11 year old boys...

I'm actually an expert. I know them and I know the well. Some people have other talents, but unfortunately one of mine is the mastery of the 11 year old boy. I can read their minds, anticipate their every move, and know exactly what they will love to do or hate.I have complete control over them, like puppets. Obviously they have different personalities and some are more mature or more kind than others, but many things are constant across the board. I actually love the 11 year old boy, they're hilarious. I would prefer to be with one at a time, instead of 17 in one room. I thought I would share just one tiny moment of my life being surrounded by these creatures...

This week for writing we made "How to..." pamphlets. The activity started a couple days ago with me making a PB&J sandwich in front of them, following their instructions exactly...which led to a ripped hole in the sandwich bag, a stabbed slit in the top of the PB jar lid, etc. Not because that is what they wanted me to do, but because I was trying to make a point about giving detailed instructions. "Stick the knife in the peanut butter" is what they got if that is what they said to do next. Anyway, (this is something the 11 year old boy LOVES, by the way) the assignment was then to write exact instructions for how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. That led to the next assignment of choosing something they were an expert at and making a pamphlet of directions for How to....whatever. How to french braid, how to brush your teeth, how to put in a contact, how to paint your nails, etc. The typical 11 year old boy moment I want to share is to do with How to Make a Grilled Cheese Sandwich...

Taylor chose that for his pamphlet. Today we shared the finished products in front of the whole class. Because I know them all so well, I knew exactly what would happen when Taylor got up to share his pamphlet. Colored nicely, fun pictures and title on the front, great diagrams inside and some instructions. I was actually excited for the laughter that I knew would roar when he got to step 5.

Step 5: Cut the cheese

I had prepared for the insane laughter from the boys, the tears from Taylor's eyes as he laughed-realizing for the first time the double meaning in his Step 5 , MY laughter at them, and of course...the fart sounds from the boys mouths throughout the classroom. What I didn't prepare for was the LENGTH of this laughter and the inability to move on...until I was forced to get pretty stern...lol This is my life folks. This is my sad sad life.

Boob Jobs

What the? Seriously...WHAT THE!? I encountered at least 6 of them at the gym yesterday. They're usually sporting a really tight low cut workout midriff. Some are the type that are literally only there to show their boobs-they take laps around the gym, mainly walking through the heavy male populated areas, occasionally picking up a hand weight.

I live in "happy valley" Mormon land and I'm pretty sure that most of these woman aren't actually happy unless they have perfect perky boobs, a very slender waist, and are dressed to the nines. Did you know that in a study of all the major cities of the United States, Salt Lake City was number TWO behind Hollywood for plastic/body altering surgeries???

I'm just putting it out there that I don't get it. I guess I'm mostly disappointed in society (what's new?). Why on earth are we concerned with breast size? I mean, mine are small...so, oh well...I got the short stick in the gene pool. The saddest thing is that I'm brainwashed sometimes into actually caring. Those weak moments usually come after a guy I'm interested in goes for a skinny girl with huge boobs, who may or may not have a cute face or a desirable personality. Thank Heaven I truly do know that there are existing males who at least try very hard to think more with their brains and hearts than other parts.

Disclaimer:
a. I'm 100% aware that there are many wonderful, amazing women who just happen to be thin and were blessed with large breasts. I'm friends with some.
b. I also realize that there are circumstances that cause real contemplation for breast augmentation. I'm related to one.

The Only Thing that Seperates Us From the Homeless...a Shower

Whilst trying to come up with a real great plan for New Years Eve in Cali, Robbie and I were searching the internet and saw an ad for the Rose Parade. The ROSE PARADE! That's it! I've been several times with my family when I was younger and I always liked it, but we would just get up at about 5 a.m. and head to Pasadena where we had seats that my Grandpa used to purchase through the Elks Club...good times.
Both of my parents are from Pasadena and at times, earlier in history, lived so close to the parade route that they could walk down in the morning and catch a pretty good view of the floats. So, you know, Rose Parade nostalgia lives in the family.
I somehow talked Robbie and Jessica into heading down there at 1:30 a.m. with jackets, blankets, games, chairs, and pillows to camp out a prime spot. Wow...in our excitement, I don't think we realized how long 6 hours is when it is the middle of the night, real cold, and the only thing between your body and sidewalk is a thin blanket. Good thing Carrie lent me ALL of her jackets, thanks Schmoop! I had on 6 layers.
This was the real low point...about 5 a.m.

Jess did better with the sleeping than we did...

It was happy once the daylight came and especially when the parade started! I did fall asleep in my chair for a little bit of it though! I was finally warm enough and exhausted. Here are a few floats that I loved:

Silly String War of the Century

A few days after Christmas I headed out for a road trip to my home, So. Cal. Robbie came with me and my friend Jess drove down from Sacramento. We were on our way to a California EFY BC Disneyland reunion, and in the meantime I got to see my best friends down there! It was perfect! We spent New Years Eve with the big ol' Miller clan, family of my best pal Carrie. Midnight was a blast! Check out the mess!

Friends, Fun, and NO WORK!

Addendum for Mother

Mom was sad after reading the previous post...understandably I guess. However, I think if she tried really hard to search her memory and try to picture herself in the EXACT same situation on Christmas Day at the age of 27 and not married and being the only kid at home...she might at least somewhat understand, right? I dunno. Let me say that of course I am sooooo grateful for my whole family and many things in my life and the Gospel and the comforts and blessings I have. I realize that while Christmas Day this year was interesting and different and maybe not super exciting, it mostly just gives me a giggle and joy at looking toward the future and the many more Christmases I will have. And I never meant to even say this much about it! It was fine! It was fun! And I love my mom.

Christmas Day With a Pooch

Who knew that someday MY Christmas Day entertainment would be provided by a puppy? I mean, I've spent a lot of calories arguing my dislike and annoyance with dogs- mostly due to my extreme allergies...well...and because most of them truly are annoying.

Back to the story...I slightly reluctantly headed to my parents house a couple days before Christmas, not because I don't love my parents or because I'm not grateful for the holiday "festivities", but because the exchange of presents and enjoyment of my brother and his family had already happened on Thanksgiving. Thus, my Christmas was going to consist of my parents, 2 grandmas and 1 step-grandpa. Hmmmm...

Then came Christmas Eve when I learned that there must be a Santa Claus! Due to some out of the ordinary circumstances my "cousin" Kevin showed up at my house with his little puppy Jaxon! Now, Kevin was enough himself to cause me to jump for joy.

Because the whole Christmas Day itself was mainly the oldies and we didn't even open presents until like 2 p.m. after we went and retrieved my grandma from her assisted living joint in the pounding snow, the puppy ended up being the life of the party!
He got jingle balls from Santa and we watched him for hours it seemed. We took pictures of him, we took videos of him, we held him, we played with him. It was so odd for my life.

I will admit I love the little varmint. I'm not very allergic to him and he never barks and he's tiny and he looks like a teddy bear.

Interesting year.

Hoping Christmas Day 2009 IS spend with my brother.