Home Alone

I know this is totally late but I still wanted to blog today. My husband is leaving me tonight and most of tomorrow and every time I think about it I get butterflies in my stomach--the bad kind. For so many reasons, the main one being how much I HATE sleeping alone in my house at night with the kids. I sleep like CRAP, and that's with the lights on. Secondly, because a weekend with Bill gone becomes just like a normal week day for me. Me. My kids. At home. All day. Bored. There goes my beloved Saturday, the cherished day of co-parenting and doing things out of the house. I was so pumped to mow the lawn, work in the yard, spend some quality time together as a family....ugh.

The only upside to this is come 8:00 I am alone to do whatever I want!! I'm gonna rent the girliesh chick flicks ever, and I may....wait for it.....SCRAPBOOK! I can't wait. So, that's my weekend. I mean, it's no trip to New York, but what's a girl gonna do?

Canine Companion

Did you see me walking my dog at 7:00 this morning? What's that? I don't have a dog? Oh, that's right, it was the stupid stray dog that joined me for some early morning exercise down Chapel Hill Blvd. I'm guessing somehow it found out that my walking partner (Shayla) slept in and decided to fill her spot.

So Butch, as I've decided to call him, walks up behind me out of NOWHERE and starts sniffing the back of my legs and scares the holy CRAP out of me. It must have been a sight to see for the drivers passing by, me jumping in the air and almost tripping, scared to death. Then Butch proceeds to walk with me down CHB. No, not along side me, not behind me. Weaving in and out in front, behind, all over, tripping me a million times. He was sniffing along the fence, wandering into people's yards, peeing in their lawn...I'm sure it looked swell to people assuming it's my dog and I'm one of those obnoxious pet owners who let their dog run free and do their business wherever they feel like it. No, I'm not, I HATE those people!!

But the highlight of the walk was when Butch squatted directly in front of me and pooped out what looked like mustard on the sidewalk. I barely side-stepped it in time. Awesome.

So halfway down CHB, right about the time I'm ready to drop-kick Butch into the nearest yard, I hear someone calling way behind me. Finally, I think. Butch's owners have decided to actually take responsibility for their pet and come get him. I glance back and see a tall woman waving her arms, obviously calling for Butch. I turn back around and keep walking, only to have my brain register what it saw. It was Shayla! I stop suddenly and turn around to walk back to Shayla, not realizing that Butch had been directly behind my feet, causing me to kick him in the stomach and knock him into the street. I barely caught myself from face planting it on the sidewalk. Seriously, when Adam ate the fruit, he gave us sickness, weeds and DOGS.

Shayla is laughing at what she is seeing, and when we meet up she tells me how she slept in and ran through the neighborhood to catch up with me, which also gave us a laugh. Butch now follows the two of us through Lovisa Farms, tripping both of us, all the way back to the park. At this point we say our goodbye's as Butch squats and marks his territory on the sidewalk, a perfect finale to my walk with Butch.

I have to say, the whole time I'm thinking what a great blog this will be, thankful that I didn't have to look up the history of socks, which I was actually going to do.

Butch wasn't a pug, I just thought this picture was funny.

Pass the Creative Juice, Please

I considered myself a fairly interesting person with insightful yet comical things to say. That is, until I started a blog. What was I thinking? Seriously, how much does one person have to say worthy of being not only written down but read by other people for entertainment? I have come to a sad realization that I'm not as interesting as I thought I was.

I've actually been contemplating deleting my blog altogether. Besides the aforementioned reason, the time issue is another problem I have encountered. Yeah, I have the time to sit and read my comments and other blogs and post new stuff on my own and check hourly to see what people have said....it's just that after that I have no time for anything else, you know, like cleaning my house and paying the bills and making dinner and realizing there are two kids in my house.

I had such ambitions when starting my blog. I was going to revolutionize the world of blogging. I was going to impress the masses with my intelligence and wit. People would be blown away by the complexity of my thoughts and feelings. They would say, "I had no idea Alicia was this funny or interesting!"

