When do birds sleep?

There is a bird that likes to chirp outside my window in the middle of the night. It's not a light, nonchalant chirping. It seems like it's either a "Danger! Everyone beware!" chirp or a "Hey, everyone, night is halfway over! Let's all wake up!" chirp. Over and over. Constant and loud. I hear it around 3:00 am. And 4:00. And 5:00. Five o'clock is a little more acceptable even if it's still early. But three?! That is not a time to be chirping. It's not an owl cause I know what owls sound like. Is it a nightingale? It's definitely not a dayingale, that's for sure.

Okay, so I just looked up what a nightingale sounds like and it sounds kind of similar but it's probably not.  My bird - wait, I don't want to call it that. The bird that sits in a tree that is near my window every single night sounds more urgent. Plus I'm not sure if nightingales live in Utah.

Thank goodness for ceiling fans. I can almost drown the sound out. But really birdie, don't you just want to sleep sometimes?

No title today

I usually blog about things that I am thinking about. (Blogging secret revealed!) Lately I've been thinking about, well, nothing. Except for:

waking up,
babies,
fixing lunches,
potty training,
picking up toys,
brushing hair,
eating vegetables,
going to bed.

If I wrote about that stuff, I would probably bore the socks right off you. Each boring word you read, your socks would ever so slowly inch themselves off your feet until your little piggies would be bare. So don't worry, I will not write about that type of stuff. You can keep your socks on. Except probably none of you are wearing socks since it's summer.

The end.

But I have still enjoyed reading other blogs because that helps me think about: something... anything. So thanks to you for writing.

The real end.

I hope he takes on more of my side.

Are you ever worried about what your baby is going to look like before you have him? That he might be less than cute? Well I have a little bit of a reason to have this fear extra strong this time. No lie. This is a real ultrasound of my baby at 3 months along. I am totally not kidding.


I think I might be having an alien baby:

No offense to alien babies. I'm sure they're very cute. I mean, come on, just about everything baby is cute. (Especially baby shoes and baby chimpanzees.) But when aliens get bigger... I don't think they stay so cute. And that's where I worry. He'll probably be picked on growing up about his large diagonal eyes and over sized head. Who knows what color his skin will be!

Oh, my poor little boy/being.

I can only wait and see...

And hope and pray that he is of the human genus.

Live in the now, me!

I love history. I love looking at old black and white photographs and wondering what that person's life was like or if they were going through any hard times.

I'm always interested in hearing about how medical issues were dealt with ages ago - from a toothache to cancer. Or in biblical times if someone was mentally handicapped sometimes they were sent out of the city and forced to live on their own in a cave or some other shelter that they could find. Sad. Personally, I believe these are the "cave men" that have been found throughout time and paleontologists somehow think they are millions of years older than they really are.

I'm interested in hearing how hygiene was taken care of in other time periods. Like in the Elizabethan times people hated water. They thought it would cause sickness so they never bathed. Gross. They also thought that putting puppy pee on their faces would cure acne. Even grosser.

I think about history all the time. Sometimes when I say or hear someone say certain things, I immediately think about when someone has said that very thing before.

Like if I say "I just wish I had a nice pair of boots for church."
I picture a woman in the late 1800s saying the same thing.

Or if I hear "Did you hear that so-and-so lost his job?"
I picture someone saying the same, over the fence, in the 1930s.

When my little boy says "Do I have to go to school today? I don't want to!"
I picture a boy saying that to his mom in the 1950s.

When I see two friends hug after not seeing each other for a long time,
I think of friends finding each other circa 90 B.C. and it was a joyous reunion.

So you better watch what you say around me. I might be thinking of a little thing called "the past". And you don't want that to happen, do you? Do you?!

Conjunctively speaking

So I know the rule is that a sentence cannot start with a conjunction. And I have noticed that my writing is full of them. But I just can't help it. And I don't really want to change it. Because this is how I talk in real life. And it sounds more like me. So I'm sorry if it sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard for anyone. But it's not going to change anytime soon.

Come back soon smells!

