untitled.

pre script.
I try really hard to stay away from negative rants and complaining on my blog (which isn't the intention of this post, but I could see how it might be seen that way), and I REALLY don't mean to start a pity party or a "woe is me" but here it goes.

A lot of us, nay, all of us, know all too well the frustrations of dating and being single (as in not married, not necessarily not dating, but not dating can also be included).  These frustrations can come at any stage in life, right?

So, I really wish that when the topic comes up among friends and I try to give my two cents that every conversation wouldn't go like this.

How old are you?


25.


(almost always cue eye roll)


Just give it a few more years.  Till you're my age.

Why does it matter what age we are or aren't?  We're both on the same path.  Looking for that eternal someone and we both still haven't found them.  What does age have to do with it at all?  I'd put a pretty penny down that we won't even be defined by age in the eternities

I don't think age matters or that being older gives you more right to complain because we still both yearn for our eternal family to start.  What is a few more years going to do?  Give me more time to play and avoid responsibility?  Isn't that what our church leaders have counseled us not to do?  Not that we can't enjoy life.  We can have fun and take advantage of the time we have when we're single but our quest and our focus should be finding an honorable eternal companion during all of that free time and fun having.  Not sitting around until we reach a certain age and becoming frustrated and then doing something about it.

Sure, a lot of my current associates may have a good 3-5+ years on me, and I'm sure with each passing year it does get harder.  But someone being a few years older than me and single doesn't take away my insecurities when it comes to dating.  No matter how much younger I am, this is the stage that I am at and I'm trying to do what I can.  Just like you, just like everyone.

I have in mind what I'd like for a future husband and I try my best to have the qualities that one might like in a future wife all while trying to progress (and not always succeeding) on my own--working full time, developing new skills, maybe continuing my education--and I do those things to prepare for the future when that time does come to take a step closer to eternity.

Although it can get discouraging, it is still important that we don't let our situations get us down.  We need to focus on what we have and not what we don't have.  Sure, I look forward to marriage as much as the next person.  I think it's going to be great and that it will bring more opportunities to learn and grow in a unique setting.  But since I'm not there yet, I need to enjoy life now and all the benefits that my current stage brings, which mindset I hope to always have.  To be happy where I am, but not complacent.  To be content but always striving for more while not letting frustrations or disappointments in attempts hinder my progression to the next phase, and once we get to that next phase to keep progressing.
There is always room for growth and improvement.


That's all.

my admittedly naive perception of parenthood.

(source)

Sometimes I wonder what life will bring me as a mother.  I'm nowhere near that phase of life, but I find myself thinking about it often.  Obviously I don't know my future kids yet, since you know, I haven't had them yet and I probably need to meet another significant person first.  

If all would go according to my selfish plans, I would like to get married and work for the first few years of marriage to help save for the day when we do decide to start our family.  I don't know what phase of life my husband will be in when that time comes.  If he'll be in school or if he's already working full time.  I know motherhood/parenthood is important, but I want to be prepared for it, including financially.  Working for a few years will give me and whoever is at my side the opportunity to save so we can adequately provide for our future family.  But you hear over and over how people weren't planing on starting their family when she/their wife got pregnant and somehow they made it work, so I probably shouldn't worry that much, but me not worrying is like asking the sun not to shine.  Simply impossible.  

Motherhood is a responsibility that requires work.  Hard work that lasts past office hours (fatherhood too).  I admire women that stay at home with their kids all day long.  It is very selfless of them.  The same for men.  Lots of men are stay at home dads for one reason or another.

What about the woman who goes into the office?  Does she somehow fulfill her role of motherhood less?  I know I'm not a mom or a wife, so my opinion might seem skewed and naive, but I can still plan for the future.  I look forward to the day when I can stay home with my children and create a home while my husband works alongside me contributing to the environment of our home while working in the office and providing in a different way for our family. 

However, I'd rather err on the side of caution.  What if he can't get a job?  What if, heaven forbid, something happens and he is unable to work?  Or what if we have bills that we did not prepare for and his financial earnings are not enough?  

Am I making any sense?  

