Guess What This Is?

Can you figure it out?

It would have been better if I just had a picture of the color without any texture. Ooh, a clue, I just gave you clue!




Any thoughts?



Yeah, it's our new house color. (I know. I should make you wait a day before the reveal but I just really need to blog about this.)

The bad thing is that as I look at this photo, it doesn't look all that bad. Can I just say that this photo doesn't encapsulate the whole house or the matching detached garage, all bright "Sundial Gold" yellow.

I hate it.

I've tried and tried. The color is gorgeous. Yes, it does remind me of sunflowers (my favorite). Yes, it is eye-catching. (A friend almost hit a pedestrian because he got blinded by our house.) Yes, it stands out from amongst the neighbors and will be most definitely noticed by people buying our home. Yes, it has now become a city landmark (even possibly for NASA). "Yeah I live on X St. just across from the yellow house. YES! That's the one!" Yes, it can glow in the dark. And yes, sometimes I look at it, when the light is just right and I can only see a small portion of the house, and I actually love the color and the house.

But most of the time, I hate it.

It is awful and bright and scary. I feel like I'm living in a crayon. Or a submarine - decorated by The Beatles. Every time I look at my house, I feel like I'm looking at a coloring page gone wrong. I can't stand to even look at my home. And someone else is supposed to want to buy it?

Maybe we won't be moving to Alaska afterall. Maybe we will really have to die in this house.

"This next home has been on the market for the last 5 years."

"Why would a home be on the market so long? Wouldn't...whoa! Ok, yeah, get it now. Can we just move on?"

And I hate knowing that we spent about $700 dollars in paint and extras plus a whole, agonizing long day (I was so butt tired last night) of painting - not just Robert and I but several of our friends (Thank you, thank you by the way!).

When we purchased the color, we were looking at yellows (I do like yellow houses). Robert wanted an even brighter color, I talked him down to this one and then suggested that maybe we buy a quart, paint it on the house and see what we think. Robert got frustrated with me and so balancing my choices (house that might turn out cute anyway versus marital discord), I let Robert go buy 5 gallons thereby sealing our fate.

After the house was painted this neon shade of yellow, I approached Robert.

"So, do you think that next time we should just buy a quart and see what we think first?" thinking for sure that he would agree.

"No. I really like the house. This is exactly the effect I was looking for."

Ach. Gag. What do you say to that?

Maybe having to rent for awhile will be a good thing.

Although I do love my bathroom.

The other side of this, why it is so amusing, is that when we first bought the house, Robert wanted everything (meaning the interior) to be white. I pushed for color and so the whole house was painted this barely off-white peach. Seriously. It was a color just this side of white on the little cards.

Apparently, after 8 years, Robert has embraced his inner color. With a vengeance. I'm laughing at the irony that now I am trying to tone down his color.

Anyway...it is what it is. The house won't be painted again until someone else buys it.

Anyone wanna buy a house?

It's My First Award

Sniff. I think I could cry.

Wendi gave me the above award. She thinks I'm funny. Did you here that Lizzie? Funny ha-ha not funny queer. I think Lizzie's BFF status could be in danger....

So, I need to list 7 blogs that I myself adore. Well, isn't the point of my blog roll? I really do like each and every blog listed on there. But I suppose I'll go out on a limb here and dole out a few awards myself. I can't wait to see who puts this up on their blog!

Trevor, Stefanie and the Munchkins - unfortunately for you, this blog is by invitation only. How lucky am I? I'll put a link up in case she ever decides to go public. Steffie makes me laugh. A lot. She's quirky and has even stalked the house that was in the Goonies on a recent trip to Astoria. She talks about Big Foot and posts pictures of her kids that are so scary, they run away from them! Her tag line? "If only this blog were scratch n' sniff, oh what a blog it would be!" Yeah, she totally gets an award. ***HEY - Stefanie just started a public blog. Come read!

The Lawsons Did Dallas - This woman makes me snort water out my nose on a regular basis. Holy Hannah but she's hilarious and now she's preggo so I'm expecting (ha ha) several months of non-stop hilarity. My favorite post? The one about her near-death experience. Everyone I have even paraphrased this blog to has died laughing.

Navel Gazing At Its Finest - I hate to give Sue another award or accolade because she gets so many but seriously, she's funny and sweet and sincere and honest with all her quirks. She's the woman you wish you had living next door.

Young Stranger - His voice is one of the most beautiful I have ever read. He has such a wonderful, kind and generous way of saying things that even if you don't agree, you are not offended and instead long to know him as your friend.

Hieing to Kolob - I love the subjects BiV examines, her ability to mesh all of her many facets together in one and her honesty in the fact that said meshing is not always easy.