Currently, because of a sinus problem (a cold), my olfactory system isn't working. I can't smell a thing. And so, I can't taste anything either. Why do you need to be able to smell in order to taste? I do not know, go ask your mother. (That Dr. Seuss line always cracks me up.)

So since I haven't been able to taste anything for the last few days, why have I eaten chocolate on each of those days? Maybe it's out of habit. (Very likely.) Maybe I'm hoping with each piece I will detect a tiny leak of flavor. Maybe I am still getting endorphins from it even without tasting the flavor. (I don't think this is true. I think I need the flavor in order to get the endorphins.) Maybe I'm testing myself to see if I'm getting better. Yeah, I'll stick with that reason.

Oh look. Here I am eating a piece of chocolate right now as I type this. (Make me stop!)

Do you know how fun it is to make dinner when you know you aren't going to be able to taste it? A negative 2 fun. That's why we had cereal for dinner last night. I had plain old Cheerios. I do like the flavor of cheerios normally but when you have to choose a cereal for the least amount of flavor - Cheerios wins every time.

The good thing about not being able to smell is changing a 2 year old's diaper. It's much more pleasant. Imagine cleaning off someones other end but not having to smell it. However pleasant you can imagine doing that - is how pleasant it is. I guess that's one smell I'm not looking forward to.

Some old people are just so darn adorable

Yesterday I saw the cutest old man checking out an old-west themed book at the library. He was probably in his 80s, he had on a cowboy hat and boots. He flung the book down on the desk acting all tough and said, "I need to check out this here book." And I couldn't help but smile as I pictured him in his rocking chair with an afghan on his lap reading about the wild ol' west.

I didn't know old people read books.

Just kidding of course. I know they can still read. I just haven't come in contact with any who read for pleasure. Maybe the real reason is that I am not in contact with hardly any people over 70 and I don't know what anyone older than that is like since all my grandparents have been deceased most of my life. (Except for one who spoke a different language.)

A little taste

If you are the type of person who sees that there is a merge up ahead, and zooms up as far as you can go to merge, then you are not my friend. If you have done it on accident, you're still a friend. If you do it on accident all the time - nonfriend. For those of you who are like me and hate when people do this, I've figured out a little trick.

The way the butting mergers sneak their way in is they get a little ahead of you and then slowly start coming over. This makes the person who is driving correctly (me or you), worry that the butter might not see us or worry that they will hit us and so it makes us back off to let the narcissistic driver merge in front of us.

Here's how you do it. (This is mostly for construction merging, when everyone is waiting in a long line, but a select few don't think they need to wait as long as the rest of us are waiting. On the freeway, I encourage letting people merge as they enter the lanes.) It has to be a merge that you know that they can see that there is a merge up ahead (construction sign of flashing lights, etc.). If they can't see it, well, that's where the accidental late merging happens and that happens to all of us. But if the sign is easy to see and you see it way ahead, then you know they will see it. And then you know they are butting just to be jerks.

It only works when you are in the exact right place. You have to be really close to where the merge happens. You will need to be moving forward at the time. You will see the driver coming up past the line of cars so that they can cut in the front of the line. As soon as they are about a half a car's length behind you (in the other lane), you ever so slightly lean into their lane. (Not all the way, but just enough to make them think that you are coming into their lane.) They have to back off because to them it looks like a crazy driver is going to hit them and doesn't see them. Then the lanes are merged and they are not in front of you. You have just given them a taste of their own medicine. The medicine for learning to wait your turn. Bitter medicine, eh? As bitter as the bitter root of some really bitter plant. As bitter as 100% cacao. Yeah. Now that's bitter. Bitter butter battle medicine.

I have tried this time and time again. It works. But not if you're too far away from the actual merging lanes. Because most likely, you'll have to stop again and the butter will go around you and still get ahead. There are many times that I just have to watch the butter(s) get ahead and just think, "It's not my time. It won't work today. I'm just not in position for this impossible mission." But when everything aligns just right, it works.

