Tonight was one of those nights that was just perfect. Calm. Peaceful. Lovely. We all went to Jachin’s monthly pack meeting, where we shot off some homemade rockets until it became too dark to retrieve them from the near-black parking lot of the church. Jachin’s rocket was lost, a casualty of the dusk. We’ll go back in the morning and search the parking lot and nearby field to see if we can salvage the foam and construction paper-made wonder.

After pack meeting, we rode our bikes home in the dark, chilly air. There was a bright, full moon rising over the mountain. I’d take a picture of it, but my cruddy photography skills would do it little justice. At home we made hot cocoa and pulled the dining room chairs out onto the deck to chat and watch the stars. We found the big dipper, and the little dipper, and something that may have been Mars or Venus, and we discussed whether a wish is null and void if you accidentally wish upon a blinking airplane.

I looked down the row of dining room chairs at my awesome family: my sweet hubby beside me; Jachin, in his adorable cub scout shirt, huddling over his steaming mug; and Zoe, shivering because she thought her 80 degree mug was too hot to hold… so she set it down on the deck to chill.

Our chatter grew quiet and we gazed out at the stars and our beautiful, newly grown grass, and I think the same thought came into all of our heads at once. Jachin was the first to speak up.

He sighed and said, “Life. Is. Good.”

I sighed and said, “Yeah, life is good.”

Zoe sighed and said, “Life is warm and cold.”

Jachin gave her a weird look through the dark and said, “Life is good even if that made sense.”

Oh, the wisdom of five year olds, because life is warm and cold. But man, when it’s warm, it’s good.

Yesterday was BYU’s homecoming. As part of the festivities, there was a 5K early in the morning. (I say “early” because it was before noon on a Saturday, which me for — the lazy butt — is early.) Jon went to run, because he is crazy and healthy like that. The kids and I went to cheer him on… and I am so glad we did!! It just so happens that I am the lucky wife of the second fastest 30-34 year old male runner in Utah county. You heard right, folks… my man is FAST. Check out the board:

49th overall, but second in his age bracket. The first 48 people were all crazies from the BYU track team. And there was some 12 year old that did it in, like, 16 minutes. But my hubby placed!

He was so proud that he wore his medal around all day. And you may think that I am exaggerating, but I’m not:

 By the car.

 Driving.

Then we went shopping at Old Navy. Because the kids needed some new warm-ish clothes, and Jon lost, like, another 10 pounds so he needed new clothes, too. He wore the medal shopping:

He actually wanted to pick out some clothes to MATCH his medal:

When it was time for bed… well…

He wants to build a display case with special lighting to showcase it. It’s the only award he’s ever won, other than a chess trophy. We can make the case big enough for both awards, I think.

*As a side note: we have enough grass to mow!! Check it out!

(He did take off the medal to mow. He didn’t want to get yucky wet grass on it…)

We went to Hogle Zoo this afternoon with some of the cousins.

I spotted this hilarious sign posted on the tiger pen:

I made Jachin linger by the fence while I got the shot just right… and then I made him linger a little longer. Because I seriously thought that nothing would be funnier than having a tiger pee on one of my kids. But alas… no pee. It was probably for the best because it would have been a long, stinky ride home… ‘cuz we actually hit some traffic on the way home…

Then, I felt bad for this rhino:

Even though he is a bronze statue, he just looks like a sad, beat dog. Especially with my wild, feral children climbing all over him. Poor guy.

More photos up on flickr.

I was tagged by MamaMilton for a meme. Don’t laugh at the answers…

well, actually… go ahead and laugh…

4 Jobs You’ve Had

1. A magician’s assistant. Yeah, seriously. I wasn’t very good… and neither was the magician. But we brought down the house at the Dual Highway Day’s Inn with our “Cut the girl in four parts” box trick.

2. A lettuce de-core-er on a bagged salad assembly line. “Fresh Express” bagged salad, to be exact. I lasted at that job for a whole 3 hours. I left at lunch and never went back…

3. Bra and panty specialist at Victoria’s Secret. Okay, I totally just made up that title. But I really did work there for a year… through an entire pregnancy. It was horrible.

4. Receptionist at an internet start-up. The most boring on the list… but it’s where I met my husband, so it’s an important one. Ahhhh, the sweet memories of an email romance…

4 Films I Could Watch Again and Again

1. “What Lies Beneath”. I actually do watch this one pretty often while I fold laundry in the afternoons.

2. “Serenity”. There is nothing I don’t love about this movie.

