Could I have a do-over, please?

Okay, so the FFA question of the week is: "What would you do if you had 30 minutes with absolutely NO accountability whatsoever (moral, ethical, legal, etc.)?". Huh... Absolutely NO accountability? In 30 minutes. Hmmm... that's not much time.

Well, Peggy did not mention the bending of the space & time continuum, but... since I figure this is my fantasy, I might was well go whole hog. If I have a half hour, and only a half hour at my disposal, and I can do anything that I want with it... I'm going back in time to the day that CB cashed out my retirement account and gave me a check (bless them) and I'm marching my pretty little self over to a financial advisor and I'm investing every last dollar that I have on me in Google and AOL stock. I think half an hour should do me just fine. I figure that I'd have just enough time to have them draw up the paperwork to split my investments 50/50 between the two, sign my life away, and then I'd be able to twinkle out of there and back home to my little cottage.

I figure that in 30 minutes of time travel, I could save myself years of needless work and worry. Not to mention - maybe I could score myself a cute gardner for the grounds. Oh, heck yeah...

The Incredible Hulk

So, here's the thing about Dr. Bruce Banner.... He's pretty freakin cool.

And the thing about Edward Norton is... well... pretty much the same thing.

Seriously, this movie was amazing! I knew I was gonna have to see it (you can't grow up with my dad as your father and not have a love of all things Superhero ingrained into your subconscious). I was expecting it to be better than the last Hulk movie (I mean really, how could it possibly be worse?), but on no level was I expecting it to be this good. I laughed, I cried... I fell in love with Edward Norton again. (Honestly, he is amazing. And that they gave Norton's scar to The Hulk? GENIUS!) Liv Tyler was amazing, William Hurt was very good. The script was excellent - great back story, fantastic character development, excellent tension, and if I dare say it... a believable story line. (Or as believable as a story about a big green angry mutant man possibly could be, anyway.) I will admit that the final fight scene got a little long for me... but I still cried at the end. (I'm a sap, I know.) Honestly, I *gasp* liked it better than Ironman.

Quirky, quirky me

The Rules:

1. link the person who tagged you (my friend Myra, one of my favorite people in the world - and the most pregnant friend I have - for one more day: http://www.myrajohnsonfamily.blogspot.com/ )
2. post these rules
3. tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours
4. tag 6 fellow bloggers by linking them

#1 - Inappropriate apostrophes. Few things irk me more than inappropriately placed apostrophes (enter a link to one of my favorite blogs: http://www.apostropheabuse.com/). I see them all the time on those signs people have nailed to the front of their house saying "welcome". You know, the "Welcome to the Simmon's House" signs. Hi, is their last name Simmon? No, it's Simmons. So the sign should say "Welcome to the Simmons' House". Or even worse, when the last name doesn't end in an S - like "Welcome to the Brown's house". Really, who are we calling The Brown around here? Whose nick-name is that, and how did he get it? I shudder to think... Honestly, it's not the hardest grammar rule out there - and yet there are companies making a ridiculous amount of money painting pre-fabbed signs with gross grammatical errors. Argh!

#2 - Water spots on sinks. And counters. And mirrors. I cannot stand them. Esp in a public restroom where who knows how many people have dripped water and then not wiped it up. I am totally compulsive about wiping the water up, getting rid of soap dribbles, drying the mirror - and I'm more fanatical about it when I'm out than I am in my own home. I can't use a public restroom and leave until the counter is dry. It's a disease.

#3 - Dirty dishes in a sink. They make me want to climb a wall. At the risk of solidifying the diagnosis of OCD, let me just say that the only thing worse that dirty dishes piled in the sink is the same stack of dirty dishes with soap and water run over them - with remnants of food floating to the top of the water. (I just threw up a little in my mouth, just thinking about that. Ewh.) Also, to clarify: I'm fine with dirty dishes, not everything has to be washed the moment it is dirtied, don't get me wrong. But dishes need to be rinsed and stacked - on the counter. No dishes with food remnants are to remain in the sink, lest someone runs water over them and floaties appear - but rinsed & stacked dishes on a counter... fine. (I know, weird. But that's what this post is about, right?)