Zillah's Gin - I still haven't quite figured out why I love this one, but I do. Maybe it's her phobia of large bugs (soo there), love of books (mmhmmm) and bouts with depression (raising both my hands in the air). Maybe it's her eloquence. I don't know but I love reading what she has to say.

Echo's Tree and My Little Family - These are both dear friends of mine (the latter is also my SIL) but they are two that I check compulsively, willing new posts to appear. Alexa's is a beautiful reflection on where she has been, where she is, where she is headed and all the joy along the way. She has given me great moments to reflect on my own life. Mia's is full of her family quirks and odd happenings that make me chuckle. Even better, I love reading what my brother has to say because, well, he rarely talks and I love the rare glimpses into his soul. Like the fact that he quoted the theme song to The Facts of Life. Seriously.

So, I heart your blogs. Dearly. Keep writing friends or I'll have to go back to reading what I've written and there are days when that is just painful!

Oh, and the rules are that you are supposed to nominate 7 blogs that you love but I say, "Rules, schmools." Do what ever you want. Take the prize and run screaming from the building, "I'm the favorite! I'm the best! I'm not sharing!" Do it naked for all I care. Just be sure to post photos so I can laugh.

Hey Zillah!

Look what I got!

So nice. Now we don't have to wash our hands in the kitchen sink. (Because you so know that my children were not doing that!)

I went to bed at some early hour like 8pm and woke up at 11pm to use the facilities only to find a lovely sink. Love my DH.

When Green Goes Too Far

If you came here expecting a conservative piece skewering the environmentalist movement, you've come to wrong place. Move along. Nothing to see here but a bored housewife with nothing to do, because you know I just sit at home blogging and eating chocolate, but post pictures of the paint color her bathroom could have been.

I know, you're gone already.

*sigh* Sometimes I remember the day when I used to be considered smart with good opinions.

Oh well, onto the paint.

To the left you will see the photo of the paint my husband chose (in his defense, the paint chip didn't look all that bright).

To the right is the color we actually painted our bathroom.

Aren't you glad we watered it down?

Everyone really would have been saying, "Wow...that's...that's green!"

Sometimes I wonder why paint manufacturers even produce certain colors. I think it's a large conspiracy to make gullible homeowners paint their houses horrible colors forcing them to return over and over again for more paint to correct the previous mistake.

See, now I'm a conspiracy theorist. Maybe those politicos who left so quickly should come back and read after all.

My Bathroom Part II

I'm hopeful that there will be only one more installment in this series.

Anywho....here's what my bathroom looked like only a short while ago (June 24 to be exact):

This is what my bathroom looked like but a few short weeks ago (Aug 8):

I wish I had taken a picture of the empty bathroom and a picture of my front porch with a "For Sale" sign on one side and a toilet on the other. (I contemplated putting one of my hanging baskets in the toilet bowl - now that's real redneck class!) But I didn't.

This is my bathroom now.

If anyone comments, "Wow, that's...that's green!" I may have a coronary. My BFF Lizzie, when asked to validate our lovely, freshly painted bathroom only commented, "Wow. It's green." That's it. No, "Beautiful paint job!" No, "It looks better than it did yesterday!" No however construed cleverly veiled barely compliment. Nope. "It's green." Thanks Lizzie.

I like the cool color with the white and chrome. I think it looks cheery and simple and lovely.

I also think it will look better with a sink.

(And maybe freshly painted trim and some linen shelves instead of bare studs but then I could just be getting picky.)

Letting Go

In the midst of moving, some decisions have to be made, the whole "what to keep and what to get rid of" quandary. One of the items I've been thinking about is a rabbit fur camel. (Not terribly PC, but it is what it is.) An odd item, I know. But one year, I remember it to be my 12th birthday (although that could be debatable my memory being what it is). My mom missed the blessed day (for some reason that I can't recall) and brought me this camel home for my present.

This was in the days of actual in-flight service. She brought it onboard and the stewardesses tucked it away in their little cupboard. I was amazed and awed and in love.

I used to sit on the thing, between the humps, and pretend to ride (that red thing is a harness and at one point looped up over his head with reins for me to grasp).

I used to rub my face against the lush fur.

We used to joke about him being a well-endowed camel.

I moved it south with me when I married and from house to house every time Rob and I moved. It has lived next to my bed for the last several years. But I just can't justify paying the money to move him north. I barely let my kids touch him as his fur is rubbing off.

I know. It's a silly thing to worry about but it was a gift from my madre. I have to consciously tell myself that it's just a thing and that letting go of a thing doesn't mean letting go of my mother or my memories.

And so I have moved it into our garage sale pile and I can only hope some happy child (dare I hope girl?) gets a new rabbit fur camel to love.

