We must all remember:

Life evens out and goes on like usual.

Although it seems like the downs come more often than the ups, that's just because the downs weigh a lot more than the ups, and when you're UP, you're floating on a cloud. I miss my cloud.

I can't say that life has been terribly difficult, just...strange and stressful and chaotic.

Susan is dying. Fast. This is effecting me more deeply than I thought it would. Afterall, we've known since March, haven't we? Diagnosis: Terminal. But hearing the news last Saturday that cancer was in every organ except her heart and spleen (the ironies of life) really hit it home. This curve ball was out of the park in t-minus 6 seconds; the tears came and didn't stop for a good half hour, at which point I unlocked the bathroom door and admitted by little boy who was DYING to go pee. Sorry son.

And so, with news that a loved one is dying comes the snowball effect of life. I can't sleep, therefore I have a headache, therefore I can't sleep. Sick, twisted, circle of doom. But the house still needs to be cleaned, the dinner cooked, the kids bathed, the husband appeased, work accomplished, callings fulfilled, clothes to be hung up. Nothing stops for pain and sadness, except maybe feeling good and happiness. Yuk yuk.

Coming to a blog near you: a happier, healthier, more awake, less depressed, Kelly. Stay tuned.

"My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment.
And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes." D&C 121:7-8

MAMA MIA!!

Here we go again!!

I went last night with a good friend, which makes a world of difference, cause a good friend cries at all the same parts as you and doesn't laugh when you sing along with the music. At least not to my face.

This move rocks some serious Kazba. I mean, it's no Broadway extravaganza, it's no Kristen Chenoweth and Idina Menzel, but it was still flippin' good.

My favorite part, well, one of them (do wet topless greek men count as more than one great thing?) is the talent of Amanda Seyfried. All My Children did not even begin to tap into this blonde beauties talent.

And Meryl Streep, whoa girl, you can sing. I mean, talk about blow me out of the water. Seriously, an amazing actress. She shows so much emotion, and has so much fun with the role. I highly recommend this movie.

For Tanya

Third Times the Charm: The Pointless Rantings of a Neglectful Mother

I have this fussy, neurotic problem that forces me to read a book at least three times. It's not OCD, I assure you; it's merely an addiction to a theory that so far has proved accurate.

Reading a book the first time: Just get a general overview of the plot and characters.
Reading a book the second time: Really delving into the characters, the symbols, the intricacies of the plot.
Reading a book the third time: Enjoying the general splendor of it all.

This was my third time through Wuthering Heights. This time I felt like I 'understood' Cahterine the First and Heathcliff (the last, yuck yuck). I was wrong. I realized so much more about them the third time around, that I think a fourth read would be appropriate to ' enjoy the general splendor of it all'. But there's too much laundry to do right now, so I'll work on that later.

Tell me what you think about my revelations:

Catherine is psychotic. Of course. But she grew up in the moors, in a dark, bleak house, even when her father was alive and spoiling and petting her. Isn't it natural for her to continue to love the dark and dreary, i.e. Heathcliff? I look at her, and see me, and all the other only girl children of the world. Thankfully now-a-day one cannot get away with such behavior without being forced to take her Vitamin P. Anyway, I see a spoiled little brat, with some serious Bi-Polar disorder that's never been checked. I think she just assumed that Heathcliff should just love and adore her no matter what she did, because that's how her father treated her (what would Freud say, I wonder.) And so, regardless of the negative attention she fed to him on occasion, she just assumed (correctly) that he should love her no matter what. Stupid Catherine.

Heathcliff is psychotic. Duh. But the poor boy is a gypsy orphan. He's dark and malicious naturally, but why not throw in a dose of the moors and see where it gets him. Let's add some unnecessary abuse by the woman he loves and adores, and why not mix in some physical and mental abuse while we're at it. At first I compared his situation to Jane Eyres. She was an orphan. Probably worse off because she was raised BY FAMILY that HATED her and reminded her of that on a daily basis. She turned out ok. Heathcliff at least had some years being doted and admired and loved by Mr. Earnshaw. But what is worse: never having the love to begin with, or having the love, then having it ripped away from you, leaving behind destruction and depression and abuse? I don't know. But my opinion would lean me toward the latter. That would just plain suck. Still, Heathcliff is stupid.

