the coldest i've ever been

See this, right here? This is not it. This is me, frolicking in California last week. Note how not cold I look.
Paul and I flew out to stop my brothers from killing each other. Okay, not really. We actually flew out to enjoy some quality shenanigans with our families. No conflict resolution was involved. This incident ended peacefully. Some indian burns may have been involved.

A couple days after returning from the land of milk and honey, we drove to D.C. with Kevin and Ryanne and their good friends Sandy and Tim for the inauguration. Mad props to Kevin for this sweet angled shot. I think it captures beautifully our thoughts and emotions at that moment: Andrea- I am so pleased I can feel my feet right now. Paul- I am in no way experiencing hypothermia. Nicely done, Kevin.

After an awesome day of looking at historically significant artifacts (dude! we saw the magna carta, for reals!), we thought we'd have our picture taken in front of this pretty white building. Still, not the coldest I've ever been.

So, I guess you have to get up pretty early to be first in line for one of the 21st Century's most anticipated events. Here, smashed up against a lot of happy strangers with some of my favorite people at 6:30 in the morning, I thought......yeah, getting pretty cold.

Uh.......awesome.

This is it. The coldest I've ever been. You can't tell, but here I have on leggings, tights, two pairs of socks, jeans, a tank top, two long sleeve shirts, a turtleneck shirt, a sweatshirt, scarf, hat, gloves and puffy coat, and I am still completely fa-reezing. For seven hours, I jog in place and watch as one of our nation's most historically significant moments unfolds.

I have to admit, as I jog in place and pray that my feet won't fall off, I feel a little guilty. I mean, I've never been a very political person, and I know people who would have jogged in place for much, much longer to have the opportunity I was being afforded.

As I wait for Ryanne to come out of one of the port-a-pottys lined up for what seems like miles, I pace. Got to keep the blood flowing. Foot retention has always been a priority of mine. A woman is walking toward me; I shift my pacing to the right. Still, she's about to run into me, okay, shifting pace to the- oh, wait. She's walking up to me.

She says hello, asks me how I'm doing. It's a cold day, isn't it? Through chattering teeth, I agree. An exciting day, isn't it, I say. She smiles. We're all cold, but we have warm hearts, she says.

I'm not so cold any more.

on fighting ninjas in the jungle

Okay, so if you're in the jungle and have to fight off ninjas using only 3 foods, what would they be?

I thought of this question as I ate my morning cheerios.

The only thing is, I'm not sure why you're in the jungle and how the ninjas got there, but when you're in that sort of a situation, you don't really question, because the point is there are ninjas that you need to fight off, and you're not going to get anywhere just asking yourself why, are you?

Exactly.

I thought chewing gum would be good. All you do is chew up a whole bunch and stick it on the ground, and then all the ninjas are like "hey, we're stuck!" and can't chase after you. Then, you use a turkey like a bowling ball, and just knock the ninjas over.

Paul thought M&Ms would make for a good distraction, and then you use coconuts to knock them out. Reagan thought of coconuts too, but she also thought of using banana peels, which I have to say I considered in all ways brilliant, because that's not only effective, but funny too, and who doesn't appreciate a little humor whilst battling ninjas in the jungle?

Wow. I think I need to go to bed.

the wishbone

So, when I was seven and we went to Utah for Thanksgiving with Grandma Gale, I tore a wishbone with my cousin Amber, and I won.

This meant I got a wish, and I was ready. I'd been ready my whole life, practically. I wished to be......

A princess.

This, of course, meant a fluffy pink dress, (think Glenda the good witch, only a darker pink) tiara, and wand. Supreme executive power wasn't really a concern for me; it was mainly the super kickin' threads and mystical powers I was concerned with.

As I climbed into bed that night, I imagined what it would feel like, being a princess. I pictured myself in the dress. I could feel the pink tulle, that wasn't itchy at all like the tutu I wore for Halloween in kindergarten, because this was magical tulle. I clutched my fingers around the imaginary wand, and pondered what my first magical act would be.

When I woke up, I wasn't different at all. No pink dress, no wand. No tiara. Just me, in my jammies. Resigned to life as a commoner, I went out for breakfast. Grandma made me toast with peanut butter and marshmallow fluff, and I forgot my disappointment.

Tonight in the cab on our way home, I recounted my tale for Paul. I'm sure he's heard the story at least ten times by now, but he listened like it was brand new and said really soft like something kinda sweet and mushy about there being other ways to be a princess that didn't involve the extravagant attire.

