:: this guy ::
:: these cubes :: wouldn’t they make cute center peices all stacked up for a wedding or any event really :: thanks how about orange ::
:: The Todd ::
:: this personality test :: view my results here :: what are you ::
:: the spring catalog from russel + hazel :: this illustration :: this computer desk, hacked from ikea ::
warm glow
last light of the day
cool breeze drifts in
things start to quiet
my heart
This afternoon, I started telling the boy about things that I like.
I like Dad.
He would reply to everything I said.
Yeah.
I like flowers. Yeah.
I like Elmo. Yeah.
I like Ainsley and Reagan. Yeah.
I like cheese. NO!
I like Thomas the Train. Yeah.
I like tacos. Yeah. (I knew that was a lie.)
We went to Cafe Rio for lunch and I continued the conversation.
I like flip flops. Yeah.
I like kisses. Yeah.
And then he started licking me instead of replying.
I like Diet Coke. Lick.
I like bugs. Lick.
I like digging. Lick.
I like holding you. Lick.
I like Gentry.
This is the first book, I just finished the second.
The first is about the rough lives of early settlers in the United States. This book is also, but it is from a grown womans view. I love the way she speaks of love for her children.
“‘Mother!’ April said. She took the little girls from me and set them back on the floor, then leaned onto my lap and put her cheek against mine. It was such an odd thing for her to do. How could I explain to a beautiful lady in a silk dress that when I picked up her baby girl, I felt that lady’s long-ago chubby shape in in my arms, smelled her sunshine-touched hair? That years and years of tiny memories flitted past my her like a flock of birds spinning on invisible air? It was the smell of the little girls, slightly wet, somewhat soapy, the smell of porridge supper, and the taste of kissed-away tears. Here in my arms were the best parts of life, going on blooming like a strong tree.”
I feel like this. When I look at Gentry, I wonder where he came from. I know right now I am his world and I love him fiercely, but he will not always be mine. I am bewildered by where he came from. I know that he grew in me, but I can barely remember it. The pictures seem like a different time and person. In rare moments though I remember. I remember the smell of him. The way his tiny hand grabbed mine. The way he cuddled with me for hours as I fed him. In rare moments I remember, and he will always be my baby.
This book is about her struggle to live in the Arizona Territory at the turn of the century. She is a strong, hard working woman, and I want to be her. At the end of the day when I still have a million things to do, I remember her, Sarah. She worked so hard and she talked about how exhausted she was. There were times of rest, and times when all they did from sun up to sun down was excruciating hard work. She was strong. I want to be strong like her.
by Lisa See
I cried at the end of this book, not because of the brutality of it. It was because of the sincere love we have for the sisterhood of women around us.
It is about the Chinese culture and foot binding of the women there. They called their feet their “golden lilies.” Reading about her foot binding made me nauseas, but that was the culture. It was the way of life. Brutal to me, a sign of culture and class to them. Who am I to judge? What I have done all in the name of beauty?
The book is about two best friends, promised to each other at the age of seven. They grow old together. They share in each others lives, even when class distinctions keep them apart. They love and take care of each other.
They were two mandarin ducks. They were placed together to build each other up.
“I read her our contract, reminding her how we had gone to the Temple of Gupo and bought the red paper, sat down together, and composed the words. I read again the letters we had sent each other. I read happy parts from our fan. I hummed old melodies from our childhood. I told her how much I loved her and said I hoped she would be waiting for me in the afterworld. I talked her all the way to the edge of the sky, not wanting her to go yet yearning to release her into the clouds.”
:: snoopy :: that is from jj ::
:: warm days + cool nights ::
:: exploring ::
:: cuddling in the morning before I am really awake ::
:: greek pizza from the pie :: strawberry fields sushi from Takashi ::
:: getting tan :: playing at the splash pool ::
:: wearing skirts to beat the heat ::
:: this little boys room :: this sentiment :: this cat housing :: funky book art ::
You must read these comments.
If not, here are some of the highlights.
• My cousin worked at EFY when a girl in a testimony meeting proclaimed that she was unable to bear her testimony with words and proceeded to perform an interpretive testimony dance next to the pulpit.
• A well-meaning Primary teacher opened a sharing-time discussion of the priesthood by asking the kids to name that special thing that only boys get to have that starts with a p.
• My daughter is starting to potty-train and she likes to wear underwear over her diaper. Well, we were in sacrament meeting (it was the “farewell” of the Bishop’s son that day so the congregation went 1/2 way into the gym) and she was rummaging around in the diaper bag and found a spare pair. My daughter then held the underwear high above her head and shouted “Look mama! Pannniieeeess!” Everyone around us started to snicker and giggle and I grabbed the offending article of clothing and stuffed it back in the diaper bag. Well, my daughter would have nothing of that and started to scream “Mama!!! I neeeed my paannniieeess!! Please gimme myyyy paaannniiees!” Then she started to sob like I had stolen her favorite toy. It was just a dandy experience.
• My son is no better you know…this one happened after church, but it still counts. My daughter had lost one of her earrings in nursery and her leader was lucky enough to find it and she brought it over to our house right after church. Well, right when I answered the front door, my son decided that it was a good time to strip and go running around the house slapping his own naked butt yelling “Yeehaw!” I thought the nursery leaders eyes were going to pop out of her head.
