Ummm...TGIF...?

Okay, so I have to tell you what I did last Friday. (I know, it's almost THIS Friday, but this is how my life is August through May...on a one week time delay.)

So, if you haven't heard, my class this year is...how shall I put this...less than perfect. They like to talk. A lot. Like, all the time. This drives me slightly insane. A lot. I have not found anything yet to persuade them that they shouldn't do this. I have tried a lot of things. A lot.

So last Friday we were going along, we had lunch, came back from lunch. They talked, I threatened. They ignored, they talked. It's pretty much routine by this point in the year already.

Anyway, we come back from lunch, we take our spelling test, we work on our time lines, we start a writing assignment, we do some other things, etc.

Soon I look at the clock and see that it's quarter till. So I say "Okay, it's time to get cleaned up!" So, I pass out their Friday paperwork, they get their backpacks, I call them to line up, they stack their chairs (the whole shebang).

So, like every other day we start walking down the hallway to dismiss. I send the kids that ride the bus up to the bus hallway.

While I'm standing there in the hallway waiting for them to settle down so we can walk all the way out, one of the other teachers comes out and says, "Are we supposed to be somewhere?"

I scratch my head, confused, "What...?" I asked.

"Where are you going? Is there an assembly or something?" she persists. Now I'm really confused. Why would there be an assembly at the end of the day?

At the blank expression on my face, she gets a pitying look in her eyes. "It's only 2:00 Mrs. Ames..." she smiles sweetly.

"Wha...huh...I..." I stammer intelligently as I look at my watch and will it to NOT say 2:01. Now that I think of it, I didn't hear a bell ring. And the hallways ARE awfully empty...

Finally, I resign myself to the fact that it's NOT dismissal time yet. So, I turn the troop around, march them back into the class.

"Quick! Run up and get the bus kids!" I shouted hurriedly to one student. "Before anyone else sees how stupid your teacher is!" I wanted to add.

The kids, of course, thought this was hilarious. Once I got over my confusion I did too, actually.

The best part was that once we got back in and settled down I asked the class "Okay, so did anyone NOTICE that it was only 2:00 instead of 3:00?"

About 10 hands shot up.

Hmmpphh. Third graders.

Pop Quiz, Hot Shot!

What's more fun than sitting through three hours of church?

Sitting through three hours of church when the air conditioner is on the fritz.

P.S. It's 110 degrees today.

Okay...One More Post About Our Dog and We Officially Become THOSE People...

...but still, I couldn't resist.

This is something Daisy does to anything she can get her paws on.

This video shows her doing it to some discarded poster paper, but she regularly does it to blankets, towels, the tile in the bathroom, whatever.

We don't question it. We just giggle at the silliness.

Please to enjoy, the craziness that is Daisy:

This Post is Rated R...for Rant

An Open Letter to the People Behind Us in the Movie Theater Today Who Felt the Need to Talk (Not Whisper, mind you, TALK) During ALL of Harry Potter;

I learned a lot about you today. I see now that you are the kind of person who doesn't like to read. Fine, I don't understand you, but I respect your right to wallow in your illiteracy.

I also see that you are the kind of person who chooses to see a movie without reading the book that goes along with it first (or, for that matter, watch the preceding FIVE movies that are part of the story). I don't understand that either, but whatever.

I also found out that you have a seemingly uncontrollable need to TALK (not whisper) to the person next to you, who may or may not know any more about the storyline than you do. It seems that you have the need to do this throughout the entire movie.

Apparently it's extremely important for you to mention (during the opening credits of the movie) to your neighbor/conversation companion how Bob (whoever THAT is) "needs to get that there THX surround sound so that he can hear better." And how Bob ordered the Whisper 2000 off of the infomercial, and that seems to have helped a little. I knew right then that we would have a special, special relationship.

I also learned that you have zero patience when it comes to suspense, build up, foreshadowing, or any other cinematic device employed during the movie to keep the rest of us interested in where the plot is going. You kept asking your equally Chatty Cathy neighbor "What's going on?" "Who's that?" "Why is he crying?" "I thought he was dead." and my favorite: "Isn't this the last movie?!" Thanks for asking all those burning questions the rest of us are just too involved in the storyline to ask.

Also, double thanks go out to your partner-in-annoyingly-loud-crime for indulging your curiosity by answering EVERY SINGLE question.

Incidently, noisy neighbor, thanks for allowing me a unique insight into your IQ bracket by answering the majority of your friend's questions incorrectly!! ("No, this is not the last movie. There are at least three more.")

