Chicago . . . .

Breathtaking . . . more to come.

Kreativ Blogger

My sister Wendy has nominated me for a Kreativ Blogger award. She's the creative one so I'm not so sure what she's talking about:) but I thank her anyway.
Here are the rules -
1) Copy the pretty picture and post it on your blog.
2) Thank the person that gave it to you and link to their blog.
3) Write 7 things about yourself we don't know.

- I'm a people watcher - not in the creepy peeping Tom way - but in the - I like to observe others and notice human behavior - way. When I was young and my family went shopping at the mall, my dad and I would spend our time on a bench just watching people as they passed. We would make up stories about their lives - sometimes trying to be right and sometimes just coming up with a story. I still like to do that.

- I love mixing foods together, but if they are on the same plate - I don't like the food to touch (yeah I know that doesn't make sense) - I love eating grapes and strawberries together, mashed potatoes and corn and apples and string cheese. Speaking of food - I HATE yogurt and pudding and anything that has a creamy texture to it.

- When I was at my semester in Nauvoo I tried to learn how to play the violin - I rocked Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star - but honestly was just reminded that I have no musical abilities . . . besides my amazingly fantastic singing voice that is (as Marcos often tells me).

- Michael McClean once pushed me to get to someone and I, to this very day, have a vendetta against him!

- When I was 10, my older cousin Emily once tricked me into believing that she was 27 (she was probably 14 or 15). I don't know why but I was so awestruck by that age and wished I could be 27 and cool like her. It's odd to me to actually be 27.

- I think that in a previous life I must have been a detective - - - I love, love, love crime shows - I can't get enough! I can usually figure out the plot and deduce the ending - it must be all the Ghostwriter I watched as a kid!

- I have a severe hatred for some movies from my youth - Labyrinth, Beetle Juice, Never ending story, ET, anything Charlie Brown (don't get me started on the teacher) . I can't handle them!!!!

There you have it folks, now for the rest of the rules -
4) Choose 7 other bloggers to pass the award to.
5) Link to those 7 other bloggers.
6) Notify your 7 bloggers.

1 - Michelle - it's private but I want to hear some good stuff from you:)
2 - Ariel and Dave - you rock and I can't wait to hear what you got! (7 individual things from each of you, of course!)
3 - Abby - another private blog but oh dearest cousin -I know you got some good ones!
4 - Rose - you are wonderful!
5 - Emily - my dear cousin who is above mentioned - come through for me friend and no worries - I got those recipes coming:)
6 - Talecia - let's hear it, my friend!
7 - Rahndi - I love and miss you.

Happy Birthday to my favorite Veteran . . .

Dad - 

I love you.  I hope you had a wonderful birthday and wish you more than the best!  On the day that we honor those, like you, who have served our country I wanted you to know that I appreciate who you are.  You served our country and I am grateful but more than that, you have served our family.  For that fact, there is nothing I could do to ever repay you.  Here is a my first poem that I have written and it's dedicated to you - 

Once recalled

As darkness sets in

I often see

hard benches,

clasped hands with twirling thumbs.

I hook my arm in his

and it is dwarfed.

Remember, say the whispers,

where faith began for you.

The twirling thumbs

move forward then back,

forward then back,

forward then back;

with each twirl

a faith renewed.

A New P-freakin-ost!

Hi y-freakin-'all!

Just thought I'd mention a little thought I've been having - - - - I've been hearing a lot of this around me - "That store is Ri-freakin-diculos!!" "That applesauce was De-freakin-licious"!! - Got to love it right!! I was thinking how fun it would be to talk just like that and only like that - -for example . . . when I answer the phone at work I can say, "He-freakin-llo St-freakin-ate Fa-freakin-rm In-freaking-surance this is M-freakin-ia, how can I he-freakin-lp you?!"

or . . .
just try to find the best words it would work with - - - -

apenda-freakin-cytis

ti-freakin-erd

Alama-freakin-gordo, Tehas

Now you try - -let's see what you g-freakin-ot!

The one thing you should NEVER do with a pita . . .

Burn your place of employment down.  Especially when that place of employment happens to be an insurance agency . . .

Ahh yes, my friends, the pita exacts its revenge.  For those of you who are regular readers of my oh so interesting life tales on this blog, you will know that besides run-on sentences you can find a series of rants.  A few rants back I so happened to talk about the ridiculous uses that pita makers were saying you could do with their product – said pitas must have taken offence, for this story I am about to tell is an offensive strike in a war I never knew I was fighting– until now (or it could just be a tale of my stupidity and awkwardness - you decide).