3. “Becoming Jane”. I’ve been to see this movie twice already at the theaters and I’m sure I’ll see it again. And then purchase it. Just something about James McAvoy in this one…

4. “Saving Silverman”. I laugh everytime. Almost to the point of bladder control loss…

4 TV Shows I Watch

1. Seinfeld reruns.

2. Law and Order reruns.

3. Star Trek TNG reruns.

4. CNN Headline News.

(I’m not a huge TV watcher.)

4 Places I Have Lived

1. Hagerstown, Maryland

2. Smithsburg, Maryland

3. Salt Lake City, Utah

4. Orem, Utah

4 Favorite Foods

1. Macaroni and Cheese

2. Pumpkin pie

3. Crab… Like, a bushel of whole crabs, with Old Bay, on a table covered with newpaper. Yum-my.

4. Pumpkin pie. (yeah, I know it’s on there twice.)

4 Websites I Visit Everyday

1. Gmail

2. www.k12.com (Jachin’s online school)

3. nextstat.com

4. My own blog. I know… sounds pretty narcissistic… but usually it’s because I post nearly everyday.

4 of my Favorite Colors

1. Green

2. Light green

3. Dark green

4. Orange

4 Places I’d LIke to be Right Now

1. On a beach in Hawaii

2. On a cruise in Hawaii

3. On a bike ride in Hawaii

4. Hawaii

4 Names I Like But Wouldn’t or Couldn’t Use Myself

1. Teague

2. Ezri

3. Dax

4. McLovin

(There’s no real reason I can’t or wouldn’t use these names. “McLovin” I would only use for a pet, though.)

I’m tagging Sam, Beverley, and Leslie. You’re it!

A few years ago there was a news story about a little boy whose mother died in their apartment. The little boy, being scared of getting placed in foster care, continued to go to school, cooked meals for himself, and even paid the power bill. He was only 7 or 8, but he knew what to do to take care of himself. A week or so went by before anyone realized that the mom was dead. I felt incredibly sad for this little boy, but I was also so impressed that his mom had done an obviously phenomenal job at teaching him to be self-sufficient.  (He also sprayed the dead body with Lysol so the neighbors wouldn’t suspect anything, which was very icky… but still kinda impressive.)

What would happen if I died, I wondered. Would my kids know what to do? In actuality, if I died, my husband would come home at dinner time and they would continue to be raised with adult supervision. There would be no reason for them to have to pay a power bill by themselves. But still, I resolved to teach my kids to be self-sufficient. Therefore, my kids can: 1) cook a hotdog in the microwave (so they won’t starve), 2) dial 911 (so actual assistance will come), and 3) use a debit card (because money fixes everything…)

Today Zoe and I went to WalMart at lunchtime to do some grocery shopping. Being September 18th, it was also the release date of the most recent Barbie movie: Barbie as the Island Princess. We picked that up, too. By the time we got to the checkout, I was aggravated (as I always am when going grocery shopping). I moved all of the items from the cart to the belt, including the Barbie movie. Zoe screeched that she wanted to put the Barbie movie on the belt, so I moved the movie from the belt back into the cart, at which point she took it out of the cart and placed it back on the belt. In the very same spot where I had originally put it. She then climbed back into the cart to be higher in the air so that she could reach the debit pad… because once you have taught your children to use a debit card, you have relinquished any and all future rights to carry out any transactions on said card. I removed my debit card from my wallet and she snatched it from me. The screen on the pad asked: Was your cashier friendly today? Zoe pressed “No”, even though the cashier guy had made it a point to say hi and asked if we had found everything ok. In my mind I said a little prayer that the guy wouldn’t be written up for being unfriendly. Then Zoe slid the card through the card reader. It beeped at her because she slid it too fast.

“Do it a little slower,” I said.

“I know!!” she screeched. “Don’t tell me! I know!” If I instruct her, it lessens the amazingness of her being able to do it herself.

Next, it asked for the pin number. She knows this number, but sometimes she forgets. I started telling her the numbers.

“I know!” she yelled. She put in three numbers and hit “enter”. The pad told her that a pin has four numbers. She was mad. She hit “cancel”.

The screen on the pad then asked her “Was the store clean today?” Zoe pressed “No”, even though the store had been pretty ok, even by WalMart standards.  She slid the card again and then — again — put in three numbers. The screen told her — again — that a pin has four numbers. She gave an exasperated “Ugh!” She pressed “cancel” again. At that point, she somehow selected Spanish instead of English. The screen asked her “Was your cashier friendly today?”… only in Spanish.

She yelled at the top of her lungs: “NOW IT’S IN STUPID SPANISH!” and hit “cancel”.

I turned and smiled at the Hispanic lady standing behind us in line. She smiled back, but I believe she wanted to punch me and spank my daughter. She turned and said something to her friend, in Spanish, which I didn’t understand…  but it was probably something about how I was rewarding my bratty daughter for her racist remarks by buying her a new Barbie movie.

