Bucket List procrastination

Hey!

So, its been a long time. In the last 6 months I've done a lot of things, a few of which are on my BUCKET LIST! So, when I get more than a few seconds, I am going to post them and check them off the list. WAHOO!

safe

In acting, there is this phrase that we used called "making choices". Its real simple, and very trivial. You get on stage, you act and react, and you make choices.

I don't know how else to explain it.

But there are different types of choices. There are safe choices, and risky choices.

"Take a risk! Make a choice!" are things often taught and shouted at us during our "processes". And generally, the risky actors are the ones  that people enjoy watching and working with.

Well, the same goes for life.

We make safe choices, and we make risky choices.

I.....make safe choices, and often wonder what my life would be if I were riskier.

"Well, then change! You have the power. Be what you want to be"

Well....I'm working. And I'm slower. But someday, I'll get there.

I'm a dragon

Last night I was talking with some old friends, and we started discussing Zodiacs and our Chinese Animals. So I decided to do a little bit of research about my year and animal, blah blah blah, and this is what I came up with.


I am a Dragon. What a cool animal. I mean, on the surface, it feels better to say "Yeah, I'm a dragon" instead of "Yeah, I'm a boar, or a rat." With some help from Wikipedia and other tacky websites, I learned quite a bit! I've gone through and narrated what I think is true and not true about myself, but...feel free to disagree. Whatevs.




Personality
Occupying the 5th position in the Chinese Zodiac, the Dragon is the mightiest of the signs (Holla!). Dragons symbolize such character traits as dominance and ambition. Dragons prefer to live by their own rules and if left on their own, are usually successful. (Agreed) They’re driven, unafraid of challenges, and willing to take risks (Depends on the type of risk). They’re passionate in all they do (Yes!) and they do things in grand fashion. Unfortunately, this passion and enthusiasm can leave Dragons feeling exhausted and interestingly, unfulfilled. (Always wanting more, achieving more, not good enough, etc)


While Dragons frequently help others, rarely will they ask for help. (True.) Others are attracted to Dragons, especially their colorful personalities, but deep down, Dragons prefer to be alone (Eh....I don't know if that's always accurate). Perhaps that is because they’re most successful when working alone. Their preference to be alone can come across as arrogance or conceitedness, but these qualities aren’t applicable. Dragons have tempers that can flare fast! (Yes, but see below to the Earth Dragon--control!)


Health
Considering their hard-working nature, Dragons are healthy overall. They do get stressed and suffer from periodic tension/headaches, (I don't think I get tension headaches, but I am very tense. VERY.) likely because they take so many risks. Dragons could benefit from incorporating mild activity into their lives. Yoga or walking would be good as these activities can work both their minds and their bodies.


Career
Dragons prefer leading to being led. (When I was younger, I think this was more true than it is now) Jobs that allow them to express their creativity are good choices. Some good careers include: inventor, manager, computer analyst, lawyer, engineer, architect, broker, and sales person. (None of these Jobs would allow me to express creativity, what a load of crap. Good thing I'm not ANY of those)


Relationships
Dragons will give into love, but won’t give up their independence. Because they have quick, sometimes vengeful tempers, their partners need to be tough-skinned. Dragons enjoy others who are intriguing, and when they find the right partners, they’ll usually commit to that person for life. ("Usually" commit for life? Duh, of course commit for live. No comment on the rest)


(Little did I know that there are 5 different element dragons with 2 specific years, and I'm one of them!)

Earth Dragons – Years 1928 and 1988

More rooted in the ground, Earth Dragons make better decisions because they act more rationally. (I'm very logical and analytical) Earth Dragons are level-headed and able to control their behaviors. They’re more supportive of others, but they prefer being admired by others. (Probably true!)

Pretty cool eh? So I got a little more interested in this EARTH DRAGON, and why its different than an ordinary dragon. So I did some more research!


EARTH DRAGON: 
The Earth Dragon is a quieter, more reflective Dragon, He will be appreciative of other's opinions even if he fails to agree with them. He is reasonable in his approach to problems and his leadership is less dictatorial. He is not given to outbursts of temper, but at the same time demands respect. He knows the value of cooperation and is more diplomatic than the other Dragons. He is ambitious, but his initiatives are less hurried and more carefully thought out.


Or how about this?

THE EARTH DRAGON 1928 AND 1988

Earth Dragons make great managers because they are practical, levelheaded and demonstrate a knack for organizing. They still have the need to dictate and be admired, but they are affable, congenial and supportive. Compared to other Dragons, Earth Dragons are less likely to breathe fire at the least irritation. They will work diligently to complete their life goals. The Earth element adds a greater portion of self-control to the Dragon's personality and usually the Earth Dragon is deserving of the respect he or she desires. These Dragons take their life and romantic responsibilities quite seriously.


AT HOME WITH THE DRAGON
Not the most domesticated of the Animal signs, Dragons and may be more content out and about rather than at home. Nevertheless, with their imagination and artistic sense, they can enjoy decorating their home or anywhere else where their extravagance can be expressed.. A Dragon's home should be as large and majestic as his personality, providing space for the fiery temperament or emotional eruptions that accompany their character.  (I can accept that)

Dragons Dislike: Taking orders, unnecessary bureaucracy, discounted ideas, people who don't give 100%  (This last one is true. I don't know about the others..)
 

FRIENDS AND ENEMIES

Dragons are usually popular people, but because of their personalities, they seem to gather as much criticism as they do esteem (Wah wah....). Due to their tumultuous temperaments, Dragons are not the most sensitive friends to those in need of a shoulder to cry on (This is both accurate and inaccurate). Those who truly know the Dragon know he is a loving soul who will become your best ally in times of need. Once the dynamic Dragon has given his friendship, he will not let his friends down and will never falter in his allegiance to his companions. To a Dragon, a friend is a friend for a lifetime. Incredibly honest, Dragons are known for sincerity and are trusting souls. Because of this honesty, Dragons don't realize others may not demonstrate or uphold the same codes of ethics. Making the discovery that they placed their trust in someone who is dishonest makes the Dragon person quite sad, yet much more perceptive for future encounters. (Accurate.)

DRAGON INFANT AND CHILD
Dragons, noted for their benevolence, tend to shower their children with toys and spending money. It has been remarked that they substitute material things for quality time with their children. (I wouldn't know, but I hope this isn't entirely true. At least, I hope to make it false) Even so, Dragons take parenting seriously and are quite protective of their children's welfare. Should anything upset them, or should anyone wrong them, the Dragon will prepare to fight and avenge the people who have hurt or belittled their offspring.

LOVERS AND SPOUSES

Negatively, Dragons are egotistical and love to be the center of attention. Modesty is not one of his assets. Add to that the Dragon temper and you have a bossy, dominating and authoritative being. They hate solicited advice and can be hopelessly tactless and insensitive to their lovers. (I think this is false about me. But...What do I know!)

