Like you didn't already know I'm strange...

"Ooo, what if there was a Justin Bieber Just Dance game? Now that would be something." I asked Jamie on our ride home from school while shamelessly bopping to "Baby, baby, baby oh..." in the driver's seat.

"Um, yeah." She answered sheepishly. Then with a nervous smile and an apologetic tone she added, "Mom, I have to tell you something. I've kind of lost the Bieber fever. I'm sorry but ever since I saw Rustin Hieber on youtube I remembered how much fun it used to be to make fun of Justin Bieber and I really want to make fun of him again with Easton, Cora and Kimmie. So I'm just over him now."

It was at this point that I should have wiped my brow, let out a big old "Whew" of relief and switched discs (being that this Bieber fever affair had started so that Jamie and I could have something special to share together) but I didn't. I continued to listen, sing, dance and make obnoxious tweeny-bopper hand jesters to match the painfully tweeny-bopperesque lyrics (have you ever made a heart symbol with your fingers? Now that's a good time).

So whatever. I'll admit it. I've still got the fever for the Bieber, independent of my 9 year old daughter, because--and say what you will about my sanity--his music puts me in an instant good mood.

And wouldn't you agree that more instant good moods are exactly what's needed in this big old crazy world of ours right now?

I think you would. So go find your instant good mood maker today. And if you don't have one try this...

"Shawty is an eenie, meenie, miney moe lover. Shawty is an eenie, meenie, miney moe lover..."

Now that's gold baby. Pure warm fuzzy, happy dance gold.

Don't believe me? Check it out HERE and thank me later for the happiness that takes over your body.

There's hope yet...

Once upon a time I set a goal to be fabulous. Fabulous by forty. Once upon a time I decided that fabulousness included clean closets. Once upon a time I cleaned my closets but shortly there after I found out that some fabulous people are of the clean closet variety while other fabulous people are not. In other words, my closets quickly fell into disarray and I had to learn that I can be a fabulous work in progress and that's okay. As long as I stay "in progress".

So while trying to stay "in progress" I'm forever working to improve myself by study and listening to those who are fabulous in ways that I am not. One such person is Randy Pausch of "The Last Lecture" fame. If you haven't watched the last lecture watch it HERE. It's fabulously fabulous.

I love Randy Pausch. He keeps my dreams of fabulousness alive even when forces around me would tell me it's hopeless. Therefore I try to watch, read or listen to anything I can find with his name attached to it. One such lecture I recently watched was this one HERE on the subject of time management, wherein he spoke of procrastination and gave the following advice...

"If you have to eat a frog, don't look at it first. And if you have to eat three frogs, don't save the biggest one for last."

Fabulous. So fabulous in fact that I taught it to my children.

Fast forward to yesterday...

Yesterday I stood in my bedroom and declared, "Ugh, I have to eat this frog today and I better not look at it first." (at present my room is very messy)

To which Waylon replied, "Yeah, and you shouldn't save the biggest frog for last so I think you better start with your closet."

Six years old and he already gets it.

Now that's fabulous.

Yo, Adrian...

It's springtime, which means I now look like this.

No, not like the saxy lady... more like the oozing toad creature.
Yes that is me--an allergy stricken, oozing toad creature
and I'm pretty much sick of it.

And to make matters worse, yesterday I accidentally ate something that I'm allergic to (ever hear of the food coloring, carmine? Well it hates me)
so now I'm an oozing toad creature with puffy, goopy, swollen painful eyes.
Just call me Rocky Balboa. So nice.

I wonder if they'll notice at my parent teacher conferences today.
Perhaps a pair of sunglasses are in order.
What do you think of people who wear sunglasses indoors?
Drug addict? Hangover? Battered wife? Diva? Socially bizarre?

Hmm, maybe I'd be better off to just go with the oozing toad creature look.

But then again...

Such sorrow...

I have two favorite days of the week since my Landon has been gone, Monday and Friday. Monday because I get an email from Landon and Friday because I get a letter in the mail from Landon.

But this Monday is different, this Monday is not my favorite, this Monday is my very un-favorite. Because this Monday my Landon is on daylight savings time (we don't change time in Arizona) and this Monday he was at the library an hour earlier than usual and this Monday my email was later than usual so HE DIDN'T GET IT!

You see I had many interruptions this Monday whilst trying to get my email done, several of which were from my darling, love of my life husband who kept calling me (we were apart all weekend so he had much he desired to discuss with me). Each time he called I said, "I've got to get this email done, let me call you back." Well shortly after our last conversation he called me back and said, "You better send that email quick, Landon has already written to me this morning!"

Panic stricken, I added "Love, Mom" to what I had written and hit send only to find when I checked my mail that he had written me a half hour earlier. A HALF AN HOUR. Missionaries are not known to loiter around (they have much to do you know) so the likelihood of him still being there to receive my email is not very good at all. And now I am so very sad, making this a very awful Monday indeed.

The thought of my baby boy (who will be 20 this month btw) going throughout his day believing that his mother didn't even care enough to send him an email is killing me right now. It's a dagger protruding right out of my chest I tell you. A dagger dipped in poison.

I've had several dreams since becoming a mother where I find myself away from my children for one reason or another and spend the rest of the dream frantically racing to get back to them. It's a terrible, helpless feeling... much like what I'm feeling now. The only way for me to reach Landon at this point is through snail mail and that takes a few days and that's just a few days too many for this dagger pierced heart of mine.

Melodramatic? Maybe, but he is my baby boy (20 years old or not) after all.

...and I miss him.

P.S.
I wrote over here today too...