Some TAGness!

Here are some tidbits of information I'm sure you've been dying to know.

1. What is his name? Nathan give-me-some-of-that-lovin’ Johnson

2. What is his Date of Birth? I’m pretty sure it’s sometime in May… or is it June? Either way I know he has one.

3. What is his social security number? 381-52-6969

4. How long have you been together? Since the pre-existence. When we were in heaven I sang the song, “Will I wait for you….” Pretty much like how it happened in Saturday’s Warriors.

6. How long did you date? Dating isn’t necessary when you know you’ve met your eternal companion. Love at first sight… need I say more.

5. Who eats more? What kind of a question is that? Uh, me. How else would Nate keep his manly figure? You’ve seen his old swim pictures. You know.

6. Who said I love you first? I don’t really remember. It wasn’t so much I love you, it was more like I lust you. In that case, it was probably me.

7. Who is taller? My dear sweet husband says he’s 5’10. He’s not. He’s only 5’9 (touchy subject, so I won’t go there) I’m only 5’3-ish, a tall 5'3-ish.

8. Who can sing better? My skills in shower singing far out do Nate’s. He will tell you, though, that he can actually follow notes when singing. I, on the other hand, have a tendency to make up my own parts. One shouldn’t be subject to sing all soprano or alto. Why not mix it up a bit?

9. Who is smarter? Really, does it matter who’s smarter? I choose to focus on our strengths, not our weaknesses.

10. Whose temper is worse? I make it a point to never raise my voice above a whisper when I’m angry. How can love and harmony reside in an environment like that?

11. Who does the laundry? The maid, and when the maid’s not around to do it, usually no one. But then when the laundry starts reeking and we’ve used all of our socks twice and worn our underwear both inside and out I eventually do it.

12. Who pays the bills? Usually no one. We’re playing a game, it’s called let’s see how much debt we can get in before we have to claim bankruptcy. You can play too. Let’s see who wins first.

13. Who sleeps on the right side? Nate would say that it’s not a matter of right or left. It’s a matter of who sleeps on the bed and who sleeps on a corner of the bed. In that case I sleep on the bed.

14. Who mows the lawn? Well we only have one lawn and that’s our imaginary lawn and Nate would be the one that mows our imaginary lawn complete with symmetrical designs. I like to mow the lawn too, except when I do it I like to write my name in cursive with the lawn mower. It’s pretty tricky, but can be done.

15. Who cooks dinner? Again, the maid. Thanks Mom, you’re the best!!! (I kid, I kid)

16. Who kissed who first? If you know me at all, you’ll know that I would never make the first move. I’m way too shy. Nate, being the mac daddy that he is, totally made the first move. It was kind of like that scene from the Note Book, minus the rain and the fornication.

17. Do you make it a usually practice to use the word fornication? Nope, first time and now that I’ve used it I don’t think I’ll ever use it again. Not a fan. What kind of a word is that? foooor.niii.caaate. Just doesn’t sound pretty, especially in slow motion.

18. Who asked who out? It was mutual. My grandma was there when we met. We both exchanged phone numbers then my grandma added, “Make sure to get your addresses. Back in my day we use to do drive-by’s”. My response to that was, “Grandma, we still do drive-by’s, except now a days they’re usually called drive-by shootings. I’m pretty sure it’s not the same.”

19. What attracted Nate to you? I’m sure it was my strong spiritual vibe that I was putting off.

20. Who wears the pants? Actually, we both do. We’ve tried going without and the results are not pretty. Not pretty at all.

Move Over Tighty-Whities...

Sexy has a new name, and its name is SPEEDO.

I've been watching the Olympics pretty faithfully every night and just recently diving has been on. What an amazing sport it is to do all of those flip and turns and to do it all in a teeny-tiny spandex loin cloth.

To be honest, I've never been a big fan of the speedo. That is until just recently.

Daniel Craig, who played James Bond, did quite a nice job sporting the 'swim briefs' and I thought to myself, OK, not so bad.. alright, alright. Maybe some men can pull it off.

