Not to be outdone…

My good friend Kimbie and I really like to go-in-tow with things together. Let me give you some examples:

Kaiyenna Faith was born 12 days before Kembry Jeany Bum.

I had my gallbladder out, a week later, Kimbie had her appendix removed.

Kimbie got mono- two weeks later, I got mono.

I just really hate being outdone…

So please excuse me while I sleep the last six months of my 24^th year of life away…

Oh, and Kimbie…if you could like win a million dollars or a trip to Europe or something…that would be AWESOME!

Enough is enough…is enough

Okay, I've read so many opinions and thoughts about the words I posted last week concerning the change in Americas economy, and how it's going to affect us.

I've read them, and considered every single one of them, and have thought a lot about the words in the testimony, about what people felt about me posting them, about what people thought of me taking it off my blog.

I've read them all, and now it's my turn to give my opinion, and that will be the end of it.

 

I read that testimony at 7:30 in the morning, at work, in front of my co-workers, and felt tears well up in my eyes, my heart swell, and a huge release. I felt comforted for the first time since last year, concerning our economy. I felt comforted knowing that I'm NOT THE ONLY MIDDLE CLASS PERSON IN AMERICA worried about this. I felt comforted knowing that I was headed in the right direction, that I was paying my tithing, that I was praying, that I wasn't alone. That I had the Lord.

I remember saying that it didn't matter who said those words, if those were the correct words or not, because the principles included were wonderful and true. I stand by that. I would listen to anyone who had the Spirit speaking through them. I will believe any words that are confirmed by that same Spirit. I live by them. My family lives by them. I'm grateful for them, because without them, where would we be?

 

I'm not reposting that talk, or testimony, or whatever you want to call it. I'm not saying that anyone in the Church Presidency or otherwise had anything to do with it. But I'm telling you that I believed those words, and I'll stand by that.

 

MY OPINION, for all of you dozens and dozens of people who are so concerned about plagiarizing, I specifically put up a disclosure stating that I wasn't at the meeting, that I have no proof that the words belonged to anyone individual, and that I thought they were comforting.

 

I GUESS IT'S MORE IMPORTANT TO FOLLOW POLICY THAN TO GIVE COMFORT TO OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS.

I hope you're all happy that the talk is down, and that so many people who are out there searching for words of comfort at these times, who yearn to feel the Spirit, won't be getting it here. I hope you're happy that policy was followed, and not the Spirit.

But if you're so concerned with policy etc, please refer to your scriptures, which I'm sure you have memorized down to the word, and read about the Ox and the Mire.

 

If you have any more negative, demeaning, or threatening comments to leave me, take your tired comments somewhere else. We don't do crazy here.

Testimony

Wow, tons of e-mails and comments about "Elder Packer's" testimony.


I took it off.

I took it off because I was receiving threatening e-mails and comments. Part of me, probably the PMS-ing part, wanted to leave it up and say "DEAL WITH IT!" But that is completely the wrong reason to post something like that.


If you'd like a copy of the words that were inspiring, and may or may not have been spoken by President Packer...go ahead and post your e-mail address, and I just won't publish the comment. I'm really sorry to have removed it for those of you who felt the same confirming Spirit I did, and who relished in the comforting thoughts.

Really, very sorry. And please feel safe to leave your e-mail in my comment box, I won't publish it, or give it out.

Oh Brother

Men, put on your selective reading glasses, or start running away now! We're going to talk about female issues today…

Because technology rocks, and we ladies get special birth control, I only get a visit from Aunt Flo quarterly. Aunt Flo usually doesn't mind only visiting every three months, however, usually one of these visits she comes with a vengeance. "Why haven't you called?" "Too good for your Auntie Flo?" "Look how much those kids have grown, couldn't have sent a picture?" Sometimes she can be really raunchy.

This, in turn, makes me really raunchy. We're talkin' hormones folks. And though I try to drown my woes with chocolate and Midol chasers, around these times I find myself ready to be a rebel rouser, a cry baby, a pain in the butt (sorry Brett) and completely irrational. 7 days of this can kind of ware on a person, and the people around me.

So while I let the hormones ebb and nurse myself back to some sort of normalcy, I'm going to hold off on certain remarks, and I'll try to rein in the sarcastic, mean things I always want to say during this horrid week of the year. You know the saying, "You can remove the nail from the fence, but it still leaves a hole." (I actually learned this from hands on experience recently…funny story, I'll have to show you pictures of my idiocy later.)

Does anyone else get this way? Ha! I hope so, because I'm starting to think about disowning Aunt Flo altogether, though I don't quite know how to get rid of her…darn reproduction.

Woot Woot!

http://www.twilightthemovie.com/ecard_widget/
Oh my...the kiss...sigh...

A few realizations have materialized in my mind today.

One: This is NOT a family blog after all. For obvious reasons: my husband and my children NEVER post. Sheesh, all they do is poop and eat.

Two: I am horribly addicted to PacMan. (Okay, I've already realized that…but I'm an addict, we undulate between acceptance and denial often.)

And Three: I'm going to do the unthinkable here, and compare life, or at least the life in my head, to PacMan.

Here is why my life is like PacMan.

1. I keep going and going and going (and eating and eating and eating) and it always feels like there are two little ghosts chasing behind me ALL THE TIME. I call them Cohen and Kembry. Helps if you name 'em, makes 'em less scary.
   
2. No matter how fast I go or how hard I try to escape them, they always catch me.
   
3. I can't seem to get enough lives to get me to the next level; it seems like no matter how hard I try, I'm always exhausted.
   