I guess what I'm trying to say is that some mothers work in the home and some work out of the home and they are both working for the love of their family.  Any mom is a full time working woman.  Men and women are equal in parenting.  For the most part their roles are different but perhaps at times they will have to help with the other's traditional role.  But at the end of the day they are equal.  Fighting for the same purpose, to protect and provide for their family.  

just for fun

I saw these two commercials at work today (we have the TV playing for patients in the waiting room--conveniently where my desk is located).

I don't know why, they're kind of silly, but they were just what my Monday needed.  Just a little something simple to brighten my day.  I hope they do the same for you. 





which led me to this one



oh.  and this one too. 

let freedom ring and dear boys 3 liberty style

The Fourth of July is one of my favorite holidays.  I just love it, love it, love it.  I know at times there seems to be a lot to worry about concerning the future of our country, but the Fourth seems to be the one day that we can forget all of those worries and focus on the great freedoms that we do have because of our founding fathers no matter who is currently sitting in the oval office.  America will always be the land of the free and the home of the brave. 

Three Fourth of Julys ago I was in Virginia (two I was in North Carolina, last I was in Idaho and this one I'm in Utah  I've almost made it coast to coast!).  I wish I could say that I took the time to reflect on what it was like to be within the vicinity of land rich with history that founded this great country.  But I didn't.  I was selfish and worried that I wouldn't see fireworks.  It was one of my first days in Virginia as a full time missionary.  We had the whole day planned out and it was going to be perfect.  A local member graciously agreed to take us and a lady we were currently teaching about 30 minutes away to Norfolk (which is home to one of the largest military bases) so she could witness a baptism.  

The day started out at approximately 100 degrees F and 100% humidity.  It was so freaking hot and I was dripping buckets of sweat within minutes of stepping outside.  The day went on.  We couldn't get a hold of the member who was going to take us.  The lady we were teaching called us and told us not only did she not want to go to the baptism but she didn't want us to come by anymore.  Not at all.  

I don't even know what we ended up doing that day.  But I do remember wishing I was at home with my family and on my way to the cabin where we would spend the day boating, grilling and watching fireworks.  I just wanted to see some fireworks.  As we pulled into the apartment complex that evening to finally end our day, off in the distance I saw some fireworks and it was the perfect ending to a perfectly trying day.  

This year I will be celebrating the 4th Salt Lake style by doing the most American thing possible.  Eating meat and watching fireworks.  

Also.

Elise, over at Elise's Pieces had FOUR new little images today to go along with her dear boys series and I couldn't pick just one.  So I fashioned up a little image and decided to use all four (Elise--I hope that's OK.  I put the source underneath.  If it's not, let me know and I will gladly take it down)

(source)

Dear America,

Thank you for being all cool and free.  I'm sorry people are freaking out about who your next leader will be.  But that's never going to change.

Dear Virginia,

Thank you for teaching me the importance and value of the military and all of our honorable service men and women.

Dear every military person ever and all of their family,

Thank you for all of your sacrifices that protect our freedoms.

Dear quiet boy,

We'll both be seeing fireworks tonight.  Too bad they're actual fireworks...

Dear past boy,

I hope you enjoy your 4th in DC.  I'm slightly jealous.  

Dear Utah,

Kenneth, aka, NBC's greatest page ever, once said "I think there's a lot about this world that we don't understand, like the afterlife or how bread becomes toast".


You know what else I bet Kenneth wouldn't understand?  Utah's obsession with ranch dressing.  Maybe it's not limited to Utah, but I swear, it's not a party if ranch dressing isn't invited.  Also, in Utah it's not even ranch dressing.  It's simply ranch.  You will commonly hear "where's the ranch?!" at any event involving food.


When I first went to college, which granted was in Idaho, (so maybe this post should be "Dear Utah AND Idaho") I was at Cragio's (or maybe we were ordering pizza late one night after curfew.  I can't really remember.  So many stories from college somehow involve pizza.  Riiiiiiiight?  Who's with me?) with my roommates and one of them insisted that we don't forget the ranch.  Ranch?  With pizza?  I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt since she was from Ohio but, the more and more I ate pizza in Idaho with more and more different people EVERYONE currently residing in Idaho had ranch as a dipping side. 
  
