Redwood Forest, '86

This is Mike and his mom back in the day.

If I gave birth to something that chubby and blonde, all of my wildest dreams would come true. 

Also, doesn't his mom's hair look like she could've been the 5th member of ABBA during the 80's?

Ohana Means Family

I made a ginormous mistake last week. 

First of all, I read this, and then I started thinking "Yeah...YEAH! I could pass the PT test too!"

That wasn't the ginormous mistake part.

The ginormous mistake part was when I actually voiced those thoughts to Mike. I was kind of hoping for the same reaction as the woman who wrote that blog post. In my mind, Mike thought that was totally hot and would think it was a turn on. 

In REALITY, he said "Oh okay" and immediately began figuring out how many push ups and sit ups I'd have to do in 2 minutes and the time I'd have to be under for a 2 mile run, and then proceeded to start figuring out a strategy.

I. Married. A. Nerd.

So, twice in the past week, I have done a 2 mile run. It probably would've been more, but there's been rain. You know.

Twice in the past week, I have surpassed my mind in running distance. My mind was still sitting at the .75 mile marker when I ran back past it to finish up 2 miles. 

It feels amazing and awful all at the same time. 

That's the longest I've ever been able to run in one sitting. In one sitting? That's the longest I've ever been able to run in one running? This is turning weird...

Mike has been so patient with me. I know he could take off and probably finish the run about 10 minutes quicker than I could, but he sticks right with me and gives me encouragement when I need it most. Last night, when we were just one hill away from the last marker which would end the run, I kicked it into gear and gave it everything I had. I probably looked something like a lunatic running uphill. He said "Oh going faster are you?" He then kicked it up a couple of notches and continued to jog along leisurely... His legs are about 10 times longer than mine so...yeah.

Also, I've been revisiting my Zumba on the Wii over the past couple of weeks, instead of doing my usual 4 mile run/jog. I thought maybe changing up my cardio routine would be good.

People.

THE SCALE IS MOVING. 

In a good direction this time. It was a joyous occasion this morning for my weekly Tuesday weighing.

Oh! AND! Last night while we were running, we passed the ugliest little pug I've ever seen. I just wanted to hug and kiss it. It looked just like Stitch.

See?

Just like that, except really dark brown, with the worst sort of caramel colored spots all over. Hideous!

It was so adorable.

At this time, I really need to get something off of my chest. I'm not going to apologize for it either.

Do you know what really bugs me?

When people organize their books according to color.

For example:

How the DEVIL are you supposed to find anything? I've organized my books alphabetically by author, by title, and then alphabetically by author in their respective genres. I can't ever keep it one way for long, because I like reorganizing them. 

I'm crazy, I know, but how can you stand to separate books like that when organizing by color? "The Hunger Games" would be off in one corner with all of the scary, black books while "Mockingjay" would be somewhere in the midst of the sky blues! HOW IS THAT CONVENIENT! I don't even want to know what would have to be done to my paperback Harry Potter's that have the diamond design in multiple colors on their spines. 

What then, huh? What. THEN.

Speaking of books, I found a good use for my collection of Ikea bags. I've filled both of them (2 can count as a collection, right?) with all of the books I'll be taking to Tyler. I am so dang proud of myself because it's really only about 1/4 of my books that I'm taking.

Anyways, Mike walked into the office today and saw the two bags full, I mean just FULL to over flowing, of books and said "Are those the books you're going to sell?" (in the process of deciding what goes with me and what sleeps in storage, I've also cleaned out books that I have never read or will never read again, and those will be taking a trip to the magical land known as Half Priced Books) and I said "NOOOO! Those are the ones going to Tyler!" I then proceeded to point to the small stack of about 12 books all by themselves and said "Those are the ones I'm selling..." 

He laughed at me. That husband. He's always laughing. Usually at me. Or something witty that I said.

I'm just so witty.

Oh and can we talk about something else completely different without a segue into it?

I work for the best people. The BEST. 

Sunday afternoon, we spent a good chunk of time with Mike's family, and then went home to chill for the rest of the night. I got a text from Sam that said "Will you be home around 7:20? Maggie has something for you."

I thought that was random but okay I like getting things so of course I told him I'd be home.

Look what I got!

That's a BIG bowl full of baking chips, a really most excellent bar of chocolate, and wonderful bottle of vanilla. 

