Thank you Flagstaff...

Do you ever have one of those mornings when you don't want to get out of bed? When you wish you could just sleep the day away?
Well I did this morning.
I did not want to get up, not at all.
I wasn't depressed. Just tired.
I guess yesterday's daylong escapade with my sis-in-law in Flagstaff was too much for me. Spending the entire day shopping til you drop can really tucker a girl out.
BUT IT WAS WORTH IT.
Especially because I found these beauties.

When I started hugging them and whispering sweet nothings into their ears (?) in the middle of the shoe store, I knew they had to be mine.
And thanks to my mother-in-law's generous birthday money and the store's generous sale...

I was able to pick them up in black too. Shoe love IS true love.

And the best part is that now when I say I'm cold my hubs can't tell me that it's because my feet aren't covered. "If you have warm feet you'll have a warm body." He always says.
He just doesn't understand flip-flops on a cold winter's day. Go figure.

Lucky find...

Saturday morning I woke up and questioned, "Why should I give up everything I love just because I've moved to a small town?"

So I jumped in the car and headed out to find some yard sales. Woo-hoo! Only to be reminded of why I had given them up. Boo-hoo. There just isn't the same consumerism here that you'll find in the valley. People don't buy so they have nothing to sell. And yet they still try to sell their nothing which can be very depressing for treasure hunters like me.

And I was depressed. So very depressed.
Until...

I came across these old doors. Love them.

I put casters on them so they can be easily moved and hinged them together.

With these amazing old hinges. LOVE.


I also love the old paint encrusted doorknobs. SO COOL.

This one reminds me of the doorknobs in my Grandpa's house. LOVE.

And this one just makes me happy every time I look at it. Or move it around. It just begs to be moved back and forth. FUN.

Okay, so I guess it's not so bad here after all.

Sometimes.

He's Super Duper...

Over at Better in Bulk we are being asked to share our best "Super Hero" shot...





...and I just happen to have a real, live super hero living in my house.

He transforms in a flash

into SOCK MAN



IRON MAN


or CAPTAIN BIRTHDAY SUIT(?)

He is a SUPER HERO extraordinaire.

With his own SUPER rocket ship

And ultra SUPER strength.

And I'm dang lucky to have him on my side.

So very, very lucky.

FOXIE (well more like ratty) MOXIE...

WRITERS WORKSHOP PROMPT:
Moxie is defined as the ability to face difficulty with spirit and courage; bold energy.
Describe a time when you showed moxie.

Don’t let these innocent faces fool you.

We were hardened criminals, my college roommates and I.



We were bad to the bone


with rap sheets a mile long.
.

Okay so maybe they were only one page long, but we did get hauled to the police station late one night, in a police car, with a very disappointed police officer (he actually said that he was very disappointed in us) where there were papers filled out, court dates set, and talks of a hefty fine or time in the slammer (maybe time in the slammer wasn’t really mentioned, but it was scary just the same).

We felt like idiots (we were idiots) and longed for a way out of the mess we had created for ourselves. Then, as if he had read our minds, the officer casually mentioned (and I paraphrase to protect the innocent) “We’re looking for a dreaded criminal who did an unspeakable act. Do you girls know anything about it?”

“No we don’t.” We answered.

“I’d do anything to find that guy.” The officer went on to say, “If you girls can find anything out about him I’ll dismiss your case.”

DISMISS OUR CASE! Say no more we were on the job… but where to start? We didn’t know how to find a dreaded criminal in a sea full of college students (are we not all worthy of suspicion at that age?). So we channeled our inner FOXIE MOXINESS and hunted him down with gusto. Actually we just sat around talking with our friends one day and the information fell into our laps. FELL INTO OUR LAPS! We did cartwheels all the way to the officer’s home (yes we bugged him at his home) and joyfully sacrificed the dreaded criminal (who really wasn’t all that dreadful) to save our own little fannies.

We faced our difficulty with spirit and courage and used bold energy to RAT SOMEONE OUT.

Now that's MOXIE baby.

We had the best time...

There's a link party going on over at Mayhem & Moxie and here are the subject choices:

1) The most outrageous person you met while traveling.
2) The best (or worst) hotel you ever stayed in.
3) Someone on your trip who saved the day.
4) The weight you gained while on vacation.
5) The book that made your vacation endurable.

I'm choosing #2 sort of, but instead of telling you about the best hotel I stayed in I'm simply going to tell you about our best vacation this summer...

DENVER, WE LOVED IT!

We loved the skyline,

The historic homes,




The amusement park,


And the gorgeous Rocky Mountains,

But the best part of all

was being with family we love.