Now after watching the men's diving I'm pretty much sold on the speedo.

The speedo serves two purposes, to cut back on the waters drag during the entrance of the water and to look good while doing it. I find that the 'look good while doing it' part is of greater importance. I mean, how can one complain. Diving is really a beautiful sport.

But to be honest, what really sold me on the speedo was this,

This is probably one of my most favorite pictures of Nate. I dug this picture up from one of his old diving days. (I hope he doesn't kill me for this. I know how embarrassed he gets when I even mention the word speedo let alone post a picture of him in one.)

This picture was taken in '99 when he was part of a Puerto Rican swim team. His nick name use to be los bollos de acero which translates into to English as buns of steel (because he use to be able to crush a soda can just by flexing his buttocks). I usually just called him the Rack Attack(because his rack was so much larger then mine). Then Nate would do this funny thing where he would say, "Do you know where the Vet is?" and I would unknowingly say, "No, why?" Nate in return would reply, "Cause these puppies are SICK!" then he would flex his biceps and make them do a little bicep dance. So funny. Gets me every time.

Can You Hear Me?... Can You Hear Me Now?

I’ve read the rules, signed the papers, and have officially joined the club of cell phone owners. I hope I can live up to this responsibility. I know, I know. Big step. I’m moving up in the world of technology. I’m pretty sure I’m one of the only people I know that hasn’t owned a cell phone. Well, there was this one time that I worked at Payless Shoes (not one of the finest points in my life) and a guy came in and tried to sell me a cell phone. I bought it, started feeling guilty then called him back within 10 minutes and returned it. But during those 10 brief minutes of cell phone ownership I felt so free, so accessible, so… so cell phone-able. It was a good feeling.

Since that time many, many years ago, I have been cell phone-less. It’s been tough, but I’ve managed to make it through. I’ve gone over what-would-you-do scenarios in my head if I was left with a problem where I desperately needed a cell phone. One of the greatest needs for a cell phone would be if my car broke down (totally feasible), what would I do if I couldn’t call anyone due to the fact that I didn’t own a cell phone? Well, I would do what any self respecting woman would do. Put my hazards on, pop the hood, and then show a little leg. Then hopefully someone would stop to help me that had a cell phone, and hopefully that someone doesn’t happen to fall into the category of psycho rapist slash killer. In which case, my whole plan would just backfire.

Or there’s always the scenario where I’m lost in the wilderness of Utah without food and water (totally feasible). And the only possessions I have is a nail file to provide protection and my skill of weaving tree leaves together to offer shelter from the elements. I would have to rely on my limited knowledge of making fire without matches (I’ve watched Survivor Man) then make enough smoke so I could signal SOS to passing planes. Eventually someone would come and I’m sure they would have a cell phone and hopefully that someone doesn’t happen to fall into the category of psycho rapist slash killer either.

Clearly cell phones are of good use.

So I’ve been brushing up on my text talk. I’m not quite sure if I’m cut out for this texting stuff. It’s serious business. It takes me 10 minutes to write just one word, but since I’ve been practicing I’ve shaved nearly 3 minutes off my text time bringing it down to 7 minutes and 36 seconds per one word. I found It useful to just give everything an acronym and I’ve made up some of my own;

SUNFW- Shut Up, No Freakin’ Way!
CYSST?- Can You Super Size That? (This one I mostly use through the drive thru at McDonalds. They have no idea what you’re saying, but it sure cuts down on your ordering time.)
DTPMMLF?- Does This Phone Make Me Look Fat?
MM@CR- Meet Me At Café Rio
LOL…ITIJWMP NR- Laugh Out Loud… I Think I Just Wet My Pants. No, Really.
HIOODC- Help, I’m Out Of Diet Coke!
?!- He/She said what?
UUNYD- Uh, Uh, No You Di’int!
DHMCIGF- Don’t Hate Me Cause I’m Ghetto Fabulous
IHSKF$... IGYGD- I Have Some Kids For Sale... I Give You Good Deal

Really, the possibilities are endless with this texting stuff. So fun!
Feel free to call or text me anytime (just make sure it’s between 9:00pm-12:00am Monday thru Friday, and weekends only). If you have any more good texting lingo I would love for you to shoot it my way.

