"I Sleep In a Drawer"

This weekend I spent another fantastic time at Snowflake with the fam. Good food, weather that allowed me to spend tons of time outside without thinking I would die, bike rides, reading, movies, naps, and of course a rodeo. However, events transpired that have left me to ponder my status in the family. After reflecting on years of family vacations, I have come to realize that in the past decade an elitist group of married people has infiltrated my family. Not only is my parents home becoming a shrine to these happy couples and their wedding days, but I fear that I may never have a good nights sleep again when on vacation with them. Every member of this group seems to be allergic to air mattresses, the floor, twin beds, "common areas", and children that aren't theirs. I would also like to have a medical reason to avoid these things.

My first memory of "sleep abuse" is at my grandparents house in Draper when Andrew was wisely joining the married people. Brittany and I had to sleep on the pull out bed in the main room, meaning we were awoken bright and early with the children. After the first night we got smart and resorted to our only other option, sharing a twin bed upstairs. It only took Brittany 5 months to join the married people.

The next summer we all went to Carlsbad. I slept on the floor, under a table. Nobody was comfortable that trip, but really? Under a table!?

Then we have the next summer in Newport. There happened to be just the right amount of bedrooms for the married people. After one night of sleeping on the pull out bed that was previously owned by a chain smoker, Gabe and I opted to share an air mattress in the family room. He hit me countless times in his sleep and woke up horrendously early.

When Brittany, Andrew, and their spouses graduated from college I managed to get my own room at "The Castle Inn". I'm still unsure how this happened and I will forever be grateful. But don't worry, it was the only one on the main floor, so I still got to wake up with the kids!

Park city the summer before my freshman year...pull out bed.

Now we come to Dayne's wedding in Florida. I would like to point out that Dayne had been M.I.A. at family vacations for a few years...I think he caught on to the "group" situation. Again, I will say that not everyone was very comfortable because there seemed to be no blinds or shutters on the windows(sorry Brit), but I had no room. So, this time I got creative and set up camp in my parents walk-in closet. I think everyone thought I was kidding at first. It was actually a pretty good situation because it was so dark, but of course I got an air mattress with a hole in it so it was more like sleeping on a layer of plastic.

In Williamsburg this Christmas I got lucky again. Missy and Will's family couldn't come so my parents decided to cancel our other room, but it was too late or something so I ended up with my own room! Note that this was only by default and a room would never be reserved for me, but still awesome. However, due to the aforementioned allergy of twin beds(push them together people), I had to take the room with twin beds that was directly next to the kitchen/family room. Again, waking up with the kids at seven. Oh, and lets not forget that I had the bathroom that everyone used when they were downstairs, which Brandon was quickly banned from using.

Now we get to this weekend. I took my usual bedroom, the one with the twin bed. The main issue with this room is that in order to get to it I have to walk through my parents room and in order to use their bathroom they have to walk through my room, enough said. The cherry on top this weekend is that I got to share the room with Milly and no matter how cute she is she still wakes up at 6:30 or 7, not counting the dozen other times during the night.

Thank you for listening to my rant. My family is awesome and I love our vacations, but things might be a little more pleasant if everyone else realized that 9 is a normal time to wake up. My parents are amazing for providing places for all of us to stay, but I dream of a day that I can make all of the married people sleep on the floor, under a table, with all ten of my children. Sweet dreams.

Give me the Green Light

This post starts over a month ago when I was innocently driving home from my first ballet class of the summer. There is no easy way to say this, I ran I red light, and of course it was one of the few with a camera. I was emotionally unaffected by this. In fact, I was on the phone with Brittany, and calmly allowed her to finish whatever she was talking about and then added in a "by they way, I got flashed at a red light a little bit ago." However, while I had been listening(very intently) to her, the other part of my brain had been quickly running through what my emotions should be. First, and most importantly, I was robbed! Of course there is no way that this was actually my fault. Something was wrong with the machine, that yellow light was the shortest thing of my life, etc. *Note: I really did think these things which is vital at the end of my story. Secondly, whatever, it will just cost some money, no use in crying over spilt milk. Thirdly, almost everyone in my family, except for my mom, has been flashed while driving the Envoy, and no one has ever paid because it is under my mom's name....there must be a way out of this. Like clockwork, my dad began plotting before I even finished telling him what happened. When this gem showed up in the mail for my mom:
He decided the best route was to ignore it and wait to be served. Of course he also commented on the fact that I was on the phone, classic.
Since my mom is the only one that is ever home, I used knowledge gained during my days as a latch-key-kid to show her how to maneuver carefully through the dining room without being seen, to see who was at the door. The first time she tried to elude the potential process server, the missionaries were waiting at the door.
On my way to work on Monday JohnJay announced on the radio that he had received a letter in the mail that his red light ticket had been waived due to a problem with the machine. He then announced the crossroads, they were exactly my own!!! Could it be!? As soon as I got to my computer I found this article in the newspaper http://www.azcentral.com/php-bin/clicktrack/email.php/8817428. VINDICATED. For a month the yellow light had been set for too short of a time(i KNEW it) and thousands are getting their money back. Meaning for those of us that just ignored it, we can stop living in fear. This kind of thing never happens...but it happened to me. And the clean record lives on!

