Welcome Home Sister Hymas...Oh and Happy Birthday Too

Well, she's home. The 28th of May has finally arrived and the sister is home to stay. Getting ready for the arrival was quite the task: days before now were dedicated to removing every particle of dust in the house, every strand of hair on the bathroom counter, and every crumb on the kitchen floor. This morning I took it upon myself to create the bright, yellow banner that would span across the length of the garage reading the words, "Welcome Home Sister Hymas!" Unfortunately it was slightly destroyed when the sprinklers turned on and a few little birds used the large yellow rectangle for target practice, which transformed it from yellow to yellow with white polka dots. After hours of preparing the house, everything was in place from the pillows on the couch to the arrangements of flowers welcoming her home. Alas, 11:40 a.m. rolled around and we anxiously piled in the car to make the journey to the airport. The fifteen minutes of waiting by the baggage claim seemed to last an eternity but eventually Preston won the prize for the most eagle-like eyes and spotted her first, riding down the escalator. My dear mother got the first hug, as all missionary moms do, and then we all participated in a little embrace-fest: hugs all around. We enjoyed a delicious meal of Andrea's favorite foods, had a little birthday celebration in which she opened presents and we all devoured the most scrumptious coconut cupcakes, each topped with a single pink candle, 24 in all (in honor of her 24th birthday), and listened intently to mission story after mission story. It's been loads of fun to be with her, it seems like she never left, and it's so natural to have her home. It's been 2 1/2 years since the whole family has been together; we've finally been reunited, and it feels so good. Truly the perfect day to end such a long absence of seeing each other. Welcome Home Sis.

you've had a birthday...shout hurray

dedicated to my dear, pressy wessy boy

(he hates it when I call him that...especially when he's up to bat in his baseball game and I yell it loud enough for the whole park to hear...sorry kid)

today is his 13th birthday.

he is the most adorable little brother i could ask for.

he quotes movie lines with me.

he's an avid seinfeld watcher.

he has mad sports skills.

he makes me laugh everyday.

he's the baby of the family.

he's one of my bff's.

happy birthday pressy.

i love you more than i love a swimming pool on a hot summer day.

oh...and he has phenomenal dance moves which are so brilliantly displayed here. watch and be amazed.

(captured on film, Mothers Day 2009)

Milk and Cereal, Cereal and Milk

In the past three days I have had two significant experiences surrounding milk and cereal; read on for more details:

1. Friday I timed my morning rituals so precisely that I would have exactly 7 minutes to enjoy a big, delicious bowl of Special K cereal with ice cold, skim milk. Throughout the morning I was tempted numerous times to quit and go back to bed; it was the thought that soon I would be devouring such a bowl of cereal that kept me going. Finally, after my hair was in place and my earrings were in, I bounded down the stairs to delight in my breakfast, gathered a bowl and spoon, poured Special K to the brim of the bowl and anxiously opened the refrigerator door to retrieve the milk that would so perfectly complete this meal. And what did I see? Nothing. Zilch. Zero. The milk was gonzo. Oh! My heart began to ache. I had gotten my hopes up so high; I had planned on this simple bowl of cereal getting me through the 8 long hours of paperwork that awaited me; I didn't have a back up plan. I was let down. And let down hard. I stood staring in disbelief at the empty shelf in the fridge that had once held the key to my heart. After finally facing the harsh reality that no matter how long and hard I glared at that shelf, milk wasn't going to magically appear, I slowly and sadly shut the door, shut the door on my hopes and dreams and moved on to face a life without milk. I attempted to enjoy the Special K flakes dry, but failed miserably in my attempts. Reluctantly, I put the uneaten flakes back in the box and was forced to settle on a lousy granola bar for breakfast. It was such a disappointing and traumatizing start to my Friday. I don't think there is a worse feeling in the world than opening the fridge, only to reveal an absence of milk. I would never wish that upon anyone. If this unpleasant experience ever happens to you, come talk to me, we can wallow in self-pity together.

2. On a much happier note: Just one blissful hour ago I came home from church and rushed to the kitchen for my after-church snack. Luckily, the parentals went to Albertsons yesterday and picked up three gallons of milk! Huzzah. Knowing this, I once again gathered a bowl and spoon, pulled out the Cap'n Crunch and began to fill the bowl. The cardboard box was light; I was afraid to get my hopes up in the slight chance I would be disappointed; I hoped anyways, I couldn't resist. I nervously glanced down at the now-full bowl to see what awaited me, and lo and behold: Cap'n Crunch did not disappoint. The perfect amount of orange cereal was topped with an even more perfect amount of cereal dust! Oh, happy day! It was a little Sunday afternoon miracle. I had received the most prized possession of a cardboard cereal box: the sugar-dust. Life is good. And life is even better when you get the dust in the cereal box. I almost did a jig I was so happy.

