have always liked cake. Who wouldn't? (Except my Dad. Weird, right?) But really, I have always been more into the ice cream than the cake. Lately though, ever since I started reading Cake Wrecks, I think about cake ALL THE TIME!

3 Random Facts about Me
1. I can name all 50 states in under a minute.
2. I don't like gum. I don't like to chew it, and I don't like it when anyone else chews it.
3. I fall down a lot.

Thanks Lynsie!
Anyone else want to play?

Karate Kid

When Harrison woke up from his nap yesterday he was kind of sad, so we cuddled on the couch and watched "Karate Kid". It's been years since I last saw it. But it was fun. However, I find it kind of hard to believe that: 1. Those high school seniors would spend that much time terrorizing one skinny sophomore. 2. That Daniel winning the karate competition would make that crazy gang leader say "You're all right, Daniel. You're all right." right after getting kicked in the face by him. (Though now that I think about it, a crane kick in the face would really set a lot of people straight. Only problem is, face kicking - even to people who really, really need it - is generally looked down on. I guess Mr. Miyagi knew what he was doing.) And 3.That a boy who hadn't ever actually sparred with anyone before would really be able to win the competition. And that Elizabeth Shue would be interested in him. And that he kept tucking ALL his shirts in. Luckily he was in California, or else I'm pretty sure I would have seen him tucking in his sweaters. Phew. Really dodged a bullet with that one.
Still, I think it is good! I liked it when it first came out and I still do. Ranks right up there with.... I don't know. I'm drawing a blank. What does it rank up there with?

Discovered: The Root of All my Social Problems!

I consider myself pretty socially awkward. There are just so many social situations that I feel so clueless in. I try. And I think I am getting better (Cuz I’m 30!) but sometimes I just feel like awkwardness personified.

Maybe this is because I think about things too much. Not that it helps. Stuff always seems to come out wrong anyway. It is dangerous business opening your mouth.

For example: We are on waving terms with our neighbors. Sometimes a “Hi!” or a “Nice Weather!” or something like that is exchanged. This suits me fine. I assume it suits them fine too. Today as I was getting ready to drive away from the house I noticed him washing his car on his lawn. It looked very shiny, so I considered yelling out “It’s looking good!” But I was afraid he would only hear “Looking Good!” and think that I was talking about him. And while maybe that is a compliment he would like to receive, I just wasn’t sure I wanted to move our relationship up to that level.

Example two: I was talking to a friend in passing a while back and he was telling me about something cool he had recently done. As the conversation was closing what I wanted to say as my parting words were “Great!” but I thought maybe I had said that too many times in the brief conversation already, so instead I said “Good for you”. But what was supposed to come out as light and breezy, instead came out sounding very sarcastic, like “Good for you, ya moron!!” So as we parted, instead of saying “See ya”, I didn’t say anything, because I was struck dumb at how I must have sounded to him.

Yes, obviously, I have some problems. Not thinking at all for one, and thinking too much for another. That, and caring too much. And working too hard. And loving too deeply. Stuff like that. Anyway this awkwardness is why I would rather send you an email than talk to you on the phone, why a little part of me can’t help but hope that I don’t run into someone I know at the grocery store, and now that I think about it, probably the reason I was never voted prom queen!!! Mystery Solved!

Phew! Glad we got that over with!

Now, to change the mood a bit, I would like to show you a video of my cute baby.
video

He is so cute, it hurts a little. I don't know how he got so cute, but we sure can't take credit for it. So thank you Jennifer! We love you!

9/11/08

It is very hard for me to write serious things, but I am going to try. So no laughing. Just a few days ago I watched "The Flight that Fought Back", a documentary on the Discover Channel about United 93. I had had it recorded for a couple of weeks, and I almost didn't watch it, but I'm so glad I did. It was awesome. I was on the verge of tears throughout the whole movie.

Though at first I was a little upset by it. It sort of seemed like they were the only flight brave enough to fight back, and that the people on the other flights obviously weren't. But that wasn't the message at all. They fought back because their plane took off late, and the guy who was going to lead the attack and fly the plane sort of dragged his feet. Which means the passengers on the plane knew what was happening in New York and Washington D.C. and knew exactly what was going to happen to them.

