It happened.
Today I looked in the mirror and accepted that when I became an upperclassman, I lost my youth.
No longer am I content putting off my homework with blogging and Facebook stalking. Now I put off all else to cook, clean, and otherwise organize my life.
Not ok.
I'm the mom that uses vegetables and fruits instead of flour and sugar in the brownies.
(I know, you hate that mom.)
I'm the mom that keeps Clorox wipes on the counter to keep the bathroom sanitary (wait, what?).
I'm the mom that buys spandex jogging shorts and wears them as she unloads the dishwasher.
I'm the mom that's not even a mom and is stressing out that this post is
a. taking longer than seven minutes to write,
b. thus far lacking in pictures, and
c. keeping me from labeling my drawers.
So on that note, my pending anxiety attack is dictating that I must neglect thee once more and leave thee with, once again, an unrelated picture.
First off, I hiked Timp.
Second off, I stole this picture without asking. Sorry, Sarah. Your card was sitting irresistibly on the desk.
Third off, my glutes hurt real bad.
Fourth off, 17 miles is a yummy amount of miles.
Fifth off, I don't know what that means.
Oh hey.
I promise there is awesomeness going on up in this piece.
Best apartment yet.
Awkward boy stories.
Apple bobbing.
A bajillion classes that shouldn't belong at the university because they're too fun.
Health fanaticism squared.
Parachute pants.
We'll get there. I just need to find a good balance for blogging in my life.
In the meantime, enjoy these pictures of a tropical funeral arrangement (I want that)
& some flowers saved for Inigo Montoya's wedding.
Sleep in a delicious-smelling eucalyptus forest.
Explore old army bunkers with your matchy-match-match family.
Jog on the beach
Make Sasquatch noises in a haunted forest on the beach.
Tide pools with tiny cousins.
Alcatraz.
Six-Flags.
Golden Gate.
Redwoods.
China Town.
Boogie Boarding.
So. Much. Awesome. Food.
San Francisco was awesome--warm, but not hot. Hydrangea lined the streets in front of colored houses. The city itself held all the excitement of a bustling urban-center, but with much more class and cleanliness than New York City.
I did miss my mountains though.
Some people go on fantastic family vacations and return with nice sun-tans, memorable stories, and pictures of the wonderful foods and fashions they took part in. These people are called Good Bloggers.
Mother Says:
"Maybe you should marry someone from California. But you know, if you live really far away you won't get as many cute baby clothes, because how would I get them to you? Huh? Think about that."
The pre-pull:
One of many pulls. Certainly not the funniest, but the least revealing of things you just really don't want to see:
And on that note, I'm going to San Fran.
Because really, who's not going to San Fran?
I was just sitting on my bed, minding my own business, playing my guitar without any clothes on, when my door creaked.
"Don't come in, I'm changing!" I shouted.
You would think that would be the best brother-repellent out there, but to my horror the door inched slowly open.
"No really, don't come in!" I full-on screamed in panic, "I'M NAKED!!!!!!!"
I lunged furiously at my door, wearing only my guitar as covering as if I belonged in a dirty comedy act.
Alas, my dog sat in the doorway, paw guiltily raised mid-scratch.
For some reason I still harbored anger in my heart for Jordan, the likeliest perpetrator.
I breathed a sigh of relief that there was no one else in the basement to share the moment.
My neighbors breathed a sigh of relief that all the windows in the entire house were wide open, preventing them from missing their free weekly entertainment.
...........and then my brother begged me to wax his back, to which I all-to-gladly obliged. He required a gentle hand and video footage. This is good news for you.
Just found this picture on my phone. Took it while cleaning the Primary room for the win.
Everything's slightly funnier when you're cleaning the Primary room for the win.
These children are doing great in the "service gifts" department. When I was 5, I ran around naked and proclaimed an above-average adorable factor to be my service gift to the world (although I never wrote that on a flower and taped it to the wall).
This is true.
I wish I were still in Primary.
But not in a weird way.
Ya....I'm done.
These children are doing great in the "service gifts" department. When I was 5, I ran around naked and proclaimed an above-average adorable factor to be my service gift to the world (although I never wrote that on a flower and taped it to the wall).
This is true.
I wish I were still in Primary.
But not in a weird way.
Ya....I'm done.
Next time you see Laura, mock her for her lack of pocket-change and her inability to sleep in for the next 3 months. You might get slapped in the face, but you will feel good about it.
And then go drink a tall glass of soda and eat a mint-chocolate brownie, just because you can.
I will be at home. Going to bed early. Eating veggies and protein shakes and energy beans. Incapable of sleeping past 6:00 for fear of inadequate training resulting in DEATH.
Dear Laura,
Bucket Lists are idealistic, you fool!
Next time, ctrl-alt-delete out of the marathon page and make yourself a dang quesadilla.
It will be better for everyone.
I'm doing it for the kids, because everyone wants a 26.2-stickered minivan mom (not true).
I hope the children like embarrassing cliches, because I'm disconcertingly stoked out of my mind.
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