Also, if you see your cousin; you know, Person Who Talks On Their Cellphone/Sends Text Messages/Shines Their Cellphone Light Around the Theater During the Movie, tell them I said hi and thanks, once again, for providing a much needed distraction during the movie. I knew I was getting WAY too involved in the plot!

Thanks for all the great memories! Take care!

Much Love,

Rebekah

Enter New Information...Exit Old

I have come to the conclusion that my brain has reached maximum capacity. Any additional information that it receives will cause it to dispose of what it deems as useless old information. How do I know? Read on.

This week I have been helping my friend Jen who recently purchased a new home. We have been painting her walls. The day before yesterday, while we were there the Post Office came by to drop off her new mail key. On our way home we stopped by her mailbox to check to see if she had any mail yet.

If you don't know, most newer houses here have these neighborhood mailboxes, where all the boxes for the entire neighborhood are clustered together in a big beehive type thing. When you move in you are assigned a number and given a key. They don't put the addresses on the actual box fronts (I guess for security purposes, or something...).

They told her that her mailbox number was B-6. It wasn't. The key would not even go in the keyhole for B-6. So we stood out there in the 110 degree heat and tried every single mailbox. It ends up it was C-6. Problem solved. It only took about 10 minutes (did I mention it was 110 degrees...).

Okay, fast forward to today. I go out to do my weekly (ok monthly...) mail gathering. Now, keep in mind we have lived in this house (and had the same mailbox) for over a year. All of a sudden I could NOT remember what our mailbox number was. I racked my brain, but the information was not there! For the life of me, the only thing I could remember was B-6 and C-6. Neither of those are our mailboxes. So, for the second time in a week I stood out in the 110 degree heat and tried every stinking mailbox.

About halfway through the process I began to worry that if someone were to come along I might get arrested for mail tampering. What kind of a crazy/mentally challenged person stands out in the heat testing their key in each and every mailbox?! I didn't even have the excuse of being new to the neighborhood!

About 5 minutes and 20 mailboxes later, I started to get desperate. I began to forget which mailboxes I had already tried. I thought about calling Dan, but immediately dismissed that idea, remembering that he is the person who routinely asks me for our address and/or zip code.
Finally, just when I was ready to give up and go back inside, my key turned. Success! I looked around sheepishly, grabbed my mail, and made a quick b-line for the house.

I am glad I have my mail, but now I'm afraid to absorb any new information. I will have to relegate myself to watching VH1 and reading the Arizona Republic!! I can't afford to learn anything new. I might forget my bra size or the roads I take to get to work!!
It's tough getting old. :(


**Incidentally, later on when I relayed my harrowing experience to Dan he said "You couldn't remember our mailbox number?! That's easy: B-11."
Go figure...

Crazy Daisy!

I'm pretty sure that Daisy was, in her former life before she came to our family, employed as a bomb sniffing dog. How do I know this? Well, I don't...but I can only surmise that this was her former occupation because since joining our household she has taken it upon herself to thoroughly inspect any new item that comes on the premises. Here are a few examples:

The newly purchased toilet paper from Costco could be dangerous. Here you can see how she has taken it upon herself to inspect it to ensure that it is safe for our family to use:

In fact, she is so vigilant that even after she had ascertained that the toilet paper was safe, and I was allowed to put it away, she still felt compelled to inspect the outside wrapper one more time...just to be sure:

Then, later when I was working on some new primary rolls and paperwork, Daisy became concerned that some of these primary papers may have gone rogue and may be posing a threat to the family. Daisy jumped on them like a bum on a bologna sandwich!

And let me tell you something else: there is no END to Daisy's vigilance. She never sleeps when there are potential threats lurking everywhere. Even things that have been in our house longer than Daisy has cannot be trusted. Take our entryway rug. We've had it for years. I naively assumed it was safe. But Daisy was not fooled. Thanks to Daisy crisis averted, yet again!

Also, there is apparently something dangerous and sinister about the bows that I stupidly insist on putting in her hair. Every time I, like a dummy, try to put one in her hair she stealthily removes it within thirty minutes before it can do any harm:

Phewww! That was close!!!

Summer J.O.B.

I don't do well with having nothing to do.

The first two days I got back from Utah I laid around my house and read. I didn't leave the house, I didn't clean, I didn't accomplish anything. I didn't even get dressed.

My wonderful husband was kind enough to point out that this is...not good. In his gentle way he said, "Honey, you're not going to lay around all summer are you? Because you know you get all depressed and junk when you don't have anything to do. Maybe you should get a job." He is so kind.

So, maybe I will get a summer job. There are a couple of problems with this scenario.

First: to my knowledge, there are not many jobs out there (something to do with the economy, or something...I don't know...). So that might pose a challenge.

Second: I don't know what I want to do.