And they fought back because they got mad, and simply weren't going to sit there and take it. They showed a clip in the documentary of the terrorist guarding the cockpit cringing in fear as the passengers on the plane all rushed him. Those left in the cockpit knew it was over, and crashed the plane right where they were - middle of nowhere Pennsylvania.

There is a time to sit back and just see what happens, but sometimes, when we have enough information, it is our responsibility to act, no matter the cost.

Richard and I went to New York a few years ago. I wanted to post some of the pictures we took, but this was 2005. There really was nothing to see. See for yourself.

Why, Mom? Why?


My mom sent me this beautiful picture. I think I actually screamed when I saw it (maybe it was more of a screamlet than a scream). I don't know where she came across such a thing. And I'm not sure why she sent it, except that it is called a Hagfish. Maybe she is saying that I am a Hagfish? Which, when I first read some of the descriptions of it, I thought it was awful nice of her.

UCMP Berkely had this to say: "Hagfish are long, slender and pinkish, and are best known for the large quantities of sticky slime which they produce." Well, almost nice, I guess. But really Mom, I stopped spitting slime in the 9th grade! I read on and decided that I was inferring more than she was implying when I got to this paragraph:

"Young are hermaphroditic at first, bearing both sets of sex organs; later in life, they will be either male or female, but may change sex from season to season." Wow, talk about an identity crisis. Can you imagine being a teenager with that sexually uncertain future hanging over your head? Man! Fish are wacky! I told my husband about the Hagfish, and he surmised, very wisely I think, that "Sea Creatures are all messed up". Quite so. Maybe I will organize some sort of Teenage Marine Life mentoring program. Think of all the poor, confused Aquatic Adolescents we could help. Anyone have ideas for the name? Person who comes up with the best name gets a plaque on the building!

The Man in My Life

I want to give you all fair warning that this is a post about my husband. So if you don't want to read any of this sentimental garbage, you should probably leave right now. And if you stay, don't say I didn't warn you. I got this quiz from Joleen. Thanks!

The Man in my Life.

1. Who is your man? Richard Edwin.

2. How long have you been together? Together? What exactly signifies together? We just celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary. But I knew him for about 3 years before that. Oh, I guess before I go into detail I should check the next question.

3. How long did you date?
Who knows? Hang on, let me count. Looks like it was about 3 months before I left on my mission and 3 months after my mission. But like I said, we were friends long before all that.

4.
How old is your man? Can’t we just call him my husband? They have to be assuming husband or they wouldn’t include the question “how long did you date?” He is 37, with the face of a cherub.

6. Who said “I love you” first? He did, though I had been thinking it for a couple of years, so it was fine with me.

8. Who sings better? Me. But he will sing which I love so, so much.

9. Who is smarter? Pooh. This question stinks. But who am I kidding? He is.

13. Who sleeps on the right hand side of the bed? He does. I’m always closer to the door (all two houses so far). Don’t know what that is about, but with a baby it works out better anyway.

14. Who pays the bills? Me. I have tried sharing, or letting him do it, but I just can’t. I have to know what is going on. He would be wishing he was dead if he was doing it, because I would be bugging him about it all the time.

15. Who is better with the computer? He is. Nerd.

17. Who cooks dinner? Me. But he is the better cook. Too bad for him!

20. Who is most stubborn? He is.

21. Who is the first to admit when they are wrong? Me. Because he is so stubborn. Even when it is obvious he still won’t admit that he is wrong. Maybe twice in our marriage he has admitted he was wrong about something. I’m also always the first to apologize in a fight. I hate to fight with him, and my desire for the fight to be over always wins out over my anger in the end.

