The Others

You know, a lot of people are just naturally nice. They think the best of who they do and do not know and sincerely wish them well. They look for the good. They lose themselves in the service of others.

I'm not one of those people.

I wonder how I got that way. So quick to judge, to presume I know someone before I really do. Nine times out of ten I am wrong. And it goes both ways. I will prejudge someone as being good when actually they're not so much. At least as far as it pertains to me and to those I love. Some of you will know what I'm talking about.

The majority of the time when I think I've pegged someone's personality, that I know 'who they are', welp, you guessed it, I'm wrong.

BUT there are times when I hit it right on the nail.

I shouldn't be that way, I do not want to act that way. I don't want that to be my 'go to' way of thinking when I meet a person or accidentally or fatefully cross paths with one or two or how many others. It confounds me, and truthfully, I feel shameful that I've somehow let that become part of my nature.

Here's what I think. I think, (and this occurred to me while sitting in a Primary Sharing Time listening to an excellent presentation on the importance of being Christ like and building unity with others), that I spend so much time in the ME box thinking of me myself and I, that I judge others based on how I judge myself. And I don't so much like myself, and so my automatic response is to be judgmental in the bad sort of way, and think I KNOW who this person is, when I don't.

I have heard that what you don't like in others is really what you don't like about yourself. You also buy gifts for people based on what you'd like for yourself, but that is beside the point.

None of this is new, just a reminder for me to work on this problem. Change takes practice, and, I believe, a real desire. I've found for myself that prayer is about the only way I make any progress towards changing. And now I've exposed myself for the judgmental, me box thinking, unprayerful person I be. Just typing this post is indicative of who I think about most.

Dichotomy though... often I will have such an empathetic feeling towards a person that I'm physically, metaphorically speaking, touched. Also, sometimes my gut tells me what my heart doesn't or won't accept.

blahblahblah. What I really want to do is to be a better person. Th-th-th-at's all.

PICTURE TIME:

Poetry in Motion

Now, go shut the front door.

a little bit of this a whole lot of that

I'm in love and I don't care who knows it. And I don't care if you don't care.

Take a look around; don't you love the new digs as well? It's amazing what a new blog template does for your psyche, much like the way wearing new clothes makes you feel like a million bucks. True dat. The only thing that makes me kinda sad is the fact that so few will see this; but I made my bed and now I must lie upon it. Which is what I'd truly like to be doing now. But there's no rest for the weary, no? Now that I'm an oldish woman I wake up at 6:48 A.M. NO MATTER WHAT TIME I GO TO BED and the fact that I didn't get to bed until way past my bedtime, weary is what I am. Cripes.

otay. I have a bunch of pics to share so I best get to it.

Jake left this morning for his grand climbing adventure in Ecuador. Not gonna lie; I'm extremely nervous for him. I think this nervousness comes mostly from Jake's fly by the seat of his pants nature. Not that he doesn't plan, (some), but he's a wee bit forgetful at times. But Jake's need for adventure supersedes my trepidation. Would I have him be a nervous twit like me? nien.

Prison Break?

This is Jake's special haircut for this trip. Perhaps it's a keeper. This picture is a camera photo, and really doesn't do him or his haircut the justice he deserves. After his trip with the crew from work his head is sunburned, so he's looking whole lot more colorful. Check out that zoolander grimace... watch out Blue Steel.

Did I mention I'm nervous about him going to climb mountains in a foreign country? I worry enough about him climbing locally and add my [mis]conception of all other countries being lawless and skanky...
sigh. It's just as well as I don't think about it a'tall. 2 1/2 weeks will fly by. I truly want him to have a epic adventure.

addendum: talked to Jake this afternoon while he was in Houston and he told me he forgot to pack underwear. I had a panic attack thinking that he'd have to wear the same underwear for 2 1/2  weeks... like you can't buy underwear in another country? ? ? I think this story illustrates my point perfectly.

Moving on.

Couple of Saturdays ago was Wes' piano recital. He did a super duper fantastical job. Please Wes, don't ever stop loving and working at your gift. I recorded his performance but of course I can't get the darn thing to upload so here's some pics.