Catherine and Heathcliff, yeah, that's a desired union. Why not give them some gasoline and a match and call it good? Catherine blames Heathcliff, Heathcliff blames Catherine, himself, and everyone that came as a result of Catherine ever being alive. What a life, Heathcliff. It's called "TAKING RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR ACTIONS", you oafs. (Yes, I realize this is just a book, written by possibly an agoraphobic woman whose mind was considered at times to be "not all there"). Cahterine and Heathcliff are stupid.

Catherine Junior I admire almost alongside Elizabeth Bennet and Ginny Weasley. Yes, I said Ginny Weasley. Cahterine the sequel was blessed with the positive attributes of both her parents. I think her tenacity is wonderful. I think the way she takes on Heathcliff and the demented inhabitants of Wuthering Heights is admirable and brave. And I love how she is willing to put aside pride and apologize to Hearton, thereby securing her happiness and love. Had her own mother been able to do such a thing, she and Heathcliff would've been together. Miserable, of course, but together (and living). Stupid Catherine and Heathcliff.

I have more thoughts, this is merely the surface, and this is where my mind has been instead of mothering my children and doing laundry and making dinner, and, sigh, practicing the piano. Oh well, life goes on. Onward and upward.

(Mr. Lockwood cracks me up. I think he's just about the funniest, most fickle character ever, and I think she touched on him just enough to make him lovable and not absolutely annoying. Silly Mr. Lockwood. Where would we all be without your morbid curiosity and your fickle ways?)

Friendship

I've been thinking about this for a couple of days now, since Friday, to be exact, and it's been a process to put my unexpressed feelings into words. There are centuries of thoughts, millions of words, to try to express and explain the phenomenon of friendship.

Someone with whom I'm acquainted, but have yet to don the proud title of 'Friend' wrote a very inspiring, very thought provoking article. She pushed me over the edge, so to speak.

Friday Brett and I had a rare opportunity to reunite with his high school buddies. Keep in mind, these are just the close friends, the 'group' of people who were tight back in the day. We haven't seen some of them for a few years, and others I've never even met (or heard of, in some cases). But there is a group of 6 that are the most interesting to me. This group consists of Brett's Seminary Leadership from his awkward days. What amazes me about these people, the girls particularly, is their abiding friendship. I know that they haven't seen each other in years, either. But they sit down and they start talking like they haven't been apart for even a day, let alone separated by years and hundreds of miles, in some cases.

The feeling there was one of sweet reunion, combined with an ease that only friendship can induce. Even I felt the effect of this ease and found myself sucked into the force of their undying friendship. I, who just happened along, who 'married in', who deserves their friendship almost as much as the pine cone that sat next to me on the picnic table bench. Regardless, these women made me feel as much at home as if I spent those formative years side by side with them.

This reunion invoked so many different emotions. Envy, gratitude and hope, primarily. Envy, because, let's face it, lasting friendship like theirs is rare, at least in my world. Gratitude because of their accepting attitude towards me; and hope. Hope that there are still people in this world who look to friendship and the wonderful blessing it is. You could tell in their attitude and mannerisms that everything they said to one another was devoured and considered as the greatest, most important thing at the moment. That nothing any of them could have said would cause the others to upstart and leave them hanging.

I've had several relationships fall apart, either getting lost to the demands of the world, or dissipating in the way that unnurtured friendships tend to do. I've had heart breaks, literal, painful, all consuming heart breaks that have rendered me friendless because I didn't feel I deserved such things, which, in retrospect, is ridiculous. Regardless. And I have friends that are timeless. Friends that have been there since I was born in some cases, and continue on though we don't see each other nearly as often as we would like. I have friends with whom I know I can tell anything, and they'll guard my thoughts and feelings in the same way they would guard their own. I have a best friend who loves me and all my personalities; and I am so grateful, so blessed, to get to spend eternity with him.