Wow

How could I not blog about this? I keep forgetting and yet, it's there.
I was, in the late 80's, early 90's (as in 1990) madly in love with New Kids on the Block. There. My deepest, darkest secret now out for all of you to mock. I had a huge crush on Jordan. (For those of you pretending to not be in the know, he's the guy in the middle with the red jacket.) I wrote letters. I joined their fan club. I sent mix tapes. (Which was a mighty huge declaration of love back then!) Somewhere, I'll have to post them when I find them, I have pictures of my room which was really more of a shrine built in their honor. I had a huge, HUGE string of pop-tabs that I intended to give Jordan (heh heh heh). I even had a poster of him right above my bed on the ceiling so I could gaze into his eyes every knight. (I'm cracking myself up here!) I had a key chain with Jordan's photo on it that I would carry ev.ery.where. My adored stuffed animal whom I slept with every night was named "Vampo," short for vampire because Jordan had wicked canine teeth. So not making this up. (But maybe this does explain my current fascination with vampires....hmmm....)

Anyway, apparently they're making a comeback. They played in the Mall of America in August. I know. I'm astounded. They'll be at the top of the Billboard charts any day now. (Can you hear the sarcasm?) Is it wrong that all I can do is laugh at their current photo? What happened to my boys? And really, I think I'm not so much laughing at them as I am at myself. I think of all the nights I prayed and prayed that Jordan would somehow get my letter, realize I was his soul mate and fly to Alaska to declare his undying love for me. And now I sit here and think, "Thank you Lord for helping me dodge that bullet!" (Not that it was ever remotely flying any where near my body.) But I think of all my childhood wishes, wanted so desperately, and how grateful I am that they didn't come true!

Oh, and because my mocking of them is not quite done, this is their new album cover. They should hire me to think of a name for them because "The Block...." Really? The Cell Block? The Block Party? The Block of Rocks in your Head? I just don't know how they thought that was a good idea.

Then again, I don't know how much better I could have done. We Wanna Be Famous Again? Let's Croon Again, Like We Did Last Summer? Party Like It's 1989? The Boys Have Become Men? This is tricky....Any ideas out there?

I really am trying to be kind but my 33yo self is having too much fun mocking the passions of my 14yo self.

Whirling and Twirling in my Head

Do you ever have a day when you head is full of so many different thoughts that it's hard to find a cohesive piece to blog?

I find that I'm beginning to feel excitement for moving, dreading the reality of trying to sell our home and tearing up (even crying) at the thought of leaving my community here and my dear, dear friends. I've told my Lizzie that I'm happy she's moving to Cali as it would be much harder for me to leave knowing that she was still just across the street. We have put down some deep roots living here for almost 9 years. Quinn and Lulu have only ever lived in this home and have only ever known this place. I feel heartsick at uprooting my children from the future I had planned. I cry thinking of all the beautiful friends, the women whom I greet daily and weekly, whose lives have become so entwined with mine. No doubt we will continue in some semblance of contact (that's what Christmas cards are for) but time will intervene, life is so busy and the intimacy of living in community together will be lost.

I have been thinking about my extended family and how removed I feel from it all. I feel no attachment to my father's side and, with my mother's passing, I feel I have lost connection with her side. I was reading John's posts about meeting his partner's family and all the love and acceptance. I feel the opposite about my own extended family. I feel so hesitant in connecting with them on Facebook. We were connected by our mothers but now they are both gone, so what is left? Just a few tenuous memories and lines on a pedigree chart. Somehow, I don't believe that they miss me, think of me, wonder how I am (we have barely ever even met) even though I do all of those for each of them. I want to embrace them and know them and love them more fully. I'm just so uncertain of my place in their lives and what level of acceptance or family they would offer.

My head has been circling around and around with the idea of Mother God. This really hit me in my last visit to the temple and beginning to appreciate that women are so much more important and powerful in the grand scheme of things. I cannot even convey how much those rites meant to me and the glimpse they gave me. But at the same time, I cannot help but wish that I knew more about my Heavenly Mother, who she is and what she does. I feel as though I can see and know my Father and that men have an idea of what they are reaching toward but there is no such vision for women. Of course I also think that if they are married and therefore one, and they are one with Jesus, that in some ways it all becomes one and the same. And yet it is so different. I wonder how much of this life is "Eve's curse" and how life will be on the other side of the veil. I also have the thought of Jesus - He who was greatest became He who was least. I think of that in terms of women; we have so many grand gifts, inborn, that perhaps we are given a lesser lot to learn the lessons of submission, of greater faith - to move toward something that we have no vision of but simply to trust the word of God that, indeed, she is. This is all very mixed up with my earlier blogs about what I am striving to become and the idea of a warrior woman in the eternities. These questions swirl about with no answers forthcoming and I wonder at the silence.