Huh. More than one way to be a princess.

I actually don't wish the princess wish anymore. Well, not without some serious wardrobe modifications, and I'm not sure what the rules are on wishes like that. I mean, once it's out there, it's out there, and I don't know if an addendum can be made.

Sometimes, though, I wish to wake up a mother.

I'm not even asking for the fluffy pink dress, wand and tiara. I know it's work. I know it's hard.

I always say I believe that Heavenly Father has a plan for my life. That He knows best, that all will work out for my good. That I will, someday, be a mother.

Do I, though? Do I behave the way I say I believe?

Lately, I have been more and more consumed by fear.

Fear that I won't ever become a mother.

Fear that I will become a mother BECAUSE WHAT ON EARTH AM I GOING TO DO???? I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO THIS!!!!

With all that fear, I guess I sort of forgot about faith. The fear just felt so comfortable, you know? I must be afraid for a reason, right?

The other day Miggs told me about when she went cliff jumping, and how she got to the top and was completely terrified. The only thing that got her to jump was seeing all the other people who jumped coming up out of the water, all okay and not dead.

I've been thinking about that, about letting go and believing. Believing that Christ did what I believe He did. That I can let this fear, this sorrow, this pain, go. Believing I can rejoice along with the women becoming mothers, even though my turn hasn't come yet.

Maybe that's a way I can be a mother, right now. Even though it doesn't look quite as I imagined it would.

Tonight, I will lie in bed, and imagine what this will feel like. I'll imagine sadness just sliding off me, feel that slow sweet spreading of joy.

I'll imagine waking up in the morning, waking and feeling that I am exactly as I am meant to be.

death kitty

more animals

written on my desk in music class

flea
bored
tacos
chief banky
Jesus is Lord
I think, therefore I am
New York's finest

Anyone know what a chief banky is?

i heart hockey

So, remember when I didn't like hockey because of all the violence and brutality?

Did I mention I also think it's awesome?

Probably not, because I didn't know until Friday, when a couple of our greatgreat friends took us to the Princeton-Cornell hockey game, JUST HOW MIND BLOWINGLY SA-WEET it is.

Mind you, this whole hockey love thing came as a complete shock to me. I mean, when P-Dog watches football, sure I might look like I'm paying attention, but actually I'm picking out the names of our future children. Live baseball games are fun as long as I have someone there for me to share my innermost thoughts and feelings with, and golf is completely delightful if I want a nap. Those announcer people have the most soothing voices.....

So, I had no plans whatsoever to actually watch the hockey game.

Until we entered the rink, and I was overcome with this feeling of.....dare I say....excitement? Yes! I think it was excitement! And know what? All that violence and brutality I've always associated with hockey actually makes for a very entertaining live game.

Also, hockey has the BEST sports jargon. You may ask, how do I know this, seeing as I am the one napping during golf. I am not offended. I know this because I totally just googled hockey terms and came up with a whole list of them and thought.......

ANOTHER REASON I LOVE HOCKEY!!!!!

Biscuit in the basket? Guess what that means?? Go ahead, guess!! It means scoring a goal!! Tell me that's not adorable.

Deke- This means fooling an opponent to move out of position. I think this would also make an excellent celebrity baby name.

Meat wagon- a player whose only skill is fighting. Um.......HILARIOUS. I'm putting this on my list of favorite insults that I will use only in jest because I'm not about hurting feelings.

Sin bin- the penalty box. Parents, I would submit this as an excellent title for the little one's time-out location. "Deke, you're being a meat wagon. Time to go to the sin bin."

I'll tell you what- if loving a sport for its silly jargon and fast paced brutality is wrong, well, I don't want to be right.

i raise my goblet of rock.......to paul

Please, raise your goblet of rock, and join me in wishing Paul a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!

Fact: Rush is Paul's favorite band in the whole world.

Fact: The album 2112 came out the year of Paul's birth. I site this as further evidence that he rocks.

Fact: I feel like there is an I Love Lucy episode for every situation in life. Paul feels like there is a Rush song for every situation in life. Remind me to ask him to explain Xanadu one more time.

Fact: Paul does not like birthdays. I am hoping that in posting a song by his most favorite band of all time, he will stop associating birthdays with menacing clowns, and instead associate birthdays with the most rocking band in the universe and let me throw him a huge party with balloons. Also lots of Diet Coke.