"Friendship, pure, unselfish friendship, all through life's allotted span, nurtures, strengthens, widens, lengthens, mans relationship with man."

Memories

Memory Lane...I got this from Shalae's blog. I thought it would be fun! I hope you will play along. Here are the directions:
1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together (With me or Brett or Cohen or Kembry or any of our numerous pets throughout the ages). It doesn't matter if you knew me/us a little or a lot, anything you remember!
2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you. Have fun!!!

**Disclosure** Please leave out any nude memories. Unless, of course, there are pictures.

The Good, The Good Looking, The Bad and The Ugly

I did something I've never, EVER done before. Something I thought I would never do. So, I watched "So You Think You Can Dance", and I made a personal observation. I say personal, because looks are very subjective. However, there are some looks that are just imperially hideous to the eye, or universally pleasing. And so, I share with you my personal observation.


What happened to the days where it was about TALENT, and NOT looks?


Lynyrd Skinard. Shutter. Out of a group this size, you would think one of them would have some redeemable quality. But, no. However, Lynyrd Skinard has brought us such amazing music, such as Free Bird and one of my personal favorites Sweet Home Alabama. They terrify me to see, but they are on my iPod. My imaginary iPod.
And The Beatles. I'm sorry Mom, but I don't get it. Someone needs to explain to me why this


was ever considered, shutter again, sexy. I have pictures of you dad, imitating this look, so don't try to weasel out of it. You all thought they were good lookin', so hot and spicy. Mmm, The Beatles. A small form of torture for me would be to have to relive even just one fantasy from a teenage girl during the 60's. Horrible. But there is no denying the impact The Beatles had, and have, on our music history. Also on our history of famous divorces, but that's for another post.

Then we have today's, um, Talent?

Gorgeous, yes. Steamy, oh yeah. Talented...that's highly debatable.

So, when I watched this reality show, I was excited to see that this type-casting was not practiced.

Courtney, honey, you ugly, but you can dance!


Joshua, you ugly, but you can dance!

Thank you, oh wise judges of So You Think You Can Dance, for considering talents over looks.

Of course, dance is not pretty. I am ashamed.

**Disclosure**

I can make these comments because I am uncommonly beautiful and talented. So, no hypocrisy here. Nope, none whatsoever. Now let me go slip into my size -3 jeans and white see-through tee-shirt and go for a jog up the mountain while recording my fifth number one single at the same time. Thank you.

Stupid Heathcliff. Stupid Catherine.

I've been so involved in Wuthering Heights that I've forgotten about most everything else. I haven't had as much time to read at home as I normally do, so I've been reading at work instead of blogging, or working. Haha, I have a great job!

It's not my first time reading the book, and it's not the first time that I've furiously put it down cursing Heathcliff and Catherine. I love how he tells Catherine to haunt him, to torture him with her ghostly presence, how he says "I'm your murderer, and the murdered must haunt their murderer"; this after telling her she was killing herself, and it was her own stupid fault. Stupid Heathcliff, stupid Catherine. They're the worlds dumbest lovers, if you can even call them that. They take normal thinking and turn it into some kind of sick mockery. Someone just needed to give Catherine some Prozac and most of this would've been straightened out from the get-go. Thank Heavens for Vitamin P.

Alright, that's enough out of me.

The Informant

While having a casual conversation with the husband, the non-contributor, he informed me that I hadn't updated our blog today. So, here is your update. I'm tired. I'm way involved in my book, and hating Catherine and despising Heathcliff takes a lot out of a gal who only gets 5 hours of sleep at night.

I'm feeling feisty, can you tell? Rather, I'm feeling more like a vixen than anything.

Vixen**an ill-tempered or quarrelsome woman**

Thank you dictionary.com, at least you contribute to the blog.

No, I kid. I love my husband. He provides plenty of material, and not just for me, either. I bet the people he works with go home at night saying things like: "Maude, you shoulda heard this guy down at work today. Oooh wee, the things he thinks of. I tell you what." Or some such nonsense. Not to mention the women, I'm sure they have plenty to contemplate upon leaving his presence. Probably something along the lines of, "Oooh, Maureen, this red-headed god-like man at work wore these jeans today that just..." Well, I'll leave that to your imagination, this is a family site after all. Hmm...my imagination too. Lucky me.