            I arrived at work early but without morning nutrients.  I had been running late and consequently didn’t have the time for the most needed meal of the day (according to most nutritionist and the CNN health page).  The fridge only contained water, pop, and in the far back right corner . . . my last little pita.  I threw it into the toaster oven (a new contraption to Chard kids) and made my way up front to open things up.  I decided to make a quick call to a Windshield repair place.  Five minutes later, not a care in the world, I was on hold listening to an elevator music type no- words medley of “Hit me Baby One more time” and “Bye, Bye, Bye” when a distant ping brought me back to reality.  A reality that told me I had better get to the break room.  I dropped the phone just as a neighbor was coming in the door and ran to the back.  The pita was black as could be.  I flipped the door down and used my fingernails to scrape it onto the counter – to my surprise it burst into flames!  Not tiny little match flames but a foot or higher flames that were spreading as I stood there in a panic.  Even though on the same counter, as the now fire encompassed pita, was a sink, that wasn’t my first thought.  It went more like this - - - oh crap, ummm paper towel – no that would be stupid – I’m totally getting fired – ahhh – okay not a grease fire so water, right? Yeah water - - - I reached over flipped on the water and started cupping out water with my hands and hitting the pita – smoke went everywhere!  Dennis, the neighbor that had come in was looking for my boss who was (luckily for me) out of town, had followed me back to the break room and was proceeding to tell me that I must have burned something.  He was right about that as I opened the back door praying the smoke alarms would not go off – that would top things off.

            I walked him out to the front as he jokingly asked me if I wanted him to leave the door open - umm yeah thanks.  Still with my heart beating a mile a minute I sat at my desk, only to hear, “Mia . . Mia  . . .Mia” – oh yeah, I forgot I was on the phone . .

Pita – you may have won this battle but the WAR IS ON - - - - -

A grief observed . . .

     I had many interesting experiences this past weekend.  One of those happened early Sunday morning and it has left me contemplating.  I drove to my parent's so that we could all enjoy conference together.  I winded my way through the canyon enjoying the rain as it pounded down around me, not really thinking about much.  I felt peace and a sense of renewal.  My mind wandered to planning out what my day would be - we would enjoy breakfast, listen to conference, play with Samuel and Mason - - - and then I was slammed by the thought, "If the rain clears up maybe I can walk the boys over and we can say hi to Norma."  I had forgotten.  

     It has been almost a year since Norma passed away on a clear and crisp October morning.  I haven't been able to talk about her or write about her.  Even now, as I type these words, my eyes fill with tears and emotions seem too close to the surface.  Norma meant many things to those who knew her but I have always felt that we shared something special.  She lived next door for most of my childhood and most everything that we did included her - dinners, holidays, birthdays.  Birthdays were something special.  Every year for as long as I can remember she and I would pick a day that was to be mine.  We went shopping for clothes, saw a movie and went out to eat.  It seemed that she would spare no expense and I loved our time together.  She was loving and kind but could also get after us kids if need be.  Even in those moments of discipline, the perceived harshness came out of the great love that she had for us.

     Time changes things and as I grew older our relationship changed.  Norma got sick.  It was a scary time in her life and more than anything it was sad to watch her lose the independencethat had always been so fiercely hers.  For all the care that she had always shown our family it was now our turn.  I had just graduated high school and was only taking two classes that fall semester.  I hadn't found a job and frankly, felt lost.  I had the time and so I had the opportunity to take Norma to all the places she needed to go.  We went to multiple doctor's appointments every week, grocery shopping and sometimes to lunch if she just wanted to get out of the house.  She told me of her life and the wonderful places she had seen, she comforted me when I would share of my fears or heartaches, we talked about the gospel and she expressed a desire to be close to God again.  Those were cherished times.  I had become an adult in her eyes - more than her niece, we were friends.

     All of these thoughts and many more came rushing to my mind as I realized once again that she was gone.  It's interesting how these moments can overtake us and once again it is fresh and real.  I read A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis many years ago and I remember something that particularly struck me, he said, "No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."  I agree with that.  Last year it felt so much like fear that I ran from it and in many ways have continued running.  I stopped on Sunday.  I have let myself think about her and the good and the bad that we shared.  I am so grateful for her and the huge role that she played in my life.  Youth brings foolishness and I am ashamed to say that there were times when I would say that I was afraid that because my parents named me after her that my life would parallel hers in the fact that I would go through life without marrying.  What a fool.  I am filled with guilt and sorrow about that thought and attitude for I know that Norma was so much more than just one life experience.  I only now wish to do as much as Norma did for others and hopefully I can live up to the name that I am blessed to share.  I have much work to do if I hope to be as she was.  I have hope that she will forgive me of my foolishness and that we will one day have the chance to be together again.  I love you Norma.  

   

Do you need a laugh?

I have never needed a laugh more than I did yesterday and these two sites never fail!

www.itemnotasdescribed.com

www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com

tell me what you think . . .

Frankly.