Anyway, all very interesting things. I had fun.

N.Y.C.S.U.C.K.A.S

So in 6 days, I'm flying to NYC.

By myself.

For 7 Days.

I have a lot of feelings.

I like sweat pants and rain, in that order.

Things I am excited for:

• Curling up on the couch with a blanket on a rainy/snowy day
• our fireplace to work
• scarves and boots
• New York
• Shows
• The next year of my life (sometimes I'm excited....sometimes I'm not excited...)
• new sweat pants
• Lunch time
• taking Naps on Saturdays or Sunday

Huh. That's weird. I felt like I had tons of things that I was excited about, but now this list looks a little whimpy.

On different notes, Val and I discovered and named three birds living in our chimney: Dale, Marty and Norby. They are there, and they are always listening.

This is my last day in the office working an 8-5, and I am so happy about it. I've been covering all week for the other girl who has been covering for me when I've been off teaching, and I am about to blow something up. I have worked office jobs for the last 5 or 6 years, and I can't remember feeling more antsy than I do now. Perhaps that's because during the school-year, my office time is my only chance to get homework done so I am constantly on-the-go. But...I don't have any homework right now, and all I do is sit on facebook and refresh the home page very couple minutes to see if anybody has updated their status. Seriously. I. DO. THAT. And the worst part is that its all subconscious. I can't believe I have become this pathetic. I'm grateful for my job, and the flexibility it has given me to travel and teach, but if I have to sit here much longer doing nothing, I might freak out a little bit, and I'll never get any sleep because RLS will kill me.

RLS. Now, what a stupid thing to have. I don't have it all the time, but....when it kicks in, it really works me over. There is nothing more irritating than lying in bed and being SO close to falling asleep and not being able to because your legs decide its time to do a little dance, or itch from the inside. Exhausted from the week,  I tossed and turned and twitched from about 7pm on last night as I went in and out of sleep, wondering if cutting my legs off would be an ideal solution. After very little conscious deliberation, I concluded that I needed my legs and fell asleep.

So that's that. I love sweat pants and blankets. I love watching Disney movies while its raining. I love my lunch break today, and I am excited for a Saturday of relaxation.

Zupa's on my mind.

Its a Zupa's kind of day.

Do you know what that means?

Yeah, neither do I. But if I don't get some Zupa's STAT, I'm going to publically lose it. So, in my mind, its a freaking Zupa's kind of day. Don't get in my way, or I will FORREALS kill you. Forreals.

"Escape Artist"

I was once taught that I need to "live life every, every moment".

Unfortunately, I sometimes forget to do that.

And it isn't until months later when I hear an amazing cellist play a piece of very familiar music that I think to myself "Kelly, you really missed out on some beautiful, beautiful things."

And I go to bed feeling rejuvenated, discouraged, and contemplative on how to make up for lost time.

By Their Fruits Ye Shall Know Them

"Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Wherefore, by their fruits ye shall know them" -- Matthew 7:16, 18. 20.

     I've always known my dad loved trees. When he lived in California, he raised exotic fruit trees in his backyard: loquats, guava, fig, pomegranate, tangerine, persimmons, and just about everything else. He treated them like his children. When we moved to our new house in Orem, Utah, there was a plum tree by the mailbox that had never given fruit. The previous owners told him it was an "ornamental" tree, not meant to bear fruit. My father smiled. "That," he said, "is because you don't water it correctly. He immediately began to work on that little plum tree. He cut it back, fed it, and started watering it at the drip-line where the farthest branches hung. That next summer, his little plum tree was loaded with delicious purple plums.

     My father taught his kids to care for trees, just like his father had taught him. When I was little I would tag along with Dad to the local orchard wearing my juice-stained chest bag to hold my fruit so I wouldn't drop or damage any of it. He taught me the right way to pick apples, how to swipe my index finger gently across the top of the apple where the stem was connected to the spur. With a little bit of a twist and flick, the apple could come off without pulling or breaking the spur, and fruit could e grown the next year on the preserved spur. I remember when he taught me the importance of thinning peaches and how it upset me to have to throw away good little peaches. "It's always better," my dad explained, "to have 2,000 perfect peaches than a million tiny bruised ones"

     I've always known how much my father cared about trees, but it wasn't until 6 years ago that I found out why. "Just after you were born," he told me, " I planted a Jonathan Apple for you, and I planted a nectarine tree after your brother was born." He had never told anybody before; it was his personal secret. I've learned that it represented how he felt about being a parent. "When you give good things to a tree and you care for it properly, it produces good fruit."

     The same thing goes for children.

     When I was seven years old, I was punished for lying about stealing the fruit gushers from under my parent's bed. My punishment: sitting on the toilet. I don't know why it was on the toilet instead of on my bed; maybe the bathroom was the only place in the house where I wouldn't have fun. On the back of the toilet there was a cooking timer set for sixty minutes. I remember changing the clock a few minutes ahead in hopes of shortening my punishment. When the timer went off, I ran down to my dad's office holding the timer with the biggest smile on my face, proud of my accomplishment for out-witting my father. "Dad, I'm done. Cant I go play now?"

     Dad looked at his watch and said "Kelly, you have another sixteen minutes. Reset the timer to sixty and start over." I was horrified. How could he possibly ground me two times in a row? The way my father parented, it didn't pay to cheat. It didn't occur to me then that it would have been much easier for him to just let me go. He didn't have to sit there ad police my punishment for another hour. But raising kids, like growing trees, takes a long time and much effort. And a tree-grower knows that if a sapling is allowed to lean even a little bit as it grows, it will grow crooked and quite possibly fall.

     Sometimes when my father grounded me for a day or made me write fifty times in cursive "I will always do my chores correctly and not lie about them," I felt wronged because my younger brother, Hootie, never got those punishments. But Hootie had a stronger conscience than I ever had. If he ever did something wrong, he would tell on himself, and my dad would let Hootie figure out his own punishment. Its like my father told me: "You have to know what a specific type of tree needs and when it needs it." I guess my father knew us well enough to know that David's conscious was punishment enough. I would cry because I'd been caught. Hootie would cry because he did it.

     Some of dad's lessons sank in without me knowing it. In high school when I had to make choices between gymnastics, dance, performing, basketball, volleyball, and scholastics--all things that were very important to me--I knew I had to let a few go. It's better to do a few things right than let everything get "bruised."