A little Twilight Wicka Wicka

At the bottom of the page. Just for you. Cause you're so special to me. No, not you, you didn't even read Twilight.

Wanted: A New Hiding Place

I liked going to the movies alone. You know how sometimes you get so stressed and wigged out that you just want to lock yourself in the bathroom, turn on the shower, slump down and hide behind the toilet and cry yourself to sleep hugging the plunger? Well, sometimes the toilet is just too rancid to hide next to (at least at my house), and they've found my laundry room hiding place (no lock), so I decided the greatest place in the world to hide is a dark movie theater.

On one of these said occasions, before my hair started falling out, I decided to skip out and sneak off to my secret hideaway, the Megaplex Theater at Gateway. Crap, now I have to kill you. I'll get to that later, after the laundry. I'd say you're safe for about 6 years. Anyway, I went to a great movie this day called Hairspray. It's just this little unknown movie, so not really anyone was there. Well, I walked out singing and dancing, like I normally do, and decided what they Hay! I'm gonna go to another movie. I walked up to the ticket counter and said, "One ticket for Stardust my fine friend, and snap to it!"

"Aren't you the lady who just watched Hairspray?"
Stupid, observant ticket giver guy.
"Um...no?"
"That's awesome. I love going to movies all day too."
I took one look at his pale, pimpled, greasy face that would be the envy of any fast food french fry dipper, grabbed my ticket, watched the movie, and sneaked (snuck?) out the back way.

I haven't been to the movies alone since. This post is for that pimpled face, observant ticket giver guy who shamelessly ripped my dignity (what little was left) from me and stole my favorite secret sanctuary.

YOU OWE ME A NEW HIDING PLACE!

(Oh, and pimpled face ticket giver guy...sorry about the comparison to the french fry dipper. You're definitely one up on him in the world of retail.)
(Oh, and french fry dipper guy, thanks for the french fries. They were especially greasy last time, and you know how I love that.)

Metro-Gnome

For my birthday my adorable hububby got me the greatest present ever! He bought me a metronome. No, not one of these:

Kind of creepy. Rather, one of these:Only it's just a little computer looking gizmo that has a picture of a metronome on it, regardless, it works wonders! I don't know how many times I said, "Honey, what's Andante, is that like the pasta?" "No! It's blah blah blah." "Honey, what's Prestissimo? Is he that nice Italian that lives down the street?" "Yes, that's why his name is in a piano book, dear." "Honey, what's Tranquillo?" "That means Tranquil!!!!" Pfft, I know just as much about tranquility as I know about splitting atoms (which isn't much, just in case the sarcasm didn't get across to you over the World Wide Web). So, bless his heart, he bought me a metronome. Of course, I mostly torture him because he won't let me take piano lessons and says I have to learn it all by myself.

This little thing is amazing. On the back it has etched into it's little spine all the beats (or, times? I know not) of each of these puzzling words and more. It's AWESOME! So, the point is, if you don't know what to get someone for their birthday or Christmas or Quanzica or Festivas or whatever, you can't go wrong with a Metronome.

"But Kelly! What if they don't play an instrument of any type at all?"

"No worry, it helps them keep beat when they're dancing. Hmmm, this song sounds like Presto, let's kick it up a notch."

"But Kelly! What if they don't dance?"

"Then it works great as a door stop, a teether, or something to annoy everyone around you with its incessant beeping and booping."

"I'll take three!"

See, covered your bases.

Kembry and the Rubber Band

Some pictures explain themselves. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words, or something like that. Other pictures, however, require a detailed explanation so as to avoid child services from confiscating your children and placing them with better, more 'able' people. Like these pictures, for example.

No, she does not suffer from gigantism, nor does she have a pituitary problem. She does, however, enjoy putting the little rubber bands for her hair onto her wrist. This time, she did it over night.
Now, several of my friends (check's in the mail, by the way) and family members take it upon themselves to help my low self-esteem problem and remind me often that I'm, what they call, a 'good mommy'. I like to convince myself that they're right. This, however, is flinging the poo from the fan. Please don't make me explain further.