• We were doing the sacrament program, and the sunbeams were supposed to say, with my help, and cute little sentence about a picture they were holding. They each took turns going with me to the little free mic in the corner of the stand. One of the kids was, well, a little big of a challenge. He stood at the mike, I whispered in his ear (I was crouched down by his side) what he should say. He then grabbed the mic, growled loudly into, tackled me in my skirt to the ground and starting biting my neck like an animal. The ward didn’t stop laughing for several minutes.
• Two weeks ago my 2 y.o. was especially rowdy in sacrament meeting and let out a gargantuan burp that the whole overflow heard and laughed at. Then, he threw a plastic doorstopper into the air, which hit the light switch, leaving us in darkness. I was smacking my DH to go get him as he was laughing out loud. At least the kid has good aim.
• My sister-in-law has a 3-year-old son. One day in sacrament meeting he stood up on the bench during the final speaker’s talk and yelled at the top of his lungs, “I want you to stop talking, so say “Amen” and sit down!”
Having been inspired by this post from Miss Nemesis, I decided to share a little bit of my Sunday experience.
It was fast and testimony meeting at church this past Sunday. We are supposed to testify of Jesus Christ and other basic principals of the gospel. I wish I would have been taking notes. This was truly inspirational material.
There was the lady, the very learned one, the one who has had a career, obviously way smarter than your average church goer. To prove it, she talked about how you can know that other things that are not church related are true, like a math book and things that you learn from that. I personally have never had a testimony of math, but it seems to always work out; especially with a calculator. She next went on to point out that she had been filled with the spirit while seeing Les Miserables the day before. But again, she had to prove she was learned by pulling her French accent out. Because it is not the correct pronunciation without the French accent. She testified of the truth of Les Miserables. Right.
Another guy, who reminded me of a guy that I dated, a long, long time ago. The self-righteous one. The one who got up and talked about what a good example he was and used to bear his testimony and use analogies of computer software. That wasn’t this guy, this guy got up and said he thought those who were bearing testimony were really great people and spiritual to boot. Then he used lots of big words and talked about his favorite class at medical school which was neuro-something and blah, blah, blah. I could not listen anymore.
There were some really good testimonies as well. Very touching, they were the minority. I find that sad. I want to hear people testify of what they actually know that is faith based. I am tired of the gibberish.
Cassie was my best friend all my growing up years. She is my cousin, we are nine months apart. She grew up in West Valley and went to the corresponding high school. Her end of the valley is a lot more diverse than my south side is. I had the cowboys, she had people from every nation under the sun. I remember when she graduated from high school and some of the boys that she was graduating with came out all tan and greased up and did some of that hula dancing. They yelled their intimidating chants and swung things over their head. I was totally hot for greased up high school seniors with some cultural background, I was only a grade older and actually very close in age to them.
Yesterday, Cassie’s brother Joe graduated from the same high school. I have never seen anything like this. Maybe Cassie’s was the same way, I cannot remember. When a girl came out and did a hula dance, her family (I hope it was her family) went nuts. They were in the back of the E Center yelling and screaming and hopping up and down and drumming on garbage cans, the entire time. I was so busy watching the side show I missed the actual performance.
Joe had classmates with so many lei’s on that you could only see the top half of their heads. And they had a cheering section. Some of the cheering sections had matching t-shirts, like they were rooting for the home team. The students names would be read and they would dance down the aisle to their seat encouraging the melee in their behalf.
I am all about supporting those we love, but this bordered on insanity.
Congratulations Joe!
I considered going to realty school for a couple days this week. It seems like a quick way to make money, but I don’t know if I am the type. I love looking at peoples houses, but knowing how much I am making off some poor sucker would really make me sick to my stomach. I could not do that to someone and I know that I would widdle my commission down to nothing.
I am the type that likes everyone to win. When I play a game, I would rather be the loser or have everyone be the winner. Before all my sibling were married we would play board games like, “Who Wants to be a millionaire” together. No one actually ever won, it ended up being, “Let’s all be millionaires together.”
I hate playing games with competitive people. I would rather not play at all because I will let them win and then they will rub it in my face. I won, I won, I won. I don’t know. Or I will let the person who needs to win, win. It is not that important to me. I don’t want to force things in my favor.
I also hate the recognition I get for winning. I don’t want to be paid any attention. Look at all the losers, how do you feel about being the winner? Well, really, really bad. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to be better. You are great too.
I might actually be a really great contestant in a Miss Whatever Pageant. You are the smartest, skinniest, most beautiful girl I know. No, you are and you hair is perfect. No it is you. You are going to win. No, you are. You are the best and I know it. No, it is you. And on and on. I think that it could also go on like this with a gay man for days. Because we know how sweet you are and how much we need your opinions while shopping for clothes and makeup. Somehow I trust them much more than the females at the makeup counter and clothes stores. Their makeup is always flawless. I wish I could have such perfectly shaped eyebrows. I am always in need of a good plucking.
Yet somehow, I always get my way. Things are done how I want them. People ask me before they do things. Should we have green or blue plates at this party you are not in charge of? Green of course. Thank you for asking, if we have blue plates, the party will be disastrous and the fruit may not match. Obviously.