4. Instead of going for the fruit, I'm all about the non-descript white dots. They're tastier, more abundant, and easy to get to.
   
5. Just like PacMan, I'm hopelessly addicted to my life. I'm completely and totally content waking up every day and being chased by the same ghosts, eating the same white dots, and avoiding the same healthy fruit.
   
6. And finally, you know those BIG white dots that turn the ghosts blue and you get to eat them and get more points and therefore more lives…well, in my life, those are called naps, and though they're rare and not nearly enough, they rock when you actually get one!
   

So pin a bow in my hair and call me Mrs. PacMan and tell Brett I've met another man. And keep on chompin'!

Welcome iPod 120GB

INTRODUCING THE NEWEST CHILD TO ENTER MY FAMILY; I HAVE A FEELING WE'RE GOING TO GET ALONG JUST SCHWELL.

Now if only I could figure out how to work it…daddy, can you help me? Someone? Anyone?
Tap tap…anyone out there?

Fine, I'll read the directions.

Thanks Stephanie!

"In the end, the number of prayers we say may contribute to our happiness, but the number of prayers we answer may be of even greater importance. Let us open our eyes and see the heavy hearts, notice the loneliness and despair; let us feel the silent prayers of others around us, and let us be an instrument in the hands of the Lord to answer those prayers."

-President Dieter F. Uchtdorf

I know so many women in my life who are extremely sensative to the silent prayers I whisper in my heart. I'm thankful for them, for their compassion and concern. I'm grateful to know that if I leave town for a couple of days, my absence is noticed and considered. I'm grateful for kind words that I need to hear, and for the women who always seem to know when to speak them, and exactly what to say.

If you'd like to read the rest of President Uchtdorfs wonderful talk given at the RSGC, click here.

Thanks Stephanie for your post!

I'm so bored I could bite off my thumb just to let the pain distract me from the monotony.

A little dramatic?

Well, let me invite you into my day for a moment. Brace yourselves, this could get ugly.

Old Man Caller, we'll call him Fred

Moi: Thank you for calling Franklin Covey (just typing it makes me want to pull my fingernails from their comfy beds.)

Fred: Who is this?

Moi: Franklin Covey. (Now the toenails.)

Fred: This isn't Blue Cross Blue Shield?

Moi: *sigh* No. It's Franklin Covey. (Slice my knee open with a dull spoon.)

Fred: Well what's the right number then?

Moi: I don't know the number, this is Franklin Covey, not Blue Cross Blue Shield. (Shield. Windshield. I'm flying through a windshield right now.)

Fred: What do you mean you don't know the number?

Moi, louder and slower: THIS IS FRANKLIN COVEY.

Fred: Oh, I've dialed the wrong number

**CLICK**

*Sigh*

*Groan*

On the upside, Conference was awesome this weekend, no?

Onward and Upward without bleeding nail beds…hopefully…

I have a real problem here…

A good friend of mine, who absolutely refuses to let me write anything about her or even POST PICTURES, but who religiously reads my blog every day, keeps pestering me and bugging me and calling me on things like, "Why did you stop on day 18 of gratitude? Weren't you going to 30?" and "You haven't posted anything interesting in a long time." Sweetheart, aint she?

I will tell you why Angie, you brat, I HAVE A PROBLEM!

And you can call blame it on Jared R.

I am addicted to PacMan.

Addicted.

And the people at work are having a hay-day with me being hopelessly addicted. Because I swear, a lot. Not the scary swears that only come when someone nearly slams into me because they're stupid and don't know that RED MEANS STOP, and even my three year old know that! No, I swear like this:

Butterscotch

Apple Dumplings

Crap-OLA!

Stupid, dumb, piece of crap ghosts…

And my personal favorite: DIE DIE DIE!

So, if you want interesting, come to Franklin Covey between the hours of 7 and noon, and you'll get some real entertainment.

In the meantime, to my three readers, you'll just have to forgive my absence. At least it's explained. Now, if you'll excuse me, there are five very nasty little ghosts that have angered me for the last time…

A Cancers Strife

Have you ever imagined being a grain of sand? So small and unique, but so the same as the trillion other grains of sand surrounding you.

I imagine what it would feel like, baking in the hot sun, my round little body pulsing with heat; and then whoosh, the fast and heavy wave coming on me, cooling me with its blue salty water. Then it's gone again, nothing but the sound of the sun warming me for soft feet to come along, sink its wiggly toes into me and my friends. Then whoosh, another sweet cold wash; sometimes pulling me further into the deep, undulating water where I can watch strange creatures swim around me, sometimes picking me up in their mouths just to drop me off a few feet away. Or the wave pushes me further up shore, towards the strange twisted and mangled branches of salt bleached drift wood. I think I'd like to live in the shade of these gigantic, dead trees, and listen to the ocean wreak havoc on my friends, pulling them deeper and deeper into its endless abyss. I think I'd like that.

I'm a Cancer, always pulled West to sunny land where the sun beats down on the white beaches, the blue ocean flowing in a soft line down the shore. Or to the East and the cold water of the Atlantic ocean, where the rain pelts down in freezing, refreshing droplets. Because of this strange pull, I spend a mass amount of my time in the bathtub and endlessly wishing for rain; like a mermaid pulled from the mysterious fathoms below and placed in the middle of a desert surrounded by rocky, sky-high mountains where no sign of my home exists.

So when the clouds mass together in the dark, foreboding purple and black, my heart thumps hard in my chest and my body pulls harder with excitement. I'm surrounded in a sweet, wet world wherever I go on these days…

This is a Cancers strife, ruled by the waves.

Oh when is it going to rain again?