23. Who kissed who first? I don’t know. I don’t want to ask him because I’m afraid he’ll say it was me.

25. Who Proposed? He did.

26. Who is more sensitive? Me. He is, as I always tell him, a cold heartless manly man.

28. Who has more siblings? Me. 6 sisters, 1 brother, he has 2 brothers, 3 sisters.

29. Who wears the pants in the family?
Neither! We all wear kilts around here!

Results of the poll

WOULD YOU RATHER:
Get stung by a bee? 4 votes
Be crawled on by a cockroach? 2 votes


It appears that the majority of our readers would rather get stung by a bee than crawled on by a cockroach. So I think it is safe to say at this point, that 2/3 of all Americans prefer bee stings to contact with cockroaches. And I don't blame them. I think cockroaches are the grossest, creepiest bugs I have ever come across. Maybe at this point I should tell a little story. Sure. Why not? Here goes.

I went to BYU Hawaii for a few years. There are cockroaches in Hawaii. The End.

Not much of a story, is it? But that is only the first book in the trilogy. Here is Book 2:
My 2nd semester in Hawaii I decided to switch apartments to be closer to campus. I found a place listed on some bulletin board or other and decided it would be perfect. I went to check it out. It was a tiny little house, or half a tiny little house: one bedroom with 3 beds, tiny bathroom and a small kitchen/living room. One of my roommates to be, a sweet girl from Hong Kong, showed me around a little bit. In the front room, just sitting on the face of the clock on the wall, was a great big cockroach. When I say big, I mean about 3 inches long. I'm sure they come bigger, but it was plenty big for me. I pointed it out to my roommate - I think her name was Emma? - and she just shrugged. I was surprised how much it didn't bug her. (Ha! Get it? Bug her?) It's not like it was the first one I had seen, it's just that he was so brazenly sitting there, telling time, with that devil-may-care attitude that got me. But I still moved in. There are cockroaches in Hawaii. You learn to live with it. It wasn't that big of a deal.

"Book 3: Cockroaches in the Mist"
Sometime later Emma moved out and another girl moved in. We will call her Francis. A white girl like me who was somewhat less willing than I was to put up with the cockroach population. Cuz they were still there. Any time we turned on the lights we would see a few scatter. Or when we opened the kitchen drawers we would always see one run away. These are things we just came to accept as part of life, that and the fact that we always had to wash all our dishes before using them. My new roommate could not accept these things. She was a very political, must-match-shoes-with-belt, high maintenance kind of girl. (Wow, this story is getting a little long. If you need to leave for a short break, feel free.) Anyhoo, so, she hated the cockroaches. Naturally. And one evening she decided she had had enough and brought a friend over and they were going to get rid of them. She was going to clean deeper than that apartment had ever been cleaned before. (Gee, it really sounds like I lived in squalor, doesn't it?) and find their little cockroach homes and evict them!

The kitchen/living room seemed to be the heart of the problem. So they got to work. They started cleaning. They pulled out drawers, they pulled out appliances. I was on the couch doing homework - so helpful aren't I? They had really only just begun when suddenly, out from everywhere, the cockroaches emerged. They flew out of cracks in the ceiling I didn't know were there, flew out from behind the fridge, crawled out from under the couch. I don't know WHERE they came from, but suddenly the air was full of them! I have never seen so many cockroaches in my life. Everyone of us dropped what we were doing and ran screaming for the door. And then we just kept running - screaming and swatting at the air like lunatics, just running and running till we couldn't anymore. I ended up on campus where I stayed for a few hours. Francis eventually went back to the house to get a few things as quickly as she could and then went and stayed with a friend for a few days. But ultimately I guess we both decided that we would just have to live with the terms the cockroaches set: "Leave us alone and we'll leave you alone" and just keep on pretending that they weren't there. Besides, what choice did we have?

The following semester I was not sorry to move again. This time I moved into a great big house (equipped with 15 roommates) on the beach, where our biggest problem was mice (and sand. Man! That stuff gets everywhere!) And I will happily take mice over cockroaches any day of the week. Oh, that is what the poll should have been! Mice or cockroaches! Duh!! Oh well. Cast your vote in the comments. Which is grosser: Mice or Cockroaches? Hmm. Maybe I will include some photos so you can see what your choices are. No! Wait! On Second thought, why don't you just tell us: What is the creepiest critter you've ever seen?