     During a basketball game in high school, I remember stealing the ball and driving down the court for the score. From the side-line where I was running, I could hear my father's voice yelling "All the way, Kelly! All the way!" I scored, and on my way back down the court, I glanced over to where he was sitting. He was nodding and smiling a very familiar smile; it was the same smile he wore when we would pick fruit together. Its the same smile he gets when he's cutting back his fruit trees, the same smile he had on his face when he made me write cursive, and sent me back to redo my sixty minutes in the bathroom. I think I've begun to understand what that smile might mean. It has something to do with being a steward, with taking care of something that without care would die, go wild, or grow itself to death. It has to do with helping a tree be more than just an ornamental tree, helping it bear good fruit.

     I was born to bear good fruit.

Lists, lists. LISTS. and a Travalo review

Remember how much I love lists?

I LOVE LISTS.

Seriously.

I can't get enough of them. I love making to-do lists, shopping lists, anything that I can "check something off" of.

So I'm sitting at work with my eyes burning, thinking of different lists to make. Here's one:

Things I am NOT allowed to buy at the grocery store for whatever reason:

• Sun-dried Tomato Wheat Thins and Cottage Cheese-- a guilty pleasure people, it won't last me three days.
• Potato Chips
• Oreos -- unless I'm making Oreo truffles, a.k.a. Oreogasms....bahaha.
• Soda, specifically Dr. Pepper and Sprite. This isn't a big issue because I'm not a big soda fan, but...sometimes.....just sometimes...
• Any sort of candy. If I don't buy it, I won't eat it, and that will be better for everybody.
• Grandma Sycamore's white bread. Holy crap. That bread is so good, and I promise you that I will eat the whole loaf within a few days. 
• Chocolate Almond Milk. Though....this is a good little drink/treat when the sweet-tooth kicks in.

Ok, so I recognize the list isn't that long. But that's still a fair amount of things that I will not let myself buy at the grocery store! Give me some credit, eh?

Ok, next list.

Things that make me feel better:

• Flowers. I. Love. Flowers.
• singing/music
• Craft stores--walking through the Hobby Lobby, or Roberts, or anyplace like that is so theraputic for me.
• Barnes and Noble. I love spending time there.
• Vanilla Bean Frappuccino from Starbucks (coffee free suckas!)
• A clean bedroom
• Pineapple/any fruit
• Zupas
• Sleep
• Waterfalls/hiking to waterfalls
• Peanut Butter
• Baking
• Acting
• Excercise
• Flying sport kites
• Being in the sun
• Writing in my Journal
• Movies
• Massages (Heyooh!)
• Cuddling. (When its merited)

See? Such good things! Next list.

Things that bug me:

• Rude comments about homosexuals.
• When people don't know how to use to, too, two, there, their, they're, your, you're. MAKES. ME. CRAZY.
• when people choose not to listen or pay attention
• Girls who put on makeup to go to the gym.
• Bad drivers (I might be one of them, I am fully aware)
• people who constantly commit to things, and then flake out. If you're going to flake, don't commit. And its not a one-time thing, it's when it happens almost every time.
• Children who are raised to feel entitled. 
• Sore throats
• Messy kitchens
• periods
• People who want to "fix" me, because I'm not what they want me to be.
• the Jackass who told me I was weird and thought that Popsicle were an Asian thing. Who knew.
• When I don't live up to my full potential, every minute.
• When I forget to live life, every, every minute.
• Feeling insecure
• How much of a pansy I am when I get really sick. Ugh. Grow a pair, Kelly. 
• Mushrooms. Seriously? Sick.
• When my little brother is rude to my mom. But he's a teenager, so...I have to keep that in check, and remember that I wasn't the softest teddy bear in my day. 

My eyes are going to EXPLODE! Who knew that staring at a computer screen all afternoon could be so terrible!

Also, my friend Jace just messaged me and said he found a review I did FOREVER ago for this travalo thing...and I can't stop laughing at how stupid I am, but...here it is. And all jokes aside, I really do LOVE this travalo perfume thing. I use it all the time. For. Reals.

"We won't fight unless we're provoked"

I've said it before, and I will continue to say it until I die: I am not a good writer.

Seriously.

I can't introduce my blogs with witty openings, or make metaphoric parallels between a sea-shell and my life, and have it somehow resemble my thoughts and experiences perfectly. It just doesn't happen.

But I write anyway, and just like the millions of terrible Sacrament talks that begin with "I don't want to be here, the Bishop cornered me, BEAR WITH ME (*swear words*)" and blah blah blah, I begin anyway.

First of all, I had the most amazing work-out today. I don't know what it was, I don't know where the energy came from, but it was pretty stellar. I did my cardio with more energy than I remember having in a long while, and even considered going even longer just for the heck of it. Don't worry, I quickly threw that thought out of my head and stepped off the machine. I had a great upper body workout in the weight room, and for the first time in a long while, I think I will be VERY sore tomorrow. That doesn't happen too often, and I've always rolled my eyes at the men who complain about being sore the next day because of their workout: I always thought to myself "Well, you're a wiener, don't push yourself that hard if you know its going to hurt..."But now I get it. And I LOVE IT.

Unfortunately for me, I came home and ate almost everything in sight, which probably negated any work that I did today. I mean....its fine, because my goal isn't to lose numbers, or drop weight. I just want to be fit and healthy, specifically with my exercise and eating. I try to stay pretty organic (I mean, who can really afford organic these days), and if I'm lucky enough to not eat out as often as I have recently, I try to keep things as raw as possible. I got into a pretty good program when I was with Macbeth, but after about a month and a half of being back, work and school had kicked in and it just got harder and harder to stay motivated and fit. Much to my dismay, I've lost at least half of the progress I made on tour, but am now re-determined to get in control again of what I can, and make the most of it.

Speaking of control, I have a real control problem. Not a control problem like....if I don't win at Rock-Paper-Scizzors or have the house perfectly clean all the time, I would blow your head off.....but more of a "I must control everything in my life" problem. And perhaps problem isn't the most accurate word. I'd say its more of a blessing and a curse. But over the years, I've learned there are lots of things that I can't control, and in the last 2 years, I have tried to overcompensate in other areas. So, I've made a short list of things I will/can control:

• What I eat.
• How I exercise
• My spiritual well-being
• How I spend my money.

A small list, no? Who cares: they are important things to me. As much as I hate seeing people by lazy and care-free/perceivably irresponsible, I do envy them. There has got to be such a joy and pleasure that they find in life that I have not yet been able to experience. But I can guarantee there is a joy and pleasure that I find in life by the way that I live that many cannot understand. I'm used to having every minute of my day blocked out for me: That's how it was growing up, and I have somehow managed to carry that schedule and work-ethic into my adult-life. Right now, that is not the case, and I am learning how to adjust and be happy with where I am and what I do. Elder Uchtorf gave a conference talk recently explaining that our self-worth was not dependent on the size of our to-do list. Oh, what a brutal reality that was when I discovered that he was speaking directly to me. Brutal. But I'm learning to enjoy the free time, though I unintentionally find myself packing my day with as much as possible. Its a lesson that will take me a very long time to really apply. 