I have found myself in need of a catharsis. Lately, for some reason, I have been overflowing with frustration and annoyance that comes up at the most inopportune times. I see every car on the road as an enemy sent to confound my plans of getting to where I need to be quickly - every person at any gas station or grocery store jumps into my line before me just to make things interesting - all of my professors tend to drone on and on just as a way to "stick it" to me. In reality, I know that no one on the roads care about me or are sent as an attack plan, the lines at various stores are not a conspiracy to get me down and my teachers are actually doing what I pay tuition to get - instruction. All of that aside, I need to get my frustration out in some way and if I offend, well, sorry about that.
"Life is not measured by the moments we take,
but by the moments that take our breath away."
This is false! I have had a vendetta against this phrase from the moment I laid eyes upon it. Yes, I know, it's meant to be a cutesy play on words and to describe those amazing moments that life throws our way but honestly how many times has life sincerely taken your breath away? If that is what measured life or kept me alive . . . I would be dead. When I moved into Michelle's house this phrase had been left in vinyl lettering on the wall and I never took it down. It has sat there on it's high horse, next to the ceiling, taunting every move I make. Today I decide to take my freedom back! Let the catharsis begin! I say to this sign as I strip it from my wall, "you are FALSE sign! Life IS measured by the breaths I take! It is NOT measured by the moments that take my breath away!"

Ahhhhh - feel better all ready.

Feliz, Feliz, Feliz . . . . . . . CUMPLE!!

                                    I love your crazy and fun side!  Especially at Halloween!

I love that you came into Gabby's life and in that I gained a sister - I was surrounded by brothers all my life and you will never know how grateful I am to call you hermana!

Happy Birthday Marcela!!  You are an amazing person, friend and sister!  May this day be filled with happiness!  Te quiero mucho!

My encounters with food and the elderly . . .

Businesses need to watch out because sometimes their marketing teams get carried away. Take today for instance. I was fixing myself a pita sandwich for lunch and the back of the bag caught my eye. There, listed for all the pita loving world to see were the wonderful things you could fill a pita with – chicken, deli meat, tuna, veggies, etc. – all the usual things that make pita eating enjoyable. Then, sandwiched in-between bacon and hamburger were some choices that seemed haphazardly thrown in just to make up space or throw off fools like me that read the back of pita bags - - - strawberries and cream and ice cream. Who in the world would think to themselves, “hey, I want some ice cream – no wait - - - I want ice cream in a pita!” Oh goodness. Maybe that’s what I can do with my English degree – write up the stuff that goes on the back of pita bags or Mac and cheese boxes. Anyone up for adding some grape jelly to that Mac and cheese? Mmmm mmmm, good! Now that’s five star fine dining classy!
Speaking of classy . . . that reminds me of an incident that took place the other night. I was walking across campus to my car from my night class and walked in front of the Browning Arts Center. It was a buzz with the energy of dressed up old people and puberty stricken middle school -ers. I thought it was an odd combination but I should have known. As I walked, I conversed with myself about the possibility of asking someone what was going on – just ask nicely – no big deal – oh never mind, it doesn’t matter – a little curiosity never hurt anyone – come on (and so forth). So I got my courage up and as another group of geriatric socialites made there way passed me I decided I was going to ask, “Excuse me sir, what is going on tonight?” (super nice right? I even added the “sir”). To which he replied, glaring down at me as if I had asked if he had been alive when Lincoln was president, “What!?!? Why the symphony, of course!!!!” Huffing angrily passed me, as if I was a non cultured bum, he continued in to enjoy the sy-MPH-ony. Hmmh, I thought, on my way back to the car, if he only knew who he was talking to. I’m as cultured as the next person. I love the arts, I’ve been to the Smithsonian, I’ve been to the symphony. Hey, I even like to listen to the classical music radio station as I drive around – it makes me feel superior to the other drivers on the road (sadly, my superiority lasts for a short while because I look around and realize I am driving a Pontiac with a leaky roof and a turn signal that never turns off – but none the less).
Now, if I ever see that man again, I can add one more thing to my list of what makes me just as classy and sophisticated as he is . . . I eat ice cream in a pita pocket!

I never would have believed.

Just call me Bourne, Jason Bourne.  A new dawn is awakening and I . . . I am the new dark night of espionage.  Oh, do I have a story to tell . . .

 

            I came home tonight from a lovely dinner with Gabby and Marcela.  I pulled into my usual spot and sat.  I sat thinking about all that seems to be swirling around in my mind lately.  I finally got out to make a call and when I was done, to my horror, my keys were not in my pocket.  I stood frozen in the driveway and instantly new of the mistake that I made again - - - 4^th time in 3 months - - - keys locked away firmly in my car.  After calls to 24/7 locksmith’s and finding the going rate at $80.00 and an hour wait, I sat on my front porch and cried.  Not just tear-up cry but full on crying so loud I though the neighbors would come out to see what poor creature could make such a wounded cry.  How could I do this again – Michelle wont be home for hours – How could I be so foolish – why, why, why! (Seriously, just a tad of the emotionally overdramatic)

            Then, all of a sudden I thought – Why in the world are you crying?  What is that solving?  I stood up and thought - - - all of my detective TV show and action movie watching must be good for something!  I took two bobby pins out of my head and began to attack the front door lock.  It can’t be that hard – I have seen it million of times on TV – push in, turn, twist – something’s gotta give – wait, what was that? someone’s coming.  Just at that moment a jogger went by as I stood perfectly still in the darkened doorframe.  I realized that wasn’t working so I went to the side door and combined my bobby pins with my second elusive espionage tool . . . Jamba Juice gift card.  I slide and pushed and pulled to no avail.  There I was, on bended knee with bobby pins and a Jamba juice card – wow.  Next, it was the back sliding door.  Again, nothing.  Back to the side door – this has gotta work!  I never, in a million years would have believed it, had I not heard the “click” myself.  Suddenly there I was – inside the house . . . and laughing.  I had done it.