When I was a cycling instructor the fitness activities board went on a retreat and the coordinator told us that the first thing she made sure she bought was ranch dressing.  She said, to quote "I didn't even know what we'd be eating yet, but I knew we had to have ranch".  


When I moved to Utah the ranch dressing madness only continued.  I quickly learned that ranch was not limited to salad and pizza.  People put it on EVERYTHING.  Even just recently at work, someone had to make sure that ranch would make an appearance at the baked potato bar.  

The other day I was at the grocery store when I almost stopped dead in my tracks.  

This one grocery store had more types of ranch than I could possibly imagine.  There were different brands, different sizes and different flavors.  Then there were individual dipping sizes and powder mix in case you wanted to make your own dressing at home.  I was in total shock.  I am not kidding when I say there were at least twenty varieties of ranch dressing.  TWENTY.  Read 'em and weep ladies and gents.  I couldn't even adequately capture all of the varieties in these quick shots.  

Although, I will admit, that the bacon flavored ranch almost caught my attention.  Because bacon makes everything better.  

I beg your pardon?

Do you ever have those moments in a conversation where you are so caught off guard you have no idea how to respond?


Here are some of mine. 
Conversations I have actually had or things that people have actually said to me.

  

“Girrrrrrrrl.  You make Springtime look great.”

(said by someone potentially high and/or hung-over)

“Are you white?”

(read here for more details)

“Is he cute?”

“YEAH!”

“…really?”

(as if a cute boy could be interested in me?)

“You can make donuts?  I thought they were something you just bought.”

(umm…….)

“I’ll go on a date.  But I’m not going to kiss you just yet.”

(Thanks for the warning?)

"Wow.  This is taking a really long time.  I guess it's because I'm used to drawing skinny people."

(Is that a fat joke?)

"You're so good.  You're just such....a sweet spirit."

(do you know what that phrase means?)

And quite possibly my all time favorite...

“You’re a classy broad.”

(thank you 60 year old man that visits me at my desk)

dear boys 2

I'm hooked.

I love reading these letters written for anonymous boys.  I just can't get enough of it.







Dear quiet boy,
I'm pretty sure that we both know, and that we both know we both know.  Make sense?  All I'm saying is, it would be a guaranteed yes.  Just ask.  Just saying.
 
Dear neighbor boy,
I'm sending the missionaries over whether you like it or not.

Dear testimony boy,
I'm still dying on the inside and getting over the fact that you actually said "go out and get some" from the pulpit.  Didn't think that one through, did you?

Dear Justin Bieber boy,
Why oh why do your tickets have to be $200?  Don't you know that your fans are poor working girls?

Dear tall boy,
You would have an incredibly cute girlfriend.

name alert

I'm trying to amp up my blog.  AKA, lay out makeover (which is still in edit mode) and title.

when I was your age

The other day when I was at work the news was on they were talking about favorite retro toys.

Things like pogs, lite bright, easy bake ovens, beanie babies, etc.

At almost the exact same moment the thought crossed my mind, the anchor beat me to it and spoke it.

"Wait a minute, are the 90s retro?"
"Yeah!  They were 20 years ago!"

WHAT?!  How were the 90s twenty years ago?  TWENTY? 

Have I finally reached the age where it's appropriate to share stories from my childhood and kids today will look at me in horror, wondering how I possibly survived childhood?

Like when my mom tells me that her easy bake oven and creepy crawler maker were so dangerous she near missed electricution on multiple occassions?  Today they're powered by a light bulb. 

I know I still have a lot of my life to live, but sometimes it gets a little depressing.

Like when I find out that some of my friends were born in the 90s.  It's a line that once it's defined and crossed, it's hard to go back.  Not that I'm that far off, only a few years, but still.  I'm a prodcut of the 80s.  Who's born in the 90s?  Pfffft.     

Or when I was working at an elementary school and every single kid was born in --I don't even know what you'd say these days,--the thousands???!!

Here's to growing old.  It never stops.

h2ohhh

If any of you are like me, then you like your diet coke fixing.  Or diet whatever.  I enjoy diet coke.  But I really enjoy diet mountain dew code red.  I always feel slightly ridiculous buying it at the grocery store because it seems like a bit of an odd soda choice, but I like it so much that I keep buying it. 