Anyway, we finally 'got smart' and stopped letting her go to bed with said rubber bands. This didn't help much, though, as her older brother is what Dr. Lund would call an 'enabler'. On more than one occasion since this traumatic incident, Kembry has been found with no fewer than 50 small rubber bands in bed with her, and usually cutting off the circulation to one or both of her hands. Thankfully, the swelling goes down, as does the public opinion of my parenting ability.

Happy 9th of July!! Yay! For some reason, the whole family gathered from the four corners (literally) to celebrate something. Who knows. But I do know this, my grandma thinks I've stolen her soul. Sorry GG, I gotta get as many as I can. Can't row the boat down the river of Stix all by myself, ya know?

GPA Scott, ahh, GPA Scott. I'm pretty sure he didn't want his picture taken either. These people just don't cooperate with me now that they think they'll show up here.

Here are some 4th of July players. You might recognize some return players from last years event, some new. Ryan and Holly have joined us from some rainy state up north. Grandma Merkley came along too. Pretty much everyone else you know. Oh, and of course, Perpetual Motion made it's daily appearance. It doesn't get to take a holiday.

Guess what they're talking about? Give up? Perpetual Motion. Again.

Reality Check: 8:30 AM, July 4th. So clean, hair pulled back, attitude painted plainly on the face. "Oh mother, really, do you have to start that so early?"

Yes. Yes I do.

Here she is after knocking back a few cupcakes. This is my spawn, my reality. Sigh.


Oh, but then there's the "good one". I say this lightly of course, because it changes about every five seconds between the two. "Ahh mom, you crazy git you."


The kids got to play some fun game...I think it's called vertical golf.


I just call it, "Arm the young children with balls and have them throw them at each other." Awesome.

Here's my girl beatin' the crap outta the pinata. I taught her everything I know; which is probably why she wasn't the one to knock it open. Oh well, sweetheart, you still have your drunken good looks!

Lefty Rodriguez. We have big plans for this one in the Pinata World Series. Big plans.

This is perhaps my fondest memory. Let the kids do all the work, you big strong men, and then go in for the kill. See how the little ones can't quite get past all the big ones? Yeah, it's pathetic. "What, I'm getting candy for the kids." Sure you were Brett...sure you were.

Um....Nevermind.

Yeah...wow. At least he's good looking, though, right?


I think Cohen agrees with my sentiments.

It took us several hours to convince Uncle Steve that this wasn't a party hat. I think he secretly wears it at night still.

I am continually amazed by the absolute enjoyment I get from our family. I mean, let's lay out the facts. You see them all the time, you know their quirks, you know what makes them tick, and they know what makes you tick, they drive you insane 98% of that time, and yet life would suck, monumentally suck, without them. There is no other place in this world or beyond, no other group of people I would rather be with than these nut jobs. I hope they feel the same way about me.

4th of July shenanigans

What a GREAT weekend, folks. I bet you all want to see the pictures I painstakingly acquired over holiday, but you'll have to wait patiently. Photoshop is calling to me, but so is my bed. I have about 18 hours of sleep I must catch up on before my brain officially stops working.

Anywho, thanks to everyone who called my cell phone to wish me a Happy Birthday, and also for understanding that I left my cell phone at work in the top drawer and therefore never returned your calls. But really, it's nice to know I have friends out there, and not just in the cyber sense. Actual breathing, walking, living, talking people with bodies and everything. Good feeling. Anyway, more to come, of course!

P.S. And to the person who left the scrapbooking present on my porch, thanks a lot!! There wasn't a card, so I don't know how to thank personally, but I really liked it!!!

Cherry Hill!

Have I ever mentioned that Cohen LOVES getting his picture taken? Yes? Well, let me reiterate. Cohen LOVES getting his picture taken. If he had his way, all you'd see on this blog is him. Of course, I'd be ok with that, cause Kembry slips her pretty little face in sometimes too.