Come on over and join the party. We'd love to hear about your summer too!

A watched pot can't boil over...

I have a boiling pot of mucky muck that resides inside of me. I keep it tightly covered most of the time because it's easier that way (at least that's what I tell myself) but sometimes when the lid gets to shaking really bad I take it off to release a little steam.

On Friday I took the lid off during a two hour therapy session with my visiting teacher (you know you have a good visiting teacher when you can sit through a two hour therapy session with her and not regret it afterward). And as usual, when I release a bit of the steam that boils in the most secret places of my soul, my initial feelings are that of total elation, it feels so good to let it out, but as the steam settles and I pause to consider what it really means, I'm slammed by feelings of such profound sadness that I can barely function. Not fun, not happy, not cool. I don't like it. Next comes anger, irritation, annoyance "Why do I have to deal with this crap?" I question. "I don't need this." I scoff. "Get back in that pot and leave me alone I don't need you coming around to mess up my life." I yell.

And so I've been walking around the last few days with angry Wolverine eyes creased tightly between my brows when I'm alone, and an angry, yet sad, Wolverine heart hidden beneath a pasted on smile when I'm in public. Not fun, not happy, not cool.

Again this morning I questioned why. Why do I have to deal with this? Can't I just keep it stuffed and covered forever? I'm a highly functional dysfunctional, why isn't that good enough? Why? But I know that I want more. I want to accomplish everything that I came to this earth to do and apparently this can't be done until I release the mucky muck that weights down my soul.

And because God is very good, very loving and very understanding He softened my angry eyes this morning by helping me find a TV show. After returning from dropping kids off at school I turned on the TV for Waylon and was met by a show on BYU TV that just happened to be talking about emotional pain and distress. And wouldn't you know that this program answered all of my "whys". Just try to tell me that God doesn't live and that He is not a God of miracles. I asked why and He led me to the answers.

Now it's my job to take that first step toward healing. I won't be talking about it again here because it is sure to be a doozy. But my visiting teacher believes that someday I will use my healing to help heal others and I know she's right. Because wanting to reach my full potential as a helper has been my motivation for healing all along.

Sib service...

Waylon: Paige could you help me carry my guys upstairs?

Paige: Which guys do you want?

Waylon: All of them.

Big sisters... you gotta love 'um.

A daily dose of strength...

WRITERS WORKSHOP PROMPT:
What's the message you would craft





I'm bummed because I wanted to show you the message that I literally crafted back in college, as in stitched, onto canvas, to save forever more. But now that I need it I can't find the thing. Isn't that always the way. But here is a picture of my college notebook where you'll find the scribbled message and numbers for my counted cross stitch.

There are also several notes in here about children's nutrition, money management and marriage and family relations (can you tell what my aspirations were?). I think I'll go study it a bit after I finish this post.

So what message could be so important that it would compel a college student to stitch it, onto canvas, to save forever more? You might wonder. It was a message taken from the baseball movie "The Natural" with Robert Redford. A message that went straight to my heart. A message that I needed to hear and to always remember. And it went a little something like this:

You've been given a gift, but that's not enough. You've got to develop yourself. If you rely too much on your gift you'll fail.

This message came to me at a time when I was failing in my life. Failing at the things that meant the most to me and I didn't understand why. Because I had been given a gift. The gift of being able to hear and discern the Spirit and words of God had been given to me, had been with me for as long as I can remember, and yet somehow I was still failing. And the "why" of this was answered by this message. I realized that I had relied too much on the gift alone. I had not worked to develop or strengthen it, leaving myself prey to the deceptions of the world. It was a message that I needed then and one that I still hold to today.

My morning devotional time, set aside to study and to pray, is the highlight of my day. It is a time to reconnect, to remember why I'm here and to gain strength. I know that this habit is imperative to the development of my gift and that if I rely too much on my own power I'll fail.

And that's just not okay with me. Nope, not okay at all.

Respect your elders...

So as not to seem ungrateful, I must tell you that I think it is very romantical that my husband likes to buy me my favorite treats when he goes to the store. Nothing says "I love you" like a king size snickers bar being thrown into your lap whenever you stop for gas. ROMAN-TI-CAL!

It's just that I really, really want to start taking better care of myself. I want to make Dr Oz proud (have you seen his new show yet? I haven't, but I bet it's good). I'm going to work to protect my health if it kills me gosh dang it. IF IT KILLS ME (okay so that's an odd statement, but you know what I mean).

