A Search for Another Good Show

It's been a while since I've blogged. Mostly I throw pictures and things my kids say onto Facebook and call it a day. But I'm in the mood. A few things:

1. The Search for a New Show. A few years ago my friend RaeAnne recommended the TV show Parenthood. I watched a few episodes, but at the time, I had a baby and an angry toddler, and wasn't in the mood for a drama. So I stopped watching it but kept it in my Netflix queue for another time. Fast forward to last fall, when my sister Emma broke her ankle and was stuck on a couch for a few months. She watched it, and raved about it as well. Then my mom told me I should watch it, and a few friends on Facebook were going on about the finale, and I finally thought I'd give it a try. And oh boy, were all those people right! It was the best show, hands down, that I've ever watched. As the title suggests, it's about different parents and their relationships with their children. What makes the show so amazing is that none of the characters are static. Each family goes through real challenges and the characters progress at a realistic pace. There's a family that deals with adoption and infertility, one that has a son with Aspergers, a single mom with a deadbeat ex-husband and two teenagers with anger issues, and a bachelor with commitment issues. The show manages to be dramatic and interesting without becoming melodramatic like a soap opera. My point: Watch this show. Also, now I can't find anything decent to watch because everything seems kind of stupid after this one. Any recommendations?

2. I'm Old. This Saturday is my 20-year high school reunion. I'm pretty sure that makes me old. I have spent the last week scouring the stores in my area for something cute to wear that will magically remove 15 pounds and 10 years. I had absolutely no luck. I couldn't even find a pair of shoes I liked. I'm pretty sure there are decent clothes out there somewhere, but they aren't here. I found about 20 different dresses and skirts that were floral with clingy cheap fabric in neon colors. So those weren't super flattering. Fortunately, my sister has impeccable taste and has mailed me some of her non-floral, made of real fabric skirts. But no matter what I wear, I'm 20 years older than I was when I graduated from high school. But everyone else will be just as old as me. So who cares what I'm wearing, right? 

3. The Office. Tim and I have been rewatching the first few seasons of The Office, and it reminds me that it was hilarious and clever at the beginning. What the heck happened at the end? It got ridiculously stupid in the second to last season, and it seems really weird in retrospect that they tried to continue the show after Steve Carrell left. It would have been the perfect end to the series. Which, by the way, was done perfectly on Parenthood. 

4. Back to Crafting. I used to cross stitch like crazy. I have a stack of completed cross stitches that just need frames. And then I had kids, more specifically, toddlers, who always have sticky hands and want to touch everything and also have endless demands. So the partially done kits got put into a drawer and forgotten. Then something miraculous happened. My youngest child got older. He started keeping his hands somewhat unsticky, and understands the concept of looking with your eyes and not your hands. He plays with his brothers and entertains himself. I have entered a new phase of life, one that involves finishing cross stitches, pulling out my card-making supplies, and possibly learning how to knit. And this has come just in time, because it got really hot outside, and I have no desire to go out and weed my garden. (Also, my almost 10-year-old can totally weed the garden.) It's exciting. I've already finished one kit that has sat unattended for about 9 years. My house is going to start looking like an old lady's, with the amount of needlework that's going to hang from the walls. 

Speaking of being old, it's my bedtime. Time to haul my aching joints up the stairs. 

Tender Mercies

As the title of this post suggests, I'm going to write for a minute about tender mercies. But first a quick update about my Netflix exercise program. So far so good, except this week, because my kids are sick and the second I leave the room they need something. I've also added 100 sit-ups a day, although that has also suffered this week, because, although I can do them in the presence of my sickies, I may as well be in a different room. If I'm not RIGHT NEXT TO THEM, I'm not doing enough. This actually leads me to the main topic of this post.

I pray every day. Multiple times. Even when I'm not kneeling by my bed or sitting at the table before a meal, prayers go through my head during difficult moments. If my 6-year-old can't find that perfect Lego, and I can see a meltdown coming, a prayer goes out from my heart that he and I can find it before the storm hits. I'm not saying I pray constantly, because a lot of the time it occurs to me after an ugly incident that prayer would probably have been a good idea. The point is, I believe in a loving God that wants me to succeed and is willing to help. I also believe that, while there are truly miraculous occurrences, like angels appearing to prophets, most of the time, His work is done through the people in our lives. I think we can see His hand in the tender mercies that happen from day to day.

After almost 13 years of marriage, my husband knows that telling me to improve something in a direct way is completely ineffective, and usually lands him in the dog house. He's become much more subtle. His Family Home Evening lessons are usually about something he knows I could improve, and a few weeks ago his lesson was about being happy by seeking out the positive each day instead of focusing on disappointments. I'm not sure if he was actually aiming the lesson at me, but it was a much needed reminder that I needed to stop being so darn negative. We made a plan to write down three positive things each day so we could end the day on a positive note. When you're home all day with small children, it's easy to get to the end of the day and feel like a failure, to wish you'd been nicer, to see how dirty your house is. Yesterday, after taking care of sick kids for a week, I sat down with my journal and started to realize that Heavenly Father had surrounded me with loving friends and family, who have blessed me daily. Here are just a few tender mercies I've seen this week:

1. A trip to California. The week before everyone got sick, I was filling my nearly empty mommy bucket in sunny California with my old roommate, Rachel Knecht. (Or, the Tall Rachel, as she was called in our Moon Apartments days.) This trip was planned months in advance, and I flew out (first time on a plane in 8 years, by the way) and traipsed around LA with Rachel in the 85 degree sunshine, eating taquitos and meandering through cool old buildings. I didn't know I'd be coming home to a week of sick kids, but without that break, I'm pretty sure I would be huddled in a corner, eating my hair and swatting invisible flies right now.

Me at the beach. I could probably spend an entire week sitting on the beach and listening to the ocean.

2. Really good visiting teachers. I've had great visiting teachers in the past. And when I haven't had any, I was okay. I have a fairly drama free life, most of the time. But right now I have fantastic visiting teachers, that saw my pathetic posts on Facebook about how I was trapped in my house with barfing children, and they showed up with dinner, including dessert. And it was on a day that I had slept for maybe 3 hours and had been on my feet, taking care of a very needy 6-year-old all day. I don't know if they knew just how helpful their appearance at my door with food was going to be, but I may have cried a few tears in gratitude after they left. 

3. Good friends. Really great ladies. I car pool with one of my dear friends, and she's been pulling all the weight this week. And she's being so cheerful and nice about it. She has little kids, one of whom has a napping schedule, and she's not complaining at all about jumping in the car with her little kids and picking the kids up so I don't have to. She's amazing. And I got to get together with her and some other friends earlier this week for a girls' night, where they patiently let me whine about the smells at my house and helped me escape for a few hours. 

4. Tim. He stayed home all morning yesterday so I could put some earplugs in and catch up on lost sleep. He didn't have to do it, but he knew how tired I was (and he was tired too, and still managed to function while I slept). I'm pretty sure if I hadn't gotten that sleep (earplugs are the best, by the way), yesterday would have been really ugly. And I already mentioned the FHE lesson, where he reminded me gently that seeking the positive makes us happier. And here I am, 7 days in, much happier than I'd have been without his positive influence.