I don't want to wait tables (I've never done that before, and don't want to start now).

When we were seeing Star Trek the other day I thought about working in a movie theater. Free popcorn and movies, awesome! But then Dan said that I probably would have to do ALL the theater jobs, like cleaning the theaters and getting peoples' soda and popcorn, instead of JUST taking peoples' tickets, like I wanted to do. Plus, they would probably make me wear that stupid uniform. No thanks, that's why I went to college, thankyouverymuch.

I could probably go work at a tutoring center or one of those summer programs for kids places. But, if I'm being honest, the prospect of working with kids during the SUMMER sounds like about one step down from water-boarding on the torture scale.

I could probably get a job at my nail salon. But what would I do there? Give pedicures? Touch people's feet?! Eww! I don't think so.

My friend (a fellow teacher) applied at Hobby Lobby and I thought, "Cool! We could work there together!" I HEART Hobby Lobby! But they never called her back, so I guess they're not hiring.

Another problem is that, while part of me wants a job (It would be nice to have the extra money, and something to do), the other part of me doesn't want a job. Or, at least, I want the kind of job where I can not come in if I don't feel like it, or leave early if I have plans.

To summarize, here is my list of demands for my potential summer job:
1. No food. Yuck.
2. No cleaning up other people's messes. Yuck.
3. No uniforms. I am a free spirit. I can not be fettered by The Man's chains of oppression!
4. No kids. Aggh.
5. No touching people. Eeewww.
6. Flexible schedule (i.e. I can come and go as I please, but preferably get paid for working full time...).

As of now, I am J.O.B. less for the summer. Maybe that will change, maybe not.

Any ideas?

Since You've Been Gone...

So, I came back from Utah on Tuesday, June 16th. My family wanted me to stay longer. I seriously considered staying.

I didn't really have a deadline for heading home (other than my Primary calling that I've been neglecting) and my brother-in-law Bryce is going to be in a play this weekend that my sister Sue Ann designed and made all the costumes for. So it would have been cool to get to see all that.

However, after checking with the airline I learned that it would cost a significant amount of money to switch my ticket, so that pretty much decided it for me...I wasn't staying.

Then my brother-in-law Paul (very generously) offered to pick up the difference so I could stay the extra time. I seriously considered staying.

But in the end, I decided that it was time for me to get back home. I missed my husband and my fur children, and it was time for me to get home.

While it would have been nice to stay longer, in the end I am glad I came home when I did. I REALLY missed my husband....a lot.

I think he missed me too. He gets a little...non-functioning...when I'm gone. Here's how I know:

• When he picked up the dogs from Todd and Felicia he didn't realize she had stuck the bag with their bowls in the trunk. So for two days my dogs ate their dinner off of paper towels.

• When he left Utah I reminded him that the dogs would have NO food when he came home and he would have to buy them some. He apparently forgot. As far as I can gather they lived off of Milkbones and take-out food for a couple of days. And possibly granola bars (see below).

• Our paper towel holder is missing. I haven't gotten all the details yet, but I suspect it went the way of the tongs.

• Dan is now the proud owner of some new socks...big, thick, fluffy, wool socks. It's 100 degrees outside...

• The contents of our fridge are as follows: 50 Kirkland Protein Shakes, roast beef lunch meat, pepper jack cheese.

• The contents of our pantry are as follows: 50 different kinds of granola bars.

• The contents of our garage are as follows: the empty cardboard boxes of 50 Kirkland Protein Shakes, the empty cardboard boxes of 50 different kinds of granola bars.

• Our recycle bin is full of non-recyclable trash.

• Dan forgot to go to church on Sunday. He did remember, however, to go out to lunch with his friend that day. And go shopping at Fry's Electronics(!?).

• Dan forgot to shave (or at least, he didn't shave...) for about 8 days. I'm not sure why because he went in and shaved about 10 minutes after I got home.

So, in the long run, I'm glad I'm home...for all of our sakes... :)

Our Utah Trip

I finished school on Friday, May 29th. We didn't waste any time. We left for Utah on Saturday, May 30th. Our friends Todd and Felicia were kind enough to watch our fur children for us. And Grandma and Dad came along with us.

We only went half way the first day. We stayed in Las Vegas. I found a "good deal" online for our hotel room. It was not such a good deal... Our room was a DUMP!!!

There were holes in the wall:

And this was the view out our window:

Luckily, construction workers still take Sunday off; even in Vegas.

And, luckily we only had to stay there one night. It was...interesting...

We woke up Sunday, packed up our stuff, desperately tried to avoid touching the mysterious stains on the carpet of our room, and headed for Utah.