Turns out I disappointed even myself. There was a time I felt I could sit down and turn anything into a comedy. Then my inner philosopher made an appearance and I think even Freud was getting depressed. Now I sit and can't think of one shred of an interesting story, a meaningful, thought-provoking post, or a humorous anecdote. I feel creatively-challenged.
I hope that by getting this out into the open, addressing my frustrations and feelings of inadequacy, maybe the dam will burst open and my creative juices will once again flow freely.
Or, maybe not, and tomorrow we'll discuss the value of a good pair of socks.

The Count of Monte Cristo

The Count of Monte Cristo is one of my favorite movies of all time. I love it because it has everything I love in a movie: romance, drama, action, and a rags to riches revenge story.

Based on the famous novel by Alexandre Dumas, it stars Jim Caviezel as Edmond Dantes, a poor frenchman who works with his best friend (Fernand Mondego, played by Guy Pearce) on a trader ship. After an emergency landing on the island where Napoleon Bonaparte is held prisoner, Edmond returns home to Marseilles only to be arrested and thrown in prison for treason after being falsely accused of aiding Napoleon's escape.

In prison Edmond yearns for his beloved fiance, Mercedes, and after years of abuse and isolation begins to denounce his faith, only to have a suprise encounter with an imprisoned priest (you may know him as the original Dumbledore) who soon befriends Edmond and teaches him everything he knows, which is much. Before dying, the priest helps Edmond realize who all was involved in putting Edmond behind bars, and shares his secret...the location of the vast treasure of Monte Cristo.

After an ingenious escape, Edmond finds the treasure and, with his newfound wealth and knowledge, creates for himself the identity of the Count of Monte Cristo, using his money and prestige to get revenge on all who had betrayed him. In the end, he realizes that all he really wants is those whom he loves.

The movie is action packed, never boring. It is one exciting turn after another, always keeping you guessing what will happen next. The love story is achingly good, and every actor plays his (her) character perfectly. I seriously recommend it to anyone who hasn't watched it, especially because your husbands will like it too. It's so good!

Wake Me up, Before You Go Go

Why am I always sooooo tired? I have been trying to figure it out and I just can't.
It can't possibly be because I never go to bed before midnight and wake up at 6:30 am to walk.
It's not that I eat nothing but fast food and sugar.
It's definitely not my anti-depressants or sleeping pill.
It can't be that I sit at home all day long bored with nothing to keep me energized.
Or that I've got two kids that demand almost all my attention and insist on fighting with each other every waking hour.
And I know it's not that I sit in front of a computer screen all day in a trance-like state reading blog after blog and watching dinosaurs drop and disappear.
Seriously, will the mystery ever be solved?

I just realized it's Movie Madness Monday, but I'm too tired to do anything about it. Tune in tomorrow for Movie Madness Tuesday. Doesn't have quite the same ring, does it?

Now That's Good TV

WARNING: IF YOU ARE BEHIND ON ANY SHOWS YOU MAY WANT TO WAIT TO READ THIS.

Ding, dong, Sanjaya's gone! I was literally in shock. I really did not think he would be going any time soon. I didn't necessarily think he would win, but I was floored last night when he got voted off. I was so relieved, but at the same time, that was a lot of the excitement of this season for me. Now it's like, oh, so it's just good people left? That's kind of boring. And I have to wonder if it was legit, if Sanjaya really did get the least votes, or if the nervous producers didn't somehow intervene. Who knows?

Okay, how much do I love Lost this season? It's so funny because I HATED the first few episodes. It was like the writers were running out of ideas so they decided to find "inspiration" by eating some questionable mushrooms. But suddenly it started getting good again, and I am loving it. Can I just say how much I love Sawyer? Not only is he HOT but there is just something about a "bad" guy who, despite his best efforts, shows his vulnerability when it comes to the woman he loves. He is by far my favorite castaway, and last night I loved watching his heart break when he realized Kate had used him.
And the Korean ghost story? Let's just say it was possibly the best moment of television ever. Bill and I were laughing so hard I don't know how we didn't wake up the kids.