 

Hollywood – here I come.  

Memory seeking . . .

     If only it would have rained yesterday, it would have been my perfect kind of day.  It was beautifully overcast and at times the sky threatened to bestow the earth with it's tears but alas, it never came through.  I went to visit my parents in the afternoon.  Someone was mowing out back as I made my way across the front lawn and through the door.  The house was quiet and dark as I made my way through the rooms looking for my mom.  I glanced into my old room and then into my parents, followed by the room that Marcos and Mario can both now claim.  The sheets were off all the beds and I smiled.  It's amazing that little things, like sheets off a bed, have the power to bring back whole years of a person's life.  I was hit with such emotion that I was a child again.  

     There was music blaring in the background of this memory, a collage of memories I guess you could say.  Kenny Loggins was king for many years in the Chard home and so it was that his music rang out to all of Peterson welcoming them to partake of Kenny "in the Redwoods".  I could hear my mother calling from the laundry room for all of us kids to bring down our sheets and open the windows in our rooms so that we could air out the house.  A young Mario and Marcos walk pass my room with their arms filled to above their heads with Ninja Turtle sheets for Marcos and demure, proper solid maroon for Mario.  They are laughing at some secret joke they always seemed to be sharing.  The door with the red bell slams shut as Gabby enters and it shakes the whole house.  He's singing along to Kenny and I can hear him go downstairs.  The same bell signals three more times that someone was on the move.  Poor door.  Someone was always slamming it shut.  

     The memory then fades away slowly, like the dust that can be seen falling to the ground in just the right sunlight, and it's darker again as I stand at the top of the stairs.  I slowly descend and my heart is left aching and longing for childhood.  The house is quieter now.  The red bell on the door welcomes or says goodbye less often.  I happen to believe that in the exact moment that I was longing for childhood,  it was longing right along with me.  Memories can often become tricky chameleons who change to fit the scenery of my mood but yesterday they allowed me to glance back in my past and realize how good I did have it.  

     It was nice to visit with my parents and to realize that while life changes for all of us, there is something about a small log cabin in Peterson that will always be mine.  I stopped at Hinds on my way out and was forced to face another loss of childhood - their ice cream machine has made it's last cone.  I can't even conceive of a world with no Hinds ice cream. May, the usual month in which it made it's grand entrance, could never come soon enough as September's arrival, the dreaded month which dimmed the lights on the coveted ice cream, was always seen as too soon.  It  now seems like the five month window I once had into my childhood has been replaced with a zero month window.  Like the poet Karon Yan once said, 

"Childhood is rare

  Unlike a bear

  Childhood is fun

  Unlike eating a bun . . ."

Ahh, yes, I couldn't have said it better myself.  Brilliant, no?

From this . . .

To . . . . that . . .

Education

Last week was overwhelming.  I have never taken six college classes at the same time and getting them all straight is taking some getting used to.  I don't even feel like I had a break from summer semester and here we are already into fall.  Being the first week, the conversation turned to majors and careers.  Yes, I am a English major but no, I don't know what I want to do.  Sometimes I feel as if college is more about careers than an education.  I was talking to one of my professors today and I asked him about his schooling and where he received his degrees and he told me but followed it up with, "but, that's not where I got my education."  It was interesting to hear from someone teaching at a University but at the same time I knew that what he was saying was true.  It was something that I needed to hear.  I am a lover of books and I am grateful to say that I have been educated by what the written world has offered and by the life experiences that I have gone through.  I am glad that I was reminded of that today because why I may not know just what it is I am meant to do with my life, I do know that I chose my education.  That being said, a career isn't everything but I'm not naive enough to think it means nothing.  What do I do?    

Thinking about . . .

" . . . but what it takes to cross the great divide,

 seems more than all the courage I can muster up inside - 

but we get to have some answers when we reach the other side 

The prize is always worth the rocky ride.

but the wood is tired and the wood is old . . ."

Por Fin!!!!!!

Done.  For the Summer.  Now, a week and a half to recover.

Today I turn 27 . . .

Today is my birthday. We decided to take family photos since everyone is in town for this short moment. It was a great day with a lot of laughs and craziness. Gabby actually took a picture of me that I liked, so I had to show it off. In true Argentine fashion, it's 9:00pm and dinner is just getting on the table - I must be on my way . . .

To Wendy . . .