Aunt Woo came with us too, which was AWESOME! Nothing like a little vitamin D to brighten your day.

Um...I don't know. They did this for like 20 minutes. I think they're both planning to go into the Army one day. Gotta start practicing now. No time like the present. Weirdo's.

Awww, yes. My life blood. The salve for my wounds. Isn't he good looking people? I think so too.

Here's Logan. It's not the kid's fault I can't take pictures. He was actually smiling shyly and sweetly when I snapped this. Weird. Anyway, this kid is hilarious. He cracks me up. This is Cora and Heath's oldest.

Oh, this here is Cora. The youngin's mama. Cute ain't she? Yeah, she's one of those people that can get all wet and sticky and still look pretty. Grrr...

Here's Hunter, Heath and Cora's second spawn. Again, it's not his fault that I know not what I'm doing with a camera. He was smiling adorably. All I get is squinchy eyes and a corn dog. Welcome to my life.

Ugh, the love birds. Talk about the honeymoon NEVER ending. This is Holly and Ryan. They're all snuggly and kissy and stuff. Brett and I are NEVER like that. Nope, never. Not ever. They're getting a little baby in September and I'm SO excited. They're gonna be the greatest parents ever. Next to me. Where are my kids anyway?

Not pictured: Marilyn, Brandon, C.J. (Brandon's female friend, NOT his girlfriend), Shalae, Falicia, Jaxon, and me (because I don't want to blind my readers). This is mostly due to the fact that Cherry Hill is just much too fun to be walking around with a camera the whole time.

Anyway, it was a blast, and I highly recommend it if you have kiddies.

**FOR THE GRANDPARENTS. STOP READING NOW IF YOU CARE NOTHING ABOUT HOW ADORABLE MY MUNCHKINS ARE!**

There is a large, long, fast blue slide at the water park. We (well, Brett, cause he's braver than me) decided we should take Cohen down it. The kid is insane. I don't know where he gets it. He LOVED it, and he kept wanting to go again and again. Brett took him once and I took him twice, and I cringed the whole way down both times. The kid is insane. I already said that, but still, he's insane.

Kembry, also, is insane. She likes being picked up and then dropped so that she's fully submerged in the water. She pops up like two seconds later laughing her boogers out. She refused to let me hold her in the water. Even if she was near drowning I wasn't allowed to touch her unless she asked me to. The lifeguards were eyeing me with suspicion the whole time. Here's a little, tiny 1 1/2 year old, practically drowning, and her mother doing nothing.

Marital Problems

I'm still trying to decide if this is a joke or not...I guess I just have a simple mind that can't wrap around the idea that someone would actually think to invent something so...redundant. Maybe I'm just cocky, 'cause I bagged myself a husband five years ago, and can't possibly understand what it's like to NOT have him constantly there (issues for another post, friends). But still, a robot husband who is like a real man, what's the use of that? At least make him clean, and rub feet, and validate. Make him insult all the beautiful, bleach blond, tan barbies who walk past us at the Gateway mall, giggling over cracks in the sidewalks (seriously, I think that's what they were giggling about) instead of just stare at them. If we've got the technology people, LETS USE IT! If I were Eggerson, this is exactly what I would've programmed him to do:

RH: Honey, you look stunning today.
Me: Thank you Robot Hubby.
RH: Dinner is almost done. The kids are just out of the bath. I folded the laundry and put the socks away in the order you like.
Me: Good, thank you.
RH: I also reorganized the hallway closet, bought you that pair of leather pumps you were admiring, washed the cats, cleaned the carpets, and organized the plates and bowls by size then by color.
Me: Wow...ok...
RH: Also, I mowed the lawn and weeded the garden. The oil is fresh in the car now, so you don't have to worry about that. I read all of your favorite classics out loud and recorded them in the voice of Pierce Brosnan on CD and then uploaded them to your IPOD so when you go to the gym tonight, you'll have something to listen to.
Me: Um...
RH: Is there anything else I can do for you, sweetheart.
Me: Stunned silence.
Brett: Wake up honey, you're having a dream!
Me: Dang it!