I love doing the Utah/Phoeix trip in two days because there isn't such a rush to get there.

We got to my sister's house around 4 pm. My sister had dinner waiting for us (bless her...I was already tired of road food!).

We ate and then headed to my nephew Austin's Eagle Scout Court of Honor. It was great to get to be there for that. He (and his mom) worked really hard!

Then Tuesday was the Main Event (so to speak). It was my brother David's birthday, my great-neice Teagan's birthday, and...MY birthday!! Also, it was our late Grandma Bullock's birthday, and my nephew and neice-in-law (Teagan's parents-go figure!)'s anniversary!!
So it was a pretty important day!!

My sisters (being the wonderful sisters that they are) threw us all a big party!! It was great! Teagan got to eat her very first birthday cake, and I got some great presents (including the ones from Dan that I picked out).
The best present, however, was just being there all together with my family.

The highlight of the next couple of days would have to be the field trip Dan, Dad, and I took to the Bingham Copper Mine. Did you know it's the World's Largest Open Pit Mine? It is. Now you know.

We also got to go to a couple of my nephew Parker's baseball games. He's on a Super Team (I think that's what it's called...) and he's pretty good!It reminded me why I like summer in Utah so much. There's nothing better than a warm summer night at the ball park.

We also went to the This is the Place Monument.

I didn't realize how moving it would be. The monument tells the story of the pioneers who settled Utah. One of my direct ancestor's name is actually on the monument!

We also went to Park City. Dan had never been there. I thought this was a funny sign....probably just because I've lived in the desert for too long...

Then Dan and Parker rode the Alpine Slide. Dan wasn't sure if he was going to make it, (Not because of the slide part...but the ski lift ride up to the slide. He's afraid of heights.) But he made it.

Friday we got to go to my neice Olivia's graduation from 8th grade. I can't believe how grown-up she's getting!
She's beautiful, inside and out.

What a great family!

We also got to go up and spend some time with my sister Dana and her family. We drove up Ogden Canyon and found a great place for a little hike.
It was a magnificent day:

There was a great looking little path. I didn't hike as fast as everyone else because I was wearing flip-flops (and because I was too busy taking a billion pictures!).

I got some really great ones: There was a peaceful little stream next to the trail.

Lexie made sure to mark our path for us, so we wouldn't get lost.

Dan, Dad, and Grandma left on Sunday to go back home, but I stayed another 9 days. It was great to have some extra time with my family.

My sisters and I got to do a session in the Salt Lake Temle (first time doing a live session!). Afterwards we went out for a sisters' dinner.

We also got to have lunch with some of my aunts and girl cousins. I forgot to take any pictures, we were all so busy talking! But it was fun to see everyone again and catch up.

Also, I got to go to my grandparents' old house. My cousin and his wife live in it and have fixed it up. It is darling! (I would have taken pictures, but that probably would have seemed a little weird...)

I did some (too much!) shopping, saw a movie, and just generally had a great time!

I would have to say that all in all it was a fabulous trip. I was so happy to be able to see and spend time with my sisters and their families. They are all such great people, and I feel lucky to be able to count them as family. I am thankful that, even though we can't live as close to everyone as we would like to at the present time, we still get to see everyone on a fairly regular basis, and when we do get a chance to visit we are always welcomed into their homes and their lives with open arms. We are truly blessed. :)

OUR NEW(ly painted) FURNITURE!!

Okay, so, here's the deal. I could probably count up the hundreds of dollars that Dan and I have spent on furniture since we've been married on one hand, with a few fingers left over...

We have been very lucky that:
a) we have inherited a lot of furniture from our parents, and
b) that we have rather eclectic taste in furniture (okay, at least I do...).

Many of the pieces we have purchased have come from thrift shops and Craig's List. :)

Here's the only problem with that: sometimes when you put it all together it doesn't match. Yes, I do realize that's sort of the point when it comes to eclectic styling, but at some point it's got to come together a little bit, right?!

So, after I had the conversation with Dan that began with him laughing at me and ended in him saying "No, we are not buying new furniture." I decided to take matters into my own hands.

Over winter break (that's the only time I can accomplish anything is over breaks) I decided that our bedroom furniture--which consists of 2 matching night stands from Walmart, 1 bed we inherited from Dan's grandma, and 1 dresser we inherited from my grandma--needed to match.

I don't have a before picture, but imagine four different pieces of furniture, three different types of wood. What better way to make them match than with paint! So we painted our bedroom furniture white. Here's how it turned out:


It was a lot of work! More than I thought it would be, but it was fun!

So, I guess you could say that I caught the fever (maybe from the paint fumes)...