Finally, Zoe slid the card, managed to put in four correct numbers… in their correct order, and completed the transaction without offending any other gender, racial, or socio-economic classes.

If I ever really do die, I hope Jon makes it home from work before the kids have to take themselves grocery shopping.

When I was a kid, my little brother and I had this voice we did. It drove people crazy. Especially my step-dad. I don’t know who made it up first, my brother or me, but we could both do it and we sounded identical. We would walk around just saying, “Hi, how are you?” “I’m great.” And then we’d do this “heeheehee” that was particularly annoying to the auditory senses.

(I should add here that I thought about the possibility of making this post a video post, so you could hear the voice. But when I stood in front of the mirror and actually watched myself do the voice, I was embarrassed for myself. Really, Self. It wasn’t good.)

Instructions: In order to do the voice, you have to close off part of your throat. The only way I can instruct you to do this is to put your chin down almost into your chest and then try to talk like you’ve just sucked up a boat-load of helium. Once you kind of get the idea of how your throat needs to feel, you won’t have to put your chin into your chest anymore. As a grown-up, I can do the voice with my head almost completely upright. Almost. But not completely upright, which is why I look like a moron when I do it in the mirror.

Anyway, several years ago a Disney movie came out that shocked the crap out of me. (Not literally, but, you know. Whatever. I like to say “crap”. ) It was a little flick called “Lilo and Stitch”. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. The story centers around a little blue mutant alien who disguises himself as a crazy dog. Oh yeah, and he has a really annoying voice. MY annoying voice! Someone totally ripped off our voice! Are you telling me that one has to travel across thousands of alien galaxies to hear a voice that my brother and I were doing in Cow-Town, Maryland in 1985? If only I knew then that I could trademark it… well, I probably wouldn’t have actually trademarked it. Have I mentioned it’s a tad annoying?

But moving on, my daughter thinks that it is hilarious that I can say “Ohana means family” in a pretty dang good Stitch voice. Then, keeping in irritating character, I will continue: “Sleep means, get your butt in bed, Princess Freaky Toes”. (”Princess Freaky Toes” refers to the freakish dexterity of her toes… but that’s for another post.) And continuing on a la Stitch: “Dream means, drool all over your pillow so your face sticks to it”. She laughs so hard her freaky toes hurt.

Perhaps I will swallow my pride and do a video post. Maybe I’ll do it in a dark closet so you get all of the voice (and metal hangers clanging) and none of the goofy face.

Last night there was some major teasing and arguing amongst my offspring. Jachin led the teasing, while Zoe whined and smacked. Those are the usual, default roles.

I separated them and sent them to their rooms for bedtime. It was late anyway. I then went in and tried to have a heart-to-heart with Jachin. I asked him why — oh why — does he constantly tease his sister. This is what he told me:

“She’s the one that started all the mayhem.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, assuming he meant the mayhem of the evening. But no… he was thinking bigger.

He said, “When she was born it totally changed the ways of my life!”

Jon called me from work this afternoon to ask me for my Social Security Number. I’ve know his SSN by heart for over a decade, while he still calls me every few months (for various insurance, investing, what-the-crap-ever reasons) asking for mine. Just to show what a lousy mom I am, though, I should tell you that I still don’t have either of my kids’ numbers memorized.

So today he called and asked for mine. I rattled off the first few digits quietly, blah blah blah–. He repeated, blah blah blah–. “Shhhhh!!”, I said. “Don’t say it out loud!” “Sorry,” he muttered. Then I thought about it… good luck to anyone trying to open a line of credit with my info!! Want to stop identity theft in its tracks? Have craptastic credit! Better yet, have NO credit (which is what happens when you have craptastic credit that slowly fades from your credit history until NOTHING remains).

A few weeks ago I saw that Life Lock commercial and was shocked and awed by the dude (who owns a large, successful company and therefore probably has decent credit PLUS lots of money) driving around in a big truck with his SSN smacked on the side. But now I realize, Dude, I could do that. I could totally drive around in a big, fat, yellow U-Haul with my SSN written on the side of it, and cruise around my town yelling obnoxious things out the window, and it would be of absolutely NO use to anyone.

If only my credit were good enough to rent a U-Haul…

9/11 is to my generation what the Kennedy assassination or Pearl Harbor is to older generations. I will always remember where I was when I heard the news and saw the images, which I’m sure is true for everyone else as well.

