Fly Away Summer

Summer is definitely moving by too fast. Classes are rapidly approaching (along with my on-campus job that I am looking forward to going back to).
I am not ready to say goodbye to summer yet, but the time has come to pay tribute to some of the summer activities I have already participated in and mention some that are still on my summer wish list.

Ultimate Frisbee: This summer my weekly Ultimate Frisbee games have taken hold. I have formed new friendships, re-established old friendships, and continue to hope that our little group will expand. I hope to keep the games going during the school year as well. Every Thursday at 7:00pm

Pool Parties: It was fun having a party at a house my friend was house-sitting (yes we had permission from the owner!). It was my first party of the summer and a good jump away from my studious school life and back in with friends.

Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows part 2: I know that Harry Potter craziness has taken over the internet, facebook, T.V. commercials, and for some people life, but I have to mention it. My family and I went as the Hogwarts Founders (Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryfindor, and Salazar Slytherin; complete with the horcruxes of each house). We had a great time with family and friends (Who were also dressed up. We had Bill Weasley, Tonks, Random Hogwarts student, and a very young Harry Potter).


Lake Mead LDSSA Trip: Going to the lake to tube, wake board, swim, and seriously sunburn with my campus service group. It was pretty crazy. Loads of fun. I re-injured my wrist and third degree burned my legs (I know, skin cancer, too late now).

There have also been random adventures going on that don't fit exactly right in a category of their own. So here are some just honorable mentions: Hide and Seek (yes we are old and still try to play these games), teaching a boy to french braid while I am teacher and test dummy, and airsoft escapades into the desert.

Some things I still hope to accomplish but am running out of time for: Beach trip: not lake mead, salt water, ocean, sandy beach. This is the first summer in a long time that I have not had plans to venture to some sun-drenched sandy shore along the coastline. It is sort of killing me. I really love to see the ocean. I hope I can make it there before classes commence. Heading to Utah: I have not migrated up to Utah or Idaho yet this summer to see my family. Another summer oddity. And Girls' Nights. One of the things I was supposed to do this summer but seriously failed at. I neglect a lot of people during the school year, things just get crazy. But over the summer even though we vowed to do it at least monthly, I have failed.

I hope you are all having a great summer. That the fun has been great and the burns have been minimal, and that you don't have unfulfilled summer wishes like me.
Happy Summer!

Princess Penny

Sorry I've been gone so long. Things have been crazy since finals and that is really all the explanation I am going to give.

So, every little girl is familiar with princesses. They're beautiful, they sing, they talk to animals, they marry the prince and live happily ever after.
As a little girl I firmly believed that I was a princess. As I grew up and realized that there were other requirements to be a real princess, I decided that one day I would marry a prince of royal blood from another country and become a princess by marriage. The prince I selected for this was Prince Amedeo of Belgium. It hasn't worked out yet. As I approached my teenage years, I decided I would have to become a different princess all together and began researching working as Princess Aurora from Disney's Sleeping Beauty at Disneyland. Despite all my years of scheming to gain this coveted royal title (I must interject that I only want to be a princess and not a queen. Not only does 'queen' sound like a lot more work, I have this picture in mind, most likely spawned from various pictures of the almost immortal Queen Victoria, that all queens are old and mean. Victoria's son was actually quoted saying 'I can endure praying to the eternal father, but I am the only man cursed with an eternal mother') I have yet to have gained it the sense I sought. However, there have been many instances where I have become a princess for a few little girls looking for one.

One summer I babysat three little girls every day. They were between the ages of 3 to 9 and we had all sorts of activities we would do. One of which would be I would take them to a thrift store and we would try on donated fancy dresses, strange shoes, and other random things that are fun in thrift stores. One day they found a wedding dress section with three dresses on it. And we just couldn't leave until they had put one of the dresses on me. I went into the dressing room stall and emerged in full white puffy dress glory. And when I had emerged (complete with a faux flower bouquet they had found in the home decor section) their little eyes gaped in awe. When their mother came to pick them up that day, the three year old ran to her mother and said "Mom, did you know Penny is a princess? You just have to put her in a pretty dress." We all nearly fell over laughing.

The most recent time where I was dubbed a princess was around Christmas. I was working at the Las Vegas Fashion Show Mall at Bath and Body Works. I had finally escaped from a long shift (holiday hours will drive a retail girl to insanity, if the regular customers haven't already and she didn't kill anybody during Black Friday) and I was grumpy (again retail is not an easy job). I was walking out of the mall passed the Pictures with Santa line, dressed in my black slacks, black tank top, and white over-shirt, and was just shaking out my tight ponytail when I was grabbed by the hand. I look down and a little girl, who I didn't know, had attached herself to me. As I stand there stunned looking for this child's parental units who have allowed her to escape, the girl looks to the line to her concerned mother and says "Mom I want MY picture taken with the PRINCESS!" It took me a second to figure out that she was reluctantly getting her picture taken with Santa. And who really wants a fat bearded old man when you can have a picture with a princess? I leaned down to her and tried to explain that I wasn't really a princess to which I was sternly told "You're in disguise!" Who am I to argue when a little girl insists that I am a princess, especially if she found me out through my clever disguise. I walked her back in line to her mother, who was holding her not even crawling other child. I talked to the mother and asked if she would like some help from this princess. She accepted. In my princess form, I assured the girl that Santa was a good guy too, and she smiled big for the Christmas picture. And when it was all done, she did get her picture with her princess in disguise. It is strange to think that it might end up in that family's photo album and be remember as 'that one time in the mall'. To have that just floating about the world weirds me out. But I do hope to that little girl I will always remain her hidden princess.