Its 9:30 pm, and I am in bed. My little brother is in China, and we haven't been able to find a time to skype since he's been there, but I hope we get to soon. I was his age when I went to Germany, and though I was there for much longer than he will be in China, it is so strange to think that I was so small (physically and emotionally) when all of that happened. I wish I had been more mature at the time to soak in all of the glamour and art that presented itself in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland, but I have to remind myself that I can't expect that much of a little 15 yr. old girl. Hootie says he has become the master of haggling, which comes as no surprise to me.  When I visted Bolivia, I was too scared to haggle. I don't have that kind of personality, and it didn't seem worth it to me. But Hootie swears by it, so I am excited to see what becomes of it.

My roommate Val showed me this video the other day, and I just about died laughing. Its actually very strange, and you probably need to have a bit of a twisted sense of humor to really appreciate it. Maybe I liked it so much because it seems like something I could/would/should have voice-over. Enjoy.

So there it is: Marcel the Shell. 

In all honesty, it kind of reminds me of Salad Fingers, which TOTALLY grossed me out when I first saw it. So perhaps I'm being a bit hypocritical. Whatever.

Goodnight. 

I feel...

Sometimes, I feel like this.


Not today. But....sometimes. This poor little doggy was just shocked with his shock-collar.

I don't get that.

Poor little guy...

HOOTIE = Way cooler than I was.

So I have this little brother.

His name is Hootie.

If you want to see how cool he is, you can go to this link HERE.. I posted this about a year and  half ago. OR, you could go to this link right

I've been thinking alot about family lately, and what I can do to fix or make things better between my siblings aand I. I don't really know what that would be, but....I'm tryin'.

Hootie and I are 8 years apart. All of the children in my family are fairly spread out, so....sometimes growing up, it felt like we were the only kids. We are at such different points in our lives, so that is a blessing, but also sometimes kind of hard. Despite the year difference, my older brother Sean (27) and Hootie (15) seem to be best friends. When we are all together, its a fun "boys" party for them. They talk, they laugh, they joke, they blow things up, they tease each other, they tease everybody else, and it is SOOO GREAT to see them getting along so well, especially as Sean used to be a bit more distant than he is now.

Its hard being out of the house, yet having family so close. Its like I'm there, but not really. If my little brother has a vocal recital, or a basketball game, or a play, or a festival, or WHATEVER....I have the opportunity to go see him! The only problem is that because I'm not "there" or " at home", I'm often forgot about, and nobody informs me of these things until the day of, or the hour before, which isn't enough time to clear my schedule and come. I know it makes me look ilke I don't care, or unsupportive of Hootie, but...I just wish that I had more notice.

Hootie is at a hard age. Being 15.....well, it sucks. I've been there, I know. It seems like everybody is yelling at you, that you can't do anything right, and all you want to do is be with your friends. But I've said it once, and I'll say it again: My little brother is really amazing. He is so talented at everything. He's a MUCH better singer and performer than I was at his age, (and probably will be when he's older), he's very atheletic and has perfected so many talents and skills that I would only dream of having. He has lots of friends, and he's pretty darn funny. He is very caring and thoughtful of other people, especially his friends. He is considerate of other people's feelings, and also, very sensitive to his own. Which....I think is a great thing. He's a great role model for his little second cousin's Ethan and Aiden (Who absolutely ADORE him), and he continues to grow older and and figure things out slowly. Unfortunately, Hootie and I have grown a little distant in the last year or so....mostly because of age and difference. Both of us are at an age where we're trying to figure ourselves out, and doing so sometimes leaves me not thinking about his or other feelings, and how sensative it is to be a teenager. I can't wait to see Hootie grow older and see what amazing things he decides to do with his life. In July he's going to China to represent his school, and I could not be more excited for him. He works hard in school, he gets almost perfect grades (better than mine, and I did pretty darn well!), and I have no doubt that if he continues to grow and work hard, it will pay off. I couldn't ask for a better younger brother. The sad part, is that he doesn't really know or understand how amazing he is and what potential he has. Maybe someday I can tell him that without him shruggin it off and sayin "yeah....wull, whatever. Thanks I guess." Because....seriuosly. The kid is a stud.

A couple weeks ago, we went to SEven Peaks together, and I wish we could do more things like that. I work in the afternoons, and he's got his friends and summer-fun planned out, but....it would be so fun to get closer to my little brother again, like we used to be. But its ok. Because....we'll get there. And even though we had one heck of a time pulling out that tube in the wave pool, (we had a good laugh!) and there was poop in the lazy river, Hootie taught me how to be young again, and how to have fun....something I wouldn't have had if I were to just lay on a towl and read Oprah. Sometimes I think I act older than I need to be, so having a guy like Hootie around to keep me on my toes might be just what I need in order to be a better sibling.

I love being around my family. I think they are wonderful, wonderful people. Sure, there are a lot of years between each of us, and we are at such different stages in our lives but....we''re still family, and I would do anything for any of them.

Would you like to help me win a scooter by July First?!

Its soo easy!

I am in this contest, and whoever gets the most "likes" on facebook on their specific post, wins a scooter. Um, a free scooter for getting people to like/read my post? 2 words: HELL YEAH.

So...Here's the low-down: My old school is giving away a scooter to those who write a post about their memories from school or what that school taught them. It ends July 1st, at 10am, and whoever gets the most likes by that time will have won the scooter. I entered the competition Friday evening (though everybody else started when the competition started, which was around June 10. BUT...I am only 70 likes away from being in the lead....and with your help, I could win this scooter! Besides, I might need to sell my car, so....this would be a blessing. (Just thought I'd throw in some mormon lingo...)

So if you are willing to help, you just need to "Like" two things on facebook (2! That's it!) and that will help

GO to this site: http://www.facebook.com/MeridianSchool    (or, search for "Meridian School" in the facebook search, and you'll see it.


LIKE THIS PAGE


NEXT, this is the most important part....Go to the page's wall, and find a post from me called "My Mascot was a Mongoose". and......"LIKE" MY POST. If you can't find it on the page, don't give up, because IT IS THERE.


And that's all you have to do! SEriously, is that easy or what? I REALY think that I could jump in the lead in the next day or two, and get far enough ahead, so...what do you say. HElp a sister out?


I would really appreciate it!

Birth Control

Birth Control.

Girls, we've all been through it. For some reason or another, we get put on birth control: Acne, weight, ACTUAL birth control....it doesn't really matter. Point is, is that we're on it, and it makes us CRAZY. Boys, I know you think we're crazy. And I know that there are many decent men out there who will tell us "Honey, no you aren't. Its just a hard thing, you aren't crazy". God bless you. God. Bless. You. But for right now, just sit back, and admit in your head that, yeah, we can get a little out of control. But don't forget that you can't live without us: your canteen doesn't fill by itself, if you know what I'm sayin'.