This leads in turn into my ponderings about homosexuality, marriage rights and the eternities. One of my greatest struggles with accepting homosexuality as not an abomination is the plan of salvation and the revealed knowledge of the eternities; I like the fact that man and woman are exalted only as a unit and not seperately. I like the fact that one cannot be with out the other and that neither sex is complete unto itself. In this one doctrine I begin to feel a sense of equality and a need for me as a woman, a one unto myself instead of just the other. Homosexuality defies this. I know John has blogged a bit about this and my heart weeps/smiles/is humbled by his humility and willingness to accept whatever he receives from his Father. I feel compassion in my heart and a call for greater love towards every one and I struggle to know how to accept and to love and yet draw this line. I want to not worry about it at all, to simply focus on the necessity for kindness and love yet the church seems to require more as it asks that I give my time, talents and financial resources to supporting efforts to bar gay marriage. I am left in a quandry and so unsure of which way to turn.

There is so much I don't understand. I try not to think so much but then I resort to thinking about not thinking, the unexamined life and all that rot.

Then there are the far more prosaic thoughts: should the children and I fly or ferry north? How many household goods can fit into a 20'x8.5'x8' container. Should we rent or buy a container? What should I put in my garage sale? And what is important enough to pay $24/100lbs to ship north? (My books, my piano but not my weights or exercise step.) Should I risk washing the newly tie-dyed clothing with my dark denims? (No.) Should I do dishes now or wait for morning? (Now. My husband will be happier.) Should I accept a friend invite on Facebook for someone whose name is greatly familiar but whose face I cannot place? (Yes, but only on the recommendation of a trusted friend.) When will my back stop itching? (No time soon but Robert is having a lot of fun peeling off skin.) Are we going to take the cat with us? (Only if she stops being mean.)

I take solace in the prosaic. The answers are more quickly forthcoming and easier to solve. And there is a time limit; a point in which, for better or worse, some answer must be reached. The other stuff, not so easily solved. In fact, I think a great deal of the solution lies in the waiting, the patience and faith. But that is far easier written than lived.

Pleased Mama

My cat finally earned her keep. A moth got into the house. Jenny hunted it down, wounded it, played with it and finally ate it.

I have high hopes that she will make a good mouser, a vital quality for any cat living in my house. I believe we all need to contribute. I'm still trying to figure out what our dog does. I guess it's a good thing Robert loves her.

Flickr Meme

Because this just looked like so much fun....two hours later, I'm not quite so sure.


1. 164-Dhuni-Fort De Soto--Kneeling Maraiya 03-10-12(18-6), 2. great sushi lunch!, 3. Juneau-Douglas High School, Under Construction 1961, 4. Meeting the pregnant princess of the forest, 5. McDreamy getting dreamy, 6. Child Drinking Water from Pipe, 7. Winter Sunset and the Louvre, Paris, 8. coffee and chocolate mousse cake, 9. mom and grandma in 1953, 10. boy_girl_holding_hands, 11. Yin-Yang, 12. ~Chantilly Lace~

My actual answers (but not necessarily what I searched for to get a result I liked - I love manipulating data to get the right answer!)

1. Maraiya
2. Sushi
3. JDHS
4. Green
5. Patrick Dempsey
6. Water
7. Paris
8. Dark Chocolate
9. Grandmother (the Japanese photo was just an extra nice touch)
10. My husband
11. Duality
12. Chatilly Lace was the closest I could get.

In case you want to take a shot at it, heres how it works:
a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Using ONLY the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd's mosaic maker. Choose 3 columns with 4 rows.

The Questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One Word to describe you.
12. Your flickr name.

PS - Thanks to Randi for the idea.

#16 and #17

Last weekend I drove up to Portland. It was a perfect weekend. Sunny but not too hot and not too cold. Juuust right. I even escaped without kids. (Can I add that to my miracle list?) I visited an old friend and stayed with her in their new (read: they are currently moving into and lots of boxes) home and was able to attend the 2 year delayed wedding reception for another friend. (I wish I had brought my kids for that. Super Steve was there and he is a balloon artist like no other. He made Lulu a Princess crown, Quinn and Rhys light sabers, Rob a laser blaster and I got a tiara.) But the main reason I went up, sans kids particularly, was because I wanted to attend the temple. Given that we may move at a very indefinite date, I knew I had to take any opportunities that presented themselves as once I go north, those opportunities will be very limited.

I pulled into the parking lot and this was the sight I saw as I walked to the front door:

So beautiful!