Journey to the Mailbox

I am living in a condo. So instead of having my own mailbox at the driveway of my house, I have a community mail spot at the corner of my street. Still, I am not that far away from my mail (only four houses down). Yet there is so much that tends to happen on my journey from home to mailbox.
The following is a collection of stories of the adventures that may occur when going to get my mail.

The Shirtless Masculine Man
I was on my way to get the mail, and I catch sight of this guy walking down the street. This man was a masculine man, and has gone through a lot of trouble to be seen as being as manly as possible. He had a shaved head, was covered in tattoos, and was extremely muscular (the husky, meat head type of muscle that makes guys resemble a brick wall), and he was striding down the street with his shirt off (showing all that fabulous muscle). And yes, I was looking, totally checking out his amazingly toned physique.
Then he clears this line of cars that blocks my view of seeing anything from his waist down , and I just start laughing. This man's man, this tribute to masculine values and structure, is attached to a small, girlie, chiwawa by a pink leash. This little dog is daintily trekking by his side, looking as anti-masculine as anything possibly can.
The contrast between the two was just too much for me. This guy must have a girlfriend, a wife, or a daughter who obviously loves this little dog very much, and this guy was taking it to do its doggie business.
I hope he loves the girl he was doing this for very much, as he compromises his masculine image by walking with it.

Let Sleeping Students Slumber
There are masses of students who flock to my neighborhood because of my proximity to the college. Many of them park in my neighborhood in order to avoid buying parking permits at the school (which right now can run you $120). Students are an interesting group in and of themselves, and one of the things we students are good at is catching sleep where ever we possibly can.
It is not uncommon to see students sprawled asleep in the student union between classes, or crashed in the library. Where I work, students have dubbed one of the couches 'the nap couch'. any where there is a chair, couch, or floor, on or around campus is fair nap space for a student.
So on one walk to the mailbox, I see a car. And our one window on one side of the car there is a pair of feet sticking out. And on the other side of the car, out the other window,there is an arm.
I was curious and the car was on my way to the mailbox, so as I passed the scene I darted a passing glance into the car. There in the back seat, stretched out of each window, door to door, was a tall young man, slumbering peacefully (Yet very loudly. This kid could snore!). He was using his backpack for a pillow and was clutching his skateboard like a favorite stuffed bedtime toy. His sleeping position did not look comfortable at all, which is a distinct identifier of a sleeping, over worked, often over stressed student.
I slipped quietly passed and continued to get my mail. Trying not to laugh too loud, and wake him up.

Lots of Tiny Twisted Metal
I had made it to my mailbox safely and without incident! I grabbed my mail and was headed home.
And then it happened. the key to my adventure. Actually keys. Two clumps of community mailboxes over from mine there was a set of keys still in the lock.
It was an entire set of keys; house key, car key, mailbox key (obviously), and who knows what else (it was a hefty amount of keys). And the big problem was that there was no one else around.
I'll admit I walked away. Twice. I didn't make it home either time, and if anyone was watching me I'm sure I looked funny pacing back and forth between a power box and the mailboxes. After struggling with my conscience and brain, I ended up taking the keys from the mail box and attempted to figure out with which house they were associated.
I believe my thinking process is genius! First I stared at the mailbox where I had found the keys trying to figure out the address just by the mailbox. That was a fail, but I did figure out what street the mailboxes belonged too. Second after thinking about how much I did not want to knock on every single door on that street, I looked at the keys and saw that there was an automatic lock set for a car, with a panic button! Yay! I hit the button, and a car alarm starts to sound. Unfortunately that car alarm also sets off several other car alarms, but it did give me a smaller area to cover. After wandering around for awhile clicking the lock button I discover the car these keys go to. We have assigned parking in my complex, and the car was in a driveway.
I considered just leaving the keys on the car. I was a little nervous about being found with these keys and having an owner freak out about how I got them before I could explain. I'd freak out if a stranger showed up at my door with my keys. Eventually I got the courage to knock on the door. In the seconds that followed I was so nervous. I was praying that the car was parked in the right spot, that the person would listen to me before they got scared, and that they were home (I mean I had their keys, where could they have gone?). The door was answered by a frantic woman, who seemed frustrated and in a hurry. I held up the keys and before I could get any words out, this woman was hugging me. I'm not a person for hugs often. I'm a love from a distance type of person, so it was difficult for me not to freak out when this stranger grabbed me around the neck. After she let go, I explained the situation, babbling through most of it. She thanked me (this entailed another hug), and offered me a reward for the keys which I declined (fearful that this might mean another hug). I smiled and walked away, my quest was accomplished, a good deed was done, and another adventure was completed. I feel I worked hard to take my mail home that day.