I hope this doesn't sound like a laundry list of things to brag about. That's not the intent. This is my way of illustrating God's hand in our lives. I truly believe that, if we take the time to look around us, we will find tender mercies, lifting us above the difficulties we may face. My week of sick kids can't even compare to the challenges people face every day. But we all have days that are hard, weeks that feel long, and trials that seem impossible to overcome. God's hand in our lives may not rid us of the challenges we face, but these tender mercies can smooth the path a little.

Jurassic Park, My Ego, the Netflix Exercise Plan

3 months ago I posted about random stuff. That seems to be the only way I ever blog these days. The reasons are these: 

1. I forget sometimes that I have a blog because I get distracted my my iPad and phone and Facebook. 

2. It takes me 3 months to come up with the right word for what I'm feeling or thinking. Yes, I said "word." So imagine how hard it is for me to come up with an entire post full of words. 

3. Ennui. It's winter, and I find myself struck with a sense of blah and nothing to say. 

So by the time I get back onto my blog and feel like posting something, I've got 3 or 4 unrelated topics to mention (all of which strike me at once, and not one at a time, because of the aforementioned ennui). Thus, the lack of focus on my blog. Now that I've explained myself to my (possibly) one reader, I will post about 3 or 4 unrelated topics.

Dinosaurs. I have three boys, and for some reason we have yet to experience a dinosaur obsession. It seems weird to me. Is it unusual to make it this far with no dino facts being spouted at me incessantly? I think the superhero craze going on right now is partially to blame. That plus Doctor Who. My 9-year-old can tell you EVERY DETAIL about EVERY EPISODE he's seen. But he doesn't know a thing about dinosaurs. You may be wondering at this point what made me think about dinosaurs at all, since my kids aren't thinking about them. I was looking for something winter-friendly to read. You know, light, exciting, not too realistic or depressing. I came across our copy of "Jurassic Park" on the book shelf, and thought I'd read it. I think the last time I read it, the technology they use in the book was still futuristic and not obsolete. (There was an explanation of what CD-ROM meant. I may have snickered.) It was pure coincidence that there is yet another Jurassic Park movie being released soon. I will probably see it. It has Chris Pratt in it. Win. So I read the book, and then I started thinking about the movie (the original that was good, not the lame sequels), and it made me want to watch it. Then I wished my oldest son was old enough to watch it with me, but I'm pretty sure he'd mistake the furnace sounds at night for velociraptors and refuse to sleep in his basement bedroom. But I added it to my cart on Amazon anyway, because I'm old enough to watch it. And that is when I realized how sad and strange it is that my kids have no interest in dinosaurs. I think we need to take advantage of one of these warm days and head over to the Dinosaur Park. 

Piccolo Ego. I mentioned in my last post that I am playing in a Wind Symphony. (It's called the Salt Lake Symphonic Winds. Come to our next concert.) I eased in for the first concert playing 2nd flute. For my non-music friends, that means playing background and harmony, but rarely the melody. And you're with 5 other flutists, so your job is to blend and play in tune. The next concert came around, and it was discovered that I owned a piccolo and had played it in college. So I was put on the piccolo part for our December concert. The piccolo is that tiny flutey looking thing that does the part in "Stars and Stripes Forever" that's high and loud and recognizable. It's not meant to be a blending instrument, nor is it meant for background. It's the frosting at the top of the group. This means when you miss a note, EVERYONE KNOWS. Having had a 14-year break from playing piccolo, I was terrified. I had forgotten how exposed you are. And I slowly remembered that, in order to be successful on piccolo, you have to develop what I'd like to call "a Piccolo Ego." This means you WANT everyone to hear every brilliant note you have in your part. There's no shying away from it. This means that you KNOW you're in tune. Which means you have to be in tune. Which is hard, since you're blowing a huge amount of air across a straw-sized hole and playing far above the rest of the group. I have a tuner that has become my best friend. It has a special pocket in my flute bag and everything. In order to develop your Piccolo Ego, you have to practice a lot. Have you ever been within 5 feet of a piccolo that's playing high and loud? It'll melt your face off. Think of what it's like when you're actually playing the thing. But, by our December concert, I felt sufficiently egotistical, and the concert went well. So they asked me to play it again. On harder music. So I'm going to be melting my own face off daily until early March.

Netflix and How it's Going to Help Me Fit into My Pants. The classic TV show "Friends" (It's a classic. The '90s were a while ago) is on Netflix. My bike is hooked up to my bike trainer in my basement. If I put the two of these things together, I have an exercise plan. I can tolerate riding my bike on a trainer for about 25 minutes. One "Friends" episode happens to be just about that long! There are 24 episodes per season, so if I can manage an episode a day, then maybe by the end of Season One all those cute jeans I bought last spring will fit again! (I may have had an ice cream problem over the summer...) If I get in good enough shape, maybe I'll be able to bump it up to an entire "Gilmore Girls" episode. I'm only allowing myself to watch "Friends" if I'm on my bike, so right now, my plan is working. If they'll put Season 6 of Drop Dead Diva on Netflix already, the pounds will be flying off my midsection. (Does anyone have an in with Netflix? I'm going to California in 3 weeks, and I'd really like my pants to fit sooner rather than later.)

I'm sure you can, in some convoluted way, find a common thread between my 3 random topics. But my brain power is spent. (I blame the piccolo for part of this. I'm sure I lose brain cells due to lack of oxygen every time I try to hit a high B.) So, until next time, which, if my pattern holds, will be in April, happy winter to you!

TV and other stuff

Remember a few months ago when I was all determined to blog regularly again? Yeah, well, things kind of got away from me. So I'm just going to blog about a few things that have been rattling around in my head for a few months.

1. Is anyone else totally disgusted with what has happened with Dancing with the Stars? Remember a few years ago when it was a fun family show with B-list celebrities that were trying to boost their careers, and only a few of the professional dancers ever got a bit scandalous with their costumes? (I'm looking at you, Karina Smirnoff and Julianne Hough.) And Tom Bergeron would shoot the breeze with the camera in between dances, and Bruno had a teensy bit of scruples with his comments and their sexual overtones? I admit I still watch the show, but boy howdy has it changed. For one thing, there are the dances in between the celebrities' numbers. They call them the "troupe," but that's just a fancy name for "kind-of-trashy-almost-exotic dancers." They wear next to nothing and everything is ultra suggestive and sexy. Not cute or fun. Trashy. And my heart broke more than a little a few weeks ago when Julianne Hough, who is now a regular judge on the show, did a special number with all the male dancers, and ended up in what I hesitate to call a costume, because what it really was was a nude body sock with tiny, strategically placed scraps of red lace. Gross. Bruno's comments are outright raunchy now, and you can see the discomfort on the pros' faces as well as their partners' faces. Also gross. I am watching it anyway because Carlton from The Fresh Prince is on there. And he's fantastic. The celebrities' dances haven't actually changed that much. They're still fun, although the female pros have gotten more revealing in the costume department, like everyone else in the show. Len has taken a few weeks off to judge in England, but maybe he's trying to break off from the show. He seems like a traditional old chap that sees it as a real ballroom competition, and I'm guessing this isn't what he signed up for.