How I love to go to the temple. I love especially the words "Holiness to the Lord. The House of the Lord." I feel great love and worship in my heart just gazing upon their inscription as I walk up. I love the quiet that pervades the grounds - despite there being several weddings being photographed outside. I love the peace that is every where and the compassion of every one around me. This is a place where I feel free to ask directions.

I also love that everyone seems trapped in their own bubble. This is not a place where I feel the pressure of making new friends or fellowshipping; it's like sacrament only enlarged. Every one is trying to commune with the Spirit, worship and seek the answers/blessings/peace that their hearts need. I love it.

I did initiatories first. I haven't done these since my first experience and it was amazing. I understand so much more about some arguments regarding women and the priesthood. But it was all the blessings that filled my heart. I listened intently and repeated under my breath, trying fervently to commit them to memory, especially as I don't know when I'll be returning.

I went through an endowment session. (Is it okay to admit that I napped a bit in the beginning?) But I loved my time there. At the end, in the Celestial Room, I wept. There were no big experiences like seeing my mother standing before me, but my heart felt odd. It wasn't the Spirit and I think it was my mom, loving me. I just wept. I can't explain it at all. I've never quite felt it before. But it was good. I sat there for a long time, just reveling in the Spirit and resting in Jesus. How I wish I could just set up house there and never leave!

As I left the temple, taking the photo above, it was with the feeling "This is why I'm a Mormon." It's not the only reason; there are a host of others. But the temple experience never ceases to fill me. I know that the words and the ceremonies are listed all over the internet and that others scoff at the rites, but the plain text or other things they list do not give the full scope of the experience. Nor can simply attending the temple, if you do not have ears to hear and eyes to see and a heart to understand. My first experiences were nothing like my current ones and I'm hoping the future visits will be even better. The Spirit is so pervasive and God feels so near. The veil is thin. I love to be there learning and talking with God, seeking more understanding and greater faith.

How I love the temple!

How grateful I am that my husband enabled me to attend despite watching children and fixing a bathroom simultaneously!

Feel the Burn

This is me.

Three days later.

Will the pain ever end?

I'm a Happy Girl

"Today's the day. What kinda day? A day for you can be anything you wanna be show!"

Or something like that.

It's been a long time since Blue and I were best friends.

But today is the day! And my DH and children remembered.

No singing but they gave me music.


Did you notice it was pink? Soft, blush pink? So perfect.

It's small and adorable and holds 2GB. It plays videos and holds pictures too and, even better, lets me have playlists so I can only listen to the music I want to listen to (unlike my last mp3 player). I know it's no iPod (for all of you techno savvy people reading) but I'm so in love and happy to be thought of on today.


And yes, I feel older. But not ancient.

No. I feel wise. And fabulous.


***PS - In case you feel the need to read everything I post (I know, surely none of you are as AR as me!), I'm back posting one or two items from last weekend.

Surprising (?) News

I was thinking about making this a few different posts, dropping hints, leading y'all on, creating suspense in the hopes of raising my comment numbers and perhaps enticing a few people to read and lurk, at the very least.

But, I have no creativity. And, well, I'm not good at keeping secrets, being mysterious or leading people on. The best I can do is, "I bought your Christmas present and I'm not telling what it is." In a very sing-song voice. "You're going to like it. Wanna know what it is? I won't tell you." Yeah, I can be a brat. Who knew?

The point is, however, that I'm not doing that here.

Well, maybe...


nah.

The real reason though is that 90% of the people who read this blog already know. Not too exciting taunting people about information they already have.

So...




We're moving.

To Alaska.

Surprising, no?

Yeah, no one here was shocked either.

And no, this isn't an April Fool's joke.

We're currently doing some further improvements to our home and then it will be for sale. (Anyone want to move to a small town in Western Oregon?) Robert will be leaving, and 99% of our belongings, at the end of February. The kids and I will be here until the sale goes through or we decide to leave, whichever comes last.

We'll see how it goes. This will be an adventure to say the least as we currently have no idea of where we will live or any of that.

More updated later. I'm thinking that I may need to add a few more miracles. Have you ever tried to move to Alaska? It's a bit harder than piling everything into a UHaul and driving off into the sunset. Speaking of which...I have a few calls to make.

Sets of Three

Have you ever heard the saying that bad things come in threes? It's cliche and not always true but it seems to be in my life. The sentence in my head sounded much funnier but somehow this is what came out in type.

Sunday night I was walking barefoot in my kitchen (as I'm wont to do - I hate shoes) and stepped on something. After bleeding all over the floor and enduring my husband poking around, we discovered it was a lovely glass shard about 2-3mm square. Oh the pain! Oh the blood!