Grey's, where you at? Seriously. A re-cap of all 3 seasons? Uh-uh. Doesn't cut it. Any idiot with half a brain would realize that those of us watching Grey's are devoted fans who have seen every episode and really don't appreciate wasting an entire episode on a glorified re-run. Get a clue.

Survivor, not your best season. In fact as I sit and write this I can't picture one face of any tribe member. Let's step it up, folks. Oh, and Exile Island? It was barely interesting the first season it made it's debut. Three seasons later? zzzzzzzzzzz.......
But yes, I will be there for all 3 hours of the finale.

Heroes, ready when you are. Oh, and New York can blow up at any time. Seriously, there's a line between drawing things out for the sake of suspense and "alright, already, when's this going to happen?" You've crossed it.

Office, I still got nothing but love for you, but the Pam and Jim thing is starting to make me twitch a little when I watch. I hate to say it, but if something doesn't happen soon, I may lose interest. (Did I just say that?)

Ahhh....how empty and boring my life would be without artificial people and their made-up lives.
Oh, and reality television, of course. I mean, it's exactly like real life, right?

Buds

This year I have had the pleasure of having Owen over to my house once a week.

He and Payson have really gotten to know each other

and are best buds

although they fight a lot

they really have a lot of fun together.

Color My World

When we woke up to rain Saturday morning (seriously,

what's the deal? Crappy weather every Saturday when

we need to get things done, and beautiful sunny days

on Sunday when we can't work out in the yard.) and

realized we wouldn't be working outside like we had

planned, we decided to paint Macy's room. It seemed

fitting, like and early birthday present.

I wanted to do a pale green, as her plaid bedding is pinks

and greens. Macy wanted red with purple polka dots and

sparkles. So we compromised.

(before)

on a dark hot pink. It's actually really pretty in person.

(during)

(Macy desperately wanted to help, and thought she was
pretty cool when we let her.)

and the finished project.........

This picture is crappy, there is no good lighting in her room,
day or night, it doesn't do it justice, but it will have to do.

It was a lot of fun, but I'm soooo glad it's done!

Two down, seven to go!

My Girl

From the 5lb. 12oz. tiny little thing

with the tube in her nose

to the toddler that took the pink bunny

everywhere and sucked on its ears

(where on earth did she get that habit?!)

