The Great Cookie Fiasco of 2014.

I'm not sure what happened. The dough was delicious but the first batch I baked, burnt completely. The other turned out part burnt, part mushy. On the third I felt so defeated I just dumped a bunch of dough on the cookie sheet to see what would happened.
And do you know what? It came out looking like a cow pie.
The final batch I'm not sure about because I gave up and threw it in the trash.
I took a bite of one of these "cookies" and promptly spit it out.
And I never spit out my food.
This kind of sums up that whole day. Nothing went right, and everything tasted like like a dirty sock.
I almost never want to make cookies again.
Almost.
My love for cookies might get me back in the kitchen again someday.

Probably tomorrow.

Slightly Green Thumb

Every summer, our little family would pack up the car and head to Nibley, Utah to see our grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles and have a grand time. We would pull up to our grandparents house after dark, walk in through the garage, have some bread and butter and go to bed. Lyndsey and I would trade off sleeping on the narrow settee and the twin mattress we'd lay out in the living room. Sometimes we would cram on the mattress and fall asleep to the deep melodic snores coming from our grandma, who always slept in her chair. She stopped sleeping in with grandpa because....he snored. Haha.
Everyday I'd play outside with my sister in the irrigation ditch that ran alongside the yard. I'd watch my grandpa garden in the back of the house. He'd tell me which were the peas and which were the carrots because a little city kid like me surely couldn't tell the difference. Grandma would help us shell the peas or I'd help water the yard, which usually ended with me just laying on the ground with the hose on me because it was so hot. A kid born and raised in the bay area is a pansy in anything over 71°.
My favorite part was watching the plants grow.
When my grandpa was done with his work, he'd come inside, share some squeaky cheese and force me to eat sweet onions like an apple. He'd walk back into the laundry room and stare at his garden.
"Can't you see the carrots growing?"
I swore I saw them sprout out of the ground.
I love gardening.
I love getting dirt on my hands.
I love being outside and watching the plants grow.
Someday, I'll have my very own yard and won't be so limited as to what I can do.
I will grow carrots and peas and I will sit the middle of my yard and watch them grow.

You get a muffin...

And you get a muffin, and YOU get a muffin...

Today I thought I would make some muffins. I wanted to try out a new recipe. Blackberry Banana Oatmeal Muffins. Delicious.
They turned out pretty good-although they looked a little flat and weird.
It's what's on the inside that counts, right?

Today I learned that pouring flour into your measuring cup is a bad idea. Sometimes you lose control of the flour bag and drop in-basically the whole thing. And then, instead of wasting all that good flour, you have to add in a ton more ingredients...which will give you dozens upon dozens of muffins.
Good things I have friends to force my wares on.

I should have taken a picture. But I didn't. I was a little preoccupied with my armfuls of muffins.
Instead, here's a photo I took just a bit ago.
I love this photo.

7/7

Every day this week, I've come home from work, turned on Frozen, sprawled out on my floor and painted. When Frozen is over, sometimes I'll wait until it just starts playing again. Or I'll put on Freaks and Geeks or Northern Exposure.
So far this week, I've painted seven nursery rhymes, watched Frozen five times (its to the point where whenever Let It Go comes on, I've stopped pointing and waving like magic will come from my fingers. But aside from lack of character development- not bad Disney), and a whole season of Northern Exposure.
Productive?
Some would say no.
I say YES!
Definitely.
And I've showered every day...so double productive.

I'll probably be putting Frozen on for the sixth time tomorrow.
I'm going for seven out of seven days.

Pop and Lock

I'm getting really good at it. Only I do less locking and a whole lot of popping.
I've been doing yoga for the past month now and everything seems to be loosening up, which is good. My neck feels good and my back doesn't feel as tight and I can put my whole hand on the floor when I stretch...well...kinda.
Having any kind of chest makes it hard to bend and fold.
But I still count it.
However, all my joints have been popping.
Like, to the point that when I get up at work, my coworkers ask if I'm okay.
Is this normal?

Puke Chair

There's no point to this post other than to show you my puke chair. 

It's not literally a puke chair.

Well, it could be...I bought it for $15 dollars at a DI. The previous owners could have thrown up in it and I would have never known.

It's just the color of puke, so that's what I named it.

It's also the most comfortable chair I've ever sat in- even if it was broken and leaned/creaked when you rocked in it. I had it for my whole college career. One semester I lost my ipod...and two semesters and one move later-I found it in my chair.

Also, I came across this picture of my friend Tami.
I think this is funny only because I know that pie is frozen.

And I have now successfully blogged about a chair.