Monday morning, Quinn dropped our cat only to have her land directly on my Achilles' tendon and leave a two inch scratch. Oh the pain! Oh the blood!

Monday afternoon I came home from spending 3 hours at the lake, the opposite side of the lake which I normally go to, the side that, as it turns out is much, much sunnier. I slept with Solarcaine and ice packs and ibuprofen and this morning I am braless and trying to ignore the incessant slow burn in my shoulders and upper back. Oh the pain!

But, there's my three. I think I'm done. For now.

Until the next set hits.

Tomorrow, no doubt, because that's just how this life seems to go.

My Bathroom

So, I'm leaving this morning and this is the state of my bathroom.

(By the way, the toilet seat is permanently stained that way and yes, we're replacing it.)

Robert will be fixing things while I'm gone- putting in a new tub and shower and floor and fixing any rot. And yes, the kids are staying here.

Now that's a brave, brave man!

Love you dear!

Nothing Much To Say

I've been wanting to blog. I sit at my computer and stare at my blog as if I could will a post into being if I stare hard enough. The thing is, I'm home. In Oregon. Our garden is growing, our grass is dead and our weeds are flourishing. My children have returned to some routine of limited TV and video games, reading, chores and time outside. Nothing exciting.

There are no bears randomly wandering down our street. My children haven't learned any new words. They haven't pooped in their beds. There have been no discoveries of the refrigerator light. I haven't forgotten them anywhere (darn it!). We haven't gone camping. We haven't discovered any new visitors to our home. (Robert managed to kill the rat dead while we were gone. *sigh* My great white hunter!)

Yeah. So. Nothing has happened. I took my garbage and recyclables to the curb this morning. I went to WalMart at 7am on August 2 to get Breaking Dawn (yes, I'm one of those people) and finished reading it by 9am on Sunday. Hmmm....I've washed laundry. Would you like a break down of my whites, colored and cold wash loads?

No?

Darn, I thought that would be so scintillating.

I got nothing, folks.

I'll try, though, to have some non-self-examining post tomorrow.

Today, I vow to pester my children until one of them explodes. And then I'll blog on that. Today, I vow to hike through the woods until I can scare up a bar. And then I'll blog on that. Today, I vow to....ah hell, I can't even think of imaginary posts. Today, I vow to get my imagination back.

Yeah. We'll see how that goes.

On the upside, I just gave you a whole lot of good links. Go read something more entertaining than me.

Feeling Sexy

I read this book a few months ago that I loved, loved, loved. Enough that I read several others by the same author (enjoyable but not as good). Enough that I've actually purchased the book (which I rarely do with romance novels). But this book, makes me, all curvy 230 pound me, feel sexy. How can you not want that?

The heroine of this novel is a chubby actuary who is not a risk taker. (Gee, take away the actuary part - which I may have been if I'd even known that was a career option - and you've got me.) Plus, she's constantly fretting about her weight (me) and she has to lose 20 pounds to fit a bridesmaid's dress for her sister's upcoming wedding because her mother refuses to admit that her daughter is chubby and ordered the dress to small (okay, not me but I do feel the compulsion to lose weight). The book is funny, brisk, quirky and fabulous.

The thing is when I was growing up, before I added all this weight from overeating, having children, losing my mother and going crazy, when I was 145 pounds and still a D cup, I never felt pretty. I never felt like I belonged. I always thought that I was completely unattractive. I always wanted to be thin and thought that so many of my problems stemmed from the fact that I wasn't.

I remember my freshman year of college standing in a friend's dorm room and looking at one of her dresses. This friend was a quite petite. In college, if she worked out too regularly, her period would go away because she was so thin to begin with. That's just her body type. Two kids and 14 years later, she's still a thin little thing. Anyway, I remember looking at her dress and realizing, for the first time in my life, that I could starve for the next 20 years and never, never fit that dress. *sigh* I was ready to pack it in and become a nun.

Robert changed all that a great deal but there are still many moments when I prefer the dark to any lights if we're going to be intimate. I want to hide my body and wear clothes that cover and drape as much as possible.

But in this book, there's this one scene. I love this scene. This scene makes me feel sexy. I wish I had read this book back when I was a teenager or early 20's and single. Because seriously? Every woman should feel like she looks amAzing, regardless of body type. And I wouldn't have minded so much the fact that I would never fit into my friends dress; I had (and have) assets that she will never have. We are two decidedly different body types; there's no better or worse just a different set of pros and cons. But it's hard to see that when all I'm doing is focusing on my cons and her pros. That's why I love this scene:

"All right. Here's the truth. You're never going to be thin. You're a round woman. You have wide hips and a round stomach and full breasts. You're..."