2.  I made it into a wind ensemble a few months ago. I had forgotten how exhilarating it is to be in a room full of musicians, all working for the same goal. I had also forgotten how exhausting it is to sit through a 2-hour rehearsal. I'm pretty sure it wasn't that hard for me 15 years ago when I was doing it at BYU. The first rehearsal back in September just about finished me. I was sweating profusely, my contacts had fused to my eyes due to lack of blinking, and my right arm was starting to go numb. I've gotten more in shape now, rehearsal wise, and I'm enjoying rehearsals more and more. And earlier this week, I played in my first concert in almost 12 years. It was fantastic. There's something amazing about being blasted by 20 brass instruments from the back, feeling the floor vibrate with the bassoons and bass clarinets as they hit a low note, and feeling your fingers fly over the keys, followed by enthusiastic applause. I have found my people.

3.  Tomorrow is my son's last soccer game of the season. I'm super glad about that. I'm always relieved when soccer season is over. Does that make me a bad mom? I don't think it does. I think it means we can finally go on a family bike ride on Saturday mornings. I'm just grateful that I only have one kid who wants to do soccer. And by want I mean he asked me to sign him up back in May, and now he tells me before every practice and game that he doesn't want to go. Another reason to celebrate after tomorrow morning. November is sports free (besides BYU football, of course), and I think it's going to be good.

That's it. My brain is now empty. I'm going to go take a shower so I can go meet up with my old Wind Symphony friends from BYU. More of my people.

A Little Spot of Sunshine

The last few weeks were kind of brutal. School started. This is a great occurrence, as anyone who's dealt with bickering siblings for months at a time can tell you. (Unless you're a teacher. Then it's probably dread and horror. Except that teachers are amazing and actually seem to look forward to having my kids come to school and spend all day with them.) But I digress. The problem with my oldest starting school is that my kindergartner didn't get to start for another week. So I got to hear the injustice of his situation for hours at a time every day. And he is unfortunate enough to have an October birthday, which puts most of his friends a year ahead of him in school, so when he was waiting for school to start, most of his friends were already in school and unavailable to play with him. There was a lot of whining. So the first week of school wasn't ideal.

The following week started with Tim departing for the next 8 days. His dad needed help getting a large piece of land ready to sell, and there was a lot of physical labor that needed to be done. Tim needed to help him. It was the right thing to do. But it didn't mean being at home without him was super fun or easy. I'm not going to describe every day of that entire 8 days, but I will say that there was not a lot of sleep on my part. There was a lot of yelling on my part, though. I'm not proud of it. I never pictured myself as that mom that's snapping at her kids all day, throwing adult tantrums because she's not getting her way. But I was that mom. It was horrible. Some highlights of the week include the following:

My 37th birthday. The boys fed me breakfast in bed. It was amazing. I fed the boys Eggos for dinner and ate ice cream and better than sex cake for dinner (I made it for myself. I am always looking for excuses to make that cake). My friend came over that night and we watched Austenland, which totally saved the evening for me. It was a much better day than I'd anticipated. (Also, my friends kept giving me chocolate all week in the name of my birthday, which made the horrible week a lot better.)

 My 5-year-old's first day of kindergarten, where I had a mini-meltdown outside the classroom after dropping him off (I was really stressed and even more tired). He emerged from the school with a huge smile on his face, and told me he loved his teacher and school in general. I almost melted down again from relief.

I had a little break in the middle of the week when my friends took me out for dinner and shopping. That, plus all the chocolate I was given, saved my kids from more mama drama than they'd have gotten. I should have them make thank you notes for all my friends.

The low point was Thursday, my 5-year-old's second day of school, when I moved his bike from its original parking spot at the school so it would be closer to the kindergarten's meeting spot, resulting in a huge panic attack from him when his bike was missing, me running around the school to find him (after a very long bike ride), then running back around when I just missed him, then walking him around one more time so we knew what we were going to do every day. This was followed by a bike ride home with me listening to him scream insults and threats at me. The rest of the afternoon went pretty much the same way. I had promised my oldest a movie night that night, and, after a harrowing hour of getting the younger two kids in bed, I came into the living room to start the movie. This is what I found, along with a bag of mini-Oreos and a box of Mike and Ikes:

  And when I flipped it over:

(Blogger won't orient the picture right, no matter what I try. You'll have to read it sideways.)

"I love you more than Oreos and Mike and Ikes!"

My week wasn't much easier after that, but it didn't seem to matter anymore.

Last weekend Tim had to go out of town again for an 11-year-old Scout camp out. Once again I had promised a movie night to the 9-year-old. Once again, I ended up yelling at everyone after an exhausting evening with very little cooperation. My poor kids looked beaten down. I felt like the worst mom ever. So I sat down and explained that I was tired and it was really hard not to have dad's help, so I needed their help, and I'd try to stop yelling so much. Bedtime happened, and this time, when I came downstairs, there was a tall glass of chocolate milk and this:

I did not deserve it. But I enjoyed it, and I enjoyed hanging out with him and watching a movie together. He is my little spot of sunshine.

Looking at Retirement Homes

On Sunday, my 2-year-old fell asleep on my lap during church. He weighs 35 pounds, and half of that is his head. Which was resting on my forearm. I was holding extremely still, because, as uncomfortable as a dead-weight sleeping toddler is, an awake toddler that's already been to two hours of church is much much worse. So I held as still as my body would allow, and successfully kept him asleep for the entire hour of Sacrament Meeting. I didn't think much about it, and came home and went about the rest of my day. The next morning, though, oy, did I feel it. You know in the cartoons, when they hit the ground and end up in a body-shaped hole in the ground? There was a Rachel-shaped hole in my mattress, and I was 3 inches inside it. And I was pretty sure the Hulk had just thrown me around a few times then slammed me into the ground. After lifting my head three or four times and giving up, I decided the best move would be to swing my legs out of the hole and onto the floor, then ease the rest of myself out of bed one vertebra at a time. Crack, crackle, CRACK. And I'm up. After limping downstairs and getting going for the morning, I figured I'd limber up. But halfway through a shopping trip to Walmart, which was taking a painfully long time due to my excruciatingly slow pace (you try pushing a cart with 2 stout boys and a load of groceries while sporting a backache), I still felt like a fragile old woman. I came to the conclusion that I AM GETTING OLD.

Actually, that whole day was just a confirmation of a suspicion that has been growing since our trip to Lagoon last week. As a teenager and young adult, I'd hop on the spinny rides without a second thought, ride them four times in a row, and happily skip to the next twirling ride. Roller coasters didn't phase me once I stopped being afraid of them. They were just another way to find excitement and hang out with friends. Last week, I went on the Colossus (a roller coaster with 2 loops and a few twists) once with my 9-year-old, and had to hold onto the fence and regain my equilibrium so I wouldn't vomit into the zinnias. And that's a classic ride! I would go on that ride 5 times in a row without so much as a twinge when I was in my twenties. The Wild Mouse made me feel like my neck was going to crack. When Jacob suggested we go on Wicked, a much more exciting roller coaster than the Colossus or Wild Mouse, I knew I couldn't do it. I wanted to ride it. A much younger part of my soul was shouting "DO IT!" at me. But my weary, dizzy, older self said no. We met back up with Tim, whose birthday we were celebrating (I'm not telling you which birthday, but I will tell you this is his last year in his thirties), and I suggested that he take Jacob on Wicked. He said, "Honey, I'm getting old. I can't handle these rides anymore." That's when the thought occurred to me that perhaps I haven't gotten wimpier, just older. My body doesn't have the stamina to endure being pulled in 5 directions over the course of 30 seconds. My inner ear is losing its grip.