TSMYATS! (that's text talk for Thanks So Much, You Are The Shizzle!)

There's a Full Moon Rising

So, what do your kids do when they're unsupervised and unattended and left to find their own form of entertainment?

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Mine jump naked on the tramp.
I swear they didn't get that from me. At least, I'm pretty sure they didn't.

No Ham fried Rice and No Money Back

Just a little update on my-'friend's'-eyebrow-wax, don't-speak-a-lick-of-English, tip-stealing saga.

First of all I have to say that I appreciated all the responses I received and I think I got some great advice. I totally felt like I was on Dr. Phil except blogging style.

Here's just a couple of the words of wisdom I received by my fellow bloggies;

Mindi:
"just walk away, look back and laugh at it in a few weeks, never frequent the joint again, and get your ham fried rice somewhere else....."

See what I mean? Totally Dr. Phil material.

Jenny B:
"I say you, I mean your friend should eat a whole mess of Mexican food (or whatever makes your friend SUPER gassy) and head back over to the salon just to say hello! Sweet victory!"

Inspired I telly ya. Except the only problem is, is that Mexican food doesn't quite do it for me. Pregnancy on the other hand....

Nana Sue:
"I think your friend at the very least should go back and bring it to the attention of the owner, these people have got to stop abusing their customers!! Boy, thanks for letting me get this off of my mind."

This was not only therapeutic for me... I mean, my friend, but for others as well.

Hoss and Rose:

I would tell your friend to go back and call them on it, and then demand a free pedicure (from a different beautician if possible), that is easier than messing with the credit card, (or threaten to prosecute, that will scare 'em!)

So Rose, I was kind of wondering if you could, um, just go say all that for me. I mean, not that I can't do it, but I think you'd do a much better job. Just let me know if you'll be in Utah anytime soon.

Tyson:

"First off, she needs to go and blackmail the lady who took advantage of your big, bushy-treed eyebrow “friend”. Without the lady knowing who the “friend” is, the “friend” needs to get her email address and send her this link, www.ksl.com/shell-be-scared-now!. This will help prep her for the demands of your “friend”!"

I've read up on blackmail 101 and now I have the knowledge, only problem is I lack the nerve. Where is the book "How to open a can of whoop "A" for dummies" when I need it.

JAW:

"My Advice?DON'T GO TO PLACES LIKE THAT!"

Seriously JAW, that would have been good to know the day before I decided to get my eyebrows waxed. Do you think you could be my personal advisor. I might not have a lot of money, but what I lack in finance I make up for in YloveY. Would you mind receiving payments in the form of hugs?

As it stands, it's been decided that I am a self proclaimed wus. I want to go in and tell those people what I really think, but I need to find an interpreter first. And even after I have my interpreter I still don't think I could go in.

I. Just. Can't. Do. It!

I'll admit it, I'm scared. I'm just afraid of the response I'll get in return. Something like, "Yu no likey my waxey?!" followed by a kung fu kick 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' style, complete with sound effects and everything.

So for now, no ham fried rice and no money back. Kind of anti-climatic isn't it. Sorry to disappoint.

Tent of the Anti Christ, No More

(For this to make sense you should probably click here)

Please turn with me to Ginnie, Chapter 1: 1-7

Ahem...

1. And it came to pass that on the 26th day of the 6th month of the year 2008, Ginnie's husband, Nate, was wrought with much frustration and anger.

2. Nate being raised by his Father and learned in the ways of the tent, had received a tent. This tent had been forsaken, being labelled the tent of the Anti Christ due to its unholy nature and failure to become erect. Not even Viagra could helpeth this tent.

3. For Nate, believing that all tents were good, had faith. Being humble and lowly in heart Nate sought the counsel of his Father and brothers.