Concentration

Wes and Piano

Gosh, He's a handsome young man. Watch out ladies.

Wes and his teacher, Mrs Janson

Funny piano story. Wes said something about something, I don't remember, but what I thought he meant was that he wanted to quit the piano. When I asked him if that IS what he said, he was simply aghast. MOM! OF COURSE NOT. [please please please Wes... keep on lovin' that feelin'.]


So, before I end this epistle, I'll give you a looksee at my latest card making product:

Masculine Card

I think I did good this time. Hopefully Kevin doesn't see this post before Father's Day. Wouldn't it be bad luck for him to see his card? BWA HA HA HA. Kevin look at a blog?????? BWA HA HA HA.

oh hey. it's my blog and i'll blog if i want to.

Here i sit. Waiting for the Wade, the cabinet guy. Waiting for him to, yet again, ATTEMPT to have the correct cabinet doors for over my desk and close the door if you will on this whole cabinet foofaraw.

I could make better use of this waiting time instead of watching pregnant in heels and playing the bubble game on my phone. I could cook or clean or buy some shoelaces. But I'm either a waiter or a doer; not a doing waiter.

I could even post something post worthy. nah.

There Are No Words

There are not enough words in the English language to express emotion. I don't know about other languages, you see, because learning a foreign language wasn't a requirement back in the day at my podunk H.S.. (However, there was a Speech class requirement, and oh how I loathed that class. So MUCH. Which has nothing to do with anything.)

Besides, who in fact 'learns' a foreign language in a couple of hours every other school day for 1-2 years? See, more words would have helped me shorten that last sentence. Interesting that knowing MORE words could help one be more concise.

I wish there were enough, or that I knew enough, words. I'm fairly certain the problem lies in the fact that I don't carry a thesaurus in my brain. That would certainly be useful/functional/advantageous/convenient/effective/commodious/etc. etc.. STILL...  Even with an inner cranial thesaurus I doubt that it is possible to express the subtle nuances of thought for anyone. I hope that Heaven has its own language.

There are so many times when I really have the need to describe my opinion or how I'm feeling and I have no words in my linguistical repertoire to do so. So I make up words, example: linguistical.

It is frustrating. The words, (supposing I had them), are on the tip of my tongue but apparently not in my brain, and I'm left scrambling to spit out something meaningful, anything to make my complicated thoughts understandable. Maybe then, people would WANT to listen instead of thinking they know what I'm going to say and cutting me off. It's like a constant giant 'talk to the hand' in front of my face. (Not that that bothers me. whatev.)

The best thing about this random post is the fact that I've said the same thing in 5 different paragraphs. It's all in the repetition folks. It's all me.



foofaraw: noun. 1. excessive or flashy ornamentation; a fuss over trivial matter. 2. A fuss over a matter of little importance.

"A somber, muted descending motif opens and closes the work, which is brief but effective. It provided much needed relief from the fanfares and foofaraw in which brass-going composers of so often indulge."

Who talks that way? I have to say, I'm jealous of anyone who can and does. 

You might say that I'm making a foofaraw over nothing. But that's only because I don't have the words to make myself clear. (Nor the magical powers.)

The View: Again. 

Sometimes a picture really is worth a 1000 words.

Word

I just found out about a website through a friend on FB. It's called Typetrigger. I'm not gonna link it up cuz a. I don't want to and b. I'm not a real writer and that's who the intended user is; a real writer. The idea behind Typetrigger is to 'trigger' a thought or idea from a prompt they provide and then have you write your take on it. I'm pretty sure it is geared toward fiction writers........... but too bad. I can do what I wanna. It's a free blogworld.

Today the prompt is "The Awful Word"


These sorts of suggestions/prompts are right up my alley cuz they're so wide open to interpretation.

I'm not clever enough to write a fictional piece. Well to tell the truth, I think I AM clever enough, I just can't or won't take the time. I always feel like I'm wasting valuable time when I'm dinking around on this blog, which btw was a major contributor in me deleting, yes DELETING, Blogignoramus. fyi-if you delete a blog there is an UNDELETE button. bwahahahaha. Perfect for people like me.