On September 11, 2001, I was six months pregnant with Zoe. Jachin, the little precious-head, was a mere two years old. The morning started out very typical. Jon was in the shower, I was lying still in bed (trying to calm my ever queasy stomach with crackers), and Jachin was lying on our bedroom floor watching PB&J Otter on the Disney Channel. (As a side note: I loved that show. I wish it were still on.) The phone rang and I answered. On the other end was Jon’s life-long friend, Stuart, who was living in Oregon at the time. I knew right away it was Stuart (he has one of those voices that is recognizable from just the casual ”hey, Suzanne”) but I was a little surprised to be hearing from him on a regular old Tuesday morning in September. It wasn’t a birthday or a holiday. Just a Tuesday… and kind of early, especially on Oregon time. He said, “Are you watching TV?” I said yes. He was quiet. Then I said, “We’re watching Disney Channel”, which — I later realized — happened to be about the only channel not airing live footage from Manhattan. Stuart said, “Turn on the news.”

I switched the channel over and saw the first tower smoking. I said, “What is going on?” Stuart said, “Someone flew a plane into it a few minutes ago.” I sat there quietly. I couldn’t really wrap my head around it. I was thinking that it was an accident. A really, really bad accident. Then, with Stuart on the phone, I saw the second plane come around and hit the second tower. We both just kind of gasped. I said, “What was that?”, even though I knew what it was and I somehow now knew that it wasn’t an accident. I sent Jachin to his room to play. Stuart sat on the phone with me for another minute or two, but neither of us really said much. Just the occasional ”oh-my-gosh” and “unbelievable”. Finally, Stuart and I just hung up. I went into the bathroom and told Jon, through our green shower curtain, what was going on. He just kept saying, “What?” I think I was kind of blabbering, or maybe he thought I was being dramatic. It’s a weird thing to tell someone in the shower.

Jon got dressed for work while we kept watching the live footage. I asked him if he was going to work. He said, “I guess so.” I had images in my head of his work being bombed. A plane flying right into his office. Two-thousand miles away from New York, but were there more planes? Were they going to hit all over the U.S.?

Jon has a sister who nanny’s in New York. We tried all morning and afternoon to get a hold of her. Phone lines were all down or jammed.

There were more planes. The pentagon, the downed plane in a field in Pennsylvania. I felt strange all day and I wanted Jon to come home from work. I was sad to be pregnant that day.

Late in the afternoon, someone finally got a hold of Jon’s sister. She was physically fine.

I felt strange for weeks. More stories and information came out. Cell phone recordings were released. Stories of brave, heroic people came to the front. I was sad that people had to be brave or heroic at all. They just wanted to take a flight. Maybe they didn’t want to be heroes. I was sad again to be having another baby. I was feeling dark about the world.

My mom told me that’s why the world needed more kids. The world needs more good, brave, loving, honest, patriotic, righteous, valiant people to counter the evil, callous, cowardly, hate-filled people. Each child born is a new chance at that.

When I think of that, I am renewed in my attempts to raise great kids. Great people. Awesome individuals.

I am the first to admit that I can be kind of an oddball. My tastes: eclectic. My moods: all over the place. To sum up this weirdness, I’m gonna show you my two favorite gifts which I’ve recently received, from two of my good friends… friends who know my strange tastes.

First is a sweet little something that Heidi brought back for me from a trip she took to Seattle several months back. Get ready for some (awesome!) geek-itude:

If you don’t know what this is, shame on you. It’s the Enterprise (NCC-1701), made from hammered copper. It is possibly one of the most thoughtful gifts ever… because — honestly – a hammered copper Enterprise is not something you get for someone unless you KNOW that they’ll totally dig it. Most people would say “What the crap…?”, especially if they pulled it out of the gift bag upside down…

The second sweet gift is from my BFF, Diana. (Are you sick of me saying “BFF”? I do it just to annoy you.) She gave it to me just a couple of days ago, when we got together to see “Becoming Jane”. And yes, it was the second time I saw that movie. And no, it won’t be the last. That’s one to own… Anyway, Diana and her husband, Porter, went to a Renaissance festival a few weeks back and she picked me up this:

I love fairies. Love them. I want to be one. And yeah, I know I’m supposed to be a grown up. I buy my daughter fairy things just so I can look at them and play with them when she’s not looking.  I tell her she likes fairies, when in fact she is kind of neutral on fairies. I’m ordering a DNA test to determine if she is actually my daughter…

This box is so tiny and precious. It is just big enough to fit my wedding ring inside. So when I do my lotion regimen at night, I take off the tiny lid (with my pinkie finger extended) and put in my tiny ring, and put the tiny lid back on. I almost have to use tweezers, it’s so stinkin precious.

So there is me, in a nut shell. And a nut shell is appropriate, because I am clearly a nut.

As a side note: I’m thinking of writing some Star Trek fan lit… a story where Picard and the gang find a Class M planet inhabited by fairies.

What?