Wether it's your amazing bowling skills . . .

Or your lethal tackling abilities . . . . .

I am more than happy to have you as a sister!  Happy Birthday, friend!  I am so grateful to have you in my life and wish you all the best!

In harmony.

The other day I was driving home from work and witnessed a peculiar event.  I was stopped at an intersection and happened to be watching the man who was trying to make a left hand turn.  He was patiently waiting for his turn, so patiently in fact, that his lips soon fell upon the cool metal of his one of a kind harmonica.  I was taken aback.  Waiting to make a left hand turn had never struck me as the perfect time to get “blues-y” and jam with your harmonica, but hey – when the mood hits, it hits.

            It actually was something that made me smile.  I, and the countless others who might have been watching could have thought that it was odd but this gentleman was content.  He was in harmony with his life and who he was that it didn’t matter what anyone else thought, he was going to play his music.  I admired that and maybe more than I want to admit it – I envied that.  I don’t believe that there has ever been a time where I didn’t worry or wonder what others thought of me.  I have even, at times, taken it to the extreme and placed all my worth on what everyone, including random strangers I pass on the street, might think of me.  It led me to the conclusion that there is so much out of harmony in my life, in my mind.  I have struggled the last year to try and discover where my place is and how to be comfortable being me and honestly I have been failing.  I guess that is why when I see individuals who are who they are, regardless of anything else, I find hope that with time and work I too can achieve that sense of self.  And hey, maybe it starts with me learning how to play the harmonica – any world-class teachers out there? 

The land of tumbleweeds and Horchata . . .

(I still can't believe I let Guynn talk me into taking these pictures - yes, friends, I said pictures - this in only one in a series)

     I am off to that great land of tumbleweeds and Horchata that I like to call . . .EL PASO!  I will be gone a week - wish me luck!

Sub of the . . .

     So . . . . awkward moment yet again.  All I could think was, "Seriously?".  Gabby and I met for lunch today and Subway seemed to be calling his name so there we went.  If there is one thing that I hate, it's the smell of Subway and the way it sinks it's way into every fiber of your being.  Don't get me wrong, I like the sandwiches but wow - I hate that smell.  I guess it runs in the family because Marcos won't even step foot in a Subway - he is a tad neurotic.  Anyway, Gabby and I were in line and talking about something and suddenly it was my turn.  Me being the cheapo that I am recently, looked at the Sub-of-the-day list and went for the 'ol Turkey and Ham and told the nice lady, "The Sub of the Day, please".  I went back to talking to Gabby and then after it was his turn I looked down and wondered where they had taken my sandwich because it wasn't there.  I was getting all high and mighty thinking how annoyed I was because I had told her I didn't want it toasted, and obviously that would be the only place it would be.  So, the wonderfully blank faced man that was to put on the veggies grabbed this gross looking meatball sub (that I had assumed the whole time belonged to the lady in front of me:) and said," You had the meatball?" - - - - well, um -no.  I then became all arrogant me and said, "Umm, no - I had the Sub-of-the-day!"  Well, seriously, all I got from him was a crazy blank stare as the girl cutting the bread said, "Yeah - the SUB-of-the-day is the meatball" - and as she said that Gabby scanned the list and sure enough I had thought I was ordering Mondays - -oopsie. Hahahaha,  we started to laugh but the creepy veggie man kept his blank stare the whole time, not saying a word as the girl asked if I wanted it changed but being as it was my mistake I couldn't take her up on it.  It was such an awkward moment and one that will never happen again because - - -meatball sub=gross.  I will never again play the martyr and take the sandwich - I will always trade.  I guess that is what awkwardness taught me today - take the offer, just take the offer whatever it is.

24 on the 24th!!!!!!!!!!!

     Once in a life time folks - once in a lifetime!  Mario turns 24 on the 24th!  How cool is that?!  The only time that happened for me I was 9 on the 9th and didn't get the bigness of it all but I hope that Mario does and I hope he has the greatest day!  I love you Mario!!!  Happy Birthday!!!!!!!!!

5 down, 95 to go!!

Happy Birthday Samu!!!  I can't believe that you are 5 years old already.  A short five years ago my life changed forever the day that you were born.  You will never know how much joy is in my life because you are here - you are such an amazing inquisitive boy who never ceases to amaze me with your wonderful sense of humor!  I love you dear Samuel and want you to know it - - - -HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!

Longing.

I long for motherhood.  I think from even before my first memories I longed to be a mother. 

I have thought a lot recently about longing and hope and disappointment.  Part of this human struggle we call life, is facing the contradictions that seep into out hearts as joys and pains.  We all have these contradictions in some form or another – no one is exempt and we can’t get out of living without them.  I pass hundreds of people daily but somehow I forget that their pains and sorrows are as real as mine.  Why is that?  I don’t have all the answers, but I do believe it goes beyond our own selfishness into something deeper, maybe something that takes time to fully understand and grasp.  I know that I’m not there yet.