Alas, I digress. I've been lucky enough to have never had to be on birth control. Yet. And by that, I mean a pill, or some form of medication to make sure those little eggs and sperms don't get too crazy at the high school dance. But earlier this week, I was exposed to some birth control that I am not likely to forget. First of all, marriage is something in the distance for me, so its a good thing that these "baby cravings" (which are VERY rare in the first place) be kept in check.

A few days ago I took my little brother to Seven Peaks for some "fun in the sun". Hootie is 8 years younger than I am, and we are kind of at an age where we don't really connect to anything. We have fun together, and we'll do things as a family, but the age difference is so big that we are just....different. I'm a poor 23 year-old super senior, and he is a 15 year old boy who's main concern is gaining 20 lbs. by the end of the summer. So doing things like going to Seven Peaks is hard for me, because he wants to wait in EVERY line, and do EVERYTHING....where I would be happy laying on my towel for 4 hours napping and reading an Oprah book. So sometimes I have to make a special effort to be "young" and "hip" again, and that's what I had to do. We rented a tube, we went in the wave pool, we floated the lazy river, we rode the slides, we laid on our towels, we did just about everything. And once we got the ball rolling, it wasn't that hard for me to want to participate.

BIRTH CONTROL #1: The Wave Pool
The wave pool was a lot smaller and shallower than I remember it as a kid. Don't get me wrong, I STILL can't touch the bottom at almost any point, but it was just more cramped. Perhaps it was the fact that there were 9 BILLION people at the waterpark that day. No, I'm not exaggerating. There were so many people there, it was hard to walk anywhere. I could not believe it. Anyway, Hootie and I went to the wave pool, and in our attempt to swim our tube to the deepest and most center part of the water, I was kicked in the stomach and face about 4 times from OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. I know, I know, I'm being a bit dramatic. And were that the only incident, I wouldn't have thought twice about it. As a side note, Hootie has no idea how to swim and pull a tube at the same time. Poor kid needs to be taught how to multi-task, because we were somehow moving backwards as he was trying to pull us forward. As a side note to the side note, my little brother also knew both of the life-guards on duty from school. FROM SCHOOL. Hootie is 15 years old....since when did our lives fall into the hands of 15 year-olds?! They were so little, and both looked identical to Justin Beiber. I mean, I guess that's a plus if you need CPR....who wouldn't want the Biebs to give you the kiss of life in your time of need? Oh wait....that would be me.

BIRTH CONTROL #2: Laying on the Towels
Listen up kids: if you want to grow to a ripe old age, do not step on my towel. Better yet, do not step on ME, while I am laying on my towel. If I stepped on somebody else's towel as a kid, my mom would punish us before we could even blink! Naturally, it blew my mind to see soo many kids feeling so privileged and inconsiderate of other people's towels! (I know, I have become the crotchety old lady down the street!) But I was actually stepped on! How does that happen people, I am a HUMAN BEING, not a towel.

BIRTH CONTROL #3: The Lazy Log in the Lazy River.
I thought things like this only happen in movies, but....they don't. They happen in the real life, in the lazy river, at the Seven Peaks. Hootie and I were peacefully (or not so peacfully) being pushed around the lazy river as we floated along with all of the other adults in the river, when Hootie and I both looked over and noticed something in the water. I was in denial at first: it couldn't have been what I thought it was. But it was. Guys. There was a LOG of POOP floating down the lazy river with us. A LOG OF POOP, PEOPLE! My instincts were to freeze and just stare at it. We watched in horror as people swam under it, beside it, in front of it, over it, *insert every preposition here* it, and didn't notice it. And then suddenly, this little kid with goggles swam right up to it, took his goggles off, picked it up with is right hand, threw it out of the river, and kept on swimming.

WHAT?!?!?!?!

That must have been his poop. It has to have been. As you can imagine, Hootie and I promptly got out of the lazy river and did not return for the rest of the day.

Ok. So....I like kids. I really do. But that day at Seven Peaks was a day of irritating children, and for a few brief hours, I wanted to strangle every child that walked by, and step on every bit of laughter that flew out of their mouths. And by the next day, I had forgotten completely about how irritated those children had made me. Until I think of the Poop. I think that will always irritate me.

 

A new Leaf

Alright, I have been wallowing in my own selfish needs for FAR too long, and so I'm turning over a new leaf. Happiness is a choice. And I'm making it. Watch out.

The light at the end of a dark, dark tunnel.

I've learned a lot of valuable things in my life. And if I could remember every single one of them, I think that would spare me a lot of time and pain. But that's not how it works, and in all honesty, I don't think I would want it that way. The hidden blessing about learning things over and over again, is that you each time, the meaning etches just a little bit deeper than the time before, and the a tiny surface of a gem is uncovered. Unfortunately for me, I don't know if that gem will ever get a chance to surface because there are just too many layers of "ish" to get through.

So let me say it again:

I've learned so mant things in my life. And if I could just throw them up and out of my body to this page, I would. But...I can't. I'm so overwhelmed with so many emotions that they are just crowding each other down, and my ability to express anything is clogged shut. I wish I could elaborate on how I couldn't look at my dad in the eyes today without wanting to cry. And I wish I could elaborate as to why I couldn't let myself start crying in front of my own father. I wish I could go into detail about the beautiful performance of Anne Frank today, and how I wish I could tell the world that we need to "remember to live life, every, every moment". I wish I could explain how worried I am about my life and how I don't see how anything could possibly work out in my favor. I wish I could write about all the beautiful blessings that are ever present. I wish I could make you understand the uncertainty that is filling every single corner of my being. But I can't. I don't have the words. *shrugs*  They just won't come.

So instead, I sit in the HFAC, watching the people and the art around me, convincing myself that everything will be alright; convincing myself that I'm there is a light at the end of the tunnel.....but its just really, really dark until then. And then I see David Morgan, and and we have the usual "Where the hell have you been" talk, and I think to myself "Well, if Dave can keep gettin' his butt and doing this, I can do."

So I carry on, making a mental note that we need to get that man a new blazer.

California 2011

So I have a 10 page paper draft due on monday. Go ahead and ask me how many pages I have. Go ahead. Oh that's right....one. I have ONE PAGE. And to make things easier on myself (since there will be zero time besides today to write this paper), I will blog about my anxiety and waste precious time instead. It only makes sense.