So I'm getting old. I understand now why, when I ask my mom to come along to Lagoon with us, she cheerfully declines. I understand why Tim wanted to invest in a pricey air mattress for camping instead of using the older, thinner one. Our bodies just aren't what they used to be.

HOWEVER, my parents have given me hope. They still go mountain biking, backpacking, play tennis and racquetball, ride horses, and go camping. So tomorrow, If I can peel myself out of my bed, I'll hop on my bike and haul the kids up and down some hills and try to feel less than eighty years old.

Remember when...

Remember once upon a time when I actually posted regularly on this blog? I vaguely remember it, but it's been so long it's just a fuzzy and distant hint of a memory. I felt like I had interesting and funny things to blog about, and then, for a while, I had absolutely nothing to say. Funny or otherwise. I have my own personal theories as to why that happened, but the point is that I'm going to make one last effort to get my lazy bum in gear and write a post more than once a year.

Today, I'd like to discuss ice cream. And chocolate. And chocolate ice cream. And treats in general. I was super duper healthy and fit about 3 months ago. I had awesome self control when it came to my dessert eating habits. I was eating veggies and chicken breasts and exercising EVERY DAY. I felt amazing! Then something happened. School got out. We went on a 2-week long road trip with a 2-year-old. It got so hot outside that my extremely calloused bare feet couldn't even touch the porch, which meant no bike rides, no long walks, and no tennis. Which brings me to ice cream. Did you know you can buy a giant box of Nestle ice cream treats at Costco? This box includes Drumsticks, ice cream sandwiches, and Crunch ice cream bars. This is a fact. What is also a fact is that if you lose one habit it is generally replaced by another habit. So I have spent this summer eating ice cream instead of riding my bike. And now I'm sporting a muffin top and can't seem to give up the ice cream. Yesterday, I ate the bottom of my chocolate Drumstick, you know, the part that's solid Nestle chocolate, and suddenly found myself unwrapping a caramel Drumstick. I looked down at my hands and went, "What? Huh. Oh well." Chomp chomp chomp.

Now, I'm sure there's an essential oil that could cure me of my ice cream addiction. I'm sure there are a million quinoa "dessert" recipes that could replace the ice cream. And I've even begun cutting up a bunch of fruit and sticking it in my fridge as a substitute for that second ice cream cone (because I'm still going to have the first one, no matter how tight my pants are). I have even eaten some of that fruit, then congratulated my healthy snack by eating a Crunch bar.

My solution is this: Just like I've replaced my bike riding and tennis with ice cream, I can replace eating ice cream with buying shoes. Bam. Problem solved. (Shoe Carnival is having a buy one get one half off sale right now. Also, I saw some fabulous pink sparkly shoes for ten bucks today while buying the boys their school shoes.)

Try Numero Dos

I'm guessing that when I watched 20 seasons of the Amazing Race a year or two ago I probably posted on here about the same things I'm going to post now, but I'm going to post now about it anyway. The trick will be to see if Blogger allows this post to actually be published. Here are a few thoughts:

1. Can it really be possible that after 23, almost 24 seasons, no one has died in a fiery taxi crash in a third-world country? This just seems miraculous to me. In Season One, the teams go to Bangladesh and go screaming through the streets in three-wheeled taxi carts at ridiculous speeds, scooting around buses and trucks and barely squeaking by. There were no stop signs, traffic lights, lines on the roads, or order of any kind. Yet no one died. Amazing.

2. American tourists already have a bad rep for being loud and obnoxious. Offer American tourists a million bucks if they hurry really fast through foreign lands, and they become ridiculously abrasive and embarrassing. Which is why I'm surprised that no one has started a war between the U.S. and the rest of the world. I think the most cringe-worthy behavior exhibited is the screaming at taxi drivers that "IT'S AN EMERGENCY! MOVE YOUR (insert crude word for bottom)!!!" Ian and Terry from Season 3, Ian in particular, made us all look like jerks. When he wasn't saying something offensive about the culture, he was either yelling "Come ON, Terry!" or "DRIVE FASTER! Man, this country is full of morons!" I was very glad he didn't win.

3. I want Phil's job. Everyone is happy to see him, he gets to travel all over the world, someone does his hair and make-up, and he probably flies first class and stays in fancy hotels wherever he travels. Lucky. If only my teeth were that white and I had a cool accent.

4. There seem to be consistent types of teams from season to season. The "We're Seeing if Our Relationship Can Be Salvaged by Going a Month without Sleep and Enduring High Levels of Stress," the "We're Buddies that Have Never Been Annoyed by Each Other Until We Just Found Out Neither of Us Can Drive Stick or Read a Map," the "We're Finally Done Having Little Kids and Want to See the World" Married Couples, and Siblings. The most functional teams I've seen are Siblings and Married Couples. I honestly don't understand the whole idea behind thinking that having cameras following you around while you are dealing with preexisting relationship issues will bring you closer as a couple. Most of the time what it becomes is a chance to bicker on every continent. The friends always amuse me greatly. There have been a few successful friendship teams (Season One winners and the Cha Cha Chas, for example), but most of them seem to leave a little less chummy than they were at the beginning. The Siblings are used to being annoyed by each other, and have already spent their whole lives together, so they are the perfect team. So, my siblings, anyone want to listen to me cry for a month and give the Amazing Race a try? My husband gets stressed out just watching the show, so he's a no go.

5. There are also the Nice vs. Wicked and Sneaky teams. I'm always extra happy to see the nice teams win. The Cha Cha Chas and the Cowboys are my favorite teams ever. They are classy and also kicked butt. The current season also has a team from Utah, so naturally I want them to win, but if they don't, I sure hope it's the Cowboys. Colin and Christie from season 5 are the epitome of Wicked and Sneaky, with a side of Anger Issues. His meltdowns are priceless. The meltdowns come in every season, and it's usually hilarious to me. Maybe that means I'm a horrible person that would be on the Wicked and Sneaky side and not the Nice side. I just know I'd be on the crying side.

Seasons 1-22 are available on Hulu+. Come on. If you can't travel, watch other people do it. It's fun!

A word

I just spent an hour writing a post for this lovely, neglected blog. However, blogger decided that instead of publishing it, it would save an older version of the post that I had reworked completely. I give up. The point of my long, carefully written post was that I'm in the mood to post again (maybe), and that I'm addicted to The Amazing Race because I never get to go anywhere exotic anymore. That's all. Let's see if Blogger decides that this is worth publishing.

Word to my sister friend

In my last post I listed some ways I pulled myself out of a funk I'd been in all summer. But what I failed to mention is what woke me up to the fact that I was struggling and needed to pull myself out of my terrible rut. 

This is my friend, Rachel Knecht. She was my roommate for 3 years in college, and we are as kindred as kindred spirits can get. We are both short, but in her family I'm referred to as the Short Rachel, being an inch shorter than her. Her dad would call and ask for "The Tall Rachel" when he wanted to talk. We share a love of ANTM, coloring (I covet that set of crayons she's holding), Mr. Darcy, Mr. Thornton, and chocolate. We get the same jokes. We are soul sisters.