While I might not fully grasp the sorrows that are embedded deep into the heart of those that pass me by I do know about one sorrow that has been mine – longing.  Motherhood, to me, is sacred.  I have a profound love for the little ones that call me Aunt or Tia – Samuel, Mason and Ethan.  They are bright lights in a world of darkness and bring hope to the hopeless, as all children do.  But I am not their mother – they have those valiant women they are lucky enough to call mother who I know they will praise forever and for that I am grateful.  I am grateful to witness the love that Marcela and Wendy show for such choice spirits and I only hope that if I am granted the chance to be a mother I would follow in their loving footsteps.

There are many loving individuals that would say that I don’t have to have children to be a mother but I believe that they are wrong.  Words like that are often said to comfort and tell people that while they might not have had the chance to experience giving birth or adopting a child they have indeed impacted the lives of the children that they know.  Those are kind words that are often true and I would gladly accept them in reference to my being a good Aunt, cousin, friend or teacher, but in my humble opinion we only have one Mother.  My mother means more to me than there are words to express and with all the hope that I have, I want one day to be for someone what she has been for me.  In that wish is the hope that one day I will hear a child’s voice call out for mother and know that they are talking to me . . .    

I love this kid!

Sorry that I couldn't rotate it.  It's still so great!!

My Muse is cool . . .

     The pressure is on folks and I think my comedic skills are rapidly coming to a close, so hopefully this will be the blaze of fiery glory that will carry me through those dark and lonely nights of witless commentary on the mundane nuances of my "so-called" life.

     This little tale of the everyday starts like any other that ends up in this world of blog, with a little seemingly insignificant moment that blossoms into something grand which just begs to be told to the masses that anxiously check daily (some even hourly, some minutely) for updates from yours truly; that moment was . . . . the tragic day my macbook died.  Ok, well, I guess die is a tad bit over dramatic because in reality it only started to chip from the little bars that come down and rest on the computer when it closes, and it still ran perfectly well.  All the same, I was still stirred up to feeling a righteous indignation at the thought of Steve Jobs and the Apple corporation trying to stick it to me by sending me a "bad" computer that my fast fingers dialed and the "next customer service representative" was going to hear it from me!  By the time I actually talked to the next CSR, all of my ranting and raving had been thought about and processed into the totally irrational reaction category and lucky for Ace(my CSR) and I, we were able to proceed into a normal and productive conversation.  The result of that conversation was that I was going to have to go to the Apple store in SLC, so we made an appointment and I was all set.

     The person I now know as my Muse - Susana Chard, was able to come with me and we shared a monumental first trip to a future society - The Apple store.  I think of her now as not just mom but Muse, because wherever she goes, hilarious and random events are sure to go with her.  We approached the worlds future society with caution as all lights were low and supposedly they weren't open yet.  Just as we about reached the door to try our luck, a sophisticated looking middle aged women with a computer bag surpassed us at top speed heading right for the door with just enough time for my mom to ask, "um, do you believe they are open yet?" as she snootily replied, "I don't know but I have an A-ppointment", and rushed in - sadly, before she heard me reply that WE had an A-ppointment too!  Little did we know that as we followed her in we were in for a technology filled world just beyond our grasp.  As we entered, we could dimly see at the far end of the pristine room a half moon like table filled with young men in blue shirts that sat "every- other" next to more of the same middle aged women who seemed to be receiving instructions on how to run a computer(knowing what I know now they were probably recieveing instructions on how the move to their new space station home was going to go down).  The farther we moved in, the farther away from a stable reality I felt, as everyone(more blue shirted employee people as well) around me seemed glued to their i-phones as their means of communication - no eye contact, no lip moving known as talking.  We seemed to be out of luck since neither of us own that particular communication device, so that just left us standing next to the "Genius Bar" wondering if we would meet their Genius standards to be helped or if we would have to combine IQ's and maybe then we would be approached.  We finally were approached by a man in an orange shirt that seemed to be controlling the blue shirted individuals and my cracked computer days were numbered as his getting involved moved our genius status to next in line.  They offered to repair it all at no charge to me within 3-5 days and as I left my macbook in their care I couldn't help but fear what I would get back.  As we left and our eyes and minds began to once again adjust to the earth world, my mom couldn't help but point out that the Apple store felt like a place where they "wash brains" (I told her it was "brainwash" and she said "wash brain, brainwash - same thing!).  Haha - she came up with a few more hilarious quips about our experience and then told me she missed her calling as a comedian and said, "move over SENfeld!" - I told her it was SEINfeld and she once again said, "I know, that's what I said - SENfeld" - haha, it was great.

We then spent the rest of the morning trying cool Salt Lake City things like going to Starbucks (don't worry folks, we got a steamer-just hot milk) and Whole Foods. That is something for us country folks or as my mom calls us - "country pumpkins" even though I told her it was "country bumkins" - she just argued there was no such thing as a bumkin so the saying has to be pumpkins.

in all her glory:)

Ahh, well, if you made it this far through this monstrously long post I congratulate you and hopefully the new SENfeld and I will see you soon on her 30 city comedic tour - starting June 12th . . . . .