4. And it came to pass that the brethren did meet and there was a great council. And the words they spoke I cannot write, for I was not there. For behold Ginnie's husband Nate said, "Woman, get thee hence" in fear that Ginnie would have her camera in hand to document the event.

5. Ginnie being some what wise, obeyed the demands of her husband and did walketh away.

6. And it came to pass that several hours did pass and Ginnie returned to the place of her husband. And lo and behold, there in front of her stood a miracle. For this tent that had caused much stress and confusion, had been made whole through the faithfulness of Nate. The erection of this tent was only possible with the many hands to help and the skillfulness of the brethren.

7. And it came to pass that there was much rejoicing. For where there was doubt, there is now hope; and where there was chaos, peace is now felt. And the tent of the anti Christ is no more, but the legacy of its conversion shall live on forever. And thus it is said, Amen.

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Nate, his dad, and his brother, flexing their tent muscles

Kaleb, flexing his inherited tent muscles

A little R&R after the battle

Tent of the anti Christ, what? Boo-ya!3 thumbs up!

Be cool!

Take my poll on the side...

And So it Begins

The first day of Kindergarten was officially today.
I'm having to wake up earlier than I want to, to get Abrie ready for school.
She asked me last night if she could just sleep in her school clothes.
I seriously considered it.
I'll take all the extra sleep I can get.
Isn't 8:00 am too early to start school?

So we were up and at 'em and out the door by 7:45 with enough time to spare to take some first-day-of-school pictures.
Abrie's response: Mom do I have to?
My response: Yes. Now turn and show me your back pack, then flip your hair and give me that sassy smile. Make your mother proud.

Our little photo shoot was quickly interrupted...

That's buck naked Macie streaking across the front yard. I think my kids have Mommy radar. Every time I'm about to step out the door it goes off and they come running crying behind me screaming, "Don't go, Mommy, pleeeaaase don't go!". They say it as if their very life depends on me staying. It's nice to be so wanted, except sometimes it would be nice not to be.

And where there is one crying there will soon be two...

So I walk Abrie to school and we stand in line with all the other anxious kindergarteners and their parents with cameras, camcorders, and tissues in tote. As I'm standing there in line I start noticing all of the cute little gingerbread men that the children had brought back to school as their first day assignment. The assignment was to decorate your own gingerbread man how ever you want, then bring it back for it to displayed for everyone to see.

Abrie was so excited about her little masterpiece, but was a little worried about her "funny looking" triangle nose. I reassured her that it was the best and cutest little gingerbread girl I had ever seen.

I especially loved her little flip-flops she drew.


I start getting a closer look at all the little gingerbread men and I about died. I kid you not. I have never seen more talented Kindergarteners in my whole life. Wow, these little gingerbread men were stylin'. The whole time I kept laughing to myself and saying, YGTBKM (my niece tells me that stands for you've got to be kidding me... you know, text talk. I have no idea what I'm talking about right now)

Check out these works of art....

(The eyes of the gingerbread men have been blacked out, as to protect the identity of the innocent)

Ok, this one wins the award for scrappin up and stampin up cuteness. Her little outfit comes complete with matching headband and coordinating flip-flops. And to make even better, it's diamond embroidered. I must have embarrassed her, she's blushing a bit.

No little gingerbread boy is complete without a stylish faux hawk and button up shirt.

Bright, fresh and colorful. So cute you could just eat her.

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So as the kids walked into their classroom with their little gingerbread men in hand it was almost as if someone said, "Parents commence crying". In sync, all of the mothers pulled out their tissues and started to cry, but not me. I was a rock... at least outwardly.

Inside I was full of mixed emotions. I'm not so much sad that my little girl is starting the beginning of an eternity of school. I'm mostly sad that I can't be there to protect her and constantly be there to give her reassurance that everything will be OK and to tell her, "Honey, I like your gingerbread man just the way it is; flip-flops, triangle nose and all.

Independence is a Wonderful Thing...

... Until they decide they want to start dressing themselves.