Do Annette and Sam know me well or what? And of course Maggie. I'm told she picked out mostly everything in the bowl. 

I can't even wait to use the vanilla and the milk chocolate chips to make Oreo pudding cookies this week.

I wish I could give thoughtful gifts like this! I am awful at thinking of gifts. 

If I could choose a super power, it would be something like being the best at thinking of thoughtful gifts. Or healing powers. One of those two. Or maybe controlling the weather. Or flying.

Have A Great Monday 3

I forgot to mention, in my assessment of "The Avengers," that I had a hard time taking Cobie Smulders seriously. Every time she was on screen, the mall song kept popping into my head.

If you watch this, you won't be soar-ee that the 80's didn't hit Canada until the 90's.

And it turns out my friend Becca's sense of humor is just as sad and twisted as mine is. She wanted me to share this one with all of you, to start off your Monday:

She's right though! Who the heck has time for bronchitis?

Meryl And Moms And...Mispacha

This weekend has been one of those weekends that I can usually only dream about. 

Take yesterday, for instance.

I got up, got my scriptures read, got some cleaning done, got my Zumba done, and went with Mike and Pete to play at the park in the midst of all of that.

That was all just before one o'clock.

THEN I finally sat down and watched "Doubt" because it's been staring at me from the top of my DVD player all week, ever since Netflix was kind enough to send it to me.

I have a firm testimony that every new movie that I see Meryl Streep in, just makes me love her even more. Can anyone even come close to acting the way that woman does?

THEN Mike declared it to be date night, so I went to go spiffy myself up. And when I came back out to the living room, Pete was all harnessed up, ready to go, so I knew it would be exciting. And it was. Because a picnic at Zilker Park, where you eat P. Terry's burgers and watch your newly cleaned dog wallow around in mud is always exciting.

THEN we got home and still had time to fit in a pirate movie and a batch of cupcake baking.

Seriously. How often does a Saturday that is so complete happen? 

SO. COMPLETE.

In even more exciting news, the first watermelon of the year has been purchased and already halfway eaten. 

I feel like the first watermelon of the year is always kind of a spiritual event. 

It is, at least to me, a symbol of summer and the kind of food that has years and years of memories encased inside of it. That's why the rind is so thick. There are so many people that have happy, summer memories associated with watermelon, it wouldn't be able to hold all of them in otherwise.

Right?

Also, I can eat tons of it and not feel too terribly guilty about it.

In case anyone has forgotten, it's Mother's Day. If you HAVE forgotten, I would suggest you get to steppin' because the day is more than halfway over and you need to do something to show appreciation to the woman who carried you for nine long, cruel months and then proceeded in on the real trial of raising you.

In my family, Mother's Day was never a huge deal. My mom's not the biggest fan of it, and I don't think I will be either. It really is something of a Hallmark holiday, and moms deserve much more appreciation than just once a year, which I'm afraid is all some of them get.

Anyways, I'm not going into that.

I did what I usually do for my mom. I called her up and sang "Mother Dear I Love You So" in the most angelic, operatic voice I could muster and she proceeded to cry and tell me that it was the worst gift she's ever gotten. She was crying because she was laughing so hard, by the way, not because it was such a beautiful rendition.

I could go on and on about me mum, but I already have before, so please go here, here, here, and here to read more about that.

I will close by sharing my favorite moment from church today.

In relief society, we were talking about prayer. One of the women was sharing an experience that happened shortly after her and her husband got married. 

Everyone was getting pregnant. Her friends, her family, everyone. She wanted to be pregnant too and it was very frustrating. Her husband suggested they go to the temple and pray about it so she did, grudgingly. 

While she was there, she got the very distinct impression that the Lord wanted them to wait until her husband had graduated from college to have children.

This was, of course, not what she wanted to hear, but they followed the Lord's counsel and 9 months after he graduated, they had their first baby.

I just loved hearing that story. I can relate to that. I know how it feels to want that so badly and to pray for it and to try for it and to let your whole heart and mind wrap around it, but it just isn't the right time. 

I know how it feels to think that this is the most righteous desire I've ever had in my life, so why am I not getting it?? And the Lord says "Not right now. Just trust me. I'm much smarter than you are."