Ladders and Walls and Things

I've been wondering lately if I'm too picky.

My sister works really hard and deals with unpleasant things at her job because she knows it will benefit in the long run. 

If I'm not happy with what I'm doing or where I'm working...I stop and do something else that I consider to be more fun. Sometimes (most of the time) the pay is less, and it takes me a little longer to get back on track.

Basically I'm poor. All the time.

I've turned down two jobs, two opportunities to have my own classroom, because they didn't feel right. 

Is that me being picky? 

Should I be sacrificing my happiness now and take a job (the kind that I want), even though it's not a fun as I know it can be, because it will help me professionally further down the line?

Does this even make sense to anyone?

Today in church our Bishop was talking about how each of us are climbing some kind of ladder to get to the top of whatever wall we hope to get over. We climb higher and higher, sometimes going where none have gone before, achieving different things professionally, personally etc. 

Unfortunately, sometimes when we reach the top of the ladder, we realize that it was leaning against the wrong wall. 

What kind of wall is my ladder leaning against? I'm a big believer in following my gut and doing what makes me happy. But has climbing up the "happy ladder" made me lazy?

I'm just going to answer my own question here and say no. 

I think my ladder is on the right wall. 

Even though it may take me longer to get to where I want to be professionally, I know I'm going to be happy the whole way up. 

Good talk you guys!

Here's a totally unrelated photo for this post.

(I took this photo on my road trip last summer...somewhere in Oregon. That day I checked out of the gross motel I stayed in and stopped at almost every beach on my drive down the coast. At this particular beach, I felt a like I was going to be sick. And not the throw up kind.
I literally had to sit on a rock to keep from messing my pants. TMI? Probably. Let's just say I'm grateful I had a couple tissues and that part of that beach was secluded that morning.
It took me a half hour to make my way back up the path to my truck. Maybe next time I drive down the Oregon Coast, I'll skip this particular beach.)

My Cousin Ate A Bee

But doesn't remember.

We were eating pizza outside on our grandparents lawn. Morgan started freaking out, threw her slice on the ground and ran inside. I looked over and there was a bee on her pizza right where she took a bite. She didn't come back outside for the rest of the night. 

She says that never happened. 

But it did. 

She ate a bee.

I don't like bees. I'm afraid of them.

It's one of my biggest fears.

Along with really strong wind when it's dark outside. I think I might be alone in that one though...

So it's super cool that we discovered a hive on the palm tree in our backyard. I think a bird flew into it or something and disrupted them because there were THOUSANDS of bees buzzing around. 

I had a hard time leaving my house. 

I knew once I stepped foot outside they would be able to sense my fear and buzz straight for my face.

One summer, my mom had us rake the leaves outside. Instead of putting them in the garden bin, my sister and I decided to throw them up in the air and make it rain. We were fully enjoying the leaves falling all around us when I felt something on the palm of my hand. I brushed it off on my pants, but I felt like it was still there. I looked down at my hand and there was a GIANT bee clinging on for dear life. I just stood there...staring at it....and then I watched it sting me and fly off.
My mom had zero sympathy. I think it's because she had to comb all the twigs and leaves that were ratted up in my hair.

One time I stepped on a bee and it stung me between my toes. I let out a yelp and fell to the ground in the fetal position, clutching my foot.
There were a lot of people around. Probably wondering why that girl is making crazy eyes at her foot.
Tears were shed.
I don't think I got the whole stinger out because my toe swelled up and itched like crazy for a whole two months.

I think I might be allergic.

Even If You Fall On Your Face

"Even if you fall on your face, at least you're still moving forward"-Victor Kiam

Unless you're me...and your face gets stuck in the mud.

Today I was recounting all the different times I've fallen.
Just last saturday, my friend was picking me up and as I was walking over to her car, I cut across a corner on my lawn and fell in the biggest gopher hole known to man.
The devil rats are back and have burrowed their way all across my yard.
My foot got stuck and I'm convinced my favorite pair of shoes are ruined. (Although I think I just need to take a wet rag to it. I might be overreacting. But probably not.)
So while my friend is waiting for me to get my leg out of this hole, I slip out of my shoe and dig it out of the ground and run back inside to grab a new pair of shoes.
I had dirt all over my dress the rest of the day.

When I was in fifth grade, I was walking back to class from the playground. I had on my favorite red and white striped one piece jumper playsuit/romper.
I think at this point I was getting too tall for it.
I'll leave it at that.
This has nothing to do with the story.
I was walking backward talking to my friend and backed right into a pole from the basketball hoop so hard that I stumbled forward and fell on my face. My friend stood there and laughed at me.
I have cool friends.