#4 - One of my favorite fantasies is "Where would I live (and how would I live - as in at which income level?) if I were to witness a horrible crime and have to enter the witness protection program?". Honestly, I've been using spare time to create alternate lives all over the world for... oh, about 20 years now. When I'm driving, or cleaning, or (gasp) at work... and I have some free time for my mind to wander, I like to think up different scenarios - where I would live, how I'd cut (& color) my hair, whether I'd get colored contacts, how would I cope with never being able to talk to my family again, where would the money come from, would I want to live on a dude-ranch, or in a villa in Italy, or how about a cute little two bedroom house in the mid-west, could I get a name that no one would mispronounce - is it possible that I'd ever miss being called Lori instead of Laurie? (doubtful), would I still be a member of the church, and would I have to tell my church leaders my real name, and what about children (assuming I have them), would I be able to give them their real lineage, or would the FBI make that up for me, too - where do you draw the line at the identity thing?... Yeah, I'm not kidding. It's truly one of my favorite past-times. I wonder what the FBI would think if they knew the WPP was such good day-dream fodder?

#5 - I don't like chocolate ice cream. I know - weird, huh? I love chocolate. And I love ice cream. And yet... I don't love chocolate ice cream. Except for Rocky Road. I do love Rocky Road. Oh yeah, and Burnt Almond Fudge. So, the common denominator there would be the almonds. So... I don't like chocolate ice cream unless it has almonds in it - and the more, the better. Random, but weird. (And true.)

#6 - The word Sweetheart. I hate it. Not hearing it... I guess as an endearment, it's not so bad. But I hate seeing it in writing. I always read it wrong. I know that this is how you spell sweetheart - but for some reason, when I'm reading it, I turns the t and the h into "th" and it comes out as "sweeth-art", and then I think "What the junk? What is a sweeth-art, and why are they advertising a 2-for-1 sale on video rentals this week?". Yeah, early-mid February is a black time in my life. Every year when the marquee signs go up for "Sweeth-art Sales" I get all flustered... and then mad at myself that after almost 30 years of being able to read the written word... that one still gets me. Seriously....

I now tag: Beal, Jenni, Lisa, Peggy, Kimmie, and... Genevra Lynn (or her nieces - whoever gets to it first)

I think I'm in love...

I saw the most wonderful thing online today. It inspired feelings of desire that have been heretofore unknown in my person. I will move heaven and earth to have it. Yes, I will even dirty my clean kitchen in pursuit of this new delicacy, and I can only hope that it will be as good in real life as I have been led to believe it can be.

Holy crap.... How delicious does this thing look?!?

http://bakerella.blogspot.com/2008/06/got-milk-i-hope-so.html

FFA: "A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!"

Not that I don't love my life. I do. I lead a very blessed and wonderful life, and I try to be maintain an attitude of gratitude on a daily basis. There isn't anything that I need that I don't have. (And I have a lot of things that aren't needful, they're just plain fun.) I'm not complaining. There are so many worse things than being a single girl at my age, and yet....

My kingdom for a date with a man who knows how to floss (and has done so in the last 90 days).
My kingdom for a man who will not talk about how much he makes (hourly wages are not good conversation on a first date, let me tell you).
My kingdom for a man who will ask me questions about ME rather than droning on about his failed marriage(s).
My kingdom for a man who can read (past a 4th grade reading level).
My kingdom for a man who is taller than me (when I'm wearing shoes).
My kingdom for a man who knows that "ain't" is the A word that I'm talking about when I tell him that I can't live with that kind of language.
My kingdom for a man who can carry on a decent conversation.
My kingdom for a man who wouldn't justify having 5 tv's in a 2 bedroom apartment.
My kingdom for a man with good hygiene, a sense of humor - and an appreciation for the glorious thing that is... Me.

Like I said, I have a great life. I know this. And I am not complaining. There are so many things that are worse than being single. And yet... I can't help but think there have to be so many better guys out there than the ones I've been meeting lately. And so I say...

My kingdom for a man who I'd want to go out with twice.

Is that really too much to ask?

Den-Dawg is THE MAN!