to the hilarious two year old
with the sweetest smile

to the adorable blue-eyed girl
with porcelain skin

to my beautiful little girl

Happy Birthday Macy

Random Story Day

If you've heard this story, I'm sorry. If not, it's a great story.
I was just starting my eighth month of pregnancy with Macy when my baby bro. (Landon) was going to the MTC. My entire family was going and everyone was trying to convince me to go. I didn't want to at all...I was the size of a small whale and a human water balloon. But my doctor gave me the go ahead (what does he know?) so I made the trek to Utah. By the time I got there my feet were literally squishing out of my sandals.
The day after we got there we walked (I waddled) all over the Conference Center, which I had never seen, and I got to go to General Conference for the first time ever! It was awesome, but a bit much for someone large and in charge.
The next morning I woke up and much to my surprise, my water had broken. (I was pretty sure it had, but really, I didn't know.) I called my doctor and he said to go to the hospital. I went to this dinky little hospital by my aunt's house and they told me it had not broken, that I was peeing. I was so ticked. "Look people," I wanted to say. "I know what it feels like to pee. This is not pee." But they sent me home. Apparently they think medical school makes them more knowledgeable than me or something.
That afternoon I stood up from watching a movie and-HELLO-my water had definitely broken. I didn't feel it at all, but there was no denying it now. I had already decided that if anything else were to happen, I was going to a real hospital with actual doctors and nurses and not quacks who confuse amniotic fluid with urine. So we went to LDS Hospital where they did one little test and said that my water had definitely broken and I was not leaving Utah without this baby. Um, okay. Not really the souvenir I had planned on bringing home, but, whatever. Who can complain about shaving off two months of pregnancy? Not me. If I got any bigger I'd have to wear a circus tent.
They wanted to keep Macy in as long as possible, at least two days while they pumped me full of steroids to develop her lungs. Little did they know we had all the time in the world. Not only did she not come after two days, but two weeks later I was still trapped in the sterile cave waiting for the darn thing to come out. Um, when your water breaks, doesn't that usually mean the baby's about to come out? Apparently not. For me it meant going insane watching movie after movie, wanting to kill every nurse, doctor and med student who popped in at 5 am to "see how things were going." Um, pretty swell until you arrived. Let me sleep for the love of Pete!!!
Finally after two weeks I had hit 34 weeks and they would induce. It was Easter Sunday, April 15th (tax day). I was so excited I could hardly stand it. I don't know what I was more excited about, having the baby or the prospect of life outside of the hospital. The inducing began. 24 hours later I was watching that stupid screen showing these minor contractions that I couldn't even feel, wondering when the heck things were going to start happening.
Um, doctor, have you ever experienced a baby that just didn't want to come out at all? No? Just mine? Okay, thanks.
At this point I was losing my mind and sooo ready to pop this sucker out. Please, please, I begged, cut me open and take her out!!!
"We really need a medical reason to do a C-Section."
Okay, well, if you don't take this baby out of me, I'm going to strangle you with your stethoscope. How's that for medical?
They did another ultrasound to see what was going on inside and saw that whenever I was having one of these alleged contractions, that her heart rate would falter. So I got my wish. The weird thing was that I wasn't scared for a moment about the heart rate thing. For some reason I just knew it wasn't a problem.
A few hours later I was laying in my birthday suit on a gurney surrounded by at least ten people. At any other time I would have taken a scalpel to my throat in that situation, but they're professionals, right? Besides, I WAS HAVING THIS BABY!!
Bill sat and watched in the mirror as they sliced into me. (Um, ew?) I stared at the blue sheet and tried to guess what they were doing. From the sounds of it, they were building a tree house.
Not too much later, this horribly squished, purple alien-looking face popped up over the blue sheet and disappeared within seconds, whisked off to the NICU. Bill followed.
"Don't worry about me. I'll be here, getting sewn back up."
And then there were drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. I remember opening my eyes and trying to talk to my in-laws and falling back asleep mid-sentence. I remember seeing a picture of my baby all hooked up to monitors and wires and thinking it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Oddly enough, the purple, squished face was already gone, a perfectly beautiful, flesh-toned, round head covered in tons of black hair in its place.
When I finally woke up enough, I went to see her and hold her. It was so unbelievable to me that this was my baby. Because I couldn't see them take her out of me, and suddenly there was this baby laying there that was apparently mine, I had the hardest time putting it together that this was my baby, the baby that just hours before was inside of me. I just took their word for it.
Over the next few days Macy did awesome. She breathed on her own and kept her temperature and all that good stuff within the first two days. The only problem remaining after that was her eating. She was so tiny and they wanted her to eat all of her meals by mouth, whether it be bottle or breast-feeding. It was clear from the get-go which she preferred, (bottle) but even with the bottle she could never finish it all. In order for her to be discharged she had to go 24 hours finishing every meal. After several days they put an NG tube down her nose and into her stomach. What she couldn't finish by bottle she got down the tube. Every time she fell asleep eating and we realized it meant another day there, I would start bawling. My hormones were going crazy and all I wanted was to go home. After two weeks of this (nearing a month in Utah) we were pretty much begging them to let us take her home.
Finally they said, "Well, I suppose we can teach you how to take care of the NG tube and just send her home with the tube. " Gee, what a novel idea. Are you kidding me? We've been hounding you for two weeks and you just now come up with this idea? Seriously, I thought doctors were supposed to be smart. Whatever.
So finally, after what seemed like a year, we got to go home. Of course the minute we got home she started eating like a horse and the tube came out. And then the post-partum depression kicked in, but that's a whole other story.....

Butt Crack of Dawn

This morning I achieved the impossible, or at least what I thought was the impossible: I woke up at 6:30 and actually dragged myself out of bed, outside into the chilly morning air, and went walking.

