here goes nothin'

I have lost all sense of pride.

Yesterday, I posted un-photo-shopped and horrid photos of myself, and today....well, I am linking you to my video nightmare.

Isaac, the videographer, did some miracle editing, cause I distinctly remember myself being way more embarrassing. Let me know what you think...

So, here it is: http://www.scraparatus.com/media/category_view.asp?cID=1
Sorry about the cut and paste, blogger has not been linking things directly for me?!

Anyway, if nothing else, check out the tool.

fine.

Photos by Mikayla age four. This was the best we could do. My camera is heavy for little hands....

spontaneous.

I don't really like my hair.

I haven't known what to do with it since the 80's. I try different things, and then I hang it right back into the ponytail where it belongs. I have donated to Locks of Love. I have had perms. I have straightened it. I have chopped it off into various bobs. And eventually, I always grow it out into a one length mop that hangs down the back of me.

It's healthy. I use Equate product from Walmart on it, and still get away with it. Aside from coloring the gray every once in a while, I am pretty darn low maintenance. The lowest of maintenance, in fact. Lower maintenance than me would be a cave dweller who didn't even own a pair of scissors, and whacked her hair between two stones when it fell in the fire.

When I was a little girl, I would listen to my Mom's Crystal Gayle record, and I would stare at the cover of the album and wish...."Oh, please, let me grow my hair that long....I just want to be able to sit on it (and I would be careful on the toilet,) and have it swish around by my knees..."
Sadly, I have never made it that far.

I get to the point I was at today, and I start browsing those crappy "Cute -N- Sassy Short Hair-cut" magazines at the grocery store. Those low-budget magazines with still frames of porn star looking girls, flaunting various wigs. Does anyone actually buy those?

I don't like to "do" hair, truth be told. I think a five minute hairstyle is about three minutes too long for me to spend in front of a mirror. Round brushes? Really? Can anyone with only two hands really do that?

So here I was, mulling over the options, and wanting change, but not change, ya know? So I put it on the back burner.

Off I go to run some errands, and lo and behold, like a beacon from karma itself...a $6.99 Haircut Sale balloon over at the Super Cuts. So I U-turned the 'Burban around, and Mikayla and I were the "Walk-ins Welcome." We were the only ones in the store, with four eager scissor wielding young ladies, which was either good or bad.

"What can I do for you?"
"I want my hair-cut."
"How would you like it?"
"I don't know."

And she offered some suggestions, and was very nice. And she layered it in some long layers, and she used a razor blade at some point. And then she fluffed it with a towel, and put some junk on it, and there ya go.

Seriously. That was it. And it looked pretty good!

Since the kids, I have developed this weird wave to my hair where it used to be poker straight, and it is such a pain in the butt to blow-dry out, and this chick....this SUPER cuts chick, worked it into something! She scrunched it up, and worked it.

I paid my $6.99, bought some product, and gave her a tip. I was feeling pretty saucy.

I came home just in time to slip in the door before the kids came barging in from school at 3:30.

"Hey Mom" child number one, runs past, doesn't even notice....

"Whoa" child number two notices...trying desperately to put his finger on what was different about me....shirt, no....pants, no...finally registers....."Where is your ponytail?"

Child number three "yeah, did you just get out of the shower or something?"

"It looks like you need a comb"<---child number four.

Happy Birthday Pickle!

Four years ago, right about now, I was recovering from my fourth and final! c-section. It was bittersweet, and I was trying to soak everything up, knowing I would not be experiencing another childbirth.

Mikayla is very loved, which is what you say when you are in denial about your child being spoiled. Not just by Sam and I, but by her doting siblings. In spite of being spoiled she is still a pretty sweet girl.

I love you little pickle. And I get you all to myself for another year before Kindergarten claims you.

Another spring catalog came today!

My youngest kid is turning four this Saturday. So I admit, it's been a while since I had a baby in the house....it is possible that I have forgotten certain things about the younglings as infants, but I am still pretty sure that I wouldn't want my baby spooning with a stuffed animal. Especially one with such a self-satisfied grin as that lion. ((shudder))




And this.....seriously?

perusing the magazines so you don't have to

Let's re-cap.

So, for $44.95 I could have one of these glorified beach balls, that guarantees that I will lose 28-33 pounds with its ergonomic "s" shape that molds to my body...AS SEEN ON T.V.!!

Sweet. Wish it had a drink holder.

The perfect remedy to a crappy day.

It doesn't matter what I have going on, if you ask me to go fly kites....I will always, always say yes.

sorry for the downer

It is funny how God has a way of putting things back into perspective. After feeling sorry for myself for almost 24 hours, I am more focused on all the blessings in my life.

A friend of mine, Jen Gallacher, took her 12 year old son into the Gastroenterologist in December for what they thought was a rountine check-up. They found a large mass in his colon, that turned out to be cancerous. After radiation, and chemotherapy, the cancer spread and progressed...

They released Joey from the hospital as terminal, and Jen and her family are enjoying Joey at home while they still have him here.

Twelve. My oldest is eleven. I can't imagine what she is going through. I don't want to. To think about it, makes me sick inside, and scared for my own kids. No parent should have to outlive their child.