In college, I was a janitor. One of my jobs was to salt the entryways. As I was salting, and debating any side effects of licking the salt from the bucket, I slipped.
I wasn't walking or anything. I stood up from a bended position, and fell. Like someone came and knocked my feet out from under me. One second I was up...the next...out.
Good thing I salted the entryway?

Last year I was walking along a sidewalk and tripped.
Now, usually when you see people walking and they trip, they just stumble a little, and break into a slow jog to keep from falling. And they usually look back at whatever they tripped on. How dare that crack be there.
When I tripped, I stumbled, and broke into a slow jog...but that jog did not help me catch my balance.
I was jogging parallel to the ground. Then I was running. Then my arms were flailing.
This story has a happy ending though.
My face broke my fall and skidded into the one little patch of muddy water for blocks.
I just stayed there...assessing the situation. Am I broke? How long was that fall? What time is it?

Mostly I just have horrible balance and am constantly run into things: walls, doors, furniture, and have 'accidentally' touched a lot of butts running into people.

Sometimes when I'm telling my friends funny stories I get caught up in my own humor and I laugh hysterically and can't actually tell the story through gasping for air between laughs.
And then when I really think about it--the story isn't all that funny. It's usually one of those "had to be there" moments.
I think most of my stories might be those kinds of stories, but whatever.
No one reads this blog anyway.

Idaho

A few years ago, my sister and I were driving back to school in Idaho from a weekend in Utah. We somehow ended up on some back roads instead of the highway. We had no clue where we were but the drive was nice and the weather was beautiful. 

As we drove on, we both started to get tired and hungry. We passed some old buildings that were run down and looked like they were going to be bulldozed soon. 

I thought about how cool they must have looked inside and I told Lyndsey that I should have stopped to get some photos. 

The thought that I had missed a potentially good photo opportunity was eating away at me. However, it was hot outside and I just wanted to get back to my apartment to shower. 

I'm really glad that I turned the car around.

That day I learned that sometimes you have to do things that aren't ideal...but if you put in the effort, the pay off is beautiful.

This Valentine's Day

I read five stories, shared four strawberries, changed three diapers, tickled two bellies and watched one garbage truck.

 Happy Valentine's Day!

February 14th 1999

I was sitting in Mr. Berwick's class at Rollingwood Elementary School at my desk getting ready to go to the Library with the rest of my class.
My little heart raced as I slipped a piece a paper, folded into fourths, into my pocket before we lined up at the door.
We walked across the courtyard to the library, and while everyone was busy looking at books, I asked Mr. Berwick if I could go back to the classroom because I forgot a book that I needed to return.
He let me go.
I raced back to the classroom, made my way up the rows to the very front of the classroom, opened the desk and laid the folded piece of paper neatly on top of the jumbled mess inside.
This was not my desk.
It was a boy's desk.
It was THE boy's desk.
The boy that I had a super crush on.
I wrote him a little love note from a "secret admirer" for valentines day.
I didn't want to slip in the brown paper bags we had decorated for the exchange later that day. I wanted it to be separate...it was more romantic that way.
I closed the desk, ran to mine and grabbed the book I purposefully left behind and raced back to the library.
When we returned back to our classroom, I watched nervously as he opened his desk, found the note, read it, and then looked around the classroom. Our eyes met but he had no clue.
He asked my best friends about it on the playground at recess, and through many secret exchanges of letters, I finally told him that it was me.
I wrote his love letter.
I was so nervous now that he knew, but he said, "I like you too".
And he asked me out.
I said yes.
We played tetherball together at recess, and he showed me his new Adidas that made him run faster. We would split sticks of gum over by the fence so the yard supervisors wouldn't see our contraband Doublemint.
For two days, we were a happy couple.
But as most 6th grade romances go, it wasn't meant to be and we broke up.
He went back to running around, playing soccer with his friends, and I returned to the basketball courts with mine.
We graduated from the 6th grade and ended up going to different middle schools.
Occasionally we'd see each other when our school teams played each other and we would smile and wave at each other.
Now, whenever I see a pair of Adidas, I just grin.

S is for Sunday

S is also for Sugar

I made a rookie mistake today in primary by giving my kids candy at the beginning of class.

And while we were waiting in the hall with the other classes for junior primary to let out, I gave them more candy. 

I'm a genius, I know.

Next week they get treats after church is over...on their way out the door....so they can be on sugar highs at home.

After lunch today, I was reading through some conference talks from last October. I love this talk by Elder Edward Dube. I also love this quote:

Happy Sunday!

Fridays

Today I spent the morning with Strega Nona and Big Anthony. I played with puzzles, rolled on the floor and rocked a baby to sleep. 