This break, I decided that our mismatch of living room furniture--which consists of a coffee table, a tv table, a sofa table, a small entry way table, and a bookshelf...again, all different woods and colors--should also match.

So here's what I did over this break:

The T.V. table:



The coffee table:


The sofa table:



The bookshelf:



The entryway table:


Here's what it looks like all together (I realize that in this picture you can actually only see the coffee table-the rest are too spread out-but at least it gives an idea of what they look like all together) :



In the end, even if I couldn't buy NEW furniture, I at least feel like we have new furniture, even if it's just a new color.


P.S. The only problem came when the fur children decided that they wanted to help paint too. Here's them looking sad and depressed when I told them they couldn't help. I didn't use words so much as imprisonment:



P. P. S. I also found out that I LOVE distressing things! You can't mess up! It's perfect for me (cause I mess up a lot!!!).

Ugh...itunes...

Okay, so it's...11:34 p.m. (which didn't used to be late, but now that I'm 29 going on 89 it seems really late, and I'm really tired!)

Something unexplainable and unacceptable happened to our itunes account! Half of our music disappeared! I don't know what happened. Dan says it's my fault, but I don't think it is!

One day our music was there, then the next, half of it is missing!

I located the elusive music, but now I am currently having to go through and find each individual song and re-save it in the correct place.

DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG THAT TAKES?!

At the bottom of our itunes page it says that we have, like 14 days worth of music. I'm pretty sure it's going to take me that long to re-find all of these stinkin' files and save them in the right place!

I am almost positive that there is a better and more effective way to do this. If you know what it is, keep it to yourself thank-you-very-much. Because by the time you tell me it will be too late. I will be done.

Never-the-less, I am sure there is a better way to do this, I just don't know it.

So for right now, I'm sitting here, blinking to attempt to clear my bleary eyes, half listening to some asinine news magazine show (cause I can't find the remote, and am too annoyed to look for it very hard), and waiting for my dinosaur of a computer to find these crazy music files.

**Grrr** Curse you ipod/itunes (whatever) for making us all so dependent upon you for our musical needs! Curse you!

P.S. I know where all of my CD's (which contain much of the same music that is on my ipod) are. They don't mysteriously move themselves to a new location and force me to locate them all individually. Neither do my even more archaic cassette tapes.... **grrr** again...

I AM A BAD PET PARENT!!!!

Okay, so I thought I was doing okay.

Since we adopted Daisy I've been bathing her once a week, I've been brushing and blow drying her after I bathe her...

I thought we were doing fine.

Until yesterday.

I decided that I would take her to the professional groomer for a special treat (hee hee...little did I know...)

It being my first official day of Spring Break, I was not, shall we say, up and/or dressed by her 11:00a.m. appointment time. So, I sent Dan and Daisy on their way with specific instructions for Dan to have them trim her all around, clip her nails, clean her ears, shave down her potty path (eww.), etc.

I will admit that I was particularly excited by the prospect of the groomer being able to get a bow into her fur (hair...whatever, Lisa) since whenever I try to put one in she suddenly turns herself into a doggie contortionist with opposable thumbs and yanks it out. *tear*

So, you can imagine my absolute shock when Dan called and said that "Chip" the groomer said that she had matts and he was going to have to shave her down.

My jaw hit the floor.

"Honey?" Dan asked hestitantly.

"How can she have matts? I bathe and brush her every week!" I demanded of my innocent don't-kill-the-messanger husband.

"I don't know, but he showed them to me, and they're pretty bad." He answered.

"But dogs who don't have owners who love them get mats!" I insisted. Not dogs who's human mothers chase them around all day trying to put bows in their hair! I added internally.

I was floored. How could this happen? Since September when she had to be shaved nearly bald because she'd been a stray I'd been working on growing her fur (hair...WHATEVER, Lisa!) out so that she didn't look like a cancer victim. Now here we were right back in the same position. How could this be?!

Two hours later when "Chip" called to say she was "ready" (a.k.a. satisfactorily butchered) and we could pick her up, I'm pretty sure I heard an underlying tone in his voice. The kind that says "I guess you can come get your dog back so you can abuse and neglect her some more. See you in another three months, you neglectful dog owner you. Don't forget to feed her once in a while."

When Dan brought her home (I couldn't bring myself to face "Chip's" condesending stare.), she actually doesn't look THAT bad. Just different than how I pictured.

I only cringed a little bit when Dan told me that "Chip" had given us the Adoption Package for people who rescue strays and bring them in to get groomed.

"Did he think that we just barely rescued her?" I asked. Maybe we could play it off that that's why she was in such bad shape.

"No, I told him the truth." Dan stated matter of factly. Why did he have to choose now to be honest? When my pride is on the line!?