As far as The Awful Word goes, here's my take. I make no claims that this will be of any interest to any person besides me.

There are the obvious awful words and I could point you towards a site, reddit, which I can't even read when Wes is around cuz the F word is written in almost every headline. And the actual comments? Forget about it. No matter what the convo, could be nerf guns, could be a recipe, that word will come out of somebody's mouth, or shall I say fingers. But I am either becoming conditioned to the word or don't care enough because I will read reddit anyway. If it's said a thousand times I exit, but here and there is okay with me. I don't really know why but the F word bothers me more in written form than if I hear it from a movie or infer what is blurred out on TV.

Well, whatever, I hadn't planned on writing about a word which I rarely ever heard 20 years ago and now is part of seemingly every colloquial conversation. You know, judging from the internet, movies and TV-which is such a wise way to base all your beliefs.

Moving on. I think of "The Awful Word" in other ways too. One of those ways is sarcasm. An attitude of sarcasm can really only be delivered through words as opposed to anger or happiness or other types of emotion. I do think sarcasm derives from a feeling; a feeling of disdain mixed with insecurity. Sarcasm is a cohort of cynicism. Sarcastic people are usually cynical but the difference lies in the delivery and the humor. I'm not sure if sarcasm is hereditary but I suspect it to be so. With my vast scientific knowledge. Sometimes pure observation and the obvious are enough to make a judgement. That there are people who say they hate or don't understand sarcasm is hard for me to fathom.

All this talk of sarcasm stems from a load of such which was dumped all over a certain someone last Sunday and I feel kind of bad about what went down. He sure is a good sport or maybe doesn't pick up on our sarcastic attitude. We're not too subtle, so I can't imagine how he wouldn't catch on.

Awful word, awful attitude. Using or depending on either is a habit and an automatic response to anything really. I don't think I could stop being sarcastic anymore than I could give up eating. I just better not start using the F word.

When I first read the prompt that brought forth this post I didn't even think about what I've just written.  SURPRISE! My brain just gets revved up and I write whatever comes first to mind. So uncool.

What I thought of is a certain 10 year boy who resides in my same home who's latest thing to say is "hurtful". This is his response to 99% of anything directed towards him, which, as you can probably deduce, is completely irrelevant to anything said. He just thinks it's funny and I don't. It's also a habit. He has learned the hard way that not everyone 'gets' or appreciates sarcasm, namely Mr O., and I hope for his sake that he saves 'hurtful' for home. For my sake I just want him to mix it up a little bit. I'm bugged more from his repetitive use of the word than any meaning he or I ascribes to it.

That's it for "The Awful Word".

Because every post needs a picture, here you go:

Jessie

Just because.

Partial Post

Wes had his Piano Recital Saturday. I had no doubt he'd knock it out of the park, and that is exactly what he did. It is a joy to hear him play. A lot of that joy comes from the fact that I know he loves playing the piano. You know Wes is feeling happy when you hear him in the living room figuring out songs he's heard and making them his own. I hope this passion will stay with him, but I also know that children change and other interests come along. I'm not saying that is a bad thing. But if he keeps loving the piano and working at it I will somehow someway get a baby grand piano. Like when a spare $15,000 drops into my bank account.

Duet- "The Imperial March" 

 [Word to the wise: don't you dare call it the "The Star War's Song"]

Solo: Allegretto from Symphony #7, second movement-Ludvig Van Beethoven

Wes with his teacher, Mrs Janson

He was one of the few students to have his solo memorized, which is cake for him so no one was worried on that score anyway, (where does he get this?). Afterwards he said to me that he didn't play the soft parts soft enough. I tried to reassure him, telling him that when you're nervous it is hard to hit the keys as gently as you've practiced. Well, he told me that could not be the reason because he WAS NOT NERVOUS. (Where does he get this?).


AND NOW THIS:

Turns out blogger is a monster and ate the rest of my post. wtf. The End.

Spring Has Sprung

Okay. Firstly, this blog design I got going on now is quite possibly the most ugliest blog composition ever. That makes me sad. So there.