Disclaimer#1: This act is probably discouraged in the drivers' handbook.
Disclaimer #2: I am not responsible if you get into an accident while performing the above instructions.
Disclaimer #3: Have the procedure memorized before attempting. Do not read the instructions while driving.
Disclaimer #4: Toward any police officers who read this: What? (nervous laughing) I'm not teaching people incorrect driving techniques! No one else will even read this anyway!

Guess what's weird?

When I talk to myself when no one else is around at the store or at home (doesn't everyone do that?) I speak in German. Is that crazy?

Ja, Ich bin ein koo-koo kopf.

Okay, I'm pretty sure koo-koo isn't a German word but it fits.

I don't even realize that I'm doing it. Just if I'm by myself, the words come out in German. And it's not just when I talk to myself out loud. I think German in my head too. It's just very basic sentences like, Where is that? I can't find it. or We are ready to go. or How many do I need to get?

I really wish that I could think in Finnish like that but it never happens. If I ever try to say a sentence in Finnish and I don't know one word, that word also shows up German. Darn that German! Get out of my head! Leave room for some other languages!

For example, I'm learning the days of the week in Finnish. So then I try to say, "Today is Thursday" and I want to say if very fluently so I hurry and say:

[German "Heute ist /Torstai." Finnish]

Darggh!

Does anyone else ever think in another language?

Smells like teen spirit

I just got some new deodorant. It is Dove wild rose or something like that. And it really smells like teen spirit. Did you ever use that kind of deodorant when you were a teenager? I did. I loved all the fruity and fresh flavors (or scents). At church the other day someone walked past me and I thought, ooh, they smell good. And then I realized, hey, that's me that smells like that. It always takes me a while to get used to a new deodorant. Next time you see me you should smell my armpits. They really do smell like Teen Spirit.

(Did Kurt Cobain name his song after the deodorant? Or did the deodorant name themselves after the song? Or is it just a huge coincidence and they have nothing to do with each other? I'll never know.)

Air show

We went to the Air Force air show on Saturday. After the hour walk into the base, it was quite fascinating. I have such a respect for the Air Force. I mean, I love all of our military, but when I see one of the Air Force pilots, I am just awe struck. They have to work so hard and they are so smart and they fly those planes so amazingly. And it's all to protect our country. That's all I could think about the whole time I was there. It was very cool to see. It was the most perfect weather. Sunny with a nice cool breeze.

Of course I didn't get any good pictures.

Here is a plane flying away.

I tried to get one of it coming back again but it was landing then.

I'm not so good with taking pictures when I only have a small window of opportunity to get a good shot. For example:
Here is Ben walking away after posing with his preschool teacher. (I had my camera set on video.) - May 2008

My brother Eric receiving his Doctor of Chiropractic diploma - Dec 2008

Elli receiving her trophy for participating in a play - May 2009

I guess I wouldn't be a good professional photographer.

While I was at the air show, my tan turned into a golden bronze. It looks really good. Unfortunately, it's in the shape of a shirt:

(above - not a real picture of me)

But my legs got nothing. I don't know what it is. My legs never get ANY color. I look like I have two different people's skins. And it stays like that the entire summer. What the heck?! I do wear shorts people. And sometimes a swimsuit.

Color on the left: my arm. Color on the right: my leg. Scary, I know.

Yay for Wal-Mart! Sort of.