Last weekend I was able to jump in the car with some roomies and bust out of Utah on a nice little road trip to California. Despite finances, it was just what the doctor ordered. We had such a great time away from everything, and meeting new people. We stayed with Val's best friend Emily and her husband, and they were so fun and generous. Our weekend was perfect because of them (and hopefully they enjoyed out company too!)

First stop: Beaver. 

We spent two whole days on the beach, but I don't have copies of those pictures. They are on my roommates camera, which is another reminder to me as to why I HATE not having my camera with me at all times. Below is the nastiest, most delicious chili cheese dog I've ever tasted. Emily and Jim took us to L.A. to a little place called Pink's. I could not believe the grease that was overtaking this food! It was definitely worth it, but Val and I felt the consequences for a good 4 days after....

Val, gettin' a little haircut from Emily.

Day 2: Bonfire at the beach. So windy and cold, but so much fun!

And this is what happens when you miss a spot on your back....or, rather, don't spray all the way down your back with sunscreen. It hurt SO bad, and even now, I am so dry and itchy. For everybody yearning for a little TMI, I am currently peeling like a snake, and wish that I could go bra-less for 2 weeks.

Ah yes, the "boys". We spent a great deal of time with Jim's family, and they were HILARIOUS. This is Jake and Benj, playing Just Dance 2. I think we danced for about 4 hours that night, and these guys never disappointed us with their performance. Please see the video below for a little sample. 

I am so thankful for such great friends and the chance to "have some fun". My roommates and I had some really great experiences, and some really crucial realizations. I learned a lot of things about myself on that trip, and can already see the changes in my life taking place, and I am so happy for that.

Well...I think I'll find something else to distract myself from this 10 page paper....Cheers.

THUMBS UP FOR ROCK AND ROLL!

So I was doing some things on my laptop, when an email popped up from my dad with this little video in it. Some kids absolutely amaze me. If you believe in yourself, he'll believe in you too. Thumbs up for Rock and Roll! *speech impediment implied*

The MD (No, not the doctor kind)

Some of you may remember my post last year entitled "Why are you so weird?" involving the pleasant fellow I met at the pool (whom we call Humpty). I was browsing the web this morning, and found this blog post that reminded me of this fellow, and felt.....a......a moral obligation to re-post this. Don't get your panties in a bunch, there is absolutely no intention of offending anybody, and for all you know, I could hate this article. But...give it a gander and decide for yourself. I had a good chuckle, and think that you will too.

Just to be clear, this is not my writing (though I wish it were), and if you like it, you should check our her blog  HERE. I like her style, and I love her thoughts.

________________________________

unfortunately, not endangered.

Internet, are you watching The Bachelorette? You should. Don't worry, you can listen to NPR after if you need to. (Listening to NPR after watching The Bachelorette is like taking the morning after pill after having unprotected sex. Doesn't make having unprotected sex a good idea, but at least you won't get pregnant/permanently annihilate brains cells you may need later.)

Was that too raunchy of an analogy? I don't know anymore. I spend so much time being perfectly neutral and teen-appropriate all day, my filters are wonky. Judging space, should you require it:______________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________


Anyway, for those of you not watching The Bachelorette, let me introduce you to an excellent contestant.


Meet contestant Bentley Williams. Bentley is a 28 year old divorced Mormon, BYU alum ( he has a degree in...wait for it... Family and Consumer Sciences. Just kidding, in Finance.) He has a daughter named Cozy, and an ex-wife who sells headbands on Etsy. Hobbies include general misogyny, being jealous of guys who get more attention than him, hair products, and plaid.

People seem unusually confused by Bentley's behavior on the show,since it is extraordinarily douchey, even by reality TV standards. But it really is not that hard to explain. Bentley is a textbook example of a rare specimen of Mormon maleness known as the Mormonus Douche Maximus, or Mormon Douche.


How can you tell if you or a loved one is dating a Mormon Douche? Here are a few tell-tale signs of the species:


1. Mormon Douches give good face. In public, especially around their significant other, they are often charming, overly-polite, and gregarious. It is only behind your back that the Mormon Douche will rank your physical appearance, try to date your younger sister while simultaneously flirting with you, and text his ex-girlfriend. This can make a MD incredibly difficult to spot, so be on the lookout for other signs.


2. On the surface, MDs appear to be devoted to their religion. They will have served a mission, and will brag about being Zone Leader or AP. (They will not mention that they worked in the President's office solely so that their Mission President can babysit them for two years after catching them making out with the Bishop's daughter.)


While seemingly devout on the surface, they have strange little exceptions made to suit their needs.


For instance, an MD will openly criticize people who watch Modern Family, since it clearly supports a malevolent Gay Agenda. However, they have no problem watching Californication, or anything featuring hot girls, boobs, and bikini's.


3. Likewise, they will assure you that their porn problem is "taken care of," but still be unusually interested in shows produced by HBO. Mysteriously, you will find much from the "Adult Chanel" on their Netflix queue.


4. Naturally, a true MD will major in Finance, Dentistry, Law, or Medicine. He will have average grades, but excess charm, and will temporarily be wildly successful. However, a few failed tests will result in a sudden interest in alarm systems.


5. The MD will promptly quote Church talks or Proclamations that support a woman staying at home with her children, mostly because he doesn't want to have to compete with them in his Macro Economics class, Law School, or Medical School.


6. While MDs can and are often found outside of Provo, the isolated and often inbred species, Mormonus Provoian Douche Maximus will only be interested in dating UVU students, hairstylists, or Nail Technicians. This is not met to degrade any of the previously mentioned females, but simply a reflection of the more insidious characteristics of an MD: they don't like to compete with others, especially their wives. They will actively seek a mate who is perceived to be less intelligent in their eyes. Bonus points if they actually fulfill the dream.


Allow me to clarify: a true Mormon Douche is highly competitive with other males, but would combust if forced to compete at home. Prolonged interaction with female missionaries, engineering students, and professors (all known by Mormon Douches as "bitches,") would cause his head to explode. Survival instinct and an intense urge to propagate the species makes the successful female a natural enemy to the Mormon Douche.


7. Similar to the trait examined in #5, Mormon Douches are drawn to older Church Doctrine that most find wildly outdated/offensive. He uses quotes and snippets from such talks (Think Packer, McConkie, and Benson,) to support embarrassing beliefs involving racism, homophobia, and general misogyny.



8. Mormon Douches generally fear, and simultaneously admire the Gay Population. They fear them because they sense common ground on certain stereotypical standards: hair, clothing, and gym equipment, the same things they often surreptitiously admire. This causes them to question their masculinity, leading to outbursts involving the words "fag," "queer," an"that's sooooooo gay." They will assure you they do not "mean it."


9. At one point, all Mormon Douches wore pukka shell jewelry.


10. At one point, all Mormon Douches popped their collars, often popped multiple collars, and perhaps tried on their girlfriend's jeans. Just to see.