"Do you want your animals?"

This blog is dedicated to animals, none of them normal. Lately animals have been very prominent, and then Liz, fellow animal non-enthusiast blogged about her beloved bug. Something has also happened to me and animals are slowly breaking through my stone heart.
#1a. Charlie the goldfish. I owe this one to Amber Moyes who asked me to babysit her goldfish, and never took him back. Little did I know that she had been attempting to kill him softly for years by filling his bowl with normal, chlorinated water, with no side affects. I cried all day at school in 3rd grade when I thought he died. Only to return home and be informed that he had been sleeping. Who knew fish slept? But soon enough I hated him because he would NEVER die. I think he was like 8 or so when he finally died. His body was transparent, no longer gold. Not even Cory the fish will break this record.
#2b. Mo. Officially Mo Fro Joe BoBo CoCo NoNo-that is a little look inside my elementary school brain. He lived through countless jail breaks, one of which ended when Brittany found the cat walking around with him in his mouth. But this was not the end for Mo. Nor was it the time I found him stuck in a paper towel roll. He died on Christmas of unknown causes. He was only 3.
#3c. Scamper. His lip would get stuck on his tooth so he looked like Elvis. Unknown liquid would drip from his face, snot? drool?, leaving behind a small puddle whereever he went. He would randomly run through the house at high speeds. He died, also on Christmas, at the age of like 18 or something. He was a rock star and my dad gave an amazing eulogy.
#4d. Binky. Enough said. More to come in his obituary which will hopefully not be for many years to come.

#5e. Who can forget the animal sacrifice of 2008. We found this in our yard one morning: Charred body of some sort of racoon-like animal tied to two rocks with rope. Here is a picture after the body was removed. I would give anything to know the story behind this.#6f. Foxy. Foxy has forever changed my perception of dogs. I'd like to thank Danny for the opportunity to walk dogs at his clinic. The perfect scenario, short 10 minute walks, give them back when you are done, no strings attached. Foxy was everything that I hate. Dog, small, rat-like. But we fell in love in the short 10 minutes we had together. Since I didn't think to check the name on his kennel he was called foxy, because he legit looks like a fox. Sadly I don't have access to pictures of the two of us.

#7g. And most recently. The other night JEB was up late and heard something banging several times on the closed kitty door. He assumed that someone had locked Binky out so he opened it up to let him in. Binky didn't enter and didn't respond when he was called...strange. So he opened the back door and what is standing by the cat door staring at him? A racoon. Ridiculous. Has he been here before? What would have happened if the cat door had been open? I now have images of this racoon lounging around our house while we're on vacation, watching t.v. and snacking on cheetos.

Emphasis on the SICK

I was at SJ's the other night when I was presented with a new tastey treat, the Pickle Sickle. Somehow they knew I would try it. As if this idea isn't disgusting enough, this particular Sickle had a dash of Jalapeno added. In this case, a picture is worth a thousand words. SAC saw how much I loved it and demanded to have some herself.
A quick Google search provides the background of this ridiculousness: Texas. Am I in any way surprised? No. http://www.bobspicklepop.com/

Every one has quirks, hers are just physical....and mental

I'd like to start out with, curse you Linx. She is the reason I haven't blogged about my birthday. I was waiting to get photographic evidence from her, but it looks like this will never happen. The written word with have to suffice. For those of you who forgot(Liz), I turned the oh so exciting age of 21 on June 3rd. We'll fast forward through the day where I had to work and get on with the festivities.
SJ, SAC, Linx, and I went out to dinner at our "secret" location, Grimaldi's in Old Town.
1. Our pizza was topped with ricotta cheese, meatballs, and sweet peppers. Weirdly amazing.
2. We people watched. A couple on a first date. Always enjoyable. Talking non-stop, overly "excited" about everything the other had to say. Generally a great specimen.
3. We were people watched. My cake had no candle so SJ found it only appropriate to create flames with her hand so I could still receive my birthday wish(it's going to be a crazy year). One lady in particular found us very strange.
4. Ridiculous conversation. Including the quote that is this blog title. Any guesses as to who SJ was talking about?
After dinner we found it only appropriate to let a psychic(we argued about the spelling of that word for a good 2 minutes) tell me what the rest of my life holds. Don't get too excited though, as we were in Scottsdale, we quickly realized that the woman lounging on her white couch was going to charge me more than my palm is worth. This led to the only other logical thing to do: Pimp cup. As much as I hate Walmart, it is often the only place open with exactly what I need. In this case, an extra-large beer mug. As we proceeded to check out, the very intelligent cashier asked to see my i.d. I was happy to show it to her. What was a buying? A mug and 2 liters of ginger ale, with cash. I'm not sure what tipped her off that the i.d. was necessary for this purchase, but I would like to thank her for giving me the opportunity to prove my age on the very eve of my birthday. The rest of the night was spent bedazzling mugs with rhinestones that were ripped off of my jazz costume, and mixing fake mojitos, or as SAC called it "fruit salad in a glass". Thank you ladies for a fantastic night.
Friday was my family celebration, along with appearances from SAC and SJ. To make this short and sweet. Grills(that's Gabe-language for girls) lunch, overpriced cupcakes at Sprinkles(it's all about the experience), Beauty and the Beast, a nap, barbecue, and swimming, which included the traditional intense game of HORSE. I'm probably forgetting something. A lot happened and it was a good time. One year older. I feel not a day over 15.