Call of the Can
Not a lot of people send me mail. Most of what I get are Netflix movies, bills, wedding invitations, and junkmail. Most days all I get is junkmail (although lately wedding invitations have been a close second).
Thankfully, there is a trashcan right next to the mail center. One day it was all junkmail. I quickly scanned between the pages just to check and see if anything else was hiding among the advertisements, and then chucked it all into the trash can, hearing it thump to the bottom quite loudly., and walked back home.
About 30 minutes later I am frantically searching for my cellphone. I have my roommate (at the time) call it so we could find it by listening for the ring tone. The house is silent. The phone is not in the house. In full panic my mind starts racing for possible places I could have left my phone. Then I remembered the loud garbage can thump.
Like a made woman, I ran out the door, while my roommate called my phone again. I was not alone in the mail area when I dove in to the garbage can and answered my ringing cellphone. Oh no, fate is not that kind. There was a person there, an innocent bystander.
I retrieved my phone and answered it, trying to walk away from the mail like nothing had happened. Like answering a phone in a garbage can is normal. Leaving that person to wonder about a girl living in a mailbox garbage can.
Thinking back I should have picked up the phone, answered it, climbed into the garbage can, and taken the call there. Looking back this was not only my adventure to the mail, but also an adventure for that other person who saw me while getting their mail.

Oh so many adventures. Now on to the next one, as I go once more to get my mail.

Useless Super Powers

Since the beginning (don't ask the beginning of what, it is just the beginning) humans have thought about the super powers they would like to have. Invisibility, super strength, mind-reading, the power to fly, to see the future, all those fantastic amazing super powers. But we regular humans (those of us you have not reached a higher evolutionary state, been mutated by radiation, been bitten by genetically altered spiders, or who do not have mysterious origins linked to another planet) are left to dream about the powers we would like to have.
I have a theory. The Useless Super Power Theory. This theory upholds the belief that everyone is super. This does not mean that 'everyone is special'. No, it is the belief that everyone has a power. These powers do not merit a colorful spandex costume with a mask and will not help the possessor to save the world (or even a small town).
There are certain rules to the powers that fall in to this theory. 1) The person who holds the useless power can not control it. They can not be turned on or off at will. It is just a power that happens (maybe it is in the genetics, embedded into the being). And because they can not control it, they often ignore or do not realize their power. 2) Just because it is called a 'useless' super power, does not mean that the power has to be useless to the power-holder.
Useless super powers I have come in contact with include: the inability to approach a traffic light with out it turning yellow (that one is pretty useless all of the time), to know instinctively when to pick up the phone because they are about to text message before it has arrived (does not mean every time they pick up the phone they have a text message. Not one of those people), the power to make any situation awkward (not one I appreciate most of the time), the power to know when a pizza delivery is occurring in the neighborhood (even if he is not the one ordering pizza), the ability to bash your head against anything without breaking or fracturing the skull (Including a time when he knocked himself out accidentally with an aluminum bat. This is an example of a useful useless super power.), and the ability to shriek at high inhuman pitch (possibly the origin of the Banshee myths. They could have just been girls with a useless super power.)
And finally, after years of searching for my own useless super power, I have found it! My useless super power is the ability to wake up exactly one minute before my alarm goes off. It sucks! You have to understand that I do not wake up at the same time every day. I have five different alarms set on my phone and I use them all weekly, because I have to be up at different times for different classes and activities every day. So this is not a conditional thing that my body has gotten used to over time. It is not like I set my alarm for 6:30 every morning and wake up at 6:29. No, every day is different. But every day, if the alarm is set, I wake up one minute before it goes off. What a stupid useless super power I ended up with! I would rather have that one minute of sleep then to wake up and look to see I have to get up and it is not worth trying to go back to sleep to catch that one minute. The point of setting an alarm is to wake up to it. Not to wake up before it. I set my alarm to go off at the latest moment possible so I can get the most sleep. And I still am losing a minute of it!
But now you say "Well that is good. Doesn't that mean you wake up when you have to even if you don't set the alarm?" Good question, but the answer is no. If i forget to set my alarm I do not still wake up in time. Nope, I sleep past what I was waking up for, often missing it completely. My power only works when the alarm is set.
So yay, I found my useless power. And it doesn't get much more useless than that.
What useless or uncool super power do you have? Give it a good think and post in the comments. Also feel free to write the awesome super power you would like to have or would trade your useless power for.
Useless Powers Unite!