As it's Father's Day, I've been thinking about my dad a lot today. My dad is, to use one of his favorite descriptors, "way, way cool". In way of giving tribute to him, I thought I'd list some of my favorite Dad things/memories.

Dad doing "Jabberwocky" (for those of you unfamiliar with this piece of work: http://www.jabberwocky.com/carroll/jabber/jabberwocky.html) He memorized this... I don't know, in high school, maybe? The point is, he has it memorized. And would recite it for us when we were kids. On command, over and over again. He'd go and find a blanket, throw it across his back and use it as a cape as he'd bound from couch to couch, flapping the blanket/cape at us as he'd recite the poem in his scary "witchy" voice. To this day, I'm not really sure what it all means, but it gives me the shivers just to read the opening line "Twas brilleg and the slimy toves did gyre and and gimble in the wabe...".

My dad loves ice cream. And chocolate. And popcorn (esp the carmel kind). And cookies. And all other things snack oriented. Those of you who know me, know that I have a deep and abiding love for ice cream and chocolate. What you may not have known is that it's something I came by quite honestly. It's a biological thing, actually. My dad used to say that he had ice cream (rather than blood) running through his veins. When I was a kid, I just thought he was being silly - I knew that it was impossible to have ice cream inside your veins, you would die without your blood. Now that I'm adult, I hear myself giving the same line to people who say that I'm nuts to be ordering a hot fudge sundae, or buying a carton (or two) of Dreyer's in the dead of winter. I'm not nuts, people, I'm my father's daughter.

My dad loves the Lord, and he loves his family. And I'm so very grateful for his example of love and of service. For years, we would travel on Saturday so he could get home for Sunday meetings. Dad set a great example of keeping church commitments that he felt a responsibility for. At the same time, he has been great at making sure that we know that he wants to spend time with us. For years, he would get up early and make it to the meetings that the bishop had scheduled. Now that he's the bishop, he either cancels the meeting or moves the time, so he can spend more time with family. During the holiday season, Dad has driven over 6 hours in a day to pick up one of us who didn't have other transportation, so we could all be together - and he's done it quite a few times. His biggest deal has always been that we are together, and is always telling those of us who are single that we are "always welcome to move home". I'm incredibly grateful for his unconditional love for us, and for all men, for his example to me of loving and accepting those around him.

My dad taught me how to read. Books are, as most of you are aware by now, I am sure, the love of my life. I owe much of my love of language and the written word to parents who cultivated in me an appreciation for good literature. One of my earliest memories is of my dad teaching me to read. I can see in my mind's eye, my dad sitting with me at the downstairs table at my grammy and grandad's house, going through reader after reader, teaching me the alphabet and how letters, strung together, would make words. I was 4, it was the summer before I started Kindergarten, and I was so proud of myself when I realized that I could read simple words like dog and cat and sit and sat. I love that I learned my first written words at the hand of my dad. I love that education and reading are of utmost importance to him. He is the principal of a K-3 school, and challenges the kids at his school to read 1,000,000 minutes every year. The amazing thing is, these kids (again, grades K-3) do it! They've been doing it for years now, and every year they beat their record of how quickly they do it. He holds a school assembly after they reach the 1M mark and dyes his hair blue for the kids. They kids love it, their parents love it, the community loves it, and so do I.

I think the greatest thing my dad gave me is the absolute knowledge that he loves and cherishes my mother. I have never heard him use a harsh word with her. I've never heard sarcasm, or anything that could be remotely considered unkind, come out of him and directed at her. I have never heard him criticize or find fault with her. My dad loves my mom, this I know. It was incredibly important to him that she stay in the home with us kids. When my brothers were on missions and money was tight, my dad worked three jobs so my mom could be at home. As an adult, I can only image the stress that put on him, how tired he must have been and how hard that time period surely was for him. I'm so grateful for his sacrifice, that he would take upon himself the burden to provide extra income so my mom could be where they both felt that she needed to be. I always tell people that I'm so incredibly grateful for my childhood, that I was so lucky to have a stay-at-home mom. It's because of my dad, the man that he is, that we got to have our mom at home with us. So, thanks, Dad.