Spring seems to have arrived! I'm totally crossing my fingers that it's here to stay, and it was with great joy that yesterday I took myself to the local nursery where I purchased vegetable & herb plants and a beautimous pot of flowers. Gotta be one of my most, if not THE most, favorite time of the year. Which is more than a little bit surprising considering how much I loathed, detested, abhorred, etc., etc, gardening in all its forms when I was younger. Yeah, yeah, I know, that was a LONG time ago. But you wait and see... You too will get old, (unless of course you already are old. If so, you know what I'm talking 'bout), and some kind of weird evolutionary thing kicks in and a desire builds up within you and you feel a burning need to get your hands dirty and grow your OWN FOOD. Too much? Someone a long time ago told me the same thing and I didn't believe them. Oh, the rich irony of life.

And this year I have been so extremely anxious for spring to get its butt into town. Into Highlandia. Which is what I'm going to call Highland from now on, ever since Jake coined the term. The other day I said Highland, only I said it like HighLAND, instead of HIGHland, and I had a good chuckle with myself. Those are the best kind, am I right?

Beautiful, no?, didn't I tell ya? (btw, do you ever wonder who the heck I think I'm talking to?). (Me too.)

Over the years my moods have more and more begun to reflect the weather. I didn't even believe the whole SAD thing. I rather liked rainy days, I LIKED the way they made me feel. Cozy, safe, with an inexplicable urge to bake cookies. NOW though, I feel a weight pressing me down and my thoughts become dreary and hopeless. Doesn't help that this winter has been one cheerless day after another. In other words it's been raining and/or snowing almost every day. Lit-ra-ly.

So is it any WONDER that I am excited to see the SUN? Even if I don't go outside, I feel the effects of it's magic charmedness on my heart and soul.

Oddly though, I don't like to be hot. So I need all the warmth of the sun I can soak in, with temps in the low '70's. Is that too much to ask?

Today was an outside day for sure. I'd say perfect. PERFECT. That's what I'm blogging about foo.

When our yard was landscaped we had 3 grow boxes put in. The yard. "Grow Boxes" is a fancy term to describe a garden. It just has tiny walls surrounding its perimeter. I've been excited about those boxes for months. We had no garden, let alone grow boxes, at our last house. (5 years) I had one grow box at the house on Ridge Rd. LOVED it. But all we planted in the one box were tomatoes and zucchini, with an occasional pumpkin. While those remain my two top picks, and of course I'm planting them, but I also picked up a watermelon plant, some hot peppers, some other stuff I'm forgetting now, and on top of all that I will be planting a HERB GARDEN. I don't care if I use one single herb; I'll just go out and smell them once in a while. Heavenly.

SO... today I prepped the soil. Can you tell this made me happy? Equal parts peat moss, manure, and vermiculite added to the boxes equaled sheer joy. A lot of sweat too, but that's half the therapy I suppose. Will be planting the actual factual plants soon.

Pictures? OF COURSE.  Rule of thirds? Shut it.

Too happy? You decide. And then tell me how to get some people to be readin' this blog.

About a Boy

What can you say about a boy like Jacob?

A boy who has always been larger than life?

Jake weighed 10.1 lbs at birth. He cried non-stop until he was 6 months old. After the 6 month mark he was as happy as he had been unhappy.

Awww... Jake was such a hungry baby. He would down his bottle so fast that the sides of the bottle would suck in and collapse. He started eating cereal long before the recommended age, but I just couldn't keep him full on formula alone.

And wow, did he ever have the hugest smile. It went with his big personality. A personality that draws people to him. He always had a crowd of friends and a insatiable zest for life.

Jacob rarely ever did or does things half way. (Unless you count making his bed.) He makes up his mind and proceeds full bore and is true to himself.

All who read this know Jake, so there's no need for me to write his life story here. (The truth is, I'd love to give it a shot. Don't you know it.)

Last week was filled with finals, his 24th birthday, and his graduation from Utah State University. Leave it to Jake to cram all that into one week. (Although, in this case it certainly wasn't his choice.)

Loves to you-my big baby Jake. mwah.