Clifford went Swimming . . .

My mother is deathly afraid of water.  I can remember being young and my parents taking us to a hotel so that we could go swimming and the eternal struggle it was to get mom to join us in the water.  It was a lucky if we could get her in the pool and a virtual miracle if we could get her past the three feet mark.  The many years and attempts at swimming haven't changed the fear that overtakes her as she remembers her near drowning experience of her youth.  That is why you might be as shocked as me to hear that tonight . . . I went to water aerobics with my mom.  You read right people - - - 

 - - -water FREAKING aerobics.  She went last week to see if it would help her knee and didn't want to go back so I volunteered to go with her tonight.  Now, I know what you all are thinking, and I promise you that one day when we all get to heaven and it's "Mia, this is your life" movie time (Mario, like you always said - Meryl Streep and Al Brooks got it right), we will sit down together and replay this memory over and over again and laugh and laugh.  

It was interesting to say the least and more than a little entertaining.  There were my mom and I and about four other, shall we say, mature gentlewomen, getting ready to get our swim on.  Now, I have to say that I'm no Greg Louganis - oops, he's a diver.  Sorry folks, I guess if you had to catalog my swimmer knowledge in the recesses of my mind it would fit somewhere in between top ten polka's greatest polkers and my knowledge about Japanese Anime - needless to say, my knowledge is dim.  Anyway, as I was saying, my swimming abilities may not rival the likes of Olympic athletes but just so you all know - water aerobics is not an Olympic sport.  There is nothing like a night of treading water in the deep end as a lady yells out, "now, do superman! now mermaid! be and egg blender!!" - haha, be an egg blender?  What in the world?  All that being said, the cherry on top was doing the arm "exercises"and stretches at the end of the class with my dear mother - who has never done any kind of stretch a day in her life.  This is when the Clifford in her came shining through(if you have never watched the movie Clifford with Martin Short, stop reading instantly and Netflix or Hollywood video the movie and laugh until your hearts content).  It was 10 minutes of watching her trying to be serious as she breathed in and out and instead of stretching her shoulder by putting one arm straight across the chest she ended up turning it into a self hug and us laughing together at the silliness of it all, dodging glares from the well meaning instructor.  It was a wonderful night and a fun memory that one day will be viewed in my heavenly's greatest hits . . . 

Impatience and a British Smith's . . .

My impatience, at times, astounds me.  Either I was in a very impatient mood today or everyone else in the world was moving in slow stinkin' motion.  I happen to believe it was the latter.  Maybe it was because I haven't gone out or gone shopping in awhile leaving my patience threshold sorrily depleted.  Whatever the case, I felt as if I was standing in lines behind people disguised as snails.  I went into Big 5 Sporting Goods and by the time I made it up to the one checker that this crackerjack establishment provided, I had relived the entire screening of The Green Mile and was once again feeling that someone, maybe Tom Hanks, owed me those 3 hours of my life back with his sincerest apologies for ever having made that movie.  Anyway, I am delving off track, but I do have to admit that I haven't been the most patient of individuals lately and hope to change that.  In doing that I must remember that baby steps are the key.  It was complete lunacy to think that I could handle Riverdale Walmart on a Saturday - that's like the World Series of patience!  I probably should start with a T-Ball game and build my patience through a Wednesday afternoon at La Ranchera - I will let you know how that goes.

Just as impatience seemed to be my friend today, so did randomness.  I think I did the whole dancing with an individual who was walking towards me as we both said, "You go . . No, you go,  ahh okay, oops, ahhh - no really YOU go", like 40 times.  Then there was the waitress who to save her life couldn't understand my mother and kept leaning in saying, "What?" or "Excuse me?" . . . I wish you could have been there to enjoy when my mother, also having a hard time understanding her, asked her to make sure they didn't put bacon on her sweet potato  - - - priceless.   While those were great I do have to say that the moment I stumbled upon a Smith's gas pump that seemed to have been brought over from Britain takes the highlight of the day.  I was struck by this . . 

     I felt so regal and royal and well, British, as if Geeves himself in his butler tux and top hat, would next pop out from behind the pump and kindly ask, "Dearest Mum, would you prefer Regular or Premium on this fine afternoon?", to which I would reply(in my grandest British accent), "Why kind sir, I do say that I fancy the regular today" - ahh to be British.  It was a delightful experience and I believe that we all, at one time or another, deserve to feel as prim and proper as the British, and what better a place to feel as such then while purchasing gasoline. 

I've moved . . . and a random photo . . .

So, I've moved to Ogden with my friend Michelle.  Details to come because right now I am too tired:)

Oh - I also wanted to post this picture cause it cracked me up:

Haha - I have never seen this man in my life but as I was going through my pictures . . there he is!  I love the randomness!  Now, play along with me and there might be a prize for the comment that can make me laugh the hardest -write the caption that should go under this picture . . .GO!