I'm Not Paranoid...Just Overly Aware

When I was little, I remember watching one of those "Who Done-it" shows where the host/narrator is super mysterious and dramatic. There was a story about some guy who set stuff on fire or something, but I remember going to bed super paranoid about fire.
I couldn't sleep, I just kept going over my emergency escape plan where I grab my blankie and some undies and crawl on all fours out the front door.
It was a great plan.
One of my best.
Thankfully I never had to employ this escape plan, but I've noticed how super aware I am of things that could happen.
Maybe my OCD has started to kick in more and more each year...because along with my normal bedtime routine, I have to check all the doors to make sure they're closed and locked. With the current burglaries around my neighborhood lately, I've been even more aware of this.
Speaking of which, a news reporter showed up on our street tonight to do a little report on all the break-ins.
I was driving over to my friends for dinner and I saw them on my way up the hill.
I checked the time.
5:57 PM
Six O'clock news would be on soon.
So of course I called my mom and told her to turn the news on to see the segment...and also to tell me if she could see me driving up the street.
Because I was.
I was driving back and forth on my street to get on the news!
I've become one of those annoying people that stand behind the news reporter doing a piece on world hunger or something, and I'm just in the background waving like a crazy person, mouthing "hi mom".
Oh boy.
I don't think I actually got on the news though. I think they had cut to some interviews with some of my neighbors both times I was in view of the camera.
It's for the best, I'm sure. They probably would've saw me on camera, wondered who that awesome woman in that car was, asked me to do an interview, been so informed, collected, smart and witty, that I'd become famous for being so awesome and I'd have to spend the rest of my life dodging the paparazzi that followed me everywhere.
I just don't have time for that right now.

Routine

I love routine.
And not just because I'm OCD.
I'm not talking switching lights on and off 12 times before you enter or exit a room.
I'm talking basic, daily routine.
Get up.
Go to the bathroom.
Eat breakfast.
Brush teeth.
And so on....

But its the night time routine that I love the best.
I love the settled feeling.
I'll brush my teeth and wash my face and lay down with a good book. Currently I'm reading three different ones. American Childhood by Annie Dillard.
Totally recommend it....I've read it twice since I was first introduced to it my junior year in high school.
Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck. Absolutely my all time favorite. It goes on the top of any favorite list.
I'm on my fourth read.
And a Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway. I've read it once...but I had to read it for some class in college and don't remember what it was about. I was in it just to finish the assignment and move on.
I wish I paid attention the first time because its beautiful. 

I used to think that once I read a book, I couldn't read it again...I always had to find a new book. Obviously I don't feel that way anymore. I love finding new books to read...but sometimes you just need something familiar.

Tonight I'm reading Dillard.

I'm Moving!

Let me tell you a little story that doesn't have any action, and really no plot, but is way exciting.
Spoiler Alert: It's going to end with me moving to the last place on earth I thought I'd end up.
One Sunday morning in November, I was sitting in Relief Society, listening to the announcements when one lady said that she was moving that week to Utah. She found a job and bought a house and was really excited. I was so happy for her, but sad that she'd be leaving. Then I had the thought that I needed to move to Utah.
"What the heck?" I thought. I was totally taken aback by those words that popped up in my head: move to Utah.
"This is probably because that lady just announced she was moving there. And I'm going there for Christmas and I'll see a few friends that live there. That must be the reason I feel this way."
Utah is the last place I wanted to move. And not because I don't like it. I think it's so pretty there...it's just because I've never before had a desire to stay longer than a vacation trip. And for the last year, I've had my sights on the D.C. area.
But the thought kept coming back...."move to Utah".
I had no idea why I kept thinking that. There's no reason for me to move there. So I dismissed it.
Slowly that thought crept back into my head, and it started to sound good....and over time, it started to feel good....like it's the right decision.
I'm a big believer in following my gut.
So, I'm moving to Utah.
End of July, early August.
No one is more surprised than I am right now.
I have no job yet, no reason other than I feel like it's what I need to do.
I'm not worried about finding a job. That will come, I'm sure of it. I'm looking for work in the Salt Lake and Provo areas (although as time keeps passing I feel drawn to Provo). However, I don't actually feel like I need to be moving to Utah for work. I know that teaching is what I'm meant to do, but I could teach anywhere. It's the weirdest feeling...not knowing why I'm so drawn there.
I'm a little astonished at how excited I'm becoming.
Sometimes I get a little giggly thinking about how there's some reason I need to move there....just waiting to see what's going to happen.
When I was nine, my parents took us to Disneyland. The night before we were going to leave my mom put us to bed but I came running out into the living room telling her that I couldn't sleep because I kept giggling. She said it was because I was so excited.