While sightings of the Mormonus Douche Maximus are frequent, any first hand experience or expertise in contributing to the analysis of this fascinating species is welcome in the comments. Good luck, Ashley H., you were doomed the day you signed up for Dental School.

_______________________________

Was I right, or was I right? If anything, worth a good laugh!

CHELSIE SHEFLO!

So I will let the pictures do the talking, but 2 days ago, my old roommate and very dear friend Chelsie Johnson got married to Michael Sheflo in the Salt Lake Temple. The temple/luncheon/reception was absolutely beautiful, and Chelsie was as gorgeous as ever. It was so great to spend a day with dear friends and see our Chelsie so happy! 

 I was lucky enough to babysit little Caron while Kate and Peter went to the sealing in the Temple. It was so much fun walking around the temple grounds with this little stud, and having all of the cute couples (young, old, and missionaries) think that he was my own! "My, you make a beautiful boy!" "Look how handsome he is!" "Oh he  is just adorable, what's his name?" Strong work Kate and Pete, strong work. Call me crazy, but it was just easier to make them feel (and me!) like they were sincerely complimenting me. But...can you blame me for wanting to put him in my pocket?

 The sister missionaries did have a couple conversations with me about families being eternal and the importance of being sealed in the temple. It was then that it occurred to me that I had a little boy, with no husband or ring, on the temple grounds. They were just doing their job. Don't worry Sisters, I'm still on the straight and narrow!

And....the happy couple! I know I'm no photographer, and that my camera is old, and all of these pictures are blurry. But just look past my imperfections, please and thank-you.

 Chelsie was sooo beautiful. Look how happy she is!

Cutting the cake, and......




BOOM! IN YOUR FACE SHEFLO!

Couple's first dance.

HEYOO!

 And....the car. Well done girls, well done. 

What is my deal?

So here's the thing: I am going through a really rough patch right now, and I don't know how to get out of it.

Awkwardness.

No, seriously.

I know what you're thinking: "Kelly, you are already awkward" or "tell us something we don't know" or "Kelly, you're crazy, we know that"

But I'm not talking about "normal". I am seriously going through the worst patch of awkward right now, and it is REALLY stressing me out: anybody I meet, I'm SO AWKWARD. I don't know what my deal is. Boys, Girls, ANYBODY, the awkwardness just shoots out of my eyeballs and I can't stop it. Anything I audition for, I'm SO awkward. I mumble, I give the wrong impression, I'm nervous, I....I don't even know how to explain it. Anybody I talk to on the phone with, I'm awkward.

I don't know what to do, and I'm really, really discouraged about it. What is my deal. I just want to be my "normal 'awkward'". Not this.....crap. Its really sucking up my energy because I'm worrying about it so much.

What.

On.

Earth.

I don't get it

Things I don't understand:

• People who jog at night time. Alone. In the rain. 
• Why people keep doing things that make them unhappy
• Couples in relationships that know they shouldn't be together
• Dating
• rude people
• rain for 10 days in a row
• people who behave rudely for no reason
• group auditions
• when I wake up and the house is 82 degrees
• air conditioner in the winter
• heaters on during the summer

Rain, Rain, Go AWAY

In case you didn't know, this is what the weather has been doing:

And......THIS, is how I feel about it:

Just a day

Studyin' in the Tanner Building.


Gonna find me a Business Major, HEYO.


Ahaha, just kidding.








Kinda.

MIDGE.....

See this?

This is called a Biting Gnat.

Last Saturday, I did a film shoot all over Salt Lake and out on Antelope Island, and these little buggers were everywhere.

Because I was in my bathing suit for the entire evening, on the beach of a lake, (and despite all amounts of bug spray), my neck and back itch and hurt like crazy because of these things.

Dear Biting Gnats. Hate your face. Not love, Kelly.

****DING DING DING! BUCKET LIST SUCCESS****

Well everybody, I did it! Since creating my Bucket List (see above tabs), I have had the opportunity to do something on my list!

Item number 67: Send off balloons in the air with a note attached to it

CHECK!

The nature of this event makes it seem ironic that I am so happy about it, but let me explain:

While I was writing this bucket list, I kept telling myself, "Well, this might be lame, because you could just go buy some balloons and write a note on it." But I kept having this internal debate as to whether or not I wanted to force something like that or just let it happen. I decided I wanted it to actually mean something, and for there to be a real occasion to do such a thing. This last Thursday, I was able to.

As you may or may not know, my grandmother passed away about a week ago. Last Thursday at her nursing home, the staff got together to hold a small service, and let any of the nursing home staff/residents go outside and send off balloons as a farewell to her. I was invited to this little service, and as they were passing out balloons, I thought "that'd be cool to write a note..."....and then it occurred to me: THIS IS THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY! Not only do I get to do something I've always wanted to do, but it actually really means something! So I got my balloon, and I wrote a little "note" to my grandma (with our usual profanity on it), and sent it off in the sky with the other balloons. (Though, I hope that nobody finds it, or they might be in for a big surprise...) It really was such a fun experience for us, and I later found out that when my dad was little, my grandma would help him write notes and send them off in the air all the time. They would write their phone number on it, and my dad said that he got 2 or 3 phone calls over the years from people who found the balloons and the note. Pretty neat huh?

Anyway, here are some picture from my "Bucket List Success"!

Me and my note on my balloon!

All of the balloons

My dad took this picture as I was letting go of my balloon. It looks really posed and kind of...fake...but its totally legit. 

Fly balloons, fly!

Com. Dee. Baby.

May I just say that I love my job? Thank-you, I will. I love my job. I work at the Communications Disorders clinic right off of BYU Campus. I am a secretary to the Department Secretary, which basically means I’m the “go-to” girl for the professors when they need information or copies made, worksheets typed up, or anything else. Unfortunately, I’m not quite “go-to” yet, because I’ve only been here two weeks. It’s really slow during the summer, so it’s hard to learn and remember things when they only happen once every two weeks, as opposed to all the time come Fall and Winter. Every time somebody walks into my office, I shoot up a quick and silent prayer that says something like “Please bless that they ask me something that I know.” And if they ask me something I don’t know, my next prayer goes a little something like “Ok, that’s fine….please bless that I can figure this out quickly”. And after making a complete fool of myself….I do. Eventually. 

But aside from the ease and stress-free environment that I am working in now (far from my last office “environment”, I love the people here, especially the clients. The Communications Disorder clinic deals with audiology and speech therapy, specifically helping children and adults overcome problems they may have in these areas. The Grad students here are currently working on their clinic hours, and so they spend time every day working with different children on their lisp, or their hearing, or their communication. Luckily for me, (and in order to help their clients) they take them around the building and introduce them to strangers and observe them having a conversation with somebody they don’t know, or outside of their comfort zone. It really is the highlight of my day when I get to meet a new client and answer their “when” questions, or hold a conversation with a stranger so they can work on their stuttering problem.