Happy, Happy Birthday . . . .

 . . . President Higham!!!!!

oh, and Happy Birthday

Gabby!!  

What are the odds that my Mission President and brother share the same birthday?  Crazy.  Honestly though, my world would be a much sadder place without my big brother and one of my best friend - you are my friend, protector and I love you!  I hope you had a day filled with surprise birthday cupcakes and fire alarms!!

Love Mia

Gorillas and those Damn Hinges!

     One would think there was no connection between gorillas and hinges but oh how wrong they would be.  The connection is me and my Friday.  Gabby called me friday morning and asked if I would watch Samu while they went to the eye doctor.  Of course I did and we had a great morning.  Come noon and lunchtime I knew that we might have a little trouble because for those of you who don't know the great Samu, he is not the biggest fan of eating - especially if there are tempting things to play with all around.  After a give and take conversation I finally got Samuel to want to eat something but then the bigger problem came in what he wanted to eat . . . "Gorilla".  I had NO idea what in the world Gorilla was.  I kept trying to get him to describe what it was but all he kept saying was, "Mia it's gorILLA - GORilla - GORILLA".  We made our way into the kitchen to see if he could point out what it was but again we had no luck in finding the mysterious Gorilla,  what we did find is what would be percieved as a big clue if you were anyone else but clueless me - -the Quaker man.  He found the Quaker man in the pantry and kept saying, "There's the man - Gorilla has the man", but still I could not decifer his code.  Gabby happened to show up right at that moment and they had to leave and I forgot to ask what in the world Gorilla was.  The frustrating conversation with Samuel came rushing back when I was talking to my mother on the phone and I finally asked - "What in the world is Gorilla?", I told her the story and almost instantly she said - - "Gorilla, hmmm - could it be Granola?" - - - - -Ahhhhhh!  I can't beleive that the idea that it could be Granola NEVER occured to me.  Gabby confirmed it later and I laughed and laughed - what a Kid!

     It must have been meant that my day would be filled with frustration because I ended up at Chard #2's house hating whoever in the world created hinges . . .

 . . . those damn hinges!!  This picture is the culmination of my anger of that Friday night in Gabby's garage - - that half inch of space led to a myriad of swear words and laughter as Gabby and I tried to figure out how in the world the hinges on this door worked.  Oh, if you could have been there - right before we finished with the above third try and really thinking that we were finally right - - our cheers of triumph rang throughout the Peterson valley only to later be replaced by the groans of defeat when we actually tried to open the door.  We. Had. Failed.  I was done and thus ended a frustrating day filled with Gorillas and hinges. . .

A break . . .

     So . . . looking for "Spring Images" on Google can sure turn up some interesting results - - this is definitely not what springs to my mind when I think of "Spring", but alas the chairs are growing on me.  I am excited for my Spring Break and have already planned a lot of nothing followed by more nothing and will be loving every minute of it . . .

Contemplating better days. . .

    Have you ever stopped and looked around at your life and found yourself wondering, "Wait, how did I get here?".  I have recently, and I have to say it's a little unsettling.  It's hard to see while amidst everyday living how a little turning off the course can lead you somewhere that you never thought possible and that you never wanted to be.  It happens, I believe, to all of us at some point or another and the longer that we wait to change our course, the harder it becomes to do so.  I have been putting off writing lately because I have felt that my life has stayed stagnant and that there really wasn't anything consequential to add to this blog world.  I have thought to myself, " I have school and work and they mostly stay the same so what is there really to say?"- in thinking that I limited the fact that anything that we feel and say, if it means something to us, is of value.

    I have always been a private person that at times finds it difficult to share with others.  I guard myself from rejection before I even give a person a chance to know me for me. I cannot tell you the times that I have held back and walked away from a person or situation wishing that I would have said what I really wanted to.  It's interesting how we are all here on the earth with different personality traits that seem to have come with us from where we were before, because I can remember this particular trait about me from some of my earliest memories.  I don't necessarily believe that this is always bad and I really don't even know why I am writing this or where this is suppose to go, other than, I guess this is me just writing an update about what I have been thinking about.

Andy Warhol once said, "They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself".  This past little while I have come to believe that wholeheartedly - they trick then becomes - do we want to?  Do we know how?

A shout-out to Sample Pictures . . .

"Toco Toucon"

"El Capitan"

"Sunflower Wedding"

my personal favorite - "Annie in the Sink"

Wow. I happened to be messing around on my parents computer and came across these gems that the world must see! Sample Pictures - Who took these? What made windows think - Now these are the pictures we need as sample pictures? How much did the individual get paid for these? Last but not least - what in the world made Windows Vista think that we need sample pictures? Have we never seen pictures before? Would we be lost in the picture folder without the samples? So many unanswered questions. They will haunt me late into the night until I turn into an insomniac that wanders the halls of my house with fear and doubt about "Annie in the sink" - - - but hopefully not.