She and I both have August birthdays (a week apart), and she happened to be in town from California the week between our birthdays. So we had a Birthdaypalooza of fun. This week also happened to be one in which I had spent every day moping on my couch, watching trash on TV and feeling bad. So a weekend with Rachel was the shot of joy in my arm of mopeyness that I needed. We colored, we watched America's Next Top Model, we went out and ate delicious food, and we talked and talked and talked. Rachel K. is the sunniest, most positive person I know. She helped me remember all the good things about my life, and that is when I realized I needed to do something about my sad funk. So thanks, sister friend.

The Funk is Gone

I swore I was going to blog regularly all summer. But then I didn't. And I got in a big old funk and didn't feel like doing much of anything, especially not blogging and trying to be witty. I'm still not feeling particularly witty but I'm not in that funk anymore. And here are some things that pulled me out of that funk:

I read this book a few years ago and tossed it aside because I thought it was kind of dumb. Then my parents told me a few weeks ago to go see this movie. They said they'd laughed a lot. I thought maybe I'd get around to it if I could talk a friend into going with me. Then I decided I really needed to get out, and pull myself out of the funk I was in. I figured a silly movie might help. I didn't have high expectations, especially after having read the book. My friend and I hit the theater and caught a late night showing. It was us and a bunch of other women in the theater, and it was like a huge girls' night. At one point a woman sitting somewhere behind us yelled out, "She's got a bird in her hair!" and the whole theater erupted into laughter. We'd already been laughing a lot. I went back and saw it again a week later with the same friend and one other that really needed to see it as well. It's showing up at my doorstep from Amazon the second it's released on DVD. It got horrible reviews. From a bunch of grumpy old men that don't get the joke. It pulled the funk right out of me, and that's all the review I need.

Remember this show? Remember when it was good? I spent a few weeks watching One Tree Hill, and realized it was driving me deeper into the funk I was in. So much angst and drama, and so little joy and humor. I was digging through the DVDs one day to get out the next Animaniacs disc for my son, and ran across my DVDs of Vampire Diaries, season one. Eureka! Oh my, how I've missed that show. I had forgotten how good the first few seasons were. Remember Aunt Jenna? And nice Rick Salzman? And all the pre-Klaus fun? Yeah, I'd forgotten. So. Much. Fun. And watching something that fun pulled me off the couch and into the laundry room. I started putting away toys. I swept the floor. No, this show isn't miraculous or deep. It's just fun, and I needed to remember fun.

I went to visit my sister with my mom back in July, and my sister pulled out the tennis racquets and balls and took us to the tennis courts. I hadn't really played since I was 14 and was taking tennis lessons. I was terrible then, and I'm terrible now, but dang, it's fun! I came back from Colorado, got a racquet and a bucket of balls, snagged a few super cute tennis skirts from Albion, and started playing tennis with my friend. She is much better than me, and played on the team in high school, but I'm getting better, and sometimes I even hit it into the court. Tennis is way more fun than slogging along on a walk or doing sit-ups. Of course, I'm not going to look like What's-Her-Name Sharapova, but it feels great to get outside and move around. In a cute skirt.

And there you go. Feeling down and having a hard time happens. The important thing is pulling yourself out. 

I'm not dead, just lazy

Holy buckets it's been a long time since my last post. I blame Netflix, Hulu+ and my iPad. Also I'm lazy. So here comes a random assortment of thoughts from the last 3 months.

1. I did it. I mountain biked the White Rim Trail for real. See?

It was brutally hard. I walked my bike up (and down) the steepest parts, I got frustrated from time to time, I may have cried a little, and I hopped in the truck when things were looking super duper hard. But I did it. I actually rode my bike for most of the trip, and even ended up with some battle wounds on my knees. At one point I had a meltdown in the middle of the night, after snoring, rain, and a battle with my sleeping bag seemed like just too much for one person to endure. Then I found Tim's spare earplugs, defeated the mummy bag (there may be a slight tear in the top to allow more room for my arms to escape), buried my head, and slept it off. I have never done anything even approaching the physical difficulty of that trip. I was convinced it was going to be no big deal, having prepared by hauling my kids behind me in the trailer up and down the paved hills of North Ogden. Apparently, riding a bike on dirt with big rocks in the way and slippery gravel around is nothing like paved, gently sloping foothills. The fact that I made it out of there is miraculous and I am quite proud of myself. I plan on doing it again. The views were incredible. I got to see parts of Canyonlands that you can only truly enjoy slowly (or in my case, at a snail's pace). It was worth every ache and pain. By the way, I found out what a true champion my husband is. He could have left me in the dust and joined the menfolk ahead of us, but he hung back with me almost the entire time. What a man.

2. We're reading "What Alice Forgot" by Liane Moriarty for book group. I recommended it. I just read it for the second time, and I liked it even more than on the first read. Imagine waking up on the floor of a gym, surrounded by what seem to be strangers, wondering why you're there. Imagine having your husband treat you horribly when you call and tell him you're in the hospital with a giant bump on your head. Imagine being told it's ten years later than you remember, and you've lost 10 years of memories, including the birth of your children. That's the book. It got me thinking, What if I thought it was 2003? My first reaction would be, "Wow. You've really let yourself go. Also, this house is a disaster! When did I stop cleaning?" Mind you, 10 years ago I was a newlywed that was still child free and had a rocking body. I was also taking care of an apartment the size of a postage stamp and had great visions of how pristine my house was going to be, and how nicely decorated, like a magazine. And I was going to be a famous flutist as well as an amazing mom. So, what were you like ten years ago? (Besides younger) Just some thoughts for you to mull over.

3. I'm rewatching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. That's a great show. Also, the flashbacks of Angel in his old days are fantastic. The facial hair alone has got to be enough to make David Boreanez be a tiny bit embarrassed. (I just watched one where he has long hair and a mustache. Glorious.) If you still haven't watched it, you should. Seriously. (You can skip a lot of the last few seasons, but don't skip the episode called "Hush" or the one where everyone is singing. Those, you must watch.)

4. I got an iPad for Mothers' Day. I've turned into a complete couch potato. And I'm addicted to Candy Crush Saga. I'm in trouble.

That's it. That's what I have to say.

Another Fitness Goal

Remember when I did my weight loss contest? I put it all out there with pictures and my deep down feelings. And I finished my contest, and posted my results, and even put a picture of myself in a swimsuit on Facebook. And then the coldest, most miserable winter came. I'm not going to say I gained a bunch of weight, because I didn't. What I did gain is flab. I turned into a tired, lazy blob on my couch. I did jumping jacks now and then to feel less guilty about all my loafing. I was feeling like winter was NEVER GOING TO END. Then my mom called and invited Tim and me to go on the White Rim Trail with her and a bunch of other fantastic people. It was like the clouds parted, the bad air lifted, and I could see the light at the end of the horrid tunnel of winter. But here's the thing: The White Rim Trial is 100 miles long, and we're doing it over the course of 4 days. That averages 25 miles a day on a bike. I have a very nice bike, who has been waiting patiently for the past 10 years to be taken onto dirt. Meaning, I haven't ridden my bike for real for 10 years.