Cleaning Up

Life has periods of getting rid of stuff. Honestly, I have never been good at these moments. I am a retainer. I hold on to things because I am afraid of forgetting them. I have what I call 'the memory box', which is a real lock box in my room that contains old movie and exhibit tickets, things I drew years ago, notes passed to a friend, and even an old ring given to me in the fourth grade.
In my head I also have a memory box. It is full of things people once said or did, my own mistakes, old emotions, and a lot of troubles. I have never been able to let go of these things, both tangible and intangible.
Over the years there have been 'cleaning out' periods. Times where I let one or two pieces of old paper flutter to the garbage can, or forgiven a mistake once made. These cleaning out times are small and many things are kept, unable to be parted with.
I find myself in another cleaning out period. This one is different though. It is not a trickle, it is a massive unloading.
The things I have been holding on to for years are weighting me down. Like the ghost of Robert Marely in A Christmas Carol is weighed down and dragged to hell by the chains of his actions. Some of the actions, thoughts, messages, feelings, and even people I have kept around are holding me back from being happy and successful. And I am cleaning them out.
Some if these cleansing actions have been: deleting people from my facebook account, throwing away things given to me, deleting numbers from my phone, and ending friendships face to face. It has been hard, very hard, to do. And it hurts to let most of it go, but if I am going to move on it hast to go. I can't hold on to everything. It is affecting my relationships with good people, my grades in school, and my health.
Many people have, unknowingly, helped me out with the 'starting over'. I hung out with one person who told me that I wasn't making a mistake. They told me that I wasn't being the bad guy (not in so many words). It is amazing how much better that made me feel, finally being told that I was doing th right thing after being told so many times that I was being a horrible person. A visit from an old friend made me realize, I have been surrounding myself with people not up to my old standards of friends. I had dropped some of my values and qualities and lost myself in a lower caliber. And a boy has made me feel so loved and wonderful that past heartaches and harsh words seem to be melting away (Sappy I know. I'll keep it to a minimum, but it is still true.)
I have good things and good people around me. And if I do not let go of other things, the good things will slip away from me.
So old things are being forgotten or chucked into the garbage. New things, things that improve me, are taking their places. And although there might not be as many good and new things on the mental shelves and in the new box, they are certainly better things and there is more room for the future.
Then there are the old constant things. People and memories who have survived the tests of time. The good things I already had, have always had, but couldn't see. Those things are precious.
Here is to the new crossroad I have come to in my life. To making a good decision, to letting things go, and for a change for the better.
Life is full of comings and partings. Some of these partings should have come a lot sooner. I'm glad I received this opportunity to finally be rid of them. The future is looking roomy and bright. Now onward!

The Art of Laundry

I am a child of the modern age. And as such there are many things I have never had to do. I did not realize how much I did not know how to do.
I had always heard tell of the ancient techniques of drying things. I do remember a time when drying the dishes meant that you took a dish towel and wiped the water off. But one technique I have never had to use is the art of 'hanging things out to dry'. I have never seen a clothes line, I have only seen and held a clothes pin for bizarre art projects, and I never experienced joy in wind power. Those things have not changed.
What happened is, my roommate had left her clothes in the wash, and I really needed to do laundry. REALLY needed to do laundry. I put her clothes in the dryer for her and started it, knowing she was busy and wouldn't be home until very late. Then I put my clothes in the washer and started the cycle. There wasn't any problem with this part of the experience. It was when both machines were finished that the confusion began.
I waited for the clothes in both loads to finish, and then stood in front of the laundry room for awhile. I have been known to fold my roommates clothes and leave them on the dryer for them, but I didn't feel like being that nice. I also didn't feel mean or grumpy enough to just dump them on the table or dryer unfolded in a heap. So I got this brilliant idea to take the clothes I needed for the next day and just let them air dry. Turned out to be not the most brilliant idea.
The shirts were easy, I hung them on hangers and let them hang from my bed. It got more difficult for socks and under things. I used hangers for them too, often having to fold something in half over the hanger. Wet clothes hung from every where, and every thing in my room. I climbed into bed feeling confident at my solution to my clothes drying problem.
In the morning things went wrong.
The clothes left in folds on the hangers were still damp in places. And the wonderfully just laundered feeling and freshness I know, I found is a machine-made comfort, and a hideous lie in old movies. Towels do not dry soft and fluffy without a dryer. Shirts end up stiff and rough and I have never hated wearing socks more until I put on these stiff sleeves for my feet. My clothing was uncomfortable! I could hardly stand to wear them.
With a little wear they got a little better. But now I know that a dryer is one of the best inventions and is god-sent.
There was only one thing to do. I took the rest of my clothes off the hangers I had used to dry them, looked at the folds and wrinkles pressed in them, and took them back to the wash, giving them the proper pampering through the dryer that they and I both deserve.
What other modern convenience do we take for granted? And could we be happy and comfortable with out them?
Sounds like it is time for an experiment. What should I explore?

Beatings, Harassment, and Headaches.