But here's my dilemma.  I know that I shouldn't be drinking near as much diet soda as I do.  But I can't help it.  I've tried to stop.  So many times.  I remember thinking that missionaries weren't allowed to drink soda because the missionaries at home NEVER DID.  And I was even a little sad thinking that when I embarked on my mission I wouldn't be able to have a single sip of diet soda for 18 months.   Not that it was that big of a deal, I got over it pretty quickly.  But you can imagine my delight when at my first meal in the MTC there was a coke soda fountain machine in the cafeteria.  Caffeine free only of course.  I drink caffeine.  A lot of members don't (to each his own) but I guess they like to cater to the masses. 

I try to drink more water.  I really do.  But when the fridge at work is fully stocked with both and I can drink water for free at home, I tend to go for diet coke at work.  The only problem is, is that I still buy diet soda when I go to the grocery store, so I'm also drinking diet soda at home. 

I don't even drink regular soda that often.  It's too sweet.  I'll drink it every now and then, but not very often.  Besides, I'd rather eat my calories than eat them.   

I drink water too.  Just not as much as I should.

I've heard all of the health dangers that come with drinking diet soda.  But you know what?  Cheeseburgers and bacon are bad for your health too.  But they're still delicious and we still eat them.  

I will admit though that I can do my part to drink more water.  So here it is, my pledge to drink more water and less diet soda.   

dear boys

I stumbled across this blog the other day after checking up on my old roommate and friend.

I have a fascination with the blogging community.  I really like when I get inspired, especially to write, when perusing through others thoughts and little ditties.

Here's one that I wanted to have a go at, and besides.  I couldn't resist the cleverly designed corresponding button.





Dear boys,
I hope one day I birth a lot of you.  I want as many boys as possible and as few girls as possible.  Seriously.  Like four boys and two girls.  And I'd really like a boy first.  I've always wanted an older brother, so I figure the next best thing is to give a daughter an older brother.  So keep that in mind.

Dear boys,
Do you know how easy it is for you to look good?  Seriously.  All you have to wear is a nice fitting pair of jeans and something as simple as an equally good fitting plain colored tshirt and BAM.  Looking good.  Girls have to worry about soooo much more.

Dear boys,
As I've mentioned before, black square glasses never hurt anyone.  If I end up dating you my only requirement will be that you never wear your contacts and only your glasses.

Dear boys,
It doesn't take much to impress a girl or make her feel important/special.  Most are pretty simple.  Take out in the park is fine.  I know the Bachelor would tell you otherwise.  That dates must include private helicopter rides overlooking a vast mountain range ending in a picnic with a gourmet meal that you single handedly cooked while simultaneously flying said private helicopter.  But have you noticed the success rate of the Bachelor?  I think you'd have better odds going into business with Donald Trump. 

Dear a boy,
Did you fall in a mine shaft?  Did you just come out of a coma?  Were you attacked by a werewolf?






 

what's a girl to do?

So....
Confession time.
I'm not much of a girly girl.  Like not at all.  I own more chucks and vans than high heels.  I think I own one possibly two dresses.  Four at the very most, but I really only wear one of them, and I've only worn it once.

My daily make up routine consists of mascara.  Sometimes.  And on a really good day, eye shadow.  But let's not get crazy.

I got blind sided the other day and went to a Mary Kay party.  I wanted to crawl into a corner and silently weep because their skin regimen consists of THIRTEEN steps.  THIRTEEN.  Including five eye creams.  I don't know why you'd even use one eye cream (I don't even know what eye cream is, I mean obviously it's lotion for the eyes (or rather the skin around the eyes.....?!??!??!!!) but what purpose does it serve?  Can't that skin be lump summed into the face and therefore face lotion would also work?!) let alone five.  Woof. 

And all of that is BEFORE the foundation and powder and blush and three eye shadows and everything like such as.  Come on. 

I'm sorry, but I'd rather sleep an extra hour and I'd rather put that money aside for a house mortgage.  And just forget about transporting all of that makeup around in a make up trunk on wheels, because we all know how I feel about rollie backpacks. 