A new Wal-Mart just opened up by my house. I went there this morning. It started out really nice. Everything was new and clean. I learned the new layout. Everything was good. I went to the check out line. There were several check out lines opened up. Hardly any lines at all. Yay! This should be so fast! I chose one with 1 person in the line. Her stuff was placed up on the belt. I waited patiently for her stuff to start moving so I could put mine up there too. The cashier didn't have the belt set to move forward. It felt like forever, but finally it started to move. I looked for one of those separators to put between my stuff and hers. There weren't any. Oh, there they are. Two of them. The lady in front of me has them both. She has 3 transactions. By the time her first group is done she realizes she bought too much. She starts looking through her bags to take things off of her bill. Search, search, find. Beep. Search, search, find. Beep. She removes about 5 items. Still trying to think positive, I think, "Well, at least she is good and sticking to her budget. That's what I should be more like." Then her next two transactions are WIC. Hello, this is a new employee. She doesn't know how to do crazy stuff like that. Take your WIC stuff to an older Wal-Mart where they know how to do it. Just kidding. I guess they need to learn here too. I look in the lanes next to me. Lines three people long come and go before my eyes. One person is in line behind me. We haven't moved for a very long time. Oh wait, the person behind me is leaving now. I can't leave since my stuff is all up on the belt. I guess I can leave but I know as soon as I get all my stuff back in the cart, the line will move forward. Another person gets in line behind me. We still don't move for ages. She ends up leaving too. The lady in front of me is spinning her child around making a piercing noise. I want to plug my ears, but I don't. Her two older kids steal balloons from the nail salon's opening day display. The lady starts playing a new game with her baby, where she goes close to the debit card machine and then pulls him away saying, "DON'T GET IT! DON'T GET IT!" as loud as she can. Over and over. Does she think we can't hear her? The whole store hears her! Finally she jams her baby's fingers on the machine so he starts crying. A beautiful crying noise instead of her crazy lady voice. I look at the lanes next to me again. Entire lines have come and gone again. Finally she is done! My turn! Wow, I don't know how they do that WIC stuff but it sure takes a long time. The whole time being in the line I am holding my toddler, since she is done with the cart, and my arms are starting to feel like lead. My transaction moves quickly and I get everything put back into my cart. I toss one final bag under the bottom so it doesn't squash anything. Pushing the cart one-handed is not easy. Especially when I get outside on the slightly slanted parking lot. The cart keeps pulling toward the cement curbing and I have to steer it with one hand and one foot. Finally I get too close to one of the curbs and it bumps a little. The bag on the bottom spills open and items roll out onto the parking lot. I put down my toddler and warn her to stay by me as I clean up my items. A Wal-Mart employee walks by me and watches me put my things back into the bag. "Thanks for your help," I think in my head. Exasperated, I get everything put in my car and buckle up the baby. WHEW!!

I definitely need an attitude adjustment. But why, oh why, do I always choose the lane that takes half an hour?!

A sad Friday

Yesterday I went to the funeral of my little baby nephew, Paul. He was just over a week old. He was named after my dad Paul who passed away 30 years ago. His name was picked out by my brother and sister-in-law way before he arrived. It was a normal, healthy pregnancy for my sister-in-law. He had complications at birth and wasn't able to stay with us here on Earth. He was such a sweet little angel baby. While he was here he was read to, sung to, prayed for and loved more than words can describe. His mission in life was to gain a body. He did that. A beautiful, strong body. Now he is in Heaven with his grandpa and many other relatives fulfilling his mission there.

"Each of us will have our own Fridays--those days when the universe itself seems shattered and the shards of our world lie littered about us in pieces. We all will experience those broken times when it seems we can never be put together again. We will all have our Fridays.

"But I testify to you in the name of the One who conquered death--Sunday will come. In the darkness of our sorrow, Sunday will come.

"No matter our desperation, no matter our grief, Sunday will come. In this life or in the next, Sunday will come."

- Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin

Little men

Nemo the cat, Domo the ?, and Benji the dog - oh yeah, and Ben the boy

When I was little, I thought that all boys were loud, dirty, mean and bad. Except for my brothers. But every other boy. Boy was I wrong. So wrong.

I now know that boys are soooo sweet and loving and kind.
They love their mommy and daddy.
They want to do the right thing.
They feel sad when others feel sad.
They feel proud and happy when they clean their room.
They love to make people laugh.
They are very creative with their imaginations and their Legos.
They love kitties and puppies.
They get nervous when they have to give a talk in primary.
They are smart.
And they love to sleep with their stuffed animals! So cute! Ben normally sleeps with just one stuffed animal at night. He switches them out so that they each get a turn. But this night he decided to have all three at once.