This move kinda feels like I'm about to go to Disneyland.

Here's An Uninformative Post

Well, The Grateful Month is just about over. Thanksgiving was yesterday. I laid around, watched movies, and starved myself all day so I'd be hungry for dinner.
We had ham.
I think that pretty much sums it up.
Good thing Thanksgiving isn't one of my Top Three favorite holidays:
1. National Bird Day
2. Groundhog's Day
3. International Day for the Elderly
Then Thanksgiving.
Then Hoodie-Hoo Day. It's a real thing.

Good news! I finally got a new camera. My old one was...old, so I got an upgrade. AND I also got a new wide angle lens, which I'm super stoked to use. So now that I don't hate my camera and actually have fun taking photos again, I can show you all the stuff I've been working on!
Yay for you!!
These next few weeks will be busy...and if you're lucky I'll share all the happenings with you, my imaginary friends.
Another Yay for you!!!

Don't Sit on My Head

And Other Rules From The Nanny Archives

I'm a nanny again. 

I only have to stare at a computer part-time now. The rest of my time during the day I get to play outside and eat snacks.

I nannied my way through college on my off-track so I wouldn't have to work during school. I wanted to be able to focus on my "studies". 

Let's be honest here, I was an Art Ed major...I had no studies. I went to school and drew stuff. It was awesome. I just didn't want to get a job when I was at school.

As a nanny/babysitter, I've worked with a variety of different families over the last 10+ years. I don't have any horror stories...or at least none that I remember. I'm sure I've suppressed the really horrible ones. I'll probably remember some after I post this-but we can save those for Story Time. I think mostly I have a ton of awkward incidents from working for new people.

Parents are funny creatures. 

For the most part, I've had great experiences being a nanny and I've learned a ton of nifty tricks to get kids to eat or stop hitting each other. 

With every family I've worked for, there's the basic set of rules to follow: wash your hands, no hitting, put your dishes in the sink, pick up your shoes etc

But every family I've worked for in the past develops a more personalized set of rules and it's fun for me to figure them out. 

And by "fun" I mean physically  painful and gross. 

Top 10 rules:

1. Don't sit on my head
2. No farting on people
3. Don't pee on the fence
4. Keep your fingers out of my ear
5. Keep your fingers out of your sisters nose
6. No flinging boogers
7. Don't put worms in your pocket
8. Don't staple your clothes together
9. Keep the Legos away from your ears
10. Don't lick your feet

I've had to repeat these phrases more than I probably should ever have to. But figuring out that they are necessary phrases is the "fun" part. 

All I know is that whenever I start having kids, mine will come out clean, polite and potty trained.

I can dream, can't I?

the Grateful Month

I've been sitting here, writing and re-writing this post and nothing is coming out the way that I want. I wrote a paragraph or so venting about everything that has been frustrating me lately.

As therapeutic as it is to vent...it would be super boring for you (or all my imaginary friends that read this) to read. 

So instead of venting...It's November!!!

The Grateful Month.
30 out of the 365 days of the year we all become incredibly grateful for things we usually gripe about.

I think I do a pretty good job of mixing up the complaints and the gratitude throughout the year. A ton of people are doing the "Thankful Days" and saying what they're grateful for each day this month.
I'm not doing that. I'm lazy.  

Grateful....but lazy.

I'll just end up writing:
I'm thankful for potato chips. 
Which I am. Especially after I've devoured a bag of chocolate chips and need something salty to cut through the cavities I just gave myself.
But I don't know if that's the point. 

I do want to write about what I'm thankful for right now though, because there are SO many things that are going well for me. The last few months I've been implementing a ton of changes in my life and I'm excited about the person I'm becoming. I'm learning to work with my OCD instead of fighting it. I'm meeting the goals I've made for myself. I've gotten better at parallel parking, and I think we're all thankful for that.
I have a job to go to where people give me candy. My parents haven't kicked me out of their house yet even though I eat all their food and leave my dirty clothes in the bathroom sometimes. And I'm flossing way more than I used to.
I'll go ahead and start one of my New Years resolutions early and work on not complaining so much.
I can't promise I won't vent every now and then, but I'll try and have a more positive perspective on things. Except movie prices. How do they expect me to spend money on popcorn and soda if I spend my life savings on the ticket?!? Lame.

On another unrelated note: I keep forgetting I'm vegetarian. I had a Costco hot dog on my way home from work tonight because I was beyond hangry. My gut is full....but now it's just angry.
Good move, Chelsea.