I've only recently ventured in to the world of earrings and nail painting.  I still feel a little awkward doing it.  Like it's not really me, ya know?

I have some friends and old roommates that totally rock the glammed up look.  Everything possible including big poofy hair, because you know what they say.  The bigger the hair, the closer to God. 

But that's them, and they look good.   I feel like if I were to go out in heels and teased hair and big flashy jewelry people would run in sheer terror.

But why do those things have to define femininity? 

Now, I wouldn't say I'm a tom boy either.  I don't love sports.  I'll play, but I'm not going to promise mad skillz.  I also think that I still can't quite pull off every look on this web site, but it seems to fit me and my personality much more.

So maybe I can't rock heels and a little black dress.  But rather skinny jeans, vans and a plaid shirt.  While still managing to look like a girl.

Did you know that I'm in love/obsessed with plaid?  Serisouly.  It's ridiculous.

I'm a sucker for boys that pull off plaid.  I'd be 100% done for if you wear plaid, a good pair of jeans, shoes of your choice (preferably something in the sneaker family. Vans, chucks, etc.) and black square glasses.  If you speak Spanish, then there really is no hope for m

free flying

There’s something about being in nature, and I don’t just mean outside at the park. Although that’s enjoyable as well. I mean completely away from the city and void of any distraction. You and the solitude and nothing else. Not even other people. It’s something incredible. I dare to say amazing. But not in the way everyone exhausts the word to describe every cookie ever baked or every cupcake ever frosted. Not that kind of amazing. Truly amazing. As in to astonish greatly. Sure, I love cookies and cupcakes as much as the next person, but I wouldn’t go as far to say they astonish me.

Nature, on the other hand. Now that’s a different story. Not just nature, but all that lives and dwells within. Every creature great and small. To think that they were each created by the literal (another word I don’t use lightly. Have you heard how I feel about that word?) hand of a Divine being.

I don’t have too many passions. There are a lot of things that I’m interested in and plenty of things that I use my time to participate in. But I don’t have one great passion. I suppose one day that might change. You know, when I have a family and all. I guess it’s because I’m kind of an easy going person and fairly neutral. Not that easy going people can’t have passions. I don’t tend to take sides, rather I look for the truth on both. Or if you take a side it means you aren’t easy going. I think I simply lack whatever emotion is connected to true a single passion. I don’t think my words adequately describe what I’m thinking, but at least I know what I’m trying to say.

However, one thing I find myself particularly drawn to lately and perhaps even passionate about are birds. They’re incredible. At times I find myself wishing I possessed their capabilities. The ability to fly. I love watching that moment when a bird is about to take flight. They ruffle their feathers, as if mentally preparing themselves for each flight. Telling themselves “I am capable and I am strong. I can do this.” Upon completion, they push down to gain momentum and then soar away. In an instant. In one swift and beautiful movement. I love that moment when their feet press down and then almost simultaneously lift off the ground. They quickly move from one phase to the next. Trusting their instinct all the while.

Or to sing a happy song. There’s nothing quite like a calm and quiet morning. Accompanied by the comforting melody of a sweet songbird. It’s as if they are welcoming all the potential of a brand new day. Anxiously awaiting new opportunities that lie in store.

I love Maya Angelou’s poem “I know why the caged bird sings” and how closely it relates to human existence. The caged bird is fully aware of their capabilities yet outside forces prohibit them. Outside forces that are outside of their control that ground them. While the caged bird is grounded, they are forced to watch their peers around them. Fluttering by freely without a care in the world. Perhaps taking advantage of the capabilities and freedom they possess.

How unlike them are we? I venture to say not very. I know in my life I have found myself on both sides. Maybe even at the same time. I let outside forces get me down.

The part that touches me the most is the very end. Her words are beautifully written that paint such a clear picture.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

Maya Angelou

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams. I can't even imagine being in that position. To look down at the headstone marked with “Find joy. Be happy. Start an eternal family.” would be a nightmare in every sense of the word. All my greatest hopes are dead. Never to come to pass. Never to spring forth and have life.

His wings are clipped. Void of all potential. Meanwhile suffering with the vision of what could have been.