I know. What??!! For anyone who knows me, their jaw just dropped to the floor. I don't wake up until my kids are literally standing next to me, shaking me, begging for breakfast. If my kids are still sleeping, I am still sleeping. I have maybe woken up before my kids three times. But Bill and I have been attempting every morning to wake up early and exercise, for several obvious reasons:

1) There is no other time of day I have found that works to exercise, especially not the same time every day. So then I just don't do it.
2) How awesome would it be to have been up and exercised and showered and ready for the day before my kids get up? Then I am guarenteed to look "ready for the day" for the whole day. This almost never happens.
3) I know it would seriously improve the way I feel both physically and emotionally.

We have tried for three days, but to no avail. I kept praying to help me to do it, and this morning I did. I bundled up and me and my iPod went power-walking around my neighborhood, weaving up and down each street til my burning ankles couldn't take it any more. (Walking outside on pavement in the cold as opposed to inside on a moving treadmill is a lot harder!)

The whole time I just kept thinking, "I can't believe I'm doing this. This is so weird. This isn't me, I don't do this." I was so proud of myself. Especially when I got back to find Bill still bundled up in bed. (He was supposed to be working out also.)

Who knew there was life at 6:30 am? I couldn't believe the amount of cars pulling out of driveways or getting heated up, the corners with kids waiting for buses. I felt like a visitor to some strange planet. The world just has a completely different feel in the morning.

So this was a huge accomplishment for me, and I'm pretty darn proud of myself. While those of you still snoozing away are enjoying the warmth and comfort of your cozy beds, I'll be outside in the cold with throbbing ankles getting skinny and healthy. Yea me!

*I was going to put "Let's Get it Started" by the wonderful Black Eyed Peas, my all-time favorite work out song, but Hotget is stupid, stupid, stupid.

Egg-straordinary Easter (oh, come on, it was just too easy.)

We had a great Easter weekend.

We dyed Easter eggs Saturday night, something my kids

love to do so much I hear about it all year long:

"Can we color eggs?"

"No, it's November."

Sunday they woke up to their baskets that the Easter

Bunny had filled, and when we woke up they showed us each item,

one by one, down to every last piece of chocolate.

I loved every second of it.

Macy actually got this dress for Christmas. She saw it

at the dress store next to the church bookstore in October

and begged for it for months. Of course I had to let her

wear it to church after she got it (although it was December

and went against everything I believe in)

but managed to hold her off from wearing it again until

Easter. I bought her a matching hair bow and white frilly socks

(which I wore every day of my young life on Sunday and

swore I would never buy my daughters!!) to dress it up

for Easter. She loved it. And Payson... well, in my efforts to

dress my little girl in her best Easter outfit, my son sadly

fell by the wayside and come Sunday morning we were

searching his closet for his most "spring-y" outfit!

Oh well, that kid would look cute in a paper bag.

After church we had dinner with my family at my parents

(scrum-diddly-umptious)

and my dad put on his annual egg hunt for his grandkids.

It was so fun.

Now, who has some great recipes that call for hard-boiled eggs?

The Illusionist

Somehow I let Monday get away from me, and it wasn't until a few hours ago that I realized I had missed Movie Madness Monday! So with two hours and 45 mins. to spare, I present

THE ILLUSIONIST

I watched this movie for the first time last night, and loved it. I love movies in this time period, especially because they tend to be filmed in this kind of golden, fuzzy way, as if illuminated by candlelight. (Think Phantom of the Opera)

Starring Edward Norton, Jessica Biel, and Paul Giamatti, The Illusionist is about a young boy infatuated with magic who falls in love with a young girl that ranks high above him socially. They are forbidden to see each other, and after meeting secretly for a while are caught and torn apart, never to see each other again.

The boy grows up to be a famous magician who encounters his childhood sweetheart at one of his shows, only to learn she is to be married to the crown prince, a horrible man. They meet secretly once again, starting a string events that leads to the awesome, mind-bending ending.