Okay, so maybe my little boy doesn't LOVE taking a bath (until he's in and then he doesn't want to get out). And he can't comprehend what the word "whisper" means... but I love my little guy to bits and pieces and I hope that I can help him grow up to be a good, kind person.

Weird dream

I know a lot of people don't like to hear about other people's dreams so I don't mind if you skip this post. I used to annoy my sister with my morning recounts of my nightly dream. I'm sure I went into way too many vague details. (And then we weren't at home anymore, but I don't know where we were... And someone else was there but I don't know who it was...) But the other night I had such a strange dream and it was so clear.

I was at a beach and I was up on a hill so I could see down into the water. A lot of people were swimming and I looked to the left in the water and I saw a shark. Right as I yelled, "SHARK!" the shark zoomed over right into the group of people. Everyone scrambled out as fast as they could but one man had his foot bitten off.

Afterward I was in a beach shack where I was staying with two other girls. We had the foot in with us. Don't ask me why. Maybe we were the beach doctors. There was no blood at all, it kind of looked like a mannequin foot. Another funny thing (funny as in strange) was that it was cut smoothly off a few inches above the ankle. The shark must have had a nice straight bite and also must not have swallowed. But I was holding the foot and as the other girls were talking I wondered what the foot would taste like. I took a bite right out of the heel. It was hard, kind of like styrofoam or rubber. So it sat in my mouth for half a second before I spit it out. Then I was nervous that the girls would see that I had taken a bite so I had to hide the foot and the piece of heel in my drawer and then try to figure out how I could get rid of them forever.

Yeah, that was my dream. Does it mean I am psychotic? Do I have a tendency for cannibalism? Will I regret posting this on the world wide web? I don't know what my crazy subconscious was thinking. I have always had such vivid dreams (except for when I didn't know where I was or who I was with). Last night I was dreaming about construction on Redwood Rd. Oooh. Don't wake me from that dream. Let it stretch on and on in dreamy happiness.

Oh no!

Just as I said goodbye to the kids as they got out of the car for school this morning, I realized that I didn't comb either of their hair. Yikes! They are going to look scary all day. This is the first time that has happened. (Of course their hair goes uncombed sometimes on Saturdays or days with no school.) Oh well. I guess their messy hair will now match their pants with holes in the knees that are getting slightly short. And it will match their faded school shirts that they wear every Friday. Little orphans. Oh, I'm so embarrassed.

How does it end?

I have a sickness. It's called, "I have to read the last page of a book before I get to the end of the book". I know, it's horrible. I try to stop but I just can't help myself. I always try to not think of it until I get to the middle of the book and I hold the two halves between my fingers and eyeball it to see if I'm at the middle of the book. But then I have to just see how many pages the book has so that I can see if I'm in the exact middle. (Who doesn't do that?) So I flip my way to the last page and I tell myself I'm not going to look at any of the words. Just the page number. So I find the last page, look at the number and then proceed to glance down at the words just a little. Then I continue to read all the while telling myself,
"Stop reading.
Stop reading.
Stop reading."
Until I reach the end of the page.
It usually let's me know, who the person is with, where they are, or who just died.
Sometimes it's relieving, sometimes shocking, and sometimes I'm just mad at myself. But it cannot be stopped. My mind has tricked myself too many times with this. I can't trust it. Maybe I should just stick to eyeballing it.

Usually after I have done this and I go back to the page that I am on, I look at the page number and realize the real reason for looking at the last page and I find that I forgot what the last page number was and so I have to look at the last page again to look at the number and divide it in half. Then I finally know if I'm in the middle. (I'm usually not quite to the middle yet.)

Not the plague

I'm FINALLY getting better from that horrible cold. I am so glad. Elli always gets the sicknesses first in our family. She gets them from school. I asked her over the weekend,
"Does your class wash hands before lunch?" and she said,
"No."
"Does your class use hand sanitizer?"
"No."
She had a small bottle of hand sanitizer hooked onto her backpack but if she forgot to use it before she left her class room then it was too late. So I told her that now we have to clip it onto the belt loop on her pants so that if she is in line for lunch or even sitting down to eat then she can still have it with her to use it if she forgets until the last minute. How mean am I? Making my daughter WEAR a bottle of hand sanitizer!! She's fine with it though. She even remembers if I forget. She'll grab it and clip it on. It's crazy that they don't make kids wash hands before lunch. Maybe they do in other classrooms that have sinks but Elli is in the portable classroom and there is no running water. I know that they talk about germs and ways to prevent them. I have gotten papers that they (Elli and Ben) have gotten about the subject. So you'd think that they'd really force the hand washing.