Here are a few shots from Graduation held on May 7th, 2011, where he received his Bachelors of Science in Biology.

Every graduation should have a bag pipe procession. Heck, every DAY should begin with a bag pipe procession.

Second row from the back; look close and you'll see his trademark grin.

Can I has a penny?

Our sweet little Wes has two obsessions. Well, that I can think of right now. It's nice to have just the two I guess, that way you can really really obsess without splitting yourself too many ways.

Wes LOVES legos.

Wes LOVES money.

I'm not sure which he loves more. The money buys the legos; he loves the legos so he needs the money. So it's sort of a chicken/egg conundrum type of a thing.

Wes also has what I consider to a bit of an old codger habit. I don't know why I think this when he says these words, but it just seems like he's too young to be thinking that way. It probably has some far deeper meaning, or far shallower. You decide.

If you ask Wes to stop, or come, or do fill in the blank and he will either say, "just a sec" or "just a minute." ALWAYS.

Yesterday Kevin emailed me this joke for Wes. It's too perfect.

Joe climbs to the top of Mt Sinai to get close enough to talk to God. Looking up, he asks the Lord, "God, what does a million years mean to you?"
The Lord replies, "A minute".
And Joe asks, "And what does a million dollars mean to you?"
The Lord replies, "A penny."
Joe asks, "Can I have a penny?"
The Lord replies, "In a minute".


Predictably, Wes, who loves a joke just about as much as money and legos, thought it was hilarious.

He made one comment though,"Why is his name Joe? That's a stupid name!" 

snake eyes

Oh, yeah. Make that a third obsession. BOARD GAMES. This is from last night which is the first night of a marathon Monopoly challenge. So 'cited. (Looks like Joe is hovering over Wes' head.)

(If you're a Joe, I apologize for any lack of sensitivity. You can't help what your Mama named you.)

An Aquarium A Movie and AMore

Here's what we did Saturday.

Wes has been bugging us for ages to take him to the Aquarium. Problem. First, I didn't know if we had an Aquarium in UT for sure, (UT just doesn't seem like a very aquariumy kind of state if you ask me), and if UT had an Aquarium I sure didn't know where the heck it was. If I did think where it might be I would've guessed downtown SLC. (My confusion was ironic cuz I'm an AQUARIUS! Right?).

Turns out there is an Aquarium in UT! and it is in Sandy! Which happens to be very close by where we live. So off to the Aquarium in Sandy, UT, we went.

The fact that I find Zoos and Aquariums surreal at best will not be debated. I just had to let it all go and try NOT to think about the weirdness of pretending that the animals we are looking at are NOT looking at us. And that they are happy about it.

The fact that this particular Aquarium is in the old Mac's Craft's Store building in Sandy did not help me delude myself. Think "The Space Center" underwater. Those who know what I'm referring to probably get that joke. 'Cept it's not a joke. I had to remind myself that Aquarium's are for kids. And well-meaning pimply faced older juveniles; who seem to be running the joint entirely on their own.

Here are some pictures that are so bad that I think that you'll find them enjoyable for that reason alone. I find that if you pretend that the entire Aquarium is submerged underwater the quality of these pictures becomes rather apropos. It's the new "under the sea" picture app on the iphone camera. If there isn't an app like that already, then I call dibs.

 Here we have another example of why it's better that I don't take the "we so excited to be here and dis is the name of the place we are at" picture.

 HIS idea to salute while mounted on a frog. (I am thoroughly infatuated with the use of perspective in this shot.)

 I call this "fish face". Cuz I just thought that up right now.

 I have no idea what the wavy mirrors have to do with the water conservation section of the exhibit, but it was definitely the most interesting part of it all. Who wants to hear, or read to be more precise, yet again, that UT is a desert and receives .5", or something like that, of rainfall a year? I would much rather look at the wavy mirrors. (I think it'd make much more sense, and be a whole lot more fun, if they were trick mirrors. But do you think anyone asked me?).