What do I love about this movie?

Besides the aforementioned filming technique and time period, I loved the the actors. Edward Norton is awesome in everything he does, and Paul Giamatti is also an amazing actor who is finally getting the parts and the recognition he deserves. Jessica Biel has mostly been known for her looks and not her acting, but I thought she was pretty decent here. Maybe it was the accent that seperated her from her 7th Heaven persona, but she appeared to be more, well, grown-up.

I also loved the music. It was so beautiful, and perfect for a movie about the mysteries of magic.

My viewing partner (Bill) thought it was a little slow, but perked up towards the end and was blown away once the credits rolled. So I seriously recommend going and renting this, it's one your hubby may enjoy also!

Silence Isn't Golden

Okay, so at the risk of looking like a complete idiot, I have to say that I was wrong. I was wrong in thinking that by eliminating the comments on my blog it would make blogging fun for me again. And I was wrong in my assumptions about the negative things that were being said, and misinformed. After talking at length with the people involved, I am happy to say I misunderstood some very important details, and almost all of the negative things that I thought were being said were actually meant to be taken completely differently. So I am feeling much better about the blogging thing, and especially about the non-bloggers.
Besides feeling like I need to explain this in order to eliminate a lot of questions when I put the comments back on my blog, I also wanted to put it out there to my fellow bloggers that I was wrong about the negativity, that people aren't saying all that I thought they were. I just wanted to make that clear, in case my earlier post affected any other bloggers in any way.
I know I also said I was getting rid of the comments to prove to myself I was really blogging just for me, but I realized the last few days that 1) what I wrote didn't change in the least, or how I wrote, whether or not people commented, and 2) it really did take a lot of the fun out of blogging for me. I would get online throughout the day and be like, "oh, well, I guess I'll just check my e-mail."
I realized it's not that I have to know what people think of what I'm writing, and it's not that I'm desperate for positive reinforcement. I just love the interaction, the adult/female conversation. I feel so much more at ease over the computer than calling someone up on the phone, and I can "talk" to you all in one five minute shot. That is what I love about the comments.
So although you might think I'm weak and pathetic for caving after only two days (and you might be right), I am going to try and not have any shame in putting my comments back on. After all, the reasons I did it in the first place turned out to not be any reasons at all.

Girl Gone Wild: Spring Break

Wow, what a weekend and half a week it's been. Let's start with Friday. It all started with me picking up a girl (McKenzie, from our ward, whose mom had just had her baby that morning) from school along with Macy (another lady in my ward was watching their kids, but couldn't fit all her own kids and the other kids into her van, which left me to pick up McKenzie from school and watch her a few hours). Kim called and asked if we wanted to go to the park, so we all went to the park, Kim and her kids, me and my kids, and McKenzie. It was fine, the kids had fun, but there are no bathrooms which makes me crazy so we had to bug a lady from our ward who lives right next to the park once and make a quick run home and back once.
While at the park I noticed that my throat was hurting, and was quickly getting worse. But my day was not about to go on hold because of my throat, so then it was off to the school again to pick up the son of the lady watching McKenzie and her siblings, and Amy's boys because she too was stuck at home watching various kids. So I drop off Amy's boys at her house, and pick up Abby and Owen. Amy had been watching them while Danyelle was out of town for the day but was leaving to go camping. Then I took McKenzie and the boy to his house. At this point, my skin had started to hurt and the pain in my throat, neck, shoulders and head was making me nauseaus, but off to home we went, and luckily for me the kids just went outside to play. I sat feeling like death warmed over dinking around on the computer until Ryan came and picked up Owen and Abby and Bill came home. The minute I saw Bill I said, "Goodnight" and headed into bed.
That night was miserable, every time I woke up to roll over my throat would be killing me and I literally had to cringe every time I swallowed. I told Bill if it was still that bad the next day I was going in. The next morning it was even worse, but I had forgotten it was General Conference and really wanted to watch. But Bill could see how miserable I was and sent me to the doctor. I called ahead and got my name on the list and they told me an hour and a half, so I waited til then to go. I got there and they told me another hour. So I ran to my pharmacy to get a refill when they called and said they were ready for me. So I went back and proceeded to find out I had strep. (I was surprised, because whenever I'm sure I have strep, I never do.) So then it was back to the pharmacy, where of course it would be 15-20 mins. so I left again and got my family lunch, then went back to the pharmacy, got my meds. and was finally able to go home. (Keep in mind I felt like I'd been hit by a truck.)
Drugs are soooooo great. I am so grateful that I live in a time when we have modern medicine. One Amoxicillan and one Tylenol with Codeine later I was in medicated bliss. I could swallow!!
I only had to take the one Codeine, and after that the Amoxicillan had kicked in enough I didn't need any more pain killers. The rest of Saturday was pretty good, Sunday was even better. By Monday I felt great, just in time to watch two little boys all day Tuesday. I know for some people watching other people's kids all day long is nothing, but I don't do it often, and it exhausts me. And these were two really great little boys, super easy!
Then, yesterday was kind of crazy as well, but that's another story.
I'm actually glad that it's been like this, because usually weeks of no school mean us sitting around being totally lazy, watching movies all day.
So, here's hoping the next half of the week is full of action as well, except maybe strep-free. That I could do without.