Now when I look into her eyes (which I can see now, thanks to "Chip's" clipper skills, not his fur (hair...whatever, LISA) dressing and bow-putting-in skills) I think that I see her silently asking me "Why, mom? Why?!"

But maybe I'm overreacting...just a little bit. Maybe...

P.S. They did in fact give her a rather fetching striped bandana, which she is enjoying chewing up immensely.

8 Item Tag...

I'm joining the TagEd - You're it now! Here are the rules: 1) Post rules on your blog 2) Answer the six '8' items 3) Let each person know by leaving them a comment.

8 favorite TV shows:
1. Scrubs
2. Grey's Anatomy
3. The Office
4. The Soup
5. The Colbert Report
6. The Simpsons
7. Phineas and Ferb
8. America's Next Top Model (ashamed, ashamed, I am ashamed!!)
Since we got our DVR I am a TV junkie (even though I rationalize it by saying that we're just more SELECTIVE about our tv viewing now...)

8 Things I did yesterday:
1. Laundry (finally! Gotta love spring break!!)
2. Realized I am a bad pet parent (see future post)
3. Procrastinated grocery shopping another day
4. Ate dinner with friends (yummy! Her mom cooked it, and she used to be a home ec teacher!)
5. Dusted my house (achoo!)
6. Called a "landscape engineer" (named Pablo) to tackle the weeds in our front yard that already kicked my butt
7. Paid bills (BORING)
8. Watched The Golden Girls and missed my friend Mandi (sad!)

8 Things I'm looking forward to:
1. Spring Break: I'm still counting Spring Break (even though it's already here!) cause I am super-stoked to have a week off.
2. The Week of May 19th -24th: My friend Kim comes to visit from Ohio (yeah!!!)
3. My Dog's Fur (hair..whatever, Lisa) Growing Back (*tear*)
4. AIMS testing being over with (blech!)
5. My Birthday! (because I'll be in Utah for the 1st annual Rebekah/David/Teagan/Grandma Bullock/Patrick & Christy Anniversary/Birthday/Memorial Extravaganza. Hosted by the one and only Suzy-Q)
6. Switching health insurance to a company that actually provides...health...insurance...(stupid cigna)
7. Swimming weather (it's ALMOST here...as soon as it's here, I'll want it gone again...)
8. Multi-cultural Fair (I get to dress up like a Greek Goddess!)

8 Favorite restaurants:
1. Carrabas
2. Macarroni Grill
3. Chick-Fil-A
4. In and Out
5. Chipotle
6. Taco Bell (*cringe* I know, but it's true...)
7. PoPo's
8. Rubio's

8 Things on my wish list:
1. A Baby :)
2. A savings account that is...shall we say...larger...
3. Happiness for my Dad
4. More funding for education (I can't help it...it's true)
5. To move back to Utah
6. My husband to finish his education
7. For Dan's socks and various other dirty items to magically find their way to the hamper (it's really hard for him to find it, apparently...)
8. A new fridge (mine's ugly and doesn't match the rest of the appliances (*frown*)

People I tag:
Okay, everyone I know who blogs was already tagged by SueAnn, so...NO ONE. :) Thanks for reminding me how pathetic I am...

"Tomacco-cicles"

Okay, so the other day Dan and I were craving ice cream.

So, of course, I sent Dan out to get some. Apparently, he decided that it would be better (not cheaper, but better) to get our ice cream from a convenience store rather than our local neighborhood grocery store. Whatever...

So he comes home with two of those ice cream cone things with the chocolate and nuts on top (if you don't know what I mean, see the picture below.)Which is fine. I am a big fan of those ice cream cones. However...when I opened mine up I immediately wrinkled my nose.

"Honey, does this smell funny to you?" I asked.
Dan sniffed his. "Yeah, it kind of does, but I can't tell what it smells like though..."
I sniffed mine again, and decided that it was mostly the cone that smelled so wrong.
"It smells like...like...cigarettes!" I finally decided. "Eww."

We decided to name them "Tomacco-cicles" after The Simpsons episode where the family moves to the country to become farmers and Homer accidentally creates a tomato-tobacco hybrid plant that he calls "Tomacco" when he plants a little bit of everything and fertilizes it with plutonium. (Remember? Ralph says "Eww, Daddy, this tastes like Grandma!")

I do not know WHY these particular ice cream cones smelled like cigarettes, nor do I necessarily WANT to know. I do know, however, that the totally unappealing smell of these particular cones did not stop my husband from popping the top off, throwing the cone away, and eating the ice cream (from both cones; I didn't want mine for some reason...). Nor did it stop him from returning to that same store again on another day to purchase...the same product.

