Windshield Wipers

I kept putting off posting because I was getting really comfortable with having a picture of my parents with sweet, little Leah Marie at the top of my blog. I really do like it there. Maybe I'll just re-post that picture with every new post. Good idea? No? Oh. Okay. Maybe not.

So the above video was just too funny to me. I got out of my car and heard a loud squeak, and lo and behold there were these windshield wipers just going at it. I didn't think it was even possible for windshield wipers to operate while the car was off. So I sneakily pulled out my phone, hoping that the owner of the vehicle was no where nearby. I did feel a tad bit on the creepy side while recording the video, but it just needed to be documented. And besides, it wouldn't be funny to tell anybody about it without them seeing it because well...I am awful at telling stories. And I mean awful. Past boyfriends have often laughed, mocked, and then banned my story telling. Is it better in a blog? Oh, no. Maybe it's worse. Oh well, it's my blog and I can say what I want without the fear of mean boyfriends criticizing my story-telling skills. So if you have any criticism, just keep it to yourself.

And while we're on the topic of windshield wipers, I killed a bird while driving home to the Big SJ on Friday afternoon. I didn't purposefully kill it. In fact, I am certain that that particular bird was a kamikaze. Fortunately, my car was harmed in no way, but unfortunately, the bird was, and then I had to clean feathers out of my windshield. It scared me so bad. I was just driving along, minding my own business, watching out for Apaches (because I just outside of Bylas), and SMACK! A giant bird (okay, it was either a small crow or a big...other sort of bird) smashed its fragile body against the glass leaving a greasy smear and a portion of feathers attached to the top of my windshield. Poor bird. I found myself actually ducking inside my car as a few birds were almost too slow to get out of the way of my car as I drove to school today. The words "Bird killer. Bird killer," kept sounding in my head as more birds nearly met the same fate as Friday's suicidal bird. Poor bird. Why is it that things attack me outside of Bylas?

What really is in that water?

Father's Day

The Top Ten Reasons Why My Dad is the Best

#10. He can do ANYTHING, including Taekwondo, operate ham radios, juggle, unicycle, fence, ride his bicycle for hundreds of miles at a time, build RC airplanes, hike anywhere, canoe, rappel, fish, fly kites, yo-yo (is that a verb?), boomerang (I don't know if that's a verb either), devil sticks, that cool ball thing that David Bowie does on Labrynth, and a million other things I can't think of. You name it, he can do it.

#9. He can fix anything. My Dad keeps the power plant running. When he retires, we probably won't have electricity any more. I remember once we were at the theatre at home and the projector broke down, and the owner came into the audience and asked if my dad was there. My dad got up from his seat, fixed the projector in five minutes, and we finished the movie. My mom said something similar happened to him in the temple once. If it's broken, my dad can fix it.

#8. He is spontaneous. My dad will do anything at the drop of a hat. If he gets an idea to do something, no questions asked, he'll go out and do it. He took me on an impromptu trip to the Grand Canyon so we could do our annual hike before I left for college. We nearly died because we weren't in shape for it, but it's one of my favorite memories.

#7. People can count on him for anything. If anything is asked of him, and there is any way that he can accomplish it, he'll do it. If he has to drive across the country to help someone, he'll go.

#6. He gives the best presents ever! I know that sounds very selfish, but it's really special. My dad always gives a lot of thought into every present he gives, and I've never gotten something I couldn't use. Ooh, last Christmas he gave us all these flashlights that don't use batteries. I've used it several times, and it is awfully useful. My dad makes every Christmas and birthday special.

#5. He always has a good story to tell. If you ever talk to him, chances are you'll hear a story. It might not have anything to do with what you were talking about, but it will always be a good one.

#4. He taught me to love reading. I don't remember a time when my dad didn't read to me. We read a fairy tale or part of a book every Sunday until I graduated from high school.

#3. He's always encouraged me to be great. Whether it was a soccer game, a dance recital, or a spelling bee, my dad was always there to encourage me to do and be my best. He's given me the desire to work hard and make and reach goals and give everything I've got in the life I'm living.

#2. He has a strong testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I have always known where my dad stood with the gospel. He knows we have a loving Heavenly Father, a Savior who redeemed us from our sins, and that we have the ability and potential to go home to them and be made clean from our sins. He knows that our family can be together forever, and that is the most important thing in my life.

#1. My dad loves his family. Really, this and #2 go hand in hand. My dad is the greatest example of the love of Christ and loves my family so much. He loves my Mama and she loves him back. He loves everyone of his children and grandchildren despite all the trouble and worry and grief we have given him. We're so lucky to have him!

Happy Father's Day Daddy, I love you very very much.

Fancy Nancy

It all started with Lora you know. Lora is the connoisseur (that's a fancy word for expert) of all written words. If Lora says it's a good book, chances are it will knock your socks off. So, while we were in Walmart we took a turn through the book section. (If you go to Walmart with Lora, there's no way you'll leave without going through the book section.) We wandered by the romantic novels and turned over all the ones we deemed as inappropriate for any eyes to behold (which we did often), and made our way over to where all the appropriate books were stashed. Lora gasped and snagged a misplaced book from the bottom shelf. "Kelly, you have to read this!" she exclaimed. So I did. And I loved it. Just like I always do if Lora tells me so.