I have racked my brain trying to think of something to do for Jen. Words sound so hollow. I wanted to do something to let her know how often I think of her and her little family. How profoundly this has affected me, and how much the whole thing just breaks my heart. Thankfully, Tania Willis took the initiative to do something.

I am sharing a link to the site she set up, and maybe if you get a second, you can check it out, and be a part of it all. Hug your kids today, tell them you love them.



Edited to add:
Blogger is not showing the link...I will try to get a direct link fixed, but in the mean time, please copy and paste.

http://www.benefitforjen.blogspot.com

because the wound is still fresh...

A couple of weeks ago I was approached by Karen Foster Design to come to the office to film a few short video clips demonstrating their new scrapbooking tool, the Scraparatus.

I ignored the e-mails for a few days, mulling it over. Willing it to go away.

I am really not *that* girl. You know, the whole in front of a camera type. No sir...I am very much the behind the scenes type. I hoped that they would find someone else, and made myself sick thinking about it. Of course, the sickness could have been the starvation, you know, in case I had to do it, after all, the camera adds ten pounds. And please....who likes that thought?

So of course, things progress, and me, being the dummy I am, think to myself, really....how hard can this be? I mean, it's only a few minutes. And then I could stop worrying about it. Just get it over with, and sleep like a baby when it's done.

Today was the day. I needed confidence. I prepared the best that I could. I did the whole shop for new clothes thing, the heavy make-up thing, the manicure thing---for Pete Sake! A manicure! I should have seen the foreshadowing of the event when my three year old told me I had "pretty old lady nails." This wasn't going to work out like I had envisioned.

Well, let me tell you what...

I don't care who you are, when you are plopped under mega-watt lights, all ALONE and have a big fat camera in your face you turn into Video Idiot.

I want you, my friends, to feel what it was like, so you never have to be Video Idiot. Ever. Just say no.

There are helpful cue cards, and suggestions to stuff your brain full with:

"Make sure you say something about the correct positioning of the tool"
"Hold the tool slightly higher..."
The lights sooooo hot...Dry Idea Powder Fresh...stay with me....
"Slow down a little."
"Mention the unique grip."
"Could you squeeze in something about the magnetic handle?"
And I think there was something in there about Etched Edged Dies...?!<---say *that* three times fast!
Heart pounding. Sweating....mouth so dry...so hot....
"Let's try a new angle."
"We are going to go again from the top and pan in closer."
"Catch that part about the felt again."
"Remember.....just be natural, and SMILE!!!"

At this point my SMILE had morphed into a plastic imitation of a smile. A smile that I am sure a mortician would be fired over.

I could feel it. I couldn't change it. I wanted to be witty. I wanted the dialog to flow. I wanted to be just like Ryan Seacrest! I'd like to blame it on the fateful day I gave up caffeine. I wasn't Fun Bobby anymore. I was Video Idiot!

I would mid-sentence lose my thought, and then I would blurt out some freaking motarded thing. Or forget whole points. Or mess up with the tool. And take it again from the top...

At one point I said, and you can quote me:
"So...when you are ready to DIE, you take the tool and....." <----Left the very crucial "CUT" out of die-cut, and another time I said "When you are going to PUNCH something..."<---- Try punching MYSELF, with my fancy Old Lady nails. Ugh.

Let's just say I have a re-newed sense of respect for actresses. Even those crappy ones on infomercials.

The crew was very kind. Very patient. And the camera-man was impressive. He paused me at one point to tell me to powder my face. A Man! Honestly, I was so grateful. I think the only thing worse that a botch video job for all the world to see, would be a botched video job where you were greasy, for all the world to see.

So the worst part of it all, is the knowing. Knowing it is "out there" now. Knowing that I can't take it back, that my grand-kids could run across it one day. Or you. My friends!

So I am begging you. Please don't base the sale of the product on the Video Idiot. The Scraparatus can't help it that I was the dolt pimping it out. Go easy on me, if you ever happen to stumble upon this never-to-be-linked-on-my-blog trainwreck.

I vow to you, that was my first and last production. I am going to stick to the writing and scrapping, thank you very much.

And, in spite of my "sleep like a baby" theory, I am going to spend a few hours (days? months?) re-hashing my blunders and basking in the delights of regret.

got hair?

I have always had a lot of hair, and nothing made me more popular than my hair in the 80's. Give me some pink sponge rollers, a bottle of Aqua Net and a rat-tail comb, and I will instantly grow five, six inches. Of course, in this photo, the hair was swept to the side, courtesy of a banana clip, but it's all miiiine.

This was my Sophomore year. A senior asked me to the prom. One of my first dates. I remember coordinating everything, I had silver pantyhose, and shoes. I really wanted some silver fingerless gloves ala Madonna, and I looked and looked, but could never find them. But... I had turquoise mascara! They sold it at a little dollar store by my house. They also had green and blue, and I think purple mascara. It went on kinda clumpy, and I had to separate my lashes with a safety pin, but MAN! was it worth it for the glam. Heh, heh.