"Healthy," Min said bitterly.

"Lush," Cal said, watching the gentle rise and fall of her breasts under her sweatshirt.

"Generous," Min snarled.

"Opulent," Cal said, remember the soft curve of her under his hand.

"Zaftig," Min said.

"Soft and round and hot, and I'm turning myself on....The reason you can't lose weight is that you're not supposed to lose weight, you're not built that way, and if you did manage through some stupid diet to take the weight off, you'd be like that chicken mess you just made. Some things are supposed to be made with butter. You're one of them."

"So I'm doomed," Min said.

"Another problem is that you don't listen. You want to be sexy, be sexy. You have assets that skinny women will never have, and you should be enjoying them and dressing like you enjoy them....Although you're the kind of woman who looks better naked than dressed." His treacherous mind tried to imagine that and he blocked it. "I'm assuming. Eat, please. Hunger makes you cranky."

"I look better naked?" Min said, picking up her fork again. "No. Listen -"

"You asked, I told you," Cal said. "You just don't want to hear it. The truth is, most guys would rather go to bed with you than with a clothes hanger, you're a lot more fun to touch, but most women don't believe that. You keep trying to lose weight for each other."

Min rolled her eyes. "So I've been sexy all these years? Why hasn't anyone noticed?"

"Because you dress like you hate your body," Cal said. "Sexy is in your head and you don't feel sexy so you don't look it."

**If you feel like reading the book, which I totally recommend if you enjoy romantic comedies, please be advised that there are sex scenes and bad language; if that puts you off, don't read the book!

Discoveries

I walked into the bathroom this morning and discovered this:

Great.

Now not only are my mammoth bosom holders a yarmulke (thank you Mia - and actually, it was more like a toque as it covered so much of her head) but apparently they make a good shelf.

I'm thinking when I die, my children can just have the things bronzed and turn them into lovely fruit bowls for their home.

Sunday Ponderings

First, I want to write about Gospel Doctrine. I love this class. I love it so much. I wish that we had a weekly, small group scripture study class. I would love the opportunity to bounce ideas of others and to enrich my study. I wonder if there is such a thing online. Hmmmm.... I also love our local class and our teacher. The Alaskan class was good but ours is fabulous.

One thing I like about our teacher is that he is very good at returning our study to our lives and to our day. We were reading Alma 30 and 31 today. He brought the two stories (Korihor and the Rameumpton) into our lives by discussing modern Anti-Christs as well as our own tendencies as LDS communities to sound like the apostate Zoramites. We preach that we are the true church ("And again we thank thee, O God, that we are a chosen and a holy people." Alma 31:18) and some condemn those of other faiths that they will not receive the same exaltation which we hope to obtain ("...thou hast elected us that we shall be saved, whilst all around us are elected to be cast by thy wrath down to hell; for the which holiness, O God, we thank thee...." Alma 31:17). While there is some truth there, it is certainly not our place to judge someone else's life or relationship with God.

I have been thinking about this a bit in regard to my own quandries about homosexuality, the church and marriage rights. I have blogged enough about this. My current thought is that I need to stop pondering, stop thinking quite so much, and try and move forward in action. Am I loving those around me? Am I trying to love those whom I find it hardest to love? Am I finding some way to serve those whom I would deem the unservable? In short, am I practicing what I am preaching? Or am I hiding behind gospel half truths and failing to adhere to the Spirit?

This same vein hit me forcefully at church today. I have been pondering my place in Heaven and who I will be when I have no more sin. I have been feeling some angst over this and wondering who to be. I have had two thoughts; the first is that I believe my mission in this life is to learn to love more fully and to learn to accept the pain that comes with that but love anyway. I took a test at blogthings.com (I know, that great oracle of wisdom and truth) and it told me that the purpose of my life was to show love to other people. This really resonated with me and I have had this confirmed in so many other ways. All my strong emotions, which make me cringe at myself at times, are part of this gift to love others. I haven't figured it all out but I think this is all interconnected.

The second is that while some women are born Molly types, homemakers in the truest sense, others are born warriors. I still feel a bit hesitant to put this label on myself (something else I need to work on - claiming my gifts! Jesus wasn't shy about saying He was the Son of God!) but I am a strong personality . I feel the need to do more than tend home fires. Now, no laughing, but as I read Breaking Dawn and Bella was preparing to fight and defend her child from the bad guys, I related to that. I feel myself as some sort of female warrior of faith. I'm not sure what that means in regards to my personality and what part of me is kept, but I like the idea that there is more than one kind of woman in the eternities and here is another kind, one that I can identify with more readily than my vision of Molly.