 The stingray pool is definitely the most exciting part of the entire Aquarium. People might pretend that it's the shark tank, or the educational exhibits, or the gift shop... but that's a pack of lies doled out by a pack of liars. I feel that vehemently about this. Not really. (Unless of course you're in an Aquarium with a LEGIT shark tank. Then it's a solid tie between the stingrays and the sharks. Which are both excellent names for pre-school soccer teams. That's all I'm gonna say about that.)

 This is the Shark Tank. That is a Sea Turtle.

True story: there was a Family of the White Trash Type whose men folk stood in front of the entire span of viewing window for a full 10 minutes taking photos of every cotton picking algae eating creature in that there tank. You'd think they were shooting a documentary for PBS. Or they thought they were. With their phone cameras!! WHO takes serious pictures with a phone camera? sheesh. You'd think they'd never been to the big city before, let alone a Major Aquarium like the one where we were. I had to just stand there, waiting for them to finally move on for my turn at the window and the photo op. Too bad I never got a shot of an actual tiny shark as it came zipping by. You'da thunk all those things if you'da seen it for yourself. Thankfully I was able to describe it so well. It's a gift I tell ya.

The Penguin Encounter was cool. When one of the penguins coughed up a loogie and spit it on the glass right in front of Wes' face I knew the entire outing was worth the sacrifice. Watching the penguins waddle back and forth, everyone at the window holding their collective breath hoping that at least one penguin will actually penguin-dive into the water, uh, not so much.

It was a good thing that I was at the Aquarium with Wes. Kevin became motion sick just walking around the different exhibits. How is that possible? He had to sit outside. He could barely make the drive home. (I don't know how to drive his monster truck, nor did I want to, so yeah, I made him drive.)


I am no film critic, nor do I wish to be. I'd have to watch movies only boys imagine there are deeper meanings to, such as every epidose in a Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and/or Tron series and or remake. (Wes just informed me that Tron is NOT a series. My bad.)

There are other reasons too. My lack of ability to be succinct or understood chief among them.

But I am opinionated and critical.

Back it up Back it up.

AFTER Kevin had his wits about him again, he decided that if I really wanted to see "Jane Eyre" then he was up to it. (Obviously he's never read the book.) So we left Wes at home and drove up to Jordan's Landing to the Disneyland of Movie Theatres.

Before I started writing this post, I thought I'd read some reviews of this latest remake, (this makes #16 I believe.) Wanted to see what other real critical thinkers thought. For a moment I forgot that no one reads this blog, at least no one who'd care about any type of "Jane Eyre" review. Once I came to my senses, I ditched the idea of summarizing the story line and it's deeper meanings. I just thought about them and I will keep those thoughts, basically, to myself.

I will say that on the positive side, Jane Eyre was played brilliantly. She was the perfect mix of plain with the light of beauty veiled in her eyes. Jane has to be a tough character to cast... she has to feel herself to be so ugly that you believe she is, yet have so much goodness and strength deep within that you can't help but be drawn to her and eventually recognize she is beautiful in her own right. Is it because that we as women often identify with these feelings that makes "Jane Eyre" such a beloved classic, and, (considered so by anyone with 1/2 a brain), has endured the test of time? I saw a picture of the actress who played Jane and it is hard to believe that she is the same person. That is good acting. And makeup.

I love how the director focused on the gothic darkness of the book. I think that aspect is often left out. I think that he should have spent more energy on the mysterious woman in the attic... but he didn't.

I feel that the movie was very well cast until it comes to the 2nd most important person in the story, Rochester. The actor who played him was just too good looking, too happy. That doesn't mean he was either really. Unless you know Jane and Rochester as I do, there isn't much chance of me being able to explain what I mean.

I read no reviews that mentioned what I was thought, so maybe I'm wrong. But, pffft, I know I'm right.

I'm officially sick of this post. I leave with you this stunning image of Jane, just look at her dress rumpling in the wind, her cloak splayed open, the agony in her face, the tree with its monstrous arms. Sigh. She's running away after finding out............... guess you'll have to read the book. Or take the easy way out and see the movie. You miss out if that's your choice though.

And that's my opinion.

And this is a cute picture of Wes. Send your cute pictures my way if you'd like to be featured on Mamaface Says.