The only thing I remember about the date itself was dinner. All four of us ate at a fancy restaurant up a canyon. We were all young, and un-fancy. I am sure we looked a little like the Clampetts walking in. But we had reservations. Just like adults. The dining area was very dimly lit. It smelled like incense, and there was some type of ethnic music playing. The menu was full of things I had a hard time pronouncing, let alone recognizing in the English language. We ordered. Some time later, they brought our plates out, I wasn't quite sure where the food was. There were some thin strings of vegetables?? And I know I ordered chicken...but....

The girl I doubled with was looking at her plate with the same bewilderment. I think she must have decided that to be safe, she would start with her dinner roll. She picked it up, only to have it glop into her lap. It was mashed potatoes, piped out of a pastry bag, and lightly toasted. I was the only one who saw it happen, and I really had to give her credit for busting that move out, so I gave her the courtesy of not laughing. The rest of the evening went without incident. I do remember all of us singing "Push it" by Salt and Peppa in the car on the way to the dance. 'Cause we were classy like that. Ahhh, the 80's.

Anyway, back to the hair.

I was first lady of the big hair. I don't know if anyone could hold a candle to my big hair. (And please, don't because it would ignite and burst into flame.) I was excited to hear recently that big hair is comin' back. I really think I still have it in me.

I mean, really, when you can master hair that can survive water-skiing.....

tradition

If you have been reading this blog for a while, you will know that I collect weird signs.

My boys went to Moab this weekend with their Dad, which warrants several future blog entries, but I thought it was sweet of my ten year old to make sure a picture was taken of this sign. It's a gem.

Happy Easter, everyone!

random memory

We took a trip to Mexico in 2000. Just Sam and I, along with my mom and dad, but no kids.

Originally we planned on going to Ecuador, where Sam served his LDS mission for two years, but we were flying on stand-by, and the flight filled up. We opted Mexico instead. Since we were planning the Ecuador thing, we packed all of our *needs* for a ten day stay in a back-pack, so we would be free to hop around, and see as much of the Country as we could pack in, in such a short stay. That is how we like to travel, no set itinerary.

It was hard to get everything into a back-pack though. And we had to wash clothes out in the sink with shampoo towards the end of the trip.

So here we were in Mexico, and not the normal Mazatlan or Acapulco. We like the little towns that aren't as well known. Along with the anonymity of the small towns, comes the lack of amenities. We found ourselves staying in 1/2 star hotels.

One of our better hotels had a running water shower. My parents stayed next to us. The rooms were clean, and had wooden slats instead of windows to let the cool(?) night air in. The next morning I woke up, and turned the shower on. The shower faucet was marked with what looked like permanent marker on the tile, a giant letter "C." I turned it all the way on, the opposite direction of the marked "C" for "cold", which should have been "A" for "arctic." The water was frigid! I waited, thinking that maybe everyone in the little complex had used up the supply.....waited, still nothing. We were anxious to get going, so I finally resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to shower in that cold water.

Showering in cold water does nothing more that allow you the bragging right of "Hey, I showered this morning." Because we all know that all cold water does to that tropical humidity grease, is solidify it where it sits. Much like putting fried bacon in the fridge. Not to mention the instant headache you get, when your scalp tries to escape the cold water by shrinking and embedding itself into your skull. So I did the best I could (and in record time!) and got dressed and ready.

We met in my mom and dad's room.

My mom was humming, and putting her makeup on, hair washed and pulled up in a ponytail. "Hey, mom, how'd you like the cold shower?"
"Mine was hot."
What?
Come to find out, in Mexico, "C" is NOT for cold. It is for CALIENTE, spanish for "hot."

I took that cold shower for NADA. (Spanish for "nothing") Estupido!

So I notice this morning, in our new shower, the kind and wise folks at Moen solved the whole language barrier/good hot shower thing.
No "C's".
Just a nice snowflake or sun icon.

I think everyone can get that. And hot showers for all!

a blast from my past

I ran across some old photos yesterday.

This was one that was taken when Sam and I got engaged. We didn't use it, for obvious reasons...it was one of the "extra" poses.

I just wanted to point out some goodies.

The year was 1994. We both drove Geo Storms, his green, mine red. Once we swapped cars, so everyone at my work would think I painted mine....wasn't that silly? (eyeroll)

Hunter green was big. So were florals. We thought we were pretty cool to incorporate both.

In our first apartment we had a big framed photo of another pose, of this same shoot hanging over the couch. The couch was floral, and we had a hunter green striped pillow on the couch. It's alllll in the details, folks.

I believe we were both wearing Girbaud jeans.

Pretty sweet earrings. Wish I still had them, I could probably hurl them at the neighbors barking dog and get some results.

The pose looks pretty natural, no? That dreamy vignette...and what are we looking at? Gazing into our promising future together....five kids, and a guinea pig, and a house in the suburbs of Utah.

Pretty sweet.

YAY!

So, I tried on some of my capri's from last summer, and they nearly drowned me!
Looks like the gym is PAYIN' OFF baby!






































April Fools.
Geez, people. It's Cadbury Mini-Eggs Season. You should have never fallen for that.