(This post has been on hold for a little bit but now it's making it's big debut...)
Being the die-hard BYU fan that I am, I am willing to put up with the football traffic and the unwavering lack of patience that all men have (which always seems to entertain me). Today I went through all of this and so much more. The "so much more" is what this posting will be all about.
Being the fan that I am I still went through all of this and yet didn't go to the game. Which is probably for the better. I got to eat ice cream with my adorable niece and nephew, while the rest of my family ate cougar tales while they became bald individuals (it was a hair pulling night for BYU).
While BYU was acting out their tradegy I was "razzeling" with my nephew and forcing everyone to take pictures so I can support my new blog addiction. Then all of a sudden out of the blue, my Mom starts yelling. This type of yelling was quite unusual for my Mom and it continued to get more hysterical. If she screamed any higher we would of had a herd of dogs at our front door. Anyway I know the suspense is killing you and here is my best attempt of the dialogue that took place...(this is where the "so much more" part comes in)
Mom: "Kandie go get me some toilet paper!"
Kandie: "Why is there a spider."
Mom: "Kandie don't just stand there get me some toilet paper!!!!!!"
Kandie: "Why?"
Mom: "KANDIE GO NOW, I'M NOT KIDDING!"
Kandie: "Oh goodness."
Mom: "KANDIE FASTER...HURRY UP!!!!!!..."
By the time I got back I saw what all the hullabaloo was all about...it was...are you ready for this...a dead mouse. This caused me to squirm to the furthest corner possible (mice and me don't get along one bit). However, if only that was the end of the story. I soon found out that not only was it a dead mouse but that my little niece (who is 2) had had that mouse in her boot all day and had been walking on it. Her tights that she had been wearing were covered in blood. Her boots had been kept in the garage and the litte feller had climbed in and made a warm home. I had soon texted my brother Derrek thinking that he would share the news with everyone at the game, however I was wrong in my thought. Therefore, I later got to see my sister Kelly's reaction when my Mom told her the story. I thought Kelly was going to either be sick or break out in tears, I couldn't tell. She had commented on the fact that she did have a hard time putting on her boot this morning...Yuck!...that's a pretty gross thought. Throughout all of this, however, my little niece was as firm as a rock. None of this phased her and she was happy as a fish swimming in the bathtub as we washed away her stain. Kaylen Burton is officially my new hero. Chuck Norris and Jack Bauer have nothing on my little niece.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
A Jog That's Worth Posting About
So recently I have just had a miracle happen; in fact it happened just last night. To most, this posting might not seem too miraculous, but I beg to differ.
So last night was a beautiful night and I still had yet to ease my conscience by working out for the day. Working-out yet at times is fun, but I think it's mostly a guilt thing for me...Here's a quick word for the wise: Please don't ever get to the point where you feel like you have sinned if you haven't worked out for the day-it's most definitely not healthy. Anyway that is my quick plug for why no one should be like me. Okay moving on, so I went for a jog and I came across a gold mini-van and it had it's lights on inside the car. I stopped for a second to see if the doors were unlocked but they weren't. I was just about to move on and then my conscience got the better of me again and I decided to go knock on some doors. This van was parked in front of a house, but it was obvious that the house had been split up into apartments. The first door I knocked at received no response. Even though secretly I think they were home and that they were scared of me. To be sympathetic however, I would be scared of a random knocker at 9 o'clock at night too. Once I realized that door wasn't going to work I went to the next one. The next door was a success and friendly man informed me that the owner of the van most likely lived upstairs. Therefore, that sent me on a journey up some tall, rigidy steps....Okay now I need to stop and pause the story for a second and give some insight. Actually this deserves its own paragraph...
...Okay this part of the story might seem random, but it serves a point...I want all those that are reading this to stop and think about what goes on in their mind when they hear about things like Columbine or high school shootings. When I hear stories about these type of things my mind races back to high school and I just hope that I was a kind soul. I also think about this one certain kid. He was a nice kid but he always dressed in black, wore long cloaks, and wrote stories about blood and gore. Whenever I think about him I also wonder what ever became of him. Is he okay? Does he still live that life style? Is he happy?...many questions race through my mind. Plus lately it seems like I have heard these type of stories a lot, so it feels even more relevant...okay that description will suffice for what is coming next...unpause...