For the caged bird sings of freedom. Their greatest hope is to rid themselves of all things grounding. Whether self imposed or not. To be free and fly above the influence.

Oh. And if Harry Potter were real and I was a wizard, I totally hope my patronus would be a bird.

perma-kid

Although my last post was all about entering the fancy world of becoming an adult, I've learned along the way that I still have a lot of kid tendencies. Not that I'm childish and immature. I take responsibility where responsibility is required. But sometimes you just can't help but find joy in the simple things in life. Even if they are typically enjoyed by kids.

A lot of my kid at heart tendencies revolve around my sense of humor. There are still some things that I know I shouldn't laugh at but I just can't help it. Sometimes I'm even shaking I'm trying not to laugh.

Like when I worked at the elementary school and a kids new year's resolutions were "to fart, show off and fart again". Talk about setting the bar high. But come on. How is that not funny? Maybe I'm a perma-teenage boy instead of a perma-kid.

From time to time I've been known to enjoy teenie bopper music. If one were to browse my running playlist they may or may not find songs from the musical stylings of Miley Cyrus, Justin Bieber and the Jonas Brothers. Maybe. I'm not saying yes, and I'm not saying no.

On occasion, I watch the Disney channel. Well not super recently, but more recently than I'd like to admit. Hannah Montana is pretty sassy, and I always like it when people aren't afraid to speak their mind. As long as it's not rude, malicious or back biting.

I can't let go of my ridiculous beanie baby collection. They're all packed away and stored somewhere at my house in Minnesota, but throwing them away or donating them seems like I'm saying goodbye to my childhood memories forever. Just like Andy in Toy Story. Although it had a happier twist, some new kids were able to enjoy the toys he had so lovingly cherished and cared for. I think I like the idea that maybe one day my kids will want to play with them and it will also save them an umpteen amount of money because they won't have to spend all of theirs on silly things like I did. But when you're a kid, it's not silly. It's a product of your hard earned allowance after doing chores all week.

It seems like just yesterday the biggest thing I had to worry about was whether I should spend my summer days riding bikes, reading or swimming at the pool. It's easy to get stuck in the grind of the work week and begrudgingly living for the weekends. I think we could all benefit from holding on to the simplicity of childhood for as long as we can.

how to tell if you're an adult.

A few months ago I graduated and entered the real world. I'm only now starting to realize what that really means. And I'm sure it's only a minute percentage of total understanding. I haven't even experienced marriage or having kids or things that only further secure adulthood.

So far, these are some surefire signs that I'm dipping my toes into adulthood.

1. Bills, bills, bills.

Because of the benevolence of my very gracious parents, I've avoided a substantial amount of bills up until this point in my life. Not to mention that all of the apartments I've lived in beforehand included utilities in rent (PS Rexburg, outside in the real world, nowhere includes utilities and comes furnished. It's very gracious of you, but it's quite a slap in the face when one starts apartment hunting in the real world). But now my money has to go towards things like water, gas, electricity, etc. I really think twice now before I leave the room and every single light in it turned on.

2. I find myself wanting to save for things like a COUCH. I went to Ikea the other day to buy a rug (what have I turned in to?!) and found myself drooling over this absolutely divine couch. It would be a pretty big purchase, but I figure, what a better time than now to buy one? Or at least save to buy one. I don't have a husband or any kids and my bills are minimal. I might as well buy something now before my future family starts to suck up all of my money.

I used to save for things like ipods and cameras. Now I'm saving for home furnishings.

3. Sales on things like hand soap. I went to Target today and soap was on sale. SOAP. Two giant things of it for $5. I was thrilled. I feel like that screams nothing but lame.

4. I splurged the other day and bought two new footstools (excuse me, ottomans. My friends looked at me like I had suddenly grown a third arm out of my head when I used the word footstool instead). But I'm in love with them. They're gray. And perfect.

It seems like lists should always be in increments of 5. Maybe it's the OCD talking. But unfortunately I can only come up with four. For now. Stay tuned.

let's get fly.