So to all the people that I have, or my kids have, spread this to:
1- I am sooo sorry. And
2- It takes about 10 days to go through your system. But it feels like longer.

I'm sorry, could you speak into my good ear?

I am so thankful for my hearing. And my voice. Right now I don't have either. I currently have the worst cold of my life. I don't even know if I could call it a "cold". I think it's actual term is "the plague". Late Friday night I started getting a sore throat and achy all over. The next day, the achyness was gone but the sore throat was still there.

Sunday, my left ear was hurting and all of a sudden it went all muffled with a nice clear ring in it. I decided that in the morning I would go to the doctor. I thought for sure a sore throat this bad was strep.

Monday, I went to the doctor. Not strep. Good. But now I have to live through the pain. (Okay, I can take pain medicine.) No ear infection, and it wasn't excess ear wax. He said it was probably just my eustatian tube plugged up in connection with my sinuses being plugged up. I'm supposed to take Mucinex to clear all that up and I didn't have a cough before (just a little hard to breathe) but when I started the Mucinex it sure loosened things up. Now I have a major cough. He said if things don't clear up in a week then to come back.

Tuesday, when I got home from Ben's basketball game, I noticed my eye was all red. Pink eye. Luckily we had some unexpired medicine from the kids left over to clear that right up.

Wednesday - everything the same.

Then today, Thursday, I woke up and had no voice. Laryngitis. Now, I've never had laryngitis before. I thought people that had it were kind of whiny. They could whisper as loud as they wanted. I thought, well, if they have this much control of their voice then they're probably faking it. Now I know. It hurts to talk normally and it sounds all froggy/squeaky. But whispering doesn't hurt at all. No matter how loud. The only bad thing is that you just sound silly to kids. (And to people who have never had it.) My baby has been whispering back to me when I talk to her all day today.

To top it all off, I have a boil on my chin so that when I talk everyone stares at it. There is no other word to describe it. It's a huge boil. I guess it could also be described as a giant zit. But it sounds more plague-y to call it a boil. Yeah, I DO have the plague.

So I've only had half my hearing since Sunday and I can't sleep very well because of the coughing. I can't wear my contacts for a week so I am looking real lovely with my outdated glasses. I have a giant red dot on my face and I sound like a frog. I'm tired of the monotonous 'eeeeeeeeeeeeeee' in my head that I'm hearing. Come on, learn a new tune, ear! And my throat still hurts.

Tomorrow, it will be a week since it started. I don't know if I'm supposed to go back then or a week since I went to the doctor, which was on Monday. He probably meant from Monday.

My visiting teachers have been so amazing though. They were supposed to come over Monday but I canceled and so they brought me dinner. Then today, one called to see how I was feeling and she heard my voice and knew that I wasn't any better. So they brought me dinner again today! So nice! I told them that this 'cold' doesn't affect my arms but they just insisted. They have offered to do anything for me from doing my laundry (I wouldn't let them) to taking my kids to school. They are too good at their jobs. It makes me want to be a better visiting teacher. I'm not off to a good start though since I couldn't go on Wednesday with my partner.

Anyway, I thought that by this time that things would be nearing the end, but now I'm not sure when this sickness will be ending. It definitely makes me realize how thankful I should be when I'm healthy.

I love language

Ever notice how in England they use an adjective that's normally used when describing something bad in front of an adjective that's used when describing something good and it means something good?

For instance:

"That's awfully nice."

"He's terribly friendly."

"This is frightfully delicious."

I've always found that interesting. I wonder why they didn't carry that little piece of grammar over to America...