So I'm climbing up some long stairs and I knock on the door and low and behold it is this kid from high school looking totally normal. I awkwardly said "I recognize you" and that was about as social as I got. I then later explained the van situation and he affirmed that it was his and that he was grateful. After that quick encounter I basically just skipped away.
Now whenever I hear sad stories about shootings I don't have to worry about this fellow classmate of mine-what a relief! The fact that provides the greatest relief was the mini-van. A mini-van in my minds eye is a symbol that represents family, stability, and humility (Because lets face it, a mini-van is my dream vehicle but no one drives them because they want to look cool). Maybe that's being prejudice towards mini-vans but that's how I see it.
So that was my miracle. It has made me pleasantly happy to know that things have turned out all right for him. Now I'll never have to worry again.
So last night was a beautiful night and I still had yet to ease my conscience by working out for the day. Working-out yet at times is fun, but I think it's mostly a guilt thing for me...Here's a quick word for the wise: Please don't ever get to the point where you feel like you have sinned if you haven't worked out for the day-it's most definitely not healthy. Anyway that is my quick plug for why no one should be like me. Okay moving on, so I went for a jog and I came across a gold mini-van and it had it's lights on inside the car. I stopped for a second to see if the doors were unlocked but they weren't. I was just about to move on and then my conscience got the better of me again and I decided to go knock on some doors. This van was parked in front of a house, but it was obvious that the house had been split up into apartments. The first door I knocked at received no response. Even though secretly I think they were home and that they were scared of me. To be sympathetic however, I would be scared of a random knocker at 9 o'clock at night too. Once I realized that door wasn't going to work I went to the next one. The next door was a success and friendly man informed me that the owner of the van most likely lived upstairs. Therefore, that sent me on a journey up some tall, rigidy steps....Okay now I need to stop and pause the story for a second and give some insight. Actually this deserves its own paragraph...
...Okay this part of the story might seem random, but it serves a point...I want all those that are reading this to stop and think about what goes on in their mind when they hear about things like Columbine or high school shootings. When I hear stories about these type of things my mind races back to high school and I just hope that I was a kind soul. I also think about this one certain kid. He was a nice kid but he always dressed in black, wore long cloaks, and wrote stories about blood and gore. Whenever I think about him I also wonder what ever became of him. Is he okay? Does he still live that life style? Is he happy?...many questions race through my mind. Plus lately it seems like I have heard these type of stories a lot, so it feels even more relevant...okay that description will suffice for what is coming next...unpause...
So I'm climbing up some long stairs and I knock on the door and low and behold it is this kid from high school looking totally normal. I awkwardly said "I recognize you" and that was about as social as I got. I then later explained the van situation and he affirmed that it was his and that he was grateful. After that quick encounter I basically just skipped away.
Now whenever I hear sad stories about shootings I don't have to worry about this fellow classmate of mine-what a relief! The fact that provides the greatest relief was the mini-van. A mini-van in my minds eye is a symbol that represents family, stability, and humility (Because lets face it, a mini-van is my dream vehicle but no one drives them because they want to look cool). Maybe that's being prejudice towards mini-vans but that's how I see it.
So that was my miracle. It has made me pleasantly happy to know that things have turned out all right for him. Now I'll never have to worry again.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Emme-My Fearless Niece!
My family never ceases to amaze me. This posting will consist of bragging rights and nothing else. I choose today to brag about my niece Emme.