Of course, I am not allowed to mention anything personal, or even any names. But I love it here, and am so thankful for this job and the chance to witness people helping other people because they want to.

Also, kids say the darndest things. Did you know?  

Two scoops of crazy...

Have you seen this?

I saw it last night, and I about died because it was so funny. Perhaps it was the people I was with. Regardless, I saw it last night, and woke up smiling just thinking about some of the jokes and one-liners we pulled from that one.


On a different note, I have slept for about 4.5 hours for the last two consecutive nights. Its worked out alright, because I manage to need to wake up right at the end of a REM cycle (I sound like a total nerd right now), so its very easy to wake up and get going. I think once you pass the 5 hour mark, you get back into your deep sleep, and waking up is near impossible. I'm sitting in my office and just want to go home and lay in bed all day. I've been fighting this sore throat for....months it feels like, and its making me nervous because I have an audition coming in a bout 2 weeks, and I'm scared I won't do well or sing well. *shrugs* We'll see. Until next time folks....."two scoops of crazy and a side of coo-coo-cachoo!"

Phyllis Hennessey

Well, it happened. Yesterday at 2:00 pm, my dear Grandma Hennessey passed away.

I am so happy for her; after years of doing it on her own, she finally gets to be with her husband again. She was such an incredible, INCREDIBLE lady, and I only hope to be half the women that she was in her time. I am so grateful to have been able to visit her and spend time with her while she was living in Utah with us, and really only have one thing to say to her. Grandma? This one is for you:

DIDDLY SHIT. 

Tangled

Do you know who this is?

This is me.

In cartoon form.

And Disney.

Don't be mistaken, I don't think we look alike at all. But I do think I am most like this new Disney "princess"

 I LOVE this movie. I wish more than anything that it was Christmas time and that it appeared out of nowhere, all wrapped up so I could open it and receive it like a surprise Christmas present.  When it first came out, I sat in the movie theater speechless and emotional at how similar I was to this girl. I may have gotten a little choked up about it at the time, but we won't talk about it. I was babysitting the other night, and we watched this movie as the kids fell asleep, and I remembered all over again how much I loved this movie, and how much I loved this little person. Thank-you, Disney.

Tangled, some day. Some day, I will afford you, and own you.

The thing about grandparents...

Let me tell you a little something I've learned about grandparents:

They always have the best treats. They always have the best stories. They never forget your birthday, and always send the best cards. They always have the right answers, and they always give the best hugs. Because the thing about grandparents.....is that they love you more than you will ever realize.

But that can't last forever; things change and time makes use grow older.

Because the thing about grandparents....is that they die.

And you don't get those cards anymore, or the treats, or the hugs. And there isn't anything that you can do about it, because that's how its supposed to happen.

My Grandmother Hennessey has been living in Utah for the past two years, and has been increasingly suffering from alzheimer's. My father moved her from her home in California so we could look after her for these past few years. As time has passed, and as the disease has carried on, she has been slowly taking her journey to the other side. Last Friday in her nursing home, while trying to get out of bed to her walker without help, she fell, and will mostly likely not recover. She has been "asleep" since Saturday morning. Just breathing. She ran a fever all day yesterday. No liquids, no solids. Just...breathing.

Death is a very surreal thing. And if you aren't prepared for it, it can pick your world up and stuff it in a jar and shake it until you can't stand it anymore. 

We got a call early yesterday afternoon from her nursing home that she was "declining". And that's how it happened. I arrived at the nursing home a few hours after my parents because my dad had called and said it was "time to come". We spent all afternoon making phone-calls, booking flights for my dad's siblings to fly in the next morning, and doing all the practical things that needed to be done so everybody could say goodbye. And then it was somehow "my turn".

We were in her room, my dad and I, just sitting. He said "I'm probably going to make some more calls, so I'm going to leave, and you can have a chance to talk to her". He leaned over her bed, put his hand on her shoulder, and lowered his head to her ear and said "Mom. It's David. Kelly is here, she's going to talk to you". And he left.

There was no sorrow; I felt no sadness. And the tears didn't come until my father said "Kelly is here". I don't know why. My heart exploded with emotion. Besides, I'm not much of a talker when it comes to things like this. But it worked out alright, because my grandma knew that about me.

I slipped my hand under her covers and found hers. "Hi Grandma. Its me, Kelly."

After a minute, her mouth moved into what I assume to be a smile, and she gurgled her usual response to me: "Hi Baby."

And that was all. 

I didn't need to say much, because I knew, and she knew, that we both knew. We knew it all. And we just sat together in silence, thinking of all the things we would say to each other if we could. And that's how we've always been. And that's how we liked it. 

I've never felt so much love for my family, especially my father. Over the past two years, my grandma has kicked and screamed to my dad, also known as  "that damn David" as she referred to him, because she didn't understand and couldn't remember why she couldn't live in California anymore and why she couldn't live by herself. But my dad never stumbled; he kept visiting her, taking care of her, and making sure she was as comfortable as possible. 

As I was standing in her room yesterday, I watched my dad hold her hand, and ask "Can I read you some Irish poems"? And he did. His voice was strong, and normal. It was his same voice he has when he's teaching lessons, or presenting business proposals, or talking to me on the phone. There was no pain, there was no sorrow, there was no quavering as you would expect from a son's voice. And that pretty much sums up my dad: strong, and loving. He stopped: "Can you see these pictures mom? Can you see the pictures in your mind?"

And the breathing continued.

He paused for a minute, and then said something that I will never, ever, forget.

"Mom. I did my best to take care of you. Do you forgive me?"

Time stood still. Everything outside of that room did not exist anymore. There was no nursing home, there was no ticking clock, there wasn't anything. All that was there was the abounding love between a mother and his son, and it was so powerful to me that time just stopped. Forgive the Grinch analogy, but my heart really did grow 3x during that moment, and I caught a small glimpse of the love that my father has for his mother, and undoubtedly for me. And the best part is that I felt the love of my Heavenly Father fill up every inch of that room and testify to each one of us that Grandma was in good hands. Death is not the end, especially for her. That sassy lady is on her way to bigger and better things.

So here we are, just waiting. Grandma is breathing. Just...breathing. And we are watching, and waiting, and loving. My grandma was the greatest lady. I would dare say she is better than your grandma. I'd even fight you on it. And when its time for her to go, she'll go. I'm excited for her. I'm excited for her to be whole and happy, I'm excited for her to be with her husband again, and I'm excited for her to watch over us, laugh with us, and cry with us as we keep journeying through this crazy thing we call life. Love you Grandma..