Oooooohhhh! We're halfway there!!!

Warning: The purpose of this blog is to complain. What you are about to read is a rant. Not only is my mom sick of hearing me whine, but she is out of town and her phone is off(ignoring me?) so here we are. First, I would like to remind everyone that I am a good student. I generally go to class and do my work. However, this internship class that I am in is currently the bane of my existence.
Let's begin from the beginning. I'm working at an interior design showroom in Scottsdale this summer, a pretty sweet deal. While I knew that associating this with school would ruin my life, I need the school credit; considering that I'm a senior and just decided to double major(another way to say I was 6 credits away from finishing one major when I changed my mind), I have no time to waste. So 3 credits over a 4-month time period is easy, right? FALSE. Since I have a scholarship, further proof that I was a good student, I have to be taking at least 6 credits to get the free money. Okay, so 6 Spring and 6 Summer. Again, FALSE. I can only get a max of 9 credits for the internship. Okay, so 6 Spring or 6 Summer. Again, FALSE. I am "required" by Roberta, the internship coordinator, to do the internship both Spring and Summer terms and therefore must be able to access Blackboard all 4 months, meaning I must be registered for class. The result: I am taking 7 credits. 6 Spring, using scholarship money, and 1 Summer, which I have to pay for just so I can get on Blackboard. Summary: I am taking an extra unnecessary 4 credits all to save $400. Worth it: Yes. I'm going to Australia.
The real issue here is the class itself. I can't handle it. Stupid, pointless, ridiculous, unnecessary, dumb, retarded, idiotic busy work, and I'm over it!!! I was over it since the first week. I won't even get into the details but basically we just have to write excessively about emotions, learning, growth, and work relationships. The result: I don't do anything. I hate it so much that I continue to forget to do anything and I don't care. Roberta takes this very seriously, good for her, but I cannot wait to be done with this. Also, let us take into account that it is summer, its an online class, and I'm working, so making this a priority is bound to be difficult, even if it interested me in the least.
Not to worry though. We are on the downward slope. After completing my homework tonight, a day early, I have officially completed 7 of 14 weeks of hell. HALFWAY THERE! This realization led me to a little youtubing of Bon Jovi's Livin' on a Prayer. Thank you D-Brown for teaching me that youtube can enhance any experience. The hair and leather fringe jackets in that video will not disappoint!

"Basically it's a bunch of hippies"

BAM
Recently I've been trying to pack in a lot of cultural/educational experiences. Why?
1a. I'm spending a lot of time with my parents
2b. I want to know stuff...stuff about life and the places I live
3c. I don't have access to rock band
4d. I'm starting my new life as a pseudo artist


Our journey starts at the Botanical Gardens. Like so many places, I've somehow never been here in my 21 years of existence in Arizona. This probably has something to do with the fact that for about 19 of those years I thought the desert was ugly. I would now like to retract that feeling along with the negative feelings I had towards mushrooms, shrimp, and crust. Anyways, Chihuly, a glass blowing genius, had an exhibit there for the past few months. Of course I hit it up the last weekend possible. I don't have much to say about this except for...awesome. "This boat is REAL"

Yesterday Mom and I took a little trip up to Arcosanti. Again, I have driven past this place on the way to Flagstaff maybe 100 times in my life and had no idea. Thank you History of Modern Architecture at BYU for bringing us together. Basically this Italian, Paolo Soleri, envisions cities using up a ridiculously small amount of space. Skyscrapers for housing and then everything else you would ever need packed in around it. No cars, he hates those, and everyone lives as a big happy family. Very eco-friendly, all sorts of ideas about farming, using greenhouses for energy, etc. We won't get into the boring details, but it is a cool idea. The problem being that the way this thing is being built is that people pay to do a workshop there and they build it. Upon asking Will what it was he said: "Basically a bunch of hippies that drew up plans for a city and get people to buy bells they make to pay for it." Couldn't have said it better(they make really cool bells). So in the past 38 years they have built 4, maybe 5, buildings. If you have a few million dollars hanging around, please help them out...this thing will never be completed.
This place is eerily similar to a city out of Star Wars. The best part was eating lunch with the hippies. So much long curly hair, birkenstocks, and lightweight cargo pants.