Fancy Nancy

I loved the title and I instantly loved the little red-headed girl covered from head to toe in glitter and frills. I laughed out loud when Nancy taught her family the difference between plain and fancy. Yellow is plain. Gold is fancy. I wanted a doll named Lucinia Marabelle Chandelier just like Nancy's. I couldn't help but love Nancy. Lora and I giggled the whole way through the book. Nancy is tres chic (that's French for very fancy).

I remember being a lot like Nancy when I was little. I loved fixing things up and dressing up. Anything that had to do with being fancy. I wanted things to be perfect and as nice as possible. In fact I'm still that way. You probably can't tell from my t-shirt and jean clad exterior, but I love being fancy. I don't even think my roommates know that I'm fancy underneath. So maybe I need to bring back my own Fancy Nancy because I love being that person. It makes me happy, just like reading Fancy Nancy does. I'm not talking about trying to be perfect all the time or being worldly and obsessed with clothes and jewelry. No, no no, that's not what I mean. Fancy Nancy makes plain things beautiful and she makes life beautiful because of how she perceives it. Sure she throws on a few extra bows, but that's what makes being a girl special. There's always something to add and some way to make life brighter and more beautiful.

So, just like Nancy, I'm a tres, tres fancy girl.

Tomatoes

Early-morning psychology is interesting to say the least. The class is packed with the leftover-summer-crazies.

leftover-summer-crazies n. 1. the persons who frequent the classrooms of junior colleges during the summer months, these persons tend to be eccentric in nature and personality

I spend most of the class wondering why what was just said was said at all. I think the teacher thinks I'm constantly confused about the subject, when in reality I'm just pondering on how one particular classroom can be the official melting pot of every variety of human being.

Some of my ponderings: Why does that woman wear white stretch pants and polka-dotted granny panties? Speaking of grannies, why does that 80 year old woman insist on wearing tank tops every day? Such a thing should not be done. Ever. And while we're on the topic of arms that should not be seen, did you know that if you get a tattoo when you're younger and then later gain a large amount of weight, that tattoo will grow with your ever-growing appendage. One size fits all. And speaking of tattoos, it is possible to have large tattoos on your neck (or small tattoos if you don't want to be too flashy). Such persons (with tattoos on their necks) might have once upon a time in their deep dark past been involved with drugs (the effects of which are evident). And if such persons divulge such information, it will in no doubt have the law-enforcers who are furthering their education peering across the classroom nonchalantly at the former drug abusers.

But surprisingly, despite the diversity of the classroom, there is really only one person that....well....How do I put this delicately....Chaps my hide. She's a front-row sitter with a thick Southern accent and on the first day, she announced to the class that she's a psychology major.

*I coughed to myself, "Brown-noser."*

In fact, everything she says is an announcement, and if there is anything to say, she'll be sure to announce it. No, she'll announce it whether there's anything to say or not. She even often repeats what our teacher just said. What is this? Dramatic emphasis?

Example from yesterday's class:

Mrs. G.: "An example is of how children in Russian orphanages have problems with communication. Because they aren't nurtured while they are young, they can have problems with language and communicating effectively with others."

Southern Chick: "That's right. When you don't nurture a child, how can you expect it to be able communicate with you? Russia is so full of problems. Those orphanages are just awful. The children are neglected and undernourished, and so they aren't able to communicate effectively."

Wait. I don't think I've got it yet. Could you repeat it one more time?

All her comments leave me wanting nothing more than to throw something at the back of her head--as I'm conveniently seated directly behind her. What I usually want to throw is tomatoes. Today I threw twenty-one imaginary tomatoes. Eventually, I ran out of tomatoes and resorted to wads of paper and finally my pencil. She didn't even notice.

I always feel bad though. Most of the class period I'm offering silent prayers that I won't want to throw tomatoes at her. Luckily, Heavenly Father is watching out for me and has never provided me with a box of real tomatoes.....As of yet.

To fully understand this personality, refer to this video: http://www.hulu.com/watch/11931/saturday-night-live-penelope--traffic-school

Keeping It Clean

My psychology class today made me think of this picture. We were talking about consciousness and how people cope with problems and the stresses of life. Some people turn to meditation, hypnosis, but most turn to alcohol and drugs. So I turned to these women for great advice. Thank you prohibition women. You were a little bit extreme and your efforts were not welcomed, but you set a standard and kept it. I know I laughed out loud when I saw this picture, and I still do, but "Way to Be!"

These women were just the cream of the crop to say the least. So men, if you want to kiss these women, keep away from that liquor! (I'm still not sure if it's incentive or a deterrent). But the same goes for me. (Yet again, an incentive or a deterrent....I guess we'll never know).