Hmmm...I guess "Tomacco-cicles" are as addictive in real life as their name sake was on The Simpsons...

Fur Children

So, I decided that our blog would not truly be complete until I included at least one post about our little furry friends. For those who don't know (look at me, writing as if my readership extends beyond the two people I know have read this already, and probably won't read it again...) we have two dogs, Lucy and Daisy.
Since we, as of yet, have no human children to call our own we have settled on referring to our pets as our "fur children". I have rationalized that calling them fur children (and treating them as such) is not pathetic for a couple of reasons:
a) Dan and I are married. If it were just me, living alone with a steadily increasing brood of dogs/cats etc. THAT would be pathetic. But it's not. I have a husband. See...the difference...see...?
b) we don't costume them. (Sorry Lisa) Okay, disclaimer: I once bought Lucy a sweater when we went to Utah and I was afraid she would be cold in the snow. I think she wore it once and then tried to chew it off.
So, our fur children. Actually, now that I think of it, it may just be me that calls them that. I don't recall Dan ever using the term. In fact, I am now remembering some indistinct mumbling coming from somewhere in his vicinity when I have referred to them as fur children in the past...hmm. Wonder what that's about...?
Anyway, Lucy and Daisy. We have had Lucy since she was about eight months old. We adopted her from the pound. She is, in my humble opinion, the smartest dog in the world. Not to mention the cutest. When I think about how we adopted her I realize now how lucky we are. We had been looking for a dog to adopt for about two weeks and had just lost out on a lottery at the Humane Society. We were on our way home and passed the pound, which we had checked at least a dozen times before, only to find cats and pit bulls. But for some reason that afternoon I begged Dan to stop there again.
As we were walking through I was beginning to think that our trip had been another waste of time. Then we came to her kennel. All I remember seeing was a brown and white blur that was jumping up to about eyebrow height (which was no small feat, considering she is less than two feet high!)
When I asked the volunteer if we could take her out of the kennel I saw Dan raise his eyebrows skeptically.
I, of course, chose to ignore him. (Even though we'd only been married a couple of years at that point, I was already pretty good at it!) The volunteer put her on a lead and we walked to the hallway which apparently served as the get-to-know-the-animal-you-may-take-home area. We spent about five minutes with her. I could tell that Dan's concerns were not put to rest, since most of the five minutes was spent like this: Lucy jumping around everywhere in an attempt to lick our foreheads, me trying to get her to calm down, and Dan watching it all from the corner.
"Can we take her home?" I asked. "I guess..." said Dan.


So, we took her home and, amazingly, she turned out to be an (almost) perfect dog!
That's the story of her pretend birth that I tell her every year on her pretend birthday.

Funnily enough, we got Daisy in a similar manner. Kind of...
One day last September I was walking into my classroom in the morning. I saw in the distance our janitor leading what appeared to be a dirty dust mop around on a lead. Now, mangy dogs showing up on our campus is not unusual. One of my fellow teachers ended up taking her to get groomed (she was a mess!) and taking her home.
It took me about one day to convince Dan that we should go see the dog. We thought that she might be a Lhasa Apso, and Dan just kept saying that he "didn't want a little dog". Whatever...
So, long story...less long, we saw her, decided that she was pretty cute, even though she looked a little like a pink and gray shaved rat (since all her matted fur had to be shaved off) and took her home.
We have learned a few things since bringing her home:
1: There is a HUGE difference between dog breeds. Lucy is made up of breeds that are almost exclusively interested in pleasing their people. She would rather die than disappoint us. Daisy is made up of breed(s) that don't really care very much about pleasing others. In fact, I am convinced that her main goal in life is to find as many ways as possible for her people to please HER! This aspect of Daisy's personality makes Lucy VERY uncomfortable. In fact, it is not uncommon in our house to see Dan or myself attempting to get Daisy to obey, while Lucy repeatedly does whatever command it is we are giving to Daisy. It's almost like she's trying to say "Look, here's how you do it, see! It's not that hard, just do it!"
2: Having one dog sleep on your bed with you is okay (as long as she stays on my side and doesn't touch Dan). Having two dogs sleep on your bed with you is...too much. Having one dog sleep in bed with you while the other dog is in her crate makes for a sleepless night. For some reason Daisy is perfectly content to sleep in HER crate, as long as Lucy is also sleeping in hers. However, Lucy being allowed to sleep on the bed while Daisy is relegated to her crate is, in Daisy's opinion, unacceptable.
3. Dan and I are, in reality, not the master dog trainers that Lucy let us believe that we were. Enough said...
4. Evolutionarily speaking: Lucy is running laps around Daisy. For example: Daisy wants any toy that Lucy has. She will not hesitate to come over and snatch it from her. For whatever reason, Lucy does not object to this. However, she has learned that all she needs to do is to get another toy, which Daisy will promptly snatch from her, leaving the original toy (the one that Lucy really wanted in the first place) available. To date, Daisy has not caught on to this ploy. Also, if Daisy is playing with a toy that Lucy wants, Lucy will go around behind her and pull on her tail (which Daisy HATES). Daisy will drop the toy and whip her head around. At this point Lucy will snatch the abandoned toy and run off with it. Poor Daisy...
5. Having two dogs that are young and energetic is not the same as having two dogs when one of them is 15 years old, one-eyed, deaf, and perfectly content to lay in the corner and sleep all day. This is especially true when going to Petsmart. Apparently, although they only have a combined weight of 45 lbs, when leashed and somehow working together, they can pull a small car.
Overall, I am very glad that we have these dogs in our lives. Their entertainment value alone is priceless. Not to mention their companionship and devotion. :)