So, quite frankly, today has been one of those days. You know, the kind where you're only half awake, stressed, frazzled, and low on time.
My day started with a fist fight.
I woke up and took a shower at the ridiculous time in the morning of 6:00am. I had to get ready for class. Things were normal. I was tired. I get out of the shower, put on my bathrobe and return to my room, where I am frontally assaulted by a tall figure. That's right, I was attacked in my bedroom while I was nearly naked. But don't worry. I kicked butt...well...helium.
That's right my attacker was a balloon. Remember that sweet post I wrote about Valentine's Day and my dad buying my mom roses? And every year he gets me a balloon and chocolate? This year I got my balloon and it is still alive and floating. I have kept it in my room pinned to my clothes hamper, but this morning it got loose. The balloon suffered very little damage (Not sure how I feel about this. What does it say about my fighting? Or does it comment on balloon resistance?)and is now more firmly affixed to my bed at ceiling height to avoid further scares and conflicts.
But that is not all that happened today. Oh no! Next came my accidental harassment of a bum. I was walking home from school and my neighborhood is not high-brow, but it isn't the slums either. But on my brief journey home there are these two guys leaning against a wall. One smiles and stops me and utters a guttural string of undecipherable symbolic sounds. I didn't understand him so I asked him to repeat his question. He looks terribly confused at me, not expecting this and says (this is a phonetic spelling, please bare with me) "Doo ye-ah ave sooom chieanges?' Again I didn't understand him so I so articulately asked "What?" again. He looks at me, like I am the one who must be mentally slow and asked 'Do you have some change?' The whole thing was still very slurred but I finally understood what he was asking. I started laughing, probably looking like a total maniac. I quickly said 'no' and walked on, noting that the two bums were looking after me like I was an escaped mental patient.
And to cap this interesting and exhausting day, where I appear to be not all there in the head, I got a migraine that knocked me on my butt. When the world starts turning crazy stripped colors, you have no equilibrium, and whispers start to sound like screams, it is time to slow down. But I don't have the time to slow down. In fact, I still had a meeting to go to. So, after laying down in the dark for as long as possible I end up in my council meeting clutching a Coke full of caffeine as my life source. I don't think anything was harder than that loudly sung opening hymn sitting next to the most exuberant singer in the room.
Oh what a fun life this is. Crazy stuff. I hope it will be sometime before I have another day like this one.

Photo Blog

In my blog post 'Older Siblings' I posted 2 photos. I now know how to put pictures into my blog! This probably will not happen often, since this is a writing blog, but I see no harm in having just one photo full blog. So this blog is a picture dedication to past events.

Safari Night: Safari Nigh is a night where we take every ficus we can get our hands on and convert my condo into a small jungle. There is an open fire BBQ, a jungle movie, and finally hunting hundreds of balloon animals in our fake mini jungle.







Zombie Walk: Every year around Halloween, Las Vegas hosts a zombie walk. Thousands f people dress up as zombies, meet up at the Luxor at 7:00pm and have a zombie procession from the Luxor to Fremont Street.




Swipe Uses: Freshman at UNLV are required to have a campus meal plan, where they have an allotment of dining dollars (to eat anywhere on campus) and a number of free swipes into the school dining commons. Many freshman over purchase on their meal plans. We have come up with a solution to this problem; get everyone we know together at the end of semester and have a dinner party to use your friend's swipes.



Strip Trips: Every once in awhile you find that one strange person who has never been to the Las Vegas Strip. This must be remedied!! And being a native Las Vegan, I am the person to fix this. Take 'em out for a (clean) night on the town.









Killing off friends: In addition to killing my friends for zombie night, there are certain projects that also require my friends' deaths. These are from a project on Hamlet I had to do. I asked my friends to come over to play the characters and we played out the death scenes of the Hamlet characters.





So yeah, that's what happens around here. There will probably be more dedications to the past. This was fun. Going through all my albums and looking at the fun times with all my friends. Great times guys!

Communication Error

For being a person obsessed with words and language, I have no idea how to effectively communicate. I fail to express my thoughts and ideas clearly when speaking. I can not describe things in detail to another person and have them get the same picture, I have to construct my facial expressions in my head before displaying them on my face to give people the right emotion, forget it if you want me to show or connect with certain emotions, and I have no understanding of how to balance things in my life.
Recently, I have encountered many problems with my communication. The biggest one is that I do not do it. And I admit, I have been ignoring people lately. I want everyone to understand that I am not doing this on purpose. My roommates feel like I am abandoning them because I am never home. I am sorry guys, that is not it at all. I have one friend who thinks I have left him and only want him around when it is convenient for me. This is not the case either. The problem is I can not balance things out. I get focused on other things, mostly on projects that I am doing.
Many of my friends know that when I am focused on something you can not divert my focus. It happens when I am reading a book and no one can get my attention, it happens when I am typing a paper and do not see anything pass my computer screen, and it happens when there is a big project or stress in my life because all my attention goes to that project or obsession.
Ok, so now I recognize the problem and have dug myself into a pretty deep hole. What do I do to fix it?
I am not exactly sure. First of all I feel I need to apologize. I am truly sorry that I have not been there for you and that you feel ignored. I want you in my life more than you will probably ever know, and definitely more than I can express with any of the words I cherish so much. I am working on getting better at communication and expression. Next I know I have to prove myself. Its my turn to put out the effort and prove that I do want you around no matter what. I am not sure how I am going to do that yet. But I hope that you will allow me to try and to please forgive me for my offense.
I love you dearly and I am willing to do anything to try and make you happy. I do want you in my life and I want to be a part of yours. I am so sorry I don't know how to express that to you. Please help and forgive me.