Silence is Golden

After a lot of thought I've decided to stop having comments on my blog. Over the past few weeks I've heard some things that have taken the fun out of blogging for me. Every time I sit down to write a new post all I can think about are the negative things I have heard that people are saying about bloggers, and it's ruined it for me. I have always prided myself in writing what I want to write regardless of my audience, but after hearing what I've heard, it has been very hard for me to sit down and write without thinking of all the negativity.
I don't want it to be this way at all. I love to blog and have no intention of stopping just because non-bloggers have designated themselves to be our critics, so in eliminating the comments on my blog I have found my answer. In doing this I know I will stop focusing so much on what people think of what I write. I'll stop thinking about my audience all-together and will truly feel I can write for me and me alone. And if I continue to "offend" anyone or "share too much personal stuff" than by all means, STOP READING. But I will continue to be honest about my life on MY BLOG. That's me, take it or leave it. So to my loyal readers who enjoy my blog, I say, thank you so much for all your positive comments and support, I appreciated it so much. If you happen to read something sometime that you feel super compelled to comment on, e-mail me!
Otherwise, I'll just assume you are still there and reading and enjoying what I have to say. Thanks again for being my supporters and appreciating me.

Who Needs Sitcoms When You Live With This Guy?

How did I not have these pictures as part of my earlier tribute to my crazy husband? I just came across them, and had to put them on. These are some pictures of Bill throughout the years doing typical "Bill" stuff.

Here is where we dressed up as hippies for our first Halloween together and Bill insisted on the black fro and the fake chest hair!

Yup. He wanted to see what it would be like to fill Mr. Potato Head's shoes.
























This was while we were stuck in the hospital in Utah waiting for Macy to be born. He disappeared into the bathroom and came out a few minutes later like this. In case you can't tell, he's got a surgical glove over his head and is blowing out. It scared the crap out of me (hello, suffocation?) but not enough to keep me from grabbing my camera.

Besides being crazy in his waking hours, Bill also manages to be very entertaining in his sleep. He has always had weird sleep problems. As a kid he would get out of bed at exactly 11:00pm on the dot, come tearing downstairs screaming bloody murder, through the family room where his parents would be watching tv, then go screaming back upstairs, get back into bed and go back to sleep. He never remembered it in the morning. He did this every night. It's a form of sleep-walking, and he still has it.

I can't count the number of times he's woken me up in the middle of the night saying the most absurd things. Shortly after we got married, I woke up and saw him holding up the blankets above him, forming a little tent above him. He started yelling at me, "Is this my monkey cage?" I thought he was kidding, he looked wide awake, so I just laughed. WRONG thing to do. He got more mad and yelled louder, "IS THIS MY MONKEY CAGE?!" Starting to freak out, I finally said, "No." He dropped the sheets down and said, "That's all I needed to know." And went back to sleep.