I've realized lately that my blog doesn't have a very consistent tone. Usually I'll focus a post on a specific topic, but other times they're random thoughts that sometimes relate to current updates in my life. I guess that's why this is my blog. I can do whatever I please. And haters gonna hate.

I love this song. I crank it up whenever I go running. And it's by Atmosphere, and they hail from Minnesota. Enough said.

I love the line "empty the pack and watch your wings grow back".

Without sounding totally angsty, sometimes at the end of the day life sucks. Bad things happen to good people. And I don't know why, but I do know that all we can do is shake it off and go on to what's next. Because odds are it's something a whole lot better.

Minnesota jargon, dontcha know.

I've lived in Minnesota for almost my whole life. We moved to Minnesota from Wisconsin (which is the same as Minnesota except there are less lakes and more cheese, and as you may or may not know, I have no problems with that) when I was three years old, so I'd say that 21 years out of 24 would be a suitable justification for saying "I've lived there my whole life". Living in the same place forever has its advantages. I didn't have the traumatizing experience of moving the summer before my senior year of high school, I was never the new kid at school and I have somewhere that I will always be able to call home. But I would say that living in the same place your whole life also has its disadvantages. There are habits and phrases that are very state specific and when you do go somewhere else and learn that people might not know what you're talking about, you start to wonder if you've been lied to your whole life.

So when I started going to school in Idaho and started making friends from all over the country, I was shocked to learn that not only did they not know what cheese curds were, Minnesotans have quite the variety of different names for things that we're all familiar with on some level.

As if Minnesotans don't already take enough heat for their accents (my mom actually trained me and my sister to not have MN accents. When people find out I'm from MN they usually say "Wow, you don't even have the accent!"), here are some other things that you might find strange about our way of speech.

I know some of these are definitely specific to MN, but some I'm not so sure. You'll have to tell me if your homeland says it too.

1. Duck, duck.......

Did you say goose in your head? Well in Minnesota you'd be the source of confusion. Because in Minnesota it's "Duck, duck, gray duck". That's right. Duck, duck, gray duck. I'm not really sure why the color gray was chosen or what a gray duck is (besides a duck that is gray...) or what sets it apart from other ducks and makes it so special that it gets to be the action signal for a game, but that's what you'll hear MN kids saying when they play this childhood game.

2. Flick someone off.

This one I'm not sure if it's MN specific or not. But when you give someone the middle finger, we'd say you flicked them off. I'm pretty sure my dad says it (he also grew up in MN. Born and raised. Even the same town.) but my mom who grew up mostly in Virginia and North Carolina says we're crazy and its flip them off.

3. Budge in line.

Remember the days in Elementary school when you'd patiently be waiting in line and some punk would sneak in in front of you as if you wouldn't notice? In MN we'd brand them as a budger. And say "Hey! No budging! Go to the end of the line". Apparently every where else you cut in line, you don't budge. I mean, cut makes more sense.

4. Ding dong ditch.

I only recently learned that not everyone calls it this. Some other states call it "ring and run". But you know, the classic "We're bored, let go have some fun" where you ring an unsuspecting persons house and run away before they answer the door.

5. Common phrases such as "dontcha know" "ya, you betcha" and "ohhh ya. ohhh sure".

My adventures in Idaho have allowed me to learn some other state jargon. These are the ones that I'm aware of so far, but please add to the list. Especially ones that come from your own state.

In Idaho/Utah they call the glove compartment of a car the jockey box.

In the South any type of soda is a Coke.

I can't remember which state (Washington, maybe?) they call a drinking fountain a bubbler.

In Canada a couch is a chesterfield, a hat is a took and they say "zed" for the letter Z.

thank you for traveling with us today.

My mom and I flew home from Utah today. Who doesn't love a good plane trip every now and then? I'm just waiting for the day that teleporting is real.

Today's flight wasn't bad at all. At all. Besides having to high tail it to the very opposite end of the terminal in Dallas to make my connecting flight and the beyond giant security line in SLC that wrapped through every aisle that's roped off and trailed all the way down past the luggage carousel and ALMOST out the door, it really wasn't bad.

I've started to just expect traveling to be horrendous, so having incredibly low standards helps the overall experience not seem so bad. And since I went to school far from home, I've had plenty of travel time that has allowed be to become a seasoned traveler. Not that my travels have been that exciting, it's mostly limited to the Western states on my journey back to Idaho.