Valentine's Day Memories

Every year on Valentines Day, I would wake up to find a rose and a balloon in my bedroom from my father. My brothers and sister would wake to find the same, and then my sister and I would run to look at all the roses that he had gotten my mother. The roses would be different every year, barely ever being the standard 12 red that everyone gets. I love seeing those roses and can not wait to hear about them when I call my mom on Valentine's Day tomorrow. Yes, my dad still does it. And even now that I'm all grown up, when tomorrow dawns (Valentine's Day), I will miss not having a rose and balloon from my dad.
My dad wasn't always so smooth on V-day. Oh no! His first Valentine's Day with my mom he showed up with a heart shaped box of cheap chocolate, you know the kind you find everywhere on Valentine's Day (not that they can't be fun sometimes, and I like them). Mom is a chocolatier, a chocolate snob. Mom ended up writing what came to be known as "The Chocolate Bible" and she made one travel sized to go in my dad's wallet. After that, he gave a lot more thought to his Valentine's gifts and went with his new knowledge about finer chocolate and my mom's favorite flower, the rose.
When I came along, I was my daddy's little Valentine. I got a single rose (the first one was just like my mommy's) and a balloon. I received the same up until I moved out and I got to see my mom's dozen beautiful roses.
Good memories.
Valentine's Day changed a lot as I grew up. I've had bunches of heart shaped boxes full of chocolate, flowers, and boys a-plenty (usually odd-balls) vying to be my Valentine. But every year my single rose and balloon would be the first thing I'd see. From my first ever Valentine; my dad.

Family Ties

What makes an older sibling?

Meet Ryan Efros
and Melissa Hellewell
my older siblings.
Ok, not biologically. Technically, I am the oldest of four in the Carilli Family. But over the years my family and I have adopted and been adopted by certain people as family members, forming the Carilli Clan.
These non-blood relatives are as much my family as my blood relations. Some I consider closer than blood. They are often referred to as my 'other' or 'extra' family, but there is nothing extra about them. They are my family. In 21 years of gathering The Clan, I have only had two 'older siblings'.
In the dynamic of The Clan (or 'other family') actual age is not a factor. Being older does not make you an older sibling. Many of my 'other' siblings are older than me, but I still play the role of the older sibling. Your role in The Clan is governed mostly by personality and mind sets. I am just cast as the older sister, and I don't have a problem with that. It is just the way it is.
Being the oldest of four, I've never really wanted an older sibling. Not for any real reason, but because I am the oldest and there isn't anything I can do about it. That ship has simply sailed. But now I have two, Ryan and Melissa.
Ryan and I met just after I moved out of my parent's house. I was fine, a little alone and by myself, but I was doing alright. Ryan was my hometeacher from church and kept worming his way into my life. Really I wasn't excited about having a stranger from church in my life and battled against him. Ryan really worked hard to pull me out of my house and introduced me to everyone he knew. He included me and eventually I was thankful. Over time and through (what seemed like at the time) disasters, we became close friends and from there we started referring to each other as brother and sister. Ryan has helped guide me through some tough times, and has supported me in the good things and has called me out when I know I'm messing up. We've had our spats and disagreements, we've been on adventures, and had some great (interesting) times. Despite sometimes not seeing eye to eye on occasion, I know if I ever needed Ryan he would be there for me and I will be there for him if he needs me (probably not going to happen now that he has a wonderful wife but still I'm there). That is what family does. I know I needed to have Ryan as an older brother and to take a turn as a younger sibling. Without him the past 3 years would have been much harder.
Melissa and I also met in my ward, but we didn't start talking until after she pulled me into her group at a dance we both attended. She rescued me from a gentleman of questionable character who wanted to dance with me. WE hung out after that a couple of times and I invited her to Sunday dinner at my parent's house. She fit right in with the family. After that she was my sister and one of my mother's 'extra' daughters. I know I can tell Melissa anything without her judging me, but also know that she'll let me know what she thinks about my actions. I value her opinion and advice (even when I don't want to face facts or hear I'm doing wrong). It was really difficult for me when she found out she would be moving away to another state. But now I know that even though we are out of reach, it doesn't mean we have to be out of touch. My family and I have visited her at her new home, and it makes us all happy when she sets aside time to come home when she is in town.
These are my older siblings. I think what makes them 'older siblings' in the dynamic of The Clan, is that I respect them and look up to them. Maybe that is all it takes to be a true 'older sibling'. What ever it is I'm glad to have them both as part of my family, and to take my turn as a younger sister. Although, I hope to not have too many older siblings as the Carilli Clan continues to grow with new brothers, sisters, parents, and even grandparents. Two is enough.
Love you guys!

Ps. I would also like to shout out to more of those who make up my family and The Clan. To my sisters: Jasmine, Susie, Amanda, Kylee, Laurel, and my twin Maggie. To my brothers: John, Anthony, Mick, Chuck, and Chris. To my parents: Janet, Jhon (yes it is spelled right, that is my dad), Dennis, Toni, Dedee, Lana, Alan, and Margret. To my aunts and uncles: Scott, Connie, Mike, and Coral. And to my grandparents: Grandpa Kerr, Grandma Caroline, and Grandpa Bill. I love you all so much and are happy to call you family!