So here are my goals for the next 6 weeks:
1. To not have a sore bum while riding, because I'm already used to it. Guess what? I've already accomplished that goal, and it's only been a few weeks! Done! (I only listed it here so I can feel like I'm making some progress.)
2. To not have a heart attack while going up a hill. Also to not have my lungs burst while going up a hill. Or, more accurately, I'd like to not feel like both of those things will occur every time there's a little slope in the road. Today on my ride I was seriously concerned for my body and its limits. I didn't die, so I'm on my way!
3. To be able to ride for 20 miles at a stretch. I'm not sure how I'm going to accomplish this. I need to find a route near my house that doesn't involve hauling the trailer with my precious children encased inside it onto busy roads with wackadoo drivers right and left. Which is a challenge. The ride to the library is only 4 miles, round trip.
4. My final goal is to get to Canyonlands, get on that trail, and kick its butt (sorry for the language, mom). I don't want to be the sad girl at the back, sobbing because it's just too hard (there's one in every season on the Amazing Race. I know the type, and I might be it). I also don't want to spend the whole time in the truck, being a wimp. I got all those fancy biking shorts and gloves and bike computer and shoes and special biking socks so I can ride my bike. So, basically, I want to have a good time on the trip in May, on my bike.

It's the first time in my life that I look forward to getting on my bike every day. I have friends that tell me that they used to hate running, but now they're addicted to it, and love it, and it doesn't make them miserable anymore. I can't picture myself ever feeling that way about running. Ever. But I used to dread getting on my bike because it hurt my bum, and it was hard, and my legs got tired. But after just a few weeks of riding regularly, I'm starting to love it. On days I don't have time to get on my bike, I feel antsy about it. This morning I went on a ride in 35 degree weather, and even though I froze my bum off, I felt energized and accomplished. (My toes are still thawing, but I'm glad I did it.) I get what my friends were talking about. I just had to find the right kind of exercise, and it's not running. Tomorrow I'm going to try a new route. Maybe I won't feel like I'm dying as much when I hit that hill.

Reevaluating my TV Priorities

It's been a while since I posted about TV shows, right? Even if I have, I still have some things to say.

1. Vampires. I just need to reiterate how disappointed I am in Season 4 of Vampire Diaries. It's become BORING. Even the last episode, which FINALLY had a twist and turn at the end almost lost me half way through because they were still doing the same things they'd been doing for the last 4 episodes, which is blabbing on and on about The Cure (not the band--that would have been more interesting), and who wants it more, and what about that evil Silas guy. The point is, I expect a few throw away episodes in a season, but every single one has been a throw away. The last 5 minutes of the last episode gives me a tiny nugget of hope, but honestly, I've been recommending this show left and right, and now I'm starting to be a little embarrassed by that fact.

The good news is that Being Human is a few episodes into Season 3, and it puts all other vampire/werewolf/ghosty shows to shame. We got rid of our dish and DVR, which means I have to scrounge around for online airings of shows, which we mostly take care of through Hulu+, but the shows on syfy aren't there. Thankfully, I discovered that my phone streams the new episodes, and I spent an entire afternoon neglecting my kids and catching up on the season. It makes up for the snoozefest of Vampire Diaries. I will still recommend this show left and right. (Except to my friends that don't handle lots of blood very well. You know who you are.)

2. International Travel  Because I'm now hooked into Hulu+, I've discovered some shows I never watched before. I'm addicted to Amazing Race. ADDICTED. I'm on Season 8 and I started Season 1 less than 2 weeks ago. I've had the benefit of traveling quite a bit, but these guys bounce from continent to continent and see the most amazing places that I couldn't have imagined existing, and do the most amazing things. For example, there was a place somewhere in Asia in Season 1 where there were Bengal tigers that had been raised by monks, and each team had to send one person through the tiger refuge to get their next clue. The tigers were on chains, but they could still reach the people walking through, and some of the contestants were getting batted in the ankles and hands by giant tigers. It was awesome. The teams have had to do crazy bungee jumps, sky diving, zip lines, snorkeling, kayaking, and a million other difficult tasks. The ones that really give them hangups are the food challenges, like eating live octopus, 2 lbs of caviar, bugs, etc. Gross stuff. The funniest one was a super ego who had to eat an entire ostrich egg, but he got to cook it first. He threw up like four times. It was eggs. But he could sky dive.

The teams go through a lot. They're exhausted, hungry, jet-lagged, and stressed out, and I cry every time one of them gets eliminated. Unless they're total jerks. The team that wins really earns that million bucks. It's brutal. And I love every second of it. Also, I'm convinced that I have family members that would do well on the show. I'm not one of them. I'd be the one having meltdowns every episode. No thanks. But it would sure be fun to watch my dad, or my siblings, or any combination of them.

3. Hibernation I'm in hibernation. I've accepted that. I have no desire to go outside or be active or be social right now. And when those urges strike me, I'm usually holding a sleeping baby that has crashed on my lap because he's sick, or I have plans for the next 24 hours and one of the kids pukes on the kitchen floor. It's been that kind of winter. And I was actually getting excited about taking the stroller out for a whirl, and it was warming up, and I got up this morning and BOOM! 4 inches of snow! So I'm accepting the fact that I am, in fact, a being who hibernates in the winter, and I will emerge in the Spring.

Speaking of Spring, my mom and my sister knew I was giving up on winter and throwing in the towel, and invited Tim and me to join them and a bunch of other people on a 100-mile bike trip in Canyonlands, called the White Rim Trail. My parents go on this trip every other year, and last time, Tim went and I stayed home with a bun in the oven. I was dying of envy, and, thanks to some fabulous friends, we get to ditch the kids for 4 days and I get to come along this time. I've already started shopping. Because really, isn't that the best part of a new adventure? The clothes? We also ordered an indoor bike trainer (you hook up your bike to it, and then plop it in front of the TV, and you can practice riding 20 miles in a stretch, all while watching Amazing Race!), which will be arriving on Tuesday. I'm looking forward to a new fitness challenge. My goal is to not cry the whole bike ride in Canyonlands. I wouldn't want to look silly. What I'd really like is to get to the point on my bike that I can hop on without dreading the pain. It should be fun! So in May, once I've returned, I'll be posting a whole bunch of pictures of me not crying in Southern Utah, looking super cool in really expensive shorts.

Well, Season 8 of Amazing Race won't wait forever for me. (Actually, it might. But I'm not willing to risk it.) Over and out.

Nerdy Sad Clown

I have a few random things on my mind, so here you go.

The Beach I just spent a week in California. I totally get it now. I've always been in there in the Spring and Summer. I thought, Sure, it's a nice place, but MAN is it crowded! Every time you think you're getting off the freeway you're getting onto another one. (You know that scene in Clueless when they FREAK OUT when Deon gets onto the freeway on accident? It makes total sense, once you've been on the roads in California.) The beaches were nice and all, but then you get all sandy and gross, and salt gets your swimsuit all crusty. Then I went to California in January. And suddenly, the traffic wasn't that big a deal because it was 80 DEGREES OUTSIDE. We went to the beach, and the sand and salt were just minor problems because it was 80 DEGREES OUTSIDE. One day sitting in the sunshine after I left subzero temperatures changed my life. So my plan is to get super rich, buy a beach house, and live in California from November until May. (Do you hear that, Tim? I hope you're on board.) And I know I'm not wearing my super cute new swimsuit here. It requires some personal grooming I just didn't have time for before the beach.