Even though today's flight wasn't bad, I've sure had my fair share of travel horror stories.

Like the time my sister and I were on our way to San Francisco with our cousin to visit her dad/our uncle and our flight got canceled and in order to make it up to us we got FOOD VOUCHERS? Oh here. Here's a ticket for $1o that will buy you a water bottle and a stale sandwich. You can imagine the fight my mom put up and we were eventually on a flight that night. That was Northwest, by the way.

Or the time we had a layover in San Francisco (I'm only now realizing a slight trend...) and we were starving and trying to find something to eat, which by the way, is slim pickings in that airport. We were walking and before I realized it I had walked into the danger zone and my family was still behind me in the safe zone. My family tried to warn me and once I realized I turned around practically in the same step but the dragon security lady made me go through SECURITY again. Who designed an airport that has the already limited eating options outside of security? Pfft.

Or the time I ran out of room in my suitcases when coming home from school so I stuffed my backpack to the seams, and shockingly, it was too big to fit in the overhead compartment so they told me I had to gate check it and apparently I didn't put it in the right place (even though I set it down where everyone who has ever traveled sets gate checked luggage--to the right where the door is where they are loading the luggage down on the plane) and the snooty stewardess got on the loud speaker and said "would the owner of a polka dot backpack PUH-LEASE report to the front of the plane? IMMEDIATELY!" and they asked me if it was mine and why I put it there. I put it there because you told me to, Sherlock.

Remember the days when you got to check TWO bags for free dollars AND they gave you a meal? Now you're lucky if you get to your seat and someone else hasn't already shoved their clearly too big of carry on bag into your rightful overhead space.

What have been your traveling adventures? Or perhaps misadventures?

elf on the shelf, say what?

I came across this blog the other day and I was almost in tears by the time I was done reading it. If swear words offend you, then I wouldn't read it. I should probably be more selective in the things I read, but we're all working on something, right?

So I don't know about you but I have never heard of this elf on the shelf business. I did some googling and amazon.com-ing, and apparently, it's some Christmas tradition. According to my google searches and this blog post, it sounds like you hide the little elf and your kids try to find him. Or something. And somehow it's a game. I'm still making sense of it.

But can I just say, have you ever heard of a more creepy tradition? I mean besides some of the famous Christmas songs like "Santa Clause is coming to town" you know... "He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake". And you're telling me that this creep is going to slither down my chimney and deliver gifts? AND I'm supposed to leave treats for him? No thank you. (For more creepy and obnoxious holiday songs check out http://jacobdivett.blogspot.com/2011/12/worst-christmas-songs-ever.html)

To me it sounds like elf on the shelf could be used as a form of punishment. You break a rule? Better watch out for elf on the shelf. You never know where your mom or dad is going to hide him. Perhaps in your bed. Perhaps in the cereal box so when you unsuspectingly pour your morning breakfast he appears in your bowl.

Did anybody do this growing up? Or has anyone at least heard of it?

Merry Christmas and beware of lurking elves.

change is coming my way

I think that the end of the semester (or the end of any phase in life) is a lot like pregnancy. Not that you become with child, but that there seems to be a never ending stream of emotions that change at the drop of a hat.

The other day I went to grad night. Some little meeting/ceremony where President Clark and Vice President Eyring spoke to the graduating students that were in attendance. Up until last night I couldn't wait to get out of this place. And be done with school. But as they were speaking. It hit me.

I'm going to be done with this phase of my life. D-O-N-E. Kind of weird, huh? No more classes, no more text books, no more testing center, etc. What will I do with my life? What will consume my time and worries? Something will, that's for sure. Work? Bills? Life? Yes, yes, yes.

Change is always hard. But it's kind of exciting at the same time. It's like we get a fresh start. We get to meet new people and have a blank slate. But when we've been in one part of life for a while (ahem...since 2005) you get comfortable. But comfort is where we get in trouble. When we're comfortable we don't see a need for growth and improvement.

As weird as this little town is, I'm going to miss it.

Here's to whatever is next.