Derby Fun!

Mike, Liz, Keith and I went to the West Jordan Demolition Derby on Saturday night. I was surprised by how entertaining it was to watch cars just run into each other. Later that night I wanted to try out some of the moves we saw at the derby, but Keith vetoed that idea vehemently. Here are some shots of the night:

Crash!

Crunch!

Liz & Mike

Me & Keith

Hey, here's even a video! (This technology thing is off the chain.)

O beautiul, for spacious skies.

Have I ever told you guys how much I LOVE the Fourth of July? It's everything good about summer rolled up into one great day. Flags and patriotism and watermelon and fireworks and hot dogs. And no offense to Christmas, but I think it's the best holiday ever.

I was raised in a very patriotic family and we took it "to the max," as the kids say, on the 4th. I'm so excited that I get to spend this year's Independence Day with my family.

(This is the 4th, Texas-style.)

T-R-O-U-B-L-E

Sometimes I get really emotional over silly things, like batteries.

Wednesday morning I was rushing off to work, a few minutes behind schedule, naturally, half a bagel in my mouth and my overflowing bag slung over my shoulder. I was mentally going over everything I needed to get done that day, quite a few errands, an appointment that night, also people over for dinner, plus a licensing visit at work—basically, I had a lot on my mind. I quickly stashed my stuff in the passenger’s side, hopped in and started the car. Except that it didn’t start. It just made this weird clicking noise (think woodpecker) but the engine wouldn’t turn over. I just stared at the dashboard saying, “You have got to be kidding me!” over and over. I think I even punched the steering wheel a couple times. (Not good idea.)

I called my dad, and as soon as I heard his voice, the tears started brimming. If you were a bystander listening to just my side of the conversation you would have heard something like this, punctuated with heavy sniffles:

“Well, I don’t know, Daddy! . . . . Where is that? . . . .It just looks black. . . Black, like black metal? . . . On the what? . . . Where’s the battery? . . . . Yeah, it’s greenish . . . No, it clicks . . . But I have to go to work! I have to! . . . Okay.”

Dejectedly I walked back in the house, just as my roommate Karen was leaving. She says “Doin’ all right?”

And I just lose it.

“No!” I wail, “I have to go to work and my car won’t start and my dad says that I need to take it somewhere and I don’t know how to do that because it won’t even start and I just really don’t want to deal with this right now and I want to trade this car in but now they’re not going to take it because it doesn’t even run and my boss is going to be so irritated with me if I don’t get my bum there right now!”

Karen, not really knowing how to process my extreme run-on vortex of emotion, says, “So, do you want a ride to work, or what?”

I got to work (thanks, Karen!) and spent the next hour getting a hold on my very silly emotions.

Later that night, Mike was over and we tried jumping the battery, but it didn’t work and I was assuming the worst: well, I need a new engine.

Luckily, before I did anything rash like pushing car down hill into ditch, Brad came over and blessed us with a display of his automobile know-how and robust machismo. It was just the battery after all, and after a mere $73 at Checker, Brad got us all fixed up and ready to go.

Thank you so much, Brad and the nice lady at Checker for keeping the store open for us.

Crisis averted. Good thing nobody “overreacted.”

JAMESY-POO!

Happy nineteenth, kiddo! You are amazing. I love being your big sister!

Lessons From Dad

I am a self-admitted daddy's girl. I love my dad! Throughout my life, my dad has taught me a myriad of things, including how to read, how to drive (some people claim I've not yet mastered that lesson), how to buy a watermelon, etc . . .
Some invaluable lessons follow:
1. Dad taught me about service. I remember when we would go as a family to church activities, Dad usually drove his own car because he would be the first one to be there to set up, and the last one to leave after cleaning up. I remember Dad getting home from work, exhausted and ready for some down time, and then cheerfully accepting an invitation to help someone move a couch or man the dessert table at a Boy Scout event.
2. Dad taught me about kindness. I can't remember ever hearing him say a mean or nasty thing about anyone. Dad will stay quiet if he can't think of something positive to say about someone.
3. Dad taught me about balance. Dad works at work and is present at home. I know that his job gets stressful, even more so now, but he knows that playing catch with the boys or reviewing homework is more important that worrying about work.