Thanks for being the kind of man who could raise 6 very different children, and love us all for who we are. Thanks for taking the time to play with us, to eat treats with us and to teach us. Thanks for loving the Lord, and for loving us, and for loving Mom - and for making sure that we knew that you did.

I love you, Happy Father's Day!

FFA: What is something I'm completely fantastic at, and what is something I'm really crappy at?

Okay... I'm just gonna say it. I am fantastic at making pie. I am. I love all things pie. I love the crust, the filling, the whipped cream and/or ice cream on top. I love it all. I love to choose (or make up) a recipe. I love to cut the butter into the flour to make the dough for the crust. I love to roll out the crust and put it in the pan. I love to flute the edges, and I love to brush milk over the top of the crust so it will brown, but not burn. I love to smell it baking, and to take it out when it's exactly perfect. I can make a nearly flawless pie, time and again, and often I fly by the seat of my pants and create a new recipe, just to see what those fruits/flavors will taste like together. It's one of my favorite things to do, and I do it well. Really, I'm not trying to brag - I'm just saying. I make a mean pie.

Now, what I don't do so well? ...Exercise any form of control when it comes to eating said pie. I can down an entire pie in a day (yeah, with ice cream on top). It's horrible, really. I justify it as eating "fruit and bread - with dairy", but really... it's just me eating a pie. By myself.

Tag, I'm "it".

So, my friend Jenni tagged me and now I get to answer a bunch o' questions. Wahoo!

1) What was I doing 10 years ago?

1998... I was living in Provo, slaving in the vault at Central Bank (good times), and living with Melinda and Shanni, I think. I had a huge crush on Scott (one of many 'fhe brothers'). He'd cook dinner with his roommates and invite me & mine over to eat with them. He had curly hair and wore glasses. He was only 5'11", but I still loved him (that's some kind of funny guy, to be able to make me love him when he wasn't tall). I'm pretty sure he was the highlight of that entire summer. I'm equally sure that he never knew that he was my one true love and Shanni and I had set a goal to "set the date in '98". (Like I'd ever gone out with him. Oh no. But we'd giggle and scheme and wish on stars and such. Oh, we were (okay, are) such silly silly girls.)

2) What are 5 things on my to-do list today.
1. Go to work - check.
2. Buy kitty litter - check.
3. Go grocery shopping - left for another day.
4. Finish watching Army Wives (I fell asleep in the last 10 minutes last night) - check.
5. Laundry - left for another day.

3) What are some snacks that I enjoy?

Uhm... I have a shorter list of snacks that I don't enjoy, thanks. I'll list a few of those for you below.

Lay's chips (actually, I do like the classic, but anything other than plain potato chips are grody, per me)
Off-brand Little Debbie's Snacks (why, oh why, do stores even make "store brand" nutty bars? ewh....)
Low-Cal popcorn (I'll take the movie theater butter flavor, thanks)
Non-fat ice cream (this is supposed to be a treat, people!)
Flavored pretzels (I like the original salty kind, but will pass on the flavored crud every time)
Cheap Chocolate (you all know that I love me some chocolate, but I need the good stuff - no Nestle's or Baby Ruth or Hershey's bars for me, thanks.... I'll be taking the European Chocolate Train and riding it until the day I die)

4) Things I would do if I were a billionaire.

A billionaire? Really? Well... I'd pay off all my debt (duh). I'd buy myself one heck of a sweet house here in Az, and another in Utah (so I could go and see family and have my own bed to sleep in at the end of the day), as well as a few others across the country - so I could roam at will and still have someplace to call "home". Of course I'd spend a fortune on furniture for all my houses. (Oh, to be able to waltz into a furniture store and buy any and everything I want... That would be a dream come true in and of itself.) Then I'd set to traveling. I'd go all kinds of places. Get so many stamps in my passport that I'd have to add an insert. Oh, and I'd shop. I'd fill every closet in every house with shoes/clothes. I'd have houses full of great stuff that I bought and had shipped across the ocean. I'd drive a car with a cd player and power locks... Oh, and I'd have my eyes lasered, too.