Super Nerd I've seen Napoleon Dynamite. I know fanny packs are totally nerdy. But guess what? They're also super duper handy. I came home from the store last weekend with a fanny pack, and Tim looked at me with raised eyebrows and asked, "Are you planning on wearing that?" And my reply was, "Dude. I'm going to be wearing tennis shoes with my shorts. I'm already going to look like a nerd. What's the problem?" Let me list for you the benefits of a fanny pack when going to Disneyland (or any theme park).

1.Girls' pants, shorts and jeans are made with teeny tiny pockets. My phone is just about the size of a small tablet. My phone is fine in my tiny pockets when I'm walking around my house. But when I'm going to be spending three days in Disneyland, getting in and out of rides, sitting and standing repeatedly, and my phone is essential to communicating with my family, I'm not going to risk it falling out on Space Mountain, never to be seen again.
2. I also have no desire to have a wallet in my back pocket. I suppose I could have stuffed my cash and credit cards and ID into my tiny pockets, but again, risking that stuff falling out wasn't an option.
3. Cross-body bags and purses are fantastic. But I bet you can't feel your phone buzzing in a noisy park when it's buried in a backpack or at the bottom of your purse. I never missed a call while I was there.
4. Hands free, baby.
5. I had candy and hand sanitizer right at my fingertips.

I looked super nerdy. I won't be wearing it to the mall or anything. I was the only one I saw with a fanny pack. But I didn't lose my phone or wallet while I was there. I knew where all my stuff was. I had both hands free, which came in handy for wrestling a toddler and super energetic little boys. So I totally rocked the fanny pack.

Sad Clown Syndrome One of the fabulous parts of my trip this last week was an evening with my amazing friend Rachel. We had gelato at a little cafe, and chatted about topics from A to Z. One of the things we talked about was our shared ability to cry at the drop of a hat. When I was in high school, I managed my crying habit pretty well by acting goofy all the time. We watched "Dead Poets Society" in my English class, and I bawled at the end, and this girl that sat in front of me turned around and said, "I didn't know you knew how to cry!" Anyone who knows me now has seen me cry many times. Rachel and I were talking about this, and decided we needed a name and a support group for this problem. We call it Sad Clown Syndrome. We are happy people who make jokes and act goofy to keep from being in tears. It was great to talk to someone else who has had total meltdowns in the church bathroom/gym/library. Want to join our support group? Here are the symptoms:
1. The Biggest Loser, eliminations on the Bachelor and ANTM, and commercials for St. Jude reduce you to a puddle of tears.
2. Nicholas Sparks movies and books are too much.
3. You've been seen crying in the church bathroom.
4. Everyone you know has seen you cry.
5. You crack jokes a lot, especially when you feel the tears starting to flow.
If you have experienced three or more of these symptoms, you suffer from Sad Clown Syndrome, and should contact me at once. We'll watch Strictly Ballroom.

The Season 4 Curse Lastly, I'd like to note that the fourth season of almost every show I like is crappy. For example, I'm pretty sure that's the season Smallville got really weird and lame. Am I correct in saying that season 4 of Gilmore Girls is when Rory turned into a tart? Season 4 of Lost was pointless (remember the buried alive episode? Stupid). I'm sad to say that it's starting to look like Season 4 of Vampire Diaries is following suit. The Christmas episode was RIDICULOUS. And by ridiculous I mean stupid. I like having complete sets of books and movies and TV shows, but I may not be buying Season 4. Has anyone else noticed this pattern?

There you go. I'm a nerd who cries a lot and is obsessed with TV. I'm off to clean out my fanny pack.

Best of 2012

It's a new year, and I'm looking forward to whatever's ahead. Except for trips to Walmart. I know I'll be doing them, and I never look forward to trips to Walmart. But now for a quick look at the past year. Here are some highlights:

1. A yellow Miata. I had actually begun to think I'd never ever learn how to drive stick, because really, how many minivans come with a stick shift. It came at a great time, when I was starting to feel like I'd never leave the house without 3 kids in tow ever again. There's no back seat in that car, and it's a great date car, or a zooming around with the passenger seat and tiny trunk full of shopping bags car. Plus, at 35 years old, I learned how to drive stick.

2. Performing on my flute with my sister and parents. That was a wonderful opportunity for me to reacquaint myself with my old, disciplined, musician self. I worked hard, I prepared well, and I had a great time. And my kids thought it was really cool. It helped me remember that I can still play the flute with my kids hanging around the house.

3. Netflix is finally streaming some darn good stuff. Tim and I are addicted to Psych. I've watched all 5 seasons of Alias this year. Revenge is now on Netflix. The first season of Downton Abbey is there (um, waiting for season 2. Come on, people!). (There are also an endless number of Power Rangers series on there, but we're being positive right now.) I have discovered shows like Roswell and Burn Notice that I just kind of skipped over when they were new on TV. This may seem like a lot of TV. It is. But think about why I've been in front of the TV so much...

4. My sweet sweet little Joshua. He was born in 2011, but the majority of his life up until now has been in 2012. I spent the first 8 months of 2012 feeding him on the couch in front of my beloved Netflix. It's a good reason to watch TV. He is such a sweet baby, and I have enjoyed countless snuggles with him, day and night. He's a toddler now, really, so I'm celebrating his babyhood by remembering all those sweet times we had together.

5. Entertaining books. There are always great books to be had. I read some fun, if not super deep, books this year. You've already heard about "The Passage." And I thoroughly enjoyed a book called "What Alice Forgot." It was interesting and thought-provoking. And had some humor, too, which I deeply appreciate. I just finished "The Night Circus," which I also enjoyed. I read "Divergent" and "Insurgent" this year, too, and they were both a fun and interesting read. (Nothing too deep here, but please remember, I was enjoying snuggles with Joshua at 4am regularly. Not really in the mindset this year for deep thinking.) I love a good book. I can't wait to read more this year.

6. Reaching a goal. I lost some weight. It made me happy. 'Nuf said.

So, here comes 2013. I hope I can find more good books to read, enjoy spending time with my boys, discover more great TV, play my flute and enjoy it, and drive that Miata to all my favorite stores. I would also be glad not to gain all that weight back. (Evil evil M&Ms, teasing me from the pantry...)

Happy new year!

Done and done. Phew.

I didn't wear a t-shirt with a giant picture of Edward, Bella and Jacob on the front. I didn't read the illustrated movie companion. I didn't get to the theater an hour early just to take pictures of myself by the cardboard cutouts of the Cullens. But I did go to the first showing on the release date of "Breaking Dawn, Part 2." I am not a twihard, especially after Breaking Dawn, Part 1. (Remember the wolfy voices? Hee hee.) The reasons I went to the first showing are these:

1. I couldn't go Friday or Saturday, and since next week is Thanksgiving, I figured I needed to get it done this week.
2. It drives me bonkers to go into a movie after hearing a million different things about it. (No one told me about the wolfy voices in the last movie, though, or I may not have seen it at all.) I don't want to go in with any kind of opinion about a movie. I went into the first Harry Potter movie with ridiculously high expectations because of all the comments my friends had already made about it, and it was kind of a let-down. Not that I didn't like it. It just didn't blow me away. That might have had to do with the fact that it came out at the same time as The Fellowship of the Ring, which did blow me away, and which I saw on opening night. But I digress. The point I'm making is that the only expectations I had for this movie were created by my own past experience with these movies.
3. There were tickets available.