And as if to confirm that I'm on the right path, while I was shopping for healthy snack alternatives yesterday (gotta set myself up for success), I met a lovely, vibrant, dare I say spunky woman perusing the tortilla isle. She told me that she used to make her own tortillas but now that's she's older it's too much work. "I'm ninety years old already you know." She smiled. Did my jaw drop? I think it did.

She then selected a package of whole grain tortillas...
And so did I.

I hope you got fat...

I had to hide my love from my first college roommates, they were good girls who didn't understand carnal music, but my second semester gals took the news of my favorite music group being the Violent Femmes with much thanksgiving and jubilation. These gals were my peeps, they understood me and oh the fun we had. Of course now we're all old, married and boring with no recent arrests or sting operations to speak of but whatever.

And truth be told, I can't really listen to the Violent Femmes anymore because their language offends my grown-up ears. Can't do it. But back in the day I LOVED them. I was recently reminded of one of their classy hits entitled "I hope you got fat" (he hopes his ex-love got fat so she'll want to see him come back) when my husband brought home a whole box of my favorite raspberry zingers. "Do you want me to get fat?" I asked him. I can't say no if they're in the house. Can't do it.

Now I know I'm not fat so please don't send hate mail or plan an intervention, but I want to be fit, cut, and sculpted. I want to be a work of art like little Miss Def Leppard groupie pants, or if that's too much to ask I would just like my regular butt back, the one that I had when I moved to this boring, I mean beautifully peaceful little town three years ago. Is that too much to ask? Without the raspberry zingers I'd say no that's not too much to ask, but with them... heck, I think it's time I embrace the new me.

After all Rick loves my new buttonkatonk so why shouldn't I?
Ah, ha! So that's why we have zingers in the house. The sneaky devil.

Never settle...

WRITERS WORKSHOP PROMPT:
Transcribe an entertaining conversation you recently had with someone.





Conversations with Jamie
Taken from the car ride home from school transcripts

(Spoken with MUCH ATTITUDE)

Jamie: I'm not just gonna let some guy tell me that I should marry him. No way. I'll pick who I'm going to marry. Because if some guy thinks I'm going to marry him when he's lazy and sits on the couch watching TV all day while there's work to be done he can forget it. I don't need a lazy man in my life. I need a hard working man and that's what I'm gonna get.

Me: You go girl.

Taking a mind trip to Buffland...

The Def Leppard guitarist had quite the bod (just look at those abs) and he ain't no spring chicken. I know this because he joined the band in 1981 and I was only in sixth grade in 1981, hardly old enough to be the lead guitarist in a band, and I'm no youngin' myself. So therefore he must be old(er).

A woman who walked past us at the concert had a body that was a freakin' work of art. WORK OF ART! I was in awe of her especially when my sister, who saw this woman's face, told me that she was old(er-ish) like us. "How can this be?" I thought "How can this be?" And once again, I felt inspired. Inspired to kick up my game, to work out harder, and to strut around half naked at rock concerts throughout the country (okay so maybe not that last one, but man that woman's body was impressive).

"Great goal." You say.
"Good for you." You cheer.
"So what's the problem?" You ask.

The problem is that I hate to work out. I HATE IT.

I have a workout routine that works quite well with fairly fast results, but most days I can't make myself do it because I HATE IT. I need to find a workout plan that I enjoy (or at least tolerate enough to make myself do it). I need to find a FULL BODY pull-up bar, a bar that will work out my entire body because I LOVE MY PULL-UP BAR. LOVE IT!

I leave it hanging in my laundry room doorway and I can't get enough of it. Throughout the day when I walk past it I have to stop and do a few reps. It's fabulous. Fabulous I tell you. Why can't all exercise be this fun? Why? I know the mind is a very powerful tool... Marlee learned just how powerful in school today and she told me all about it and let me tell you it's dang powerful...so I think it's time that I practice a little mind over matter.

My new mantra shall be:
I love lunges
I love squats
Dips and crunches
Make me hot

Say it with me now...
I love lunges
I love squats
Dips and crunches
Make me hot

From now on I will only say, "I LOVE TO WORK OUT! I LOVE TO WORK OUT! I LOVE TO WORK OUT!"
LOVE IT, LOVE IT, LOVE IT!

You'll have to ask me later how it's working. Right now I just want to go to sleep.

What's your favorite workout routine?

Welcome to Nice Town, USA...

Say what you will about a small town... and I have said what I will and not always nice because apparently I'm a big baby who doesn't do well with change... but no matter what's said one thing that can't be denied is that small towns are full of NICE PEOPLE.