 (He doesn't really say that, but it's true. He's very smart)

As I look back on the past few months, I'm amazed and so grateful that the Lord knows what's ahead of me and knows what's best for me. If I had had a baby instead of a miscarriage, my little baby and I would be sending my husband off to a combat zone.

That makes my stomach turn.

I really would like Mike to be on the whole grand adventure of parenting with me.

Thank goodness for a loving Heavenly Father who has a plan for me. (and you too!)

Thanks Grieg

If the world was full of moments like this, there would be much less contention.

It's okay if you cry a little. I did too.

Things That Make You Go Oy

So I replaced the black printer cartridge this morning.

Twice I tried printing off the recipe for strawberries and cream pie. Twice I got nothing but blank paper.
"What have I done to upset the printer cartridge gods?!" I asked myself desperately.

Let me tell you something.
Just a little piece of sage advice, from one person who suffers from blonde/Sandi moments, to another.
When installing new printer cartridges, pull off the little tab that blocks the ink from coming out BEFORE putting it into the printer.
You're going to get your best printing results this way.
I can almost 99% guarantee it.

In other "Sandi Moments Action News," my gate opener, punchy button thing, that I got from the apartment complex, is dead.
I played a big part in its death.
The other night, Monday night to be exact, we had a gargantuan storm come through. I really can't attest to how gargantuan it was because it hit hardest whilst the tall man I'm married to and I were in a theater watching "The Avengers." I'm told it was great though. The storm, not the movie. I saw the movie myself so I don't need someone else to tell me it's great. Which it is.
Moving on, Monday morning, I parked under covered parking outside of our apartment building. I knew rain was coming at some point, so I wanted to be prepared. At that point in the week, it was still relatively warm (the temperatures have dropped considerably and it's been an awesome week, weather-wise, I mean as awesome as it can be for being Texas in May), and I thought "Hey, I'll crack these here windows so my car doesn't get way hot, and I'm SURE I'll drive it again sometime BEFORE the rain hits."
You would think my confidence, combined with parking under cover would ensure that no rain got into my car.
Well, I happened to park my car at the end of the covered parking and also my confidence was false.
I didn't drive my car again until Wednesday.
By that time, there was a weird spot on the front seat of my car, where I could tell rain got on the steering wheel and dripped down onto my seat. I can't even begin to tell you how fun it was to actually put my hands on the steering wheel after that.
I thought that was the extent of my stupidity.
Not so.
Get excited.
I'm leaving the complex this morning, for to get some milk and contact solution (and some Sally Hansen nail polish that was on sale and I saw someone wearing it at church on Sunday and wanted to get it... it's "Gray by Gray" by the way and it's lovely), and my punchy button, gate opener thing wasn't working. I start thinking to my brain "Why isn't my punchy button working?" but then my brain turns all logical and says to me "Isn't a better question, why is your punchy button swimming in a cup holder of water?" because that's about the time I realized the punchy button was almost completely submerged in water.
The thing that truly baffles me about all of this is that I can find water residue in only two spots in my car: my seat and the cup holder.
How did the rest of my car escape any of the carnage? And how/why did it zero in on this cup holder???

35 bucks and a new punchy button later, I will not be cracking my windows ever again if there is rain on the horizon.
No matter what my pride tells me.

So, the moral of the story is, my car is getting a huge bath, inside and out, this weekend.


This concludes this afternoon's edition of "Sandi Moments Action News."
Tune in at 5 when we discuss what a bad idea making sorbet without an ice cream maker is.

And did you know that the lighting of the Olympic torch started as Nazi propaganda? Neither did I. Something to tell your kids before they go to sleep tonight.

Deep Breath, And Ahhhhhhhh

It was one of those glorious afternoons.

You know the kind.

Towels tumbling through the dryer, kid snoozing through a nap, dog snoozing through a nap that was occasionally interrupted by an appearance of the demon dog, and the soundtrack to all of it was classical music mixed with the gentle patter of rain by the open window. Gloomy, with a hint of a chill in the air. And by hint of a chill, I mean 80 degrees.
(who even could have suspected the A/C would be off and the windows would be open again before October?)

Add the discovery of a new dessert blog to the mix, and it made for one glorious afternoon.
Yes sirree. It was glorious.

p.s. I cannot tell you enough how amazing this place smells when I've got this in the crockpot. I've made it thrice, and thrice we have loved it.