Sunday, June 28, 2009

Real quick

You know what other movie I really like? I am Sam. Such a good movie...

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Get This

Do any of you have reoccurring nightmares? Yeah, me too. Mine always have to do with my fake teeth falling out. I wish I could say that these nightmares are the result of the totally irrational fears that plague me, but they are not. Fears that plague me?--Yes. But irrational? I wish. I didn't get my permanent bridge until after my senior year of high school. During that summer, there was a time when I actually had two temporary bridges in my mouth. They had seriously just stuck the teeth in there with what I assume was something similar to denture adhesive. Anyway, one day while I was eating lunch, they straight fell out. And it wouldn't have been so bad except that I had a date that night. (Do you remember this, Meg?) So while I commiserated about what on earth to tell my date, my dad began insisting that i just call the guy and tell him the truth--which i eventually did. Hey. This is Ann. I'm just calling to let you know that I won't be able to make it tonight. My teeth fell out. Yeah, that's awkward. But anyway... I got through it mostly unscathed--except for the reoccurring nightmares. But the reason I'm thinking about this is because I recently had one of those nightmares again, AND because I talked to my dad tonight who told me that my mom's bridges fell out--her PERMANENT ones! Can you believe that? She's down in Haiti/Dominican Republic right now and before she left, she had to get a root canal. Well, the drilling must have gone a little far, because not long after she left the country, her teeth fell out. Unlucky for her, there is no way in HE** she can get them put back in down there. Lucky for her, nobody down there gives a flyin' rip. (Does anyone even know what the heck "flying rip" even refers to, or is it just another one of those phrases that doesn't make sense to me because I've just been hearing it wrong my whole life? ) But man, I just couldn't believe that happened to her. Crazy.
P.S. Because it's Fathers' Day, I'll mention that not lying is just one of the many things my dad has taught me. He also taught me to stand up for the little guy, work hard, be grateful, be brave enough to do the right thing--even when you have to do it alone--just to name a few. I've always known that my dad loves me and is proud of me, and I've always been grateful for that.

Sunday, June 14, 2009


Man, what a good day. Today was (gratefully) so different from the past few Sundays. Today Brian did not have to hand Danin to the lady in the pew in back of us in order to carry Jane and Camp out kicking and hollering under both arms. (And this was all while I began my talk on how we joyfully read scriptures as a family, mind you.) And today Jane didn't wail "I waaaannnntttt to go hoooommmmmmeeeee!" all through the sacrament. And today there wasn't fighting all day. Today was just as a Sunday should be: peaceful, cheerful, enjoyable. What a blessing.
And you know what? Come to think of it--the whole weekend was good. On Friday, Brian took Camp and Jane on his scout camp-out. This meant a full 24 hours of just me and the Little Poo. I usually only daydream about days like that--days where I get to take a nap, the whole house stays clean, Danin and I eat slow-churned, low-fat cookies-and-cream ice cream (of course, with the amount I eat, it is anything but low fat...)and I enjoy the relative peace and quiet. But you know what? It wasn't as good as I had expected. The nap was good--don't get me wrong. But I found that I didn't know quite what to do with myself to pass the time. I can only paint Dan's tonails and tickle her for so long. You know what I mean? But the same time that it was a good break, it was also a good reminder of how lucky I am to have my kids--who keep my head and my hands constantly busy.

What else... Let me tell you about Brooke. She and her husband, Ryan moved here about four years ago and I liked her instantly. I remember meeting her for the first time in the primary room. She had a navy blue dress on (with polka dots, was it?)--kinda fifties-ish--and a ribbon or head band in her super long, thick hair. She was super outgoing and she smiled sincerely when I introduced myself. It wasn't too many weeks later that I learned--upon painting my living room a fabulous granny-smith-apple-type green, that she, too, was in the process of painting her living room an outrageous green! Her project was, in fact, much cooler than mine, though, because she was stenciling a pattern of fleurs-de-lis (sp?) with a silver paint marker over an entire wall! So cool. So anyway, since then we've become really good friends, and I've been so grateful for her. She's been the type of friend that almost makes me giddy because I have so much fun with her; the kind whom I can laugh and shop with--the kind of friend who will tell you if you pick out something totally ugly, or if you have a booger hanging out. The reason I'm mentioning this is because she moved to Wisconsin last week, and I miss her. I'm not going to go caress her picture or anything, but I'll miss her and I'm so glad she's my friend.
Other than that, (and the fact that Brian finished the dental office!) nothing of any major consequence is happening here. I did learn a new word, though. Ubiquitous: existing or being everywhere at the same time: constantly encountered. I Keep hearing everyone use the expression "uber"--something--like uber excited or uber organized. So maybe that expression would be considered ubiquitous. Or maybe swine flu in the MTC could be described as ubiquitous, or maybe urine in my kids' bathroom would be considered ubiquitous. I'm not sure. I'll have to keep looking for its usage.
And you know what I've decided? High school graduation addresses are--for the very most part--lame. And being the scholar that I am--I have figured out why. It's because all high school graduation addresses--or valedictory addresses, or what have you--concentrate on something that is actually quite insignificant and meaningless: high school. You know what I mean? How can you give a powerful, moving, heartfelt speech when it is about high school? It can't be done. Or, rather, I haven't seen it done. The only circumstances under which I can imagine a great high school graduation address would be those where the speaker and those being spoken to had really honestly taken advantage of their opportunity to learn--maybe one in which the opportunity for education at all had just recently come; or maybe one where a great deal of sacrifices had been made for education's sake; or maybe one where you had a group of people who represented the first in their families to ever graduate. Wouldn't that make for better graduation addresses? I think so. (Just to clarify--I'm not slighting those who have given high school graduation speeches--I just feel bad that there is a tradition that requires them to do so at all.)

Anyway...that's all for now. Enjoy the pictures.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Like I promised--my toenail picking update

If you are reading this post because you came upon my blog after doing a google search for something having to do with toenail picking, then I am talking to you. You don't have to feel alone and embarrassed any longer. We are in this together. Even if you, like me, witnessed and then took up toenail picking at a young age, there is still hope. We can all come together to offer support and encouragement to one another, and together we can beat this destructive addiction. And it's simple. There is just one simple step on the road to recovery. What is it, you're dying to know? It's called socks, my friends. We need to wear them. All the time. I'd been good for months until about a week ago when I got too cocky and took off my socks as I curled up in my favorite chair. And yes, the temptation to pick was still too strong. I lost a couple of strong, grown-out toenails that night. But don't despair. I didn't throw in the towel. Rather, I threw on my socks. And you can too. Yes, I know summer is upon us and it is so much cooler and more comfortable to wear sandals. And, you know what? You can wear them. Wear them to the store. Wear them to the movies. Wear them shopping. Wear them where ever you will not be tempted to pick. But when you return home, put on your socks. Your feet will stay clean, your carpets will too (did you know that the oils in your feet are transferred to the carpet--making perfect sticking spots for dirt?), and your toenails will not be picked. Seriously! Look at my toenails! No more painting faux-nails for me! I actually have that white strip at the top of every one! Granted, I'm now realizing that picking my toenails is not my only problem. How in the heck am I supposed to get rid of that crusty white stuff on the sides of by big toenail? Do I have to use files and lotions and stuff?! I hope not...but anyway....I'm on the road to recovery and you can be too. Hang in there...
P.S. Yep. In honor of my new look, I even put my toe ring (which I took off right before the marathon in 2006) back on. What a reunion...