The next morning he explained his sleeping issues and I didn't fully believe him. He had been looking right at me, talking completely normally! (except for the ridiculous topic of conversation.) Not too much later, when he was working at US Bank, he woke me up and asked me where the "entrance to the deposit slip" was. Huh? Now it had gotten freakier because he would now look me right in the eye and say, "I'm wide awake, I swear, I'm not asleep." But continue his insane babblings.

The best ones happened at our old house, though. One time I woke up to find him sitting up in bed with the sheets over his head. Just sitting there, covered up. I asked him what he was doing and he said a bee was trying to get him. (He's very allergic.) Another time he woke me up by swiping the air above me and said there was a spider. He then rolled over and went back to sleep. I lay there for the next ten minutes in terror, wondering if he really had seen a spider. The worst part was that every single time he would look me in the eye and swear he was wide awake. Then he'd go on for another minute or so making no sense at all, and then suddenly, this look of realization would come over his face and he'd say, "I just did it again, didn't I?" "Yup," I'd say. And he'd make me swear not to tell anyone, but he would always end up telling people, cause it's so hilarious.

It hasn't happened in a long time, and nighttime's just boring now. I promise to blog the next time it does, though.

The Devil Wears Prada

For today's movie I chose another chick flick. I'm not sure why I keep choosing chick flicks, as they are by no means my favorite. I guess I'm (in the words of Simon, Paula and Randy) "playing it safe." I know how you gals love your chick flicks. Don't get me wrong, I like a good chick flick, too, but for me, they're like vanilla ice cream. You finish it and say, "That was good, it hit the spot." But finish a good, gut-wrenching drama, and it's like a chocolate sundae with everything on it. You're satisfied to the core, so much so that several hours later, you're still thinking about it. But, last night I watched

The Devil Wears Prada.

I hadn't seen it since the theaters, and thoroughly enjoyed watching it again. It stars Anne Hathaway as a newly graduated aspiring journalist trying to make her big break into the world of publishing, and Meryl Streep, the cold but powerful editor of Runway Magazine, who hires her as her new assistant. I could go on about the plot, but why, when it's the least memorable and interesting part of the movie? Instead, I'll talk about what makes the movie so fun.

• Meryl Streep plays Miranda Priestly like she was born for it. She could very well have over-played the part by being loud and dramatic in order to achieve the power and respect Miranda demanded, but instead under-played it, speaking barely above a whisper the entire movie. It's this minimalist take on it that makes her frightening. Her actions are so subtle, her dialogue so scarce, that one slight turn of the head or one simple word is effective enough to make the viewer feel the fear that Miranda Priestly conveys.
• If anyone could steal the show from Meryl, it's Emily Blunt, who most of you know as Michael's significant other. (He was at every awards show with her.) Emily plays Miranda's 1st assistant named Emily whose job it is to train Anne Hathaway. Emily, in all her British-accented, designer labeled glory, is clawing her way to the top of the fashion world ladder. You can't help but love her as she spouts disdainful orders and insults at Anne, with no visible conscience or compassion. She is perfect as a desperate wannabe fashionista who will do anything to break into the designer world, even if it means eating nothing but a few cheese cubes.
• Obviously, the costumes alone were worth watching this movie for. (FYI-many designers allowed their clothes and accessories to be used in the film, making it the most expensively-costumed movie in history.) Although I by no means claim to be fashionable, I had a lot of fun seeing what is considered "in" and imagining what it would be like to have a closet full of that stuff. It was also fun to see (once again) Anne Hathaway get a mid-movie makeover. No one can play both homely and comely like she can.
• Getting a glimpse into life in the fashion world, the lengths people will go through, the toes they will step on to get there. It was fascinating to me to watch, as if it was a whole other world. They really do view the little people (like me) as the ground they walk on. And of course the fashion week in Paris, with all the cobblestone streets and little white lights on the trees and buildings was delightful.

So there is my take on The Devil Wears Prada.

What's yours?