My daddy is my hero. Happy Fathers' Day! I love you!

Attention Cottonwood 17th Members

We are starting a Cottonwood 17th blog which you should totally check out. Ward members are invited to be authors and may do so by emailing cottonwoodchronicle17@gmail.com.

Happy blogging!

Open Letter to the World

There is no "x" in the word "especially." The word "especially" is pronounced \is-ˈpesh-lē\, according to Merriam Webster. So guys, seriously, let's never say "expecially" ever again. Never, never, never again.

I'm not allowed to watch the news anymore.

Almost every day when I get home from work I watch NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams, and not just because Mr. Williams is a stone cold fox. See?

But I can't watch it anymore. Tonight while watching Nightly News I cried no fewer than 3 times. First, they started out with the tornado in Iowa, then they went into the flooding in the Midwest where people had to leave all their belongings, and then they showed these little boys in Afghanistan who have never seen their country not ravaged by war. It was a tearful night. (And that's not counting when I had to explain to Alisca why I was crying and started all over again.)

Roadblock!

I was on my way home from work today but I got stuck in "traffic." It wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't really, really have to use the restroom!

Take Me Out to the Ballgame!

We headed out to the Bees game last night for FHE! It was so much fun!

Molly and Nancy

Keith, Robin, Keith, Cute Girl?, Tyla and Jeka

Whitney, me and Lizzy

Brad did NOT want his picture taken.

Kristen, Betsy and Melinda.

Ben looked really hot!

Shopping is not a crime.

You know how after someone commits a horrible crime, the police look at their recent spending habits to see “what went wrong”? Not that I’m planning on committing some kinda crimes soon, but I always think that’s going to happen to me.

You see, I’m the shopper for our school. We always need lots of random stuff and we know where to buy lots of random stuff: Wal-Mart.

So I was at Wal-Mart today and thinking about all the weird stuff I buy for work. People looking in my cart must think I’m in some sort of cult or something. Seriously. Like today when I bought 8 bags of laundry detergent, 64 dishcloths, 10 bottles of dish soap, 10 containers of salt, 4 cans of Oust, 2 putty knives, 8 boxes of paper clips, and 5 dustpan/brush sets. And that was just the first cart.

One day I bought 6 jugs of bleach and a bag of marshmallows. What would have happened if someone I know turned up dead that night? I would have absolutely been the prime suspect because they would be thinking, “Hmm . . . she bought all that bleach . . . she must be trying to cover up the evidence . . . Good thing she didn’t get a chance to use the marshmallows. I don’t even want to think about what she was planning to do with those.”

So guys, if I ever get arrested in connection with some kind of horrendous offense, back me up. “Officer, come on! It’s for work! One time she had to buy a whole bale of hay! Really!”

Now Presenting . . .

Every conversation with my brother. Ever.




I still love ya, Andrew! Happy Birthday!

Singular Sensation

My boss asked me to proof a document for her before we sent it out to be printed. I found a sentence reading, "Clothing with logos or advertisements are not allowed." I edited it to read, "Clothing with logos or advertisements is not allowed," because the word "clothing" is singular and, as the "be" verb is referring back to the subject of the sentence, "clothing," it should be the singular verb: "is." She claims that the word "clothing" is plural because it refers to multiple things, therefore the "be" verb should be plural: "are."

She thinks she's right and I'm certain that I am. I asked my sister, Amy, the grammarian, and she agreed that the word is singular but it sounds awkward to use the singular form of the verb, therefore it is correct to use the plural form even if it does not hold to the grammatical standard. I refute that it can be correct if it is not within the guidelines of correct grammar (although it does meet the requirements of "accepted grammar": phrasing or grammar which is generally accepted, though incorrect).

I agree that in everyday conversation, "are" would be accepted. However, this is in a published document for a department of a University.

I've decided to put the question up to you, my dear blogging friends. Which do you think is correct?

Opinion Polls & Market Research

Apostle Song

LDS Apostle song