I went into the movie with pretty low expectations. The fact that in Part 1 the entire audience was laughing at scenes that were supposed to be serious didn't bode well for the end of the movie series. Kristen Stewart was still going to be Kristen Stewart. The book it was based on was still a turd that they were attempting to polish. You may be asking, "Why go in the first place?" Tradition. That's why. I have gone with my friends to every Twilight movie, and I wasn't about to stop now, in the final stretch. So I went, expecting to get a good laugh for the night and be done with the series.

I was pleasantly surprised. Here's why:
1. I did get quite a few laughs, but they were for stuff that was supposed to be funny. (What a concept, right?)
2. There were no wolfy voices, just meaningful nods through windows. (I'm pretty sure there was some negative feedback that was heeded on this one.)
3. The turd that was the book (I'm sorry. The ending was so lame I wanted to hurl it against the wall, but I didn't because of how much I had spent on it) was improved on in a very surprising and fun way. I'm not going to spoil it for you. But just know, it's not so lame.
4. I had eaten a hot fudge sundae right before watching. That always puts me in a better frame of mind. It helped, I'm sure.
5. The soundtrack, which is what helped the other movies so much, also helped here. (I'm talking songs, not orchestral soundtrack. The jury's still out on the orchestral soundtrack. I'll probably need to see it again on DVD and get back to you.)
6. Kristen Stewart was still Kristen Stewart, but they've improved Robert Pattinson's appearance so much that I was willing to overlook Kristen.

Some problems:
1. The decapitated heads were just ridiculous. Seriously. I've seen a picture of a real one (don't ask), and it did NOT look silly. Maybe they knew a bunch of 12-year-old girls were going to be watching, and didn't want to scare them too much. But it kind of detracted from the drama they were going for.
2. The nudie scenes with Bella and Edward were gag-o-matic. And not just in the cheesy way (and it was cheesy).
3. The Amazon vampire ladies. They were a bit much.
4. Not enough Charlie. I can always use more Charlie. He's the best character in the whole business.

Overall, though, I won't feel nearly as bad buying this one on DVD. (I have a weird need to complete sets once I've started them. This is another reason the book Breaking Dawn wasn't in the trash can the second I finished it. Incidentally, I bought Part 1, but haven't watched it.) It's worth a look, even just for the improvement over the book.

Spies or Virals?

Winter isn't here quite yet. But I can feel it coming, and I'm ready for hibernation mode. My problem is that, when I have free time, I'm torn between cleaning, practicing the flute, reading a good book, and watching TV. I usually end up sort of cleaning something while I watch TV. (Mostly, I stand there with cleaning implements in hand, attention on the TV. It's not very effective.) When it gets cold outside, I lose any motivation to clean when I have a minute, and all I want to do is bundle up in a soft blanket and either read or watch TV. Which leads me to the point of this post. It's getting cold outside, especially in the mornings. I've been doing a lot of TV watching and reading.

What have I been watching, you ask? Alias. I watched this entire series 8 years ago when I was pregnant with Jacob and I was in the South in the early part of the sticky, hot summer. After 3 kids and 8 years, I don't remember a thing about what I watched. So when I saw that Netflix was streaming the series, I began watching immediately. Here's what I've learned about being a spy and the seedy underworld in which master criminals operate:

1. No one is ever really dead. They've either faked their death using that stuff from sea urchins, have been cloned, have been cryogenically frozen then brought back to life, or were wearing kevlar without telling their buddies and were relocated to a secret location in the Caymans until the danger was over.

2. Don't trust anyone. Everyone's a double agent. Except Marshall.

3. Bad guys operate out of night clubs. Without exception. This makes it necessary, if you're a spy, to own a large wardrobe consisting of leather mini dresses and spiky jewelry, as well as a large supply of eyeliner and neon colored wigs.

4. Deals between crime lords usually take place behind granaries and industrial parks. There are a lot of those near my house. I'm guessing Ogden is a magnet for organized crime because of all the industrial areas in town.

5. Black sedans and SUVs are bad news.

6. And lastly, a tube of lipstick can be made into anything: a tiny gun, a usb drive, a fingerprint reproducer, a camera, a microphone, a retinal scanner, a parachute. And this is why I can't ever be a spy. I'd be made in seconds if someone saw me casually taking a tube of lipstick out of my purse. My kids don't even know what lipstick is, because they've never seen it at our house.

And what am I reading? A number of books, but now that I've started The Twelve, those books are going by the wayside until I finish this one. The Twelve is book two in a trilogy by Justin Cronin. It's not for the weak of heart. Book one, The Passage, was good enough that when I finished reading it, I had to buy a replacement copy for the friend that loaned it to me. I took it everywhere, and it had finger smudges on the cover from lotion that I was too impatient to rub in all the way before picking up the book again, the corners of the cover were getting a bit rounded and worn, and it got the tiniest bit of water damage from being in the same bag as a sippy cup for 5 minutes, before it got pulled out of the bag and read some more. Please note, book lending friends, that this treatment of a book isn't normal for me, and I make every effort of returning your book in the condition it was in upon lending. Which is why I bought my friend a new one. Anyway, this author knows how to write a good story, and that's why I'm in a bind.

I want to read The Twelve, I want to finish out Alias (is Arvin Sloane really turning back to his evil ways?), my floor needs mopping, and my feet need to be wrapped in a soft soft blanket out of the cold.  

...and After

Well, the contest is over. I'm still waiting to find out who won. I'm pretty sure I didn't win, because some of those other ladies rocked it. But I did pretty well. First, the pictures. The before pictures again (taken August 1st):

 And after (taken October 23):

So there's a difference. I've lost 17 pounds, a number I'm very proud of.   I still have about 4 pounds to go to get to my ideal weight. Not everything is flat and smooth in the right places yet, but I'm really close. And even if I didn't win the contest, I've figured out how much I can eat every day, what foods fill me up without packing on the pounds, and what to avoid. I've also learned a lot of self control. I am a huge fan of desserts. If there are naughty treats in the house, I want to eat them all day, and I did for a long time. I don't anymore. Having to account for every bite of food that goes into my mouth has helped me limit myself to one treat per day, if I can afford it. I still want to stuff my face all the time. But I know how much I'm paying for that indulgence. During the contest, I had one bad week where I didn't lose any weight, but I never had a week where I gained.

I went jeans shopping last week, thanks to my saint of a friend, who watched my kids while I spent an entire morning trying on clothes. For the first time in years, I didn't leave the store feeling horrible. I left with 2 pairs of jeans that were 3 sizes smaller than the ones I'd been wearing. That alone made all of this worth it.

My goal now is to maintain the healthy weight I've achieved, continue using self control, and maybe even get those last 4 pounds off. (It's all in the belly area, which is always the last to go for me. Ugh.) So there you go, folks. Done and done.

Just do it

If you are still reading my blog after all these posts, thanks. Now, if you're reading my blog and you haven't watched Vampire Diaries, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? Season 3 was fantastic. I just watched all 5 discs from start to finish. All 3 seasons are on Netflix streaming now. No excuses people. Just do it.