My challenge in all of this, I think, is to learn to like myself. It has occurred to me that I am constantly unsure of other's thoughts of me and that I am so concerned with their perceptions because my own perceptions find me wanting and I need the validations of others to make me feel that I am okay. I find myself annoying. I think I whine and cry far too much. I think that I need to get a spine, get over it and move on. I have so little compassion for myself and, quite frankly, I find that I can't win. I damn myself whether I do or whether I don't unless someone else has given me permission to just be. This needs to stop. I need to learn to like myself and to find my value. I have moments where I feel that, that instrinsic worth merely because I exist and because God loves me, but these moments fade so quickly. Perhaps I have not nourished this seed enough. Another miracle for this year? Perhaps but I think this is one that is intricately tied to miracle #30 and the need for me to be at peace with my emotions.

What Will I Be?

Do you ever wonder who you will be when you finally "arrive?" I was pondering this thought this morning initially with a plucky attitude. I'm great. I will be me only nicer and with less sarcasm. But then I got to rolling the idea around some more and I'm just not sure. How do I, my warts and all, fit into Heaven? I believe strongly in the idea that we come to earth with personality and we leave with that personality and that we won't all be cookie cutter Mollys roaming around the inside Pearly Gates but I have no idea how that all filters down into reality. And the longer I think of this, the more I can only see a Molly, a Stepford wife shell of myself. What part of me remains? I have difficulty separating personality quirks from weakness and sin.

God willing, when I'm perfected and no longer sin, no longer have weakness, I won't crave chocolate. I'm not debating chocolate's existence in the afterlife, merely stating that if it's there, I won't be addicted.

I won't be sarcastic. Hard to imagine, I know.

A sense of humor can still be there; I firmly believe God has one or at least I imagine He does, typically to keep myself from crying!

My neuroses will be gone.

My flakiness gone.

My interests - I suppose they would stay but could I read books about vampire romance in the hereafter? Will romance novels exist or will they read like the Deseret Book fare: boy meets girl, fall in love, some sort of spiritual angst that ends with both of them being members and having strong testimonies, marrying in the temple, having dozens of children and enduring (happily - oh so happily!) till the end. Yawn. I can't even read that stuff now. Maybe I will like it then. Maybe, like chocolate, I just won't care.

I suppose I could still do handicrafts. What about blogging? Would that exist? Would I be to busy creating and raising millions of spirit children? Too busy singing praises too God?

I know that God knows me. I believe in that with all my heart. I know that I am special to Him, in part, because of all my mind numbing thinking. I don't think that being perfected in Him will kill of the unique portions of me, but what, then, is left?

I don't want to say, however, that my sin or weaknesses define me, but to some extent, don't they make this life interesting? Every time I think of myself without them, I can't imagine anything other than Molly: perfect mother, housekeeping, worshipper, daughter and wife, no unkind words or thoughts, every act one of compassion and love, serene and peaceful, gliding on perfection. I just can't see anything other than Molly. Where does Maraiya go? And how does Maraiya differ from anyone else? Will I still have the soul reminiscent of a wind-swept moor or will we all be sunshine and daisies? I. don't. know.

Again, I started this post feeling confident; wanting to share that I am super fabulous and that there is a place in heaven even for someone will all my issues. Now, I'm back to that uncertainty and wondering, in all my striving to be better, to be more of what God, my Father, my Savior, would have me be, what am I trying to become?

6 Word Encapsulation

I've been tagged by Zillah. I can't tell you how excited it makes me to be tagged. It means people like me. It means they want to read what I have to say. It means they know I'm cheap and easy and that I like to play games. Yeah. That would be Robert nodding his head vigorously to the last sentence.

However, do you know how hard it is to say everything in six words? Six words? I fell asleep last night trying to figure out what to post.

Mind numbing thinking...

I needed to add something about insanity because that's where I feel like I live these days; you know, when you feel like you're life is an out-of-body experience and that you're watching this person make choices all the while you're shaking your head thinking, "Will she ever learn?"

So: Mind numbing thinking, insanity of heart.

I figured it need to include something about being a mom, as that defines me in a huge way right now.

Insane curvy mother....or even better, insanely curvy mother

But I also needed to add my boiling emotions that swing me from one end of the spectrum to another.

So: Insanely curvy mother, rolling coaster emotions

OR: Happy, depressed, laughing, sobbing, angry, stoic

And then, in a flash, it came to me. Just now. Not as I was typing but as I sat upon my "thinking chair" aka my throne:

Holy mother of rolling emotional insanity.

Yup. I think that covers it. (If I were allowed 7 words, I throw back in the curvy because when I think of me, my boobs are never far behind.)

Tagging: Anyone who wants to play and feels they can encapsulate themselves into 6 words, no more, no less.