(You may have noticed that I didn't give a dime to charity. That's right, folks. I'm spending my money. I'm a pig - and I don't even care how harshly I am judged for that.)

5) Places I've lived.

Many, many places, my friends. My favorite of which has always been Denial. My clothes may be too tight, my budget may be stretched too thin, I may have food enough in my cupboards to eat for months... but there are few things in life that can make my day like a $30 dinner (for one, thanks) at my favorite restaurant in town. Oh heck yeah, without my permanent residence in Denial I'd probably be in a lot better shape (both physically and financially), but I couldn't be any happier. You all can have Reality. I'm good here with my brownie sundae. ;)


I tag: Lizzie, Myra, Peggy, Genevra and Mich. (I'd list all the blogs, but some of them are blocked, so it's a no-go.)

Lauralee, Laurala, Laura-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha

What Lauralee Means

You are relaxed, chill, and very likely to go with the flow. You are light hearted and accepting. You don't get worked up easily. Well adjusted and incredibly happy, many people wonder what your secret to life is. You are usually the best at everything ... you strive for perfection. You are confident, authoritative, and aggressive. You have the classic "Type A" personality. You are a very lucky person. Things just always seem to go your way. And because you're so lucky, you don't really have a lot of worries. You just hope for the best in life. You're sometimes a little guilty of being greedy. Spread your luck around a little to people who need it. You are wild, crazy, and a huge rebel. You're always up to something. You have a ton of energy, and most people can't handle you. You're very intense. You definitely are a handful, and you're likely to get in trouble. But your kind of trouble is a lot of fun. You are friendly, charming, and warm. You get along with almost everyone. You work hard not to rock the boat. Your easy going attitude brings people together. At times, you can be a little flaky and irresponsible. But for the important things, you pull it together.

What's" Your Name's Hidden Meaning?

Okay, for the most part this is so me. I take issue with only two items:

1) I work hard not to rock the boat? Whatever. I do not. I am a boat rocker, people. Not that I'll rock it just for kicks, but if there's something in the boat that needs to be addressed and/or thrown to the sharks, oh heck yeah, I'm for getting that taken care of - ASAP.

2) Flaky and irresponsible? Really? ...Okay, maybe. But I think it's more of a selective memory thing than a flaky-ness and/or irresponsiblity thing. And this is not just me making excuses. If it's a big deal to me, I'll take care of it. If it isn't... then it goes the way of selective memory and I space it out. Crud. I just reread that last bit, and... that's exactly what this thing said - that I'm a flake unless it's a big fat important deal, in which case it gets done. Shoot! I guess I am a flake! Aaaah!

And on that note, I'm going to eat something for breakfast before I begin my day of nothing. (Gosh, I love Saturdays! And, apparently, I am totally irresponsible, because I'm not doing a blessed thing today. Oh well.)

FFA: When Technology Goes Too Far

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Oh yeah, this would be technology going too far. Damn traffic cameras catching me running a light. Did I run the light on purpose? Heck no. (Obviously. Look at that completely horrible double chinned picture of me that is Exhibit A - on the phone - totally oblivious to the color of the light.) Did I hurt anyone? Again, no. (See Exhibit B. I am, far and away, the only car in the intersection.) The point of the matter is not that I didn't run the light. Clearly and obviously, I did the crime - and I'm willing to do the time (by which I mean: "pay the ticket, as well as attend the state mandated Traffic Survival School"...yeah, I said "pay the ticket and go to TSS" ...don't get me started), because I know I am guilty as charged. The thing that gets me is that there wasn't a person there to ticket me. No-sirree-bob, just a camera. Gone are the days when one could accidentally run a red light and then think "crap! well... at least no one was in the intersection... and I don't see any cops... phew!". No, now when I (accidentally) run a light, I'm stuck thinking "crap almighty! was there a camera there? oh, poo... I'm not sure, I can't remember... here's hoping that I didn't get a ticket... guess I'll find out in 3 weeks". Honestly, for a girl who grew up in a town so small we didn't have lines painted on our streets, this crazy traffic-camera thing is truly mind-blowing. (Oh, and I'm not a fan.) If I'm gonna get a ticket, I want a man in uniform to write it up for me. The End.