CDO: OCD Like it SHOULD be.

For those who know me, you know I have organizational tendencies. Some may even go so far as claiming I have OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder). I am here today to dispel these beliefs!
Just because a person enjoys going into a room that is an absolute disaster (like the Institute storeroom (in which I went on an epic adventure to discover the carpet last semester), or they feel the need to have a spice cupboard in alphabetical order, does not mean they are overly and obsessively organized. It just means I like things tidy and where I can find them. I like to look at a cupboard or room and see everything in it. And by putting together closets and kitchen cupboards now everyone else can find things too.
Yesterday I set about cleaning the kitchen cupboards at the Las Vegas Institute. I have to work there so I might as well know what is in there. Many people came in and gave me funny looks, lots of people asked what I was doing, and all of my friends who saw me came in to laugh. I was told by chuckling people that the spices don't NEED to alphabetized, the laughing stopped when they saw that's exactly what I was doing. But now I know what I have to cook with. And everything is clean and easy to locate. Each shelf also has an alphabetized list of everything on it, just in case anyone has a question of what is in there where to put things away.
This is not over organization or the workings of an OCD person. It is art! It is creating perfectly linear, alphabetized, ascetically pleasing beauty. Nothing is as beautiful and comforting as knowing where something you need is.
These are not the workings of a crazy OCD lady. This is the work of an artist! Yes I am an artist! And every cupboard, drawer, and shelf is my canvas!
P.S. For those who still hold the belief I am OCD, I believe I have proved the point. :P

Penny In The Kitchen

Last week I was given a new responsibility. I am now Friday Lunch Committee Chair for the Las Vegas, Nevada LDS Institute. So every Friday my job is to prepare lunch for 110 or so people.
I just survived my first Friday Lunch.
I focused all week on preparing. I went through all the cupboards, seeing what I had to use because we're trying to not store food. I found a ton of rice. So I decided to make sweet and sour meatballs over rice. It wasn't until later I realized I'd need a side dish to go with it, so I added an Asian styled salad with mandarin-vinegarette dressing. For all of you who were eating at Friday Forum here is a secret: I have never made either of these dishes before. Really. I have no idea what I was thinking! When cooking for a lot of people you usually want to make something easy that you've done before and know people will like. Not me. I decided to go a more stressful route. I cook often, have helped at Friday Lunch for years, know what works, and on my first chance I risk completely blowing it by doing something I've never tried, and that hasn't been made for Friday Lunch before. Not the smartest of moves.
So Friday I was nervous. I'm amazed I wasn't in full panic mode. I arrived at the Institute at 9:00am. Overkill. I wanted to have a committee meeting at 10:30am (having called all my volunteers and asking them to come to the meeting), so I prepared and waited for my committee to show up. No one did. At least not until about 11:00-11:30, where I grabbed people from the halls, bullied them into signing up specifically for my committee. Then it got moving. Tables and chairs went up (slower than I'd like because boys like to goof off and get distracted) and the cooking began.
Kitchen disasters: 1)All the large pots in the institute kitchen will scorch because of the electric stove. This makes it incredibly difficult when making large amounts of pasta and RICE!! So the use of 3 small pots that are SUPPOSED to be used on electric stoves replaced the big pot, making things messier, more difficult, and led to a gross burning smell throughout the building. 2) 650 meatballs will not fit into a single slow roaster and even if they do, they will not heat up in 1/2 an hour. Lesson learned. Fix: take the roasting pan out of the roaster, throw it in the oven, and pray that no one will get a cold meatball. IT worked. Thank heavens! 3) Not having a kitchen that is stocked the way you wanted. Needed vinegar, rummaged through the whole kitchen, found 3 different types of vinegar and played chemist to get the flavor I wanted.
Once everything was on the table things were fine. Ok lie. When everything was on the table and people were going through the line, things were fine. The worst part was waiting between putting everything on the table and waiting for the class to get out and start eating. That quiet between storms is nerve racking. IT gives you just enough time to think about everything that could go wrong and there is no longer time to fix it. I can fix anything as long as I have enough time.
My mind was put to rest when everyone started to line up and eat. It brought me back to the moment and gave me something to focus on.
Everything after that went well. People enjoyed the food, most liked how it was different, there were very few leftovers, and clean up was quick. I ran around and told people what I needed to be done. I found that if you ask it will happen. I wish I would have asked more last semester.
I think my first experience went well. There are many more to come. Hopefully they'll be just as smooth or even smoother.

My Milton Class

So school has started a new semester at UNLV. And I am starting to really worry about my major and if this is really what I want to be doing since it is getting close to crunch time. I only have one year of school left and its getting really late to change my mind. I am really starting to worry if it is right for me to be an English Major especially after my first day of my Milton class. The following is what I wrote in class on my first day as my professor droned on. My rationalization for writing this is I had to find some way to stay AWAKE during class. It was so hard AWAKE took dominance of ATTENTIVE. Sometimes that is just the way it goes.

