Six

I just found this unpublished draft from a couple years ago:

Overrepresentation, overgraze, recontamination, resocialization, shame-faced, shadow.

What do these six words have in common?

They were all found on the same sheet of paper. On my coffee table.

In Samera's first-grade handwriting.

I asked her what they were.

She replied,

"Oh, they're just some words I'm practicing."

"For school?" I asked.

"No, just for fun. I found them in the dictionary."

"At school?" I asked.

"No. Our dictionary."

Now here are six things you should know:

#1. I didn't know we still had a dictionary.
#2. I'll have to ask Samera where it is. So I can look up these words.
#3. Samera is a bizarre, wonderful creature.
#4. If I could get a picture that truly represented (overrepresented?) the color of her eyes, I would move Heaven and Earth. I swear they are reddish-brown.
#5. This picture makes me inordinately happy, as it is the first time I have looked at her and seen a family resemblance.
#6. She dresses up like this and pretends to be The Helping Fairy, and will cheerfully ask me what I need her to do, and then do it, never breaking character. Everyone should have a Mera.

Trash to Treasure: Buyer's Remorse

*Whew. What a weekend/weekstart we had/are having!

Here are a few of the things we did:

1. Waffled between investing in fine art or buying another car.

2. Moved our shed. Okay, to be fair, Ty did this all by himself. As in, alone. Like, no one helped him the tiniest bit. And he moved it across the yard. It looked like he was building a pyramid, and his shoulders are now a mass of purple, stripey bruises, but he did it. The guy is incredible.

3. Spent an evening in the most beautiful woods with a bizarre (to put it nicely), but brilliant artist.

4. Decided to go with the art**. Who needs another car?

5. Ate a big meal at an Italian restaurant, followed by an even bigger dessert at Baskin Robbins.

6. Watched as Uncle Doesn't-Have-Kids gave each of our children a 32 oz. Gatorade.

7. Stopped for a total of 8 separate bathroom breaks on the 75 mile trip home.

8. Watched General Conference.

9. Dined with family.

10. Showed car to interested buyer. Told them (very unprofessionally) that we need our car this week, but they can buy it next week.

11. Wished we had bought a car instead of a painting**.


*I am publishing old, forgotten drafts. This is from last October.
**If you happen to be in the market for an honest-to-goodness original Galust Berian, it is for sale through Trailside Galleries in Jackson, WY. Click it. It's a link.

Budget Bangs

Creepy-Eye Pose Sold Separately 

*I am publishing past, forgotten-about drafts. This one is from last summer.

I know a lot of young girls out there are currently struggling with the age-old question:

Should I cut bangs?

It is a very real concern.

A decision with lasting consequences.

It's right up there with deciding who to marry.

Cause, let's face it, if you make the wrong choice and look homely, who's going to want to marry you?

See? This is serious.

Which is why I am going to go ahead and help you out here. Just this once.

I'll help you find a happy medium; A way to gradually, almost imperceptibly crop your bangs; A way to test the waters without the plunge. For free.

Here is my secret:

crappy sunglasses.

Yep. It sounds too good to be true, but it's not (good or true).

Here's how it works:

Every time you wear your crappy sunglasses, the corner next to where you tuck your long locks to the side will, if they are crappy enough, snag a hair or two.

Then, when you take off your sunglasses, voila!

A few broken strands.

Repeat. Repeat. Swear you'll buy new sunglasses (but don't, because you're thrifty)....and repeat.

That's right, girls. That's it! By the end of the summer you will have bangs!

Is it painful? Yes!

Is it worth it? No.

But 1 out of 2 ain't half bad.

Two Reasons of The Season

*I am publishing past, forgotten-about drafts. This one was from around Christmas Time, obviously.



There are several reasons I get frustrated during the holidays.

Today I am reminded of two:

#1. Ty begs and begs me to make mint fudge or divinity or caramels. I finally do, and he informs me that he is trying to eat healthy, and "do we have any fruit?"

Doesn't eat a bite of fruit all year, that boy, and suddenly, when all his dreams of homemade candy are coming true, he wants fruit.

So it becomes a battle of wills between me and the candy.

The candy always wins.

And I don't even like divinity.

But danged if I'm going to let all that hard work go to waste!

(It supersedes all that hard work I go to at the gym, apparently)

#2. Ty mentions something he wants or needs, which gets me all excited that FINALLY I will be able to get him a Christmas gift that he wants. The next day, he shows up with that thing that he went and bought himself.

And so I buy him socks.

Again.

Luckily it only took me 13 years to learn. I am just waiting for him to buy his own iPad this year.

Instead of stressing over it, I am welcoming it.

Saves me some hassle.

And a little hassle goes a L-O-N-G way this time of year.

'Tis the season.

(just thought I'd throw that in to spice things up)

Yeehaw!

(too much spice?)

That's all.

Trash to Treasure: Wolverine

Tonight, Samera asked me what time she was born.

I felt like a horrible person for having NO idea.

I remember when Saylor was born (maybe because she was my first, her delivery is the one I remember the best: 8:30. Exactly 1 hour after walking through the hospital doors). Sylas, too (his is easy because it is just his birth weight, flipped: 12:06).

But Samera? That day is like a strange, blurry mess in my head.

So when we got home, I dug out my old journal to find that missing bit of history.

12:58 p.m.

That, my dears, is when Samera made her Earthly debut.

Like a person with a purpose, not to be changed by any outside force, she entered.

And she has been delighting, entertaining, and exasperating us ever since.

And I just spent the last two hours pouring over my journals, so I should know.

She was our ferral child.

And now, seven years later, she is a lot more tame, but every once in a while we see that wolverine glint in her eye, and we laugh.

Cause what choice do we have?

Trash to Treasure Explained

I have been trying to post. Really I have. But all that comes out is either complaints or travelogues.

Neither of which I can seem to twist into something appetizing. Does that ever happen to you? Do you have phases, too, of floundering for your voice? Whole months of feeling confused about what you think of the world? I do. I take it as a good omen. I like to think it means I have learned something new, and it is changing me. I can only hope it'll be a good change when it all comes back together. And it will. Eventually. I hope.

In better news, I have racked up several journal entries: posts with no point; posts that state the events of my days; posts that bore me to tears; posts I file under 'journal' that will never be published.

But today I happened upon several drafts I never posted that I completely forgot about. Most of them even have accompanying pictures. I really cannot remember why I wrote them, or why I never published them. It was kind of fun finding them. Like finding buried treasure. Really disappointing treasure.

Anyway, I think I will start dusting them off and posting them. I figure I may as well. Nothing else seems to get posted around here anymore, and this blog is just going to waste.

So, starting tomorrow, I will publish them. Just thought I'd warn you. Because they won't really make much sense, some of them. Especially the ones I didn't finish.

But I'm posting them. Because they're all I got. At least until I remember how I am.