"Mantrums"

I know I just started this blog, but I couldn't resist posting about this.
So, this weekend I bought a roast, and planned to cook it on Saturday. However, I ended up running more errands than I planned, and it didn't get cooked. Sunday came around and I intended to fix the roast on that day, but, well...it didn't happen either.
So by today I was fairly sure that I needed to fix this roast or risk some sort of food borne illness that comes from consuming overly ripe meat. The problem was that my dad was coming over for dinner at six, I had a meeting at school until 4:00, and the roast needed to braise for at least 3 hours. Solution: I texted Dan the directions to start the roast, figuring I would be home in time to repair any real damage and save dinner.
It should be noted: my husband, bless his heart, is not what I would call....culinarily inclined. He has no desire to be either. But after I explained to him that he either needed to start the roast at 2:30 or wait until 8:00 to eat dinner, he was willing to help.
I came home from school at about 4:30. The roast was happily braising in the pot, it smelled great, everything looks perfect. Dan even tells me that I can go clean out and organize the bathroom cabinet I have been wanting to get to and he'll finish up dinner. Wow, right!?
So, while I was in the bathroom organizing our extra toothpastes, and travel sized shampoos and conditioners, Dan comes in and, with his hands behind his back, tells me that in the process of preparing the roast he broke something. My heart sinks. I'm wracking my brain trying to remember if any of our valuables or breakables were missing from their normal spots when I came in the house.
To my relief and (to his chagrin) amusement, Dan pulls out a pair of tongs from behind his back. As the picture shows, they have been smooshed and bent beyond repair.
"How did you manage that?" I asked incredulously.
"I don't wanna talk about it..." he mumbles. It turns out the tongs made the grievous error of not holding on tightly to the roast as Dan was browning it, causing hot grease to splatter on him and burn him. In response to their failure he flung them across the room, where, given the appearance of them, I can only guess they met a force stronger and harder than them and crumpled to the floor.
This, ladies and gentleman, can only be described as a "mantrum". A tantrum thrown by a grown man.
Believe it or not, this is not my first experience with the "mantrum". Unfortunately, I have never witnessed one personally, but the aftermath is always spectacular.
Last year it was the crumpled and fizzing Squirt cans I found in the sink who I later learned had a brother who had the nerve to fall out of their cardboard container while Dan was carrying in the groceries. The other cans, although innocent, paid for their brother's mistake by being pummeled by Dan's fist (actually, Dan's fist came out the worst for it...but don't try pointing that out anytime within a month of the "mantrum" incident).
Before that it was the cardboard shake can that slipped from it's plastic bag while being carried from the grocery store to the car. None of the other cans even made it to the car, let alone home. I have also heard from eyewitness accounts that passerby actually stopped and stared slack-jawed as this "mantrum" progressed.
I guess, in the end, I'm just grateful that the "mantrum's" fury is usually expended on inanimate objects, and not me or my fur children.
We needed a new pair of tongs anyway. When I shop for new ones I will try to make sure they are up to demanding tasks they will be put through.

Our First (and maybe last....) Post Ever!

Okay, so hopefully it won't be our last.
It should be noted, however, that when I say we I am almost exclusively using the "royal we" and pretty much just mean...me.
Dan is, if not anti-blogging, at least playing the role of Switzerland. He doesn't want any part of it. But he has agreed not to try and stop me, and, given how he will probably be the subject of a good many of our posts I found that to be quite generous.
So, I don't know what I'm doing, but I figure I'll play around with it (in the copious amounts of spare time I have) and maybe post some pictures etc.
Hopefully I can call upon my friends and family who are veteran bloggers for help if needed!