In contrast, while visiting my brother's family in Denver (a large city that I loved for its largeness) this summer, he told of how his neighbors had called the police on them because they had let their lawn grow too long while away on vacation. His NEIGHBORS CALLED THE POLICE FOR TALL GRASS are you kidding me. While telling this story my brother mentioned that when they lived here in this small town, instead of calling the police, their neighbors would mow the lawn for them if they were away or too busy to get to it. I agreed that the people here are great, a statement that was proven true when we returned from our vacation to find that our lawn had been mowed for us. NICE!

And now this very morning our neighbor showed up to install our NEW DISHWASHER for us (hooray for the new dishwasher). He just showed up, did all of the work and didn't ask for a thing in return. How nice is that?! Very nice I'd say.

So say what you will about a small town,
I think I'll say it's a pretty darn nice place to live...
at least until I need something from a real store at which time I will most likely start boobing again.

Proceed with caution...

If you're ever washing all of your dishes by hand, say if your dishwasher decides to burn up for example, and you come across a cheese grater...

Don't slip.

Stupid is as stupid does...

WRITERS WORKSHOP PROMPT:
Write about a time when you were wrongly wronged

I sat across from him in English class where we became friends. He portrayed himself as quite the Casanova, bragging of his many escapades with the ladies, and I naively laughed. “Whatever.” I thought.

I was not one of those girls who longed to be the latest conquest of a self proclaimed Player. I was good, I wanted to do right… but unfortunately, I was also an idiot. So utterly, disgustingly naïve was I that I asked this boy to a dance, becoming his “forever” girl thereafter (for a few months anyway). And surprise (and very lucky for me) he turned out to be quite the gentleman, one of the nicest boys I ever dated.

That is until Prom night rolled around and, feeling pressure from his older brother the real life Player, he took me to a hotel to “watch movies” and I so STUPIDLY followed because “I like watching movies” DUH…

This is where the story could take a turn for the worse (I’m sure my mom is sitting on the edge of her seat) only it didn’t because my gentleman beau really was a gentleman, never trying anything for real. But, feeling pressure from his older brother the real life Player who was in the next room, um… playing, he decided to put on a show of sorts. Only he didn’t tell me we were putting on a show and I, being the naïve idiot that I was, never got what was really going on.

I never put two and two together when he started to jump on the bed and make noise so that his brother would “think we were having fun”.

“Watching movies and jumping on the beds, yes this is fun.” I thought.

ARE YOU DAFT WOMAN?!!

Thus my reputation was wrongly wronged when I was portrayed (to the real life Player brother and who knows who else) as a girl who liked to go to hotels to “have fun”.

Alrighty then. I guess I really did have "stupid" written across my forehead.

Fabulous Fun for All...

(Wish I had a better picture. We would have never gone out looking like this)

.

We were irresponsible, irrespectable (yes I know this isn’t a real word), and irresistible!

This became our catch phrase one night when Heidi’s Aunt told us, “Respectable people do not leave the house to go out at 11 pm. Respectable people come home at 11 pm.”

“Well we’re irresponsible, irrespectable and irresistible!” We laughed (to ourselves, not to her. We didn’t have a death wish) as we headed out the door, Devil House bound (as in ASU Sun Devils. The Devil House was our favorite dance club).

Getting all glamed up to go rock the night away with my best friend was my FAVORITE thing to do and those Devil House days are among my very favorite memories.

So when Heidi called me last month to ask if I wanted to go to the Def Leppard concert for my fabulous fortieth birthday I said, “Woo-Hoo! Lets go.”

And having my sister there too made it ALL THE BETTER.

.
The concert was amazing, they sound as awesome as ever, and getting to do a little people watching was priceless. I’m thinking that if you are a grown up person your days for getting drunk and acting like a complete fool should be over. They just should. And the same can be said for rolling around on the ground and getting freaky with your best guy (or random feller as the case may be) whilst among a crowd of people. Perhaps you could get away with that behavior as a teenaged person, but when your middle aged it’s disturbing, I’m just saying.

After the concert we headed to the Wigwam resort where we stayed up reminiscing and LAUGHING until four in the morning, Fabulous. It was fun being with the two people that I can talk about ANYTHING with because they know EVERYTHING about me (and love me anyway).

Next it was massages for all, DELICIOUS

And more, much missed visiting.

It was the perfect weekend and I hope we don’t wait another 20 years

before doing it again.

I came home feeling relaxed and happy and now have a constant stream of Def Leppard songs floating around in my brain. So fun.

Thanks Heidi for making my birthday so special and for spoiling me so. I can't wait to celebrate with you in March when you turn Fabulous like me (fabulously forty that is).