Emme is only two but lives in a ten year old body. Her progression rate is much faster than mine and in a few years she will exceed me in my maturity level. It's a hard fact but it's better for me to realize this earlier than later. This past Sunday my little niece, mind you she's two, bore her testimony by herself...BY HERSELF! Isn't that nuts, most two year olds can barely talk, let alone confidently bear their testimony in front of the whole ward. Emme has been wanting to bear her testimony for a while and my sister and brother in-law have been helping her to prepare. Actually at one of our Sunday dinners we all had to bear our testimony at our own home-made podium (which consisted of my exercising step and a whisk, it was quite classy). We all ended up bearing our testimonies once but Emme bore her testimony about five times. It's a shame that we can't all be cool like two year olds. So with all of this preparation my little niece was ready to bear her testimony. I didn't get the chance to witness it, but Emme did however call me Sunday afterwards and said, "I boerewr my testmsdfdy."...huh?...I had to have her repeat herself several times before I understood. She was just so excited to share her news. I took this to be pretty exciting. Especially because I flashed back to the time when I first bore my testimony in front of the ward. I wish I could say that I had this great desire when I first did it, but sadly that wasn't the case. The reason I bore my testimony for the first time was because of a bribe, sad I know, but it's the truth. My Primary teacher promised us all this "Amazing" gift if we did it, and I wasn't going to miss out on something amazing, especially if it had good odds to come in the form of sugar (F.Y.I-I'm thoroughly convinced that the only reason why I did well in Elementary school is because my teachers were skilled bribers. That's just a little insight to how simple minded I am.) Anyway, I wasn't two, or three, or four, but probably around 9. Then the most tragic part of the whole story is that we never got our surprise. My little heart was crushed and I never wanted to bear my testimony again...Okay that's not necessarily true. I guess the thing that I can learn from that experience is that if I ever want to do something that is hard for myself all I need to do is bribe myself...there is definitely always something to be learned.
I however, just went from bragging about Emme to talking about my childhood, and that wasn't the purpose of this post. Even though I know everyone who reads this will feel sorry that I never got my surprise...Don't feel too bad, because I'm okay...Anyway, that is all I have to write, and I hope to brag some more in the future. Not of myself because obviously that isn't possible, but more of my family whom (did I just use that right?-I hope so.) I'm kind of fond of.
Emme is only two but lives in a ten year old body. Her progression rate is much faster than mine and in a few years she will exceed me in my maturity level. It's a hard fact but it's better for me to realize this earlier than later. This past Sunday my little niece, mind you she's two, bore her testimony by herself...BY HERSELF! Isn't that nuts, most two year olds can barely talk, let alone confidently bear their testimony in front of the whole ward. Emme has been wanting to bear her testimony for a while and my sister and brother in-law have been helping her to prepare. Actually at one of our Sunday dinners we all had to bear our testimony at our own home-made podium (which consisted of my exercising step and a whisk, it was quite classy). We all ended up bearing our testimonies once but Emme bore her testimony about five times. It's a shame that we can't all be cool like two year olds. So with all of this preparation my little niece was ready to bear her testimony. I didn't get the chance to witness it, but Emme did however call me Sunday afterwards and said, "I boerewr my testmsdfdy."...huh?...I had to have her repeat herself several times before I understood. She was just so excited to share her news. I took this to be pretty exciting. Especially because I flashed back to the time when I first bore my testimony in front of the ward. I wish I could say that I had this great desire when I first did it, but sadly that wasn't the case. The reason I bore my testimony for the first time was because of a bribe, sad I know, but it's the truth. My Primary teacher promised us all this "Amazing" gift if we did it, and I wasn't going to miss out on something amazing, especially if it had good odds to come in the form of sugar (F.Y.I-I'm thoroughly convinced that the only reason why I did well in Elementary school is because my teachers were skilled bribers. That's just a little insight to how simple minded I am.) Anyway, I wasn't two, or three, or four, but probably around 9. Then the most tragic part of the whole story is that we never got our surprise. My little heart was crushed and I never wanted to bear my testimony again...Okay that's not necessarily true. I guess the thing that I can learn from that experience is that if I ever want to do something that is hard for myself all I need to do is bribe myself...there is definitely always something to be learned.
I however, just went from bragging about Emme to talking about my childhood, and that wasn't the purpose of this post. Even though I know everyone who reads this will feel sorry that I never got my surprise...Don't feel too bad, because I'm okay...Anyway, that is all I have to write, and I hope to brag some more in the future. Not of myself because obviously that isn't possible, but more of my family whom (did I just use that right?-I hope so.) I'm kind of fond of.
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