My Milton Class 1/20/11

My Milton professor is the stereotypical boring professor. He is an aged, gray-haired, quiet, monotone, intelligent, talk-over-your-head, thinks he is funny, New York, lecturer. He talks, that's all there is, his soft, no inflection, voice for an hour and forty five minutes. There are no power points or visual aids to his lessons. You take notes on what he is saying and hope you heard him right the first time because that info will never be repeated until it randomly pops up on a test or paper. It will be a fight every class to pay attention to his soft-spoken ambient noises.
He does love his work and the subject matter, though. Milton is his literary god. But Milton is hard enough with his blank verse and anti-heroes and is only made worse by his inability to make things interesting.
I look around my classroom and I am scared. The shock of the English Major image hits me and I can not believe I am connected to this major. When I think English Major I think of a group of high intelligent, independent, individuals, ready to write about the woes of the world, to right the injustices, and personify the wrong doings. I see a group of united people, pens in hand, who will always be poor, but will always be liked, popular, and social. English Majors can go anywhere, talk to anyone, be and do everything. People and writers like Tolkien, Lewis, and Chaucer. That is what English Majors used to be and should be again. But the image has been hacked and mutated into a different thing.
Yes English Majors still write, but it is more to complain and whine. It is shallow, not well thought out, and self-focused. They are not well-dressed, social to anybody, or seemingly intelligent. They are grungy, clique-ish folk. I look around my class and see a boy with a bright purple triangled mohawk, other boys with scraggly unbrushed hair, dirty beanies abound through the classroom, girls with heavy eye make-up, and painted black nails on both genders. There are three large ladies who dot the class. One must be in her upper 40's, the other two have to be 50+. then there are those who walked into the class and head went straight to desk and they fell asleep. English Majors are not attentive knowledge seekers anymore. They have become the rejects, the outcasts, the anarchists.
They do not conform or talk to others who do not share their beliefs. They want to stand out but not for their brains, but for their looks. They have become a 'stick-it-to-the-man' type of group. The writings are dark, whiny, twists on mew dooms. And depression seems to be the only mood.
Come back scholar! Come those who want to learn and not because it might mean money later! Bring back the voices of the world and take away the wailings of the wild! Come back English Majors!

Yup so that's it. My thoughts during my first class of a new semester. Heaven help us all!

Booth Variety

Last night (actually quite early in the morning after a late night out on the town in Vegas), my boyfriend and I went to a 24 hour restaurant before we called it a night. We sat next to each other, shared french toast and an omlette, and sat down complimenting each other and talking sweetly about nothing at all. Everything was smiley and happy, and we were both excited to be sitting together all dolled and dressed up together in our little booth.
In walks a couple and they sit directly in the booth behind us. Why anyone would do that in a 'seat yourself' restaurant I don't know and I really don't know why you wouldn't go as far away from people as possible when you are engaging in the wonderful activity of arguing like these two were. These individuals trudged in, plopped down across from each other, and began tearing into the other's flaws, self-esteem, and any other issue that could cross their minds. They did it loudly and right behind us for the rest of our meal. Pretty soon my boyfriend and I could no longer focus on our own meal and conversation, but were drawn into theirs as we both tried to not look and listen in (feeling awkward and uncomfortable about the intrusion into our wonderful evening).
A couple of questions. 1)Why would you choose a restaurant to fight in? 2)Ok so you choose to fight over a late night dinner, your seating wasn't selected for you, why did you have to sit right behind me? I didn't barge into your evening. Why are you inflicting yourselves into mine, and everyone else's who happen to be around you? And 3)How could two completely different evenings exist back to back of each other like that? I find it amazing how two situations completely opposite of each other came into such personal contact last night. It shows how many different things can go on in the world at the same time. It is slightly astounding to me, and brought me to reality last night when someone was having a bad evening while I was having a fairytale night.
At one point the woman in the booth behind us left for the restroom, giving us some peace and allowing our own conversation to get back into flow. During this time I noticed the gentleman watching us. A little awkward. I wish I could know what he was thinking. What was going through my head was 'You two were probably like this once. Holding hands, laughing together, and wrapped up in each other's conversations. I hope to never end up like you and her, fighting in a restaurant.' When the woman returned, they quickly resumed their arguments (more loudly than before and with renewed vigor). We promptly gabbed our check and left the restaurant.
How strange all the little isolated scenarios one can find in every booth in a restaurant.

It has been too long

So I've left this blog dangling for a long time. But I am back at it with renewed vigor.
School will be starting up next week. And unlike most of my semesters I find myself having mixed feelings about this. On one hand we have the rebirth of my social life to look forward too as more and more of my friends trickle back into the school scene from their home towns and families. On the other hand is the death of my free time and fun times with friends since I'll only get to see these people at various school functions and the stressful study sessions for the weeks we're in school. So I'll have all my friends back in one place, but no unrelated to school time with them. It is a hard life.
Another thing I have mixed feelings about. In the past week four pairs of my friends have gotten engaged. Here is a congratulations to them all and a request: Please don't schedule your weddings and receptions all on the same day to make it a little easier on us who want to attend. It'll be so hard to choose between you all!
And you all know I'm happy for you, but who am I going to hang out with now that you're all getting married? Really, could you be any less considerate (just kidding of course).