**My adorable little brother, Ethan, begged me to blog about LeBron James' buzzer beater shot. Here you go, kid, my tribute to you and this LeBron James character. Enjoy.

7 Days; 168 Hours; 10,080 Minutes; 604,800 Seconds

Depending on how you want to look at it, thats how long...

Until my big sis gets home!

(from the mission that is)

HUZZAH!

(there is a solid chance I did the math wrong in the title...don't judge me for it)

The Phenomenon of Finger-Licking

Remember in school when the teacher would pass out papers? She always had to insert her index finger into her mouth and wet it with so much saliva that the spit could have dripped off the mentioned finger and then proceeded to count out five papers, just enough for everyone in the row. The first paper on the stack had a wet spot so thick you could see through it, and gradually the spot got less and less visible until the last paper in the stack had almost no remains of the effects of a licked finger. I always liked to be in the front row when this phenomenon occurred so that I could strategically take the last paper in the stack and avoid receiving a paper full of teacher-spit. I always saw it as a nauseating practice and could never understand how licking a finger could help that much in picking up a piece of paper. Until now. I am reluctant and appalled to admit that I have become a finger-licker. Disgusting, I know. However, my recent employment as an HR "paper organizer/filer/scanner" (I made up the title) has forced me to conform to this ritual. I flip through an average of 2,000 pieces of paper a day and my poor little index finger gets rather dry. I have no choice. I must lick. The other day I started counting how many times I lick my finger in an hour while working; I stopped counting after 20 minutes because I was shocked (with a negative connotation) at how high the number was climbing. I couldn't bare to keep track of such a thing any longer, so I quit counting. I lick my finger to grasp a piece of paper more than I would ever like to openly admit. It's rather embarrassing. Needless to say, I wash my hands much more often than I have in my past and I apply a dime-sized dollop of lotion just as frequently in a vain attempt to keep the finger moist and altogether avoid finger-licking.

While we're on the subject of finger-licking...
I will admit that I lick my finger to count papers, although not something I'm proud of, I believe it is semi-socially acceptable if used sparingly. Finger-licking to remove food, however, not acceptable in any way, shape or form. The most unpleasant sight is when someone has just consumed their own body weight in Cheetos and then proceeds to lick the orange residue off their fingers. Oh, it makes me want to gag. In fact, I do gag. I once went on a date with this kid who so obnoxiously licked his fingers in between every bite he took. It wasn't a subtle lick either, it was full on, shoving his fingers down his throat, kind of licks. I found it so repulsive that there was no chance of a second date...well it was that among other qualities he possessed, but his finger licking obsession was a huge turn off. Bless his heart.

To sum up my thoughts: finger-licking is nasty. I'm ashamed to say I've been forced to participate in the act.

The Benefits of Stable Toilet Seats

Two years ago I had a summer project of remodeling the 'kid's bathroom'. It was quite the project and if I do say so myself, was a success. I, with the help of my mother, transformed the white and blue linoleum floor to a black and white tile checkerboard floor, the 1990's sunflower wallpaper became bright red paint, and the light blue counter tops were updated to black. Among the changes, was the toilet seat; in order to conform with the overall theme of the renovated bathroom, I wanted to change to a black one. The day it arrived in the mail {yes, we ordered away for our toilet seat} we rushed up to make the change. It looked dang good. Unfortunately, there was a little problem. Somewhere along the way, the screws didn't line up, and it resulted in a wobbly seat. It was a task to stay balanced while sitting on the pot; a skill that took time and practice to master. Often times, if I was feeling particularly lazy, I would choose to squat rather than put forth the effort to balance. It was a little bit of a dangerous activity: there was more than one time that I saw my life flash before my eyes. So you'd think that since it was such a hazardous seat it would have been a top priority to get it fixed as soon as possible. I can't come up with a decent reason of why it kept getting put on the back burner, but nevertheless, it has taken us two years to replace it. Two years of sincere stress and worry every time we rode our porcelain pony. Two years of fashion over comfort. Two long years of a broken toilet seat. Thursday, a monumental day in history, we finally got around to getting it fixed. Why did it take so long you might ask? Same reason it takes us six months to change a burnt out light bulb. And I don't know what that reason is. If someone has a theory behind it, please enlighten me. This new and improved toilet seat is too good to be true; I get a little excited to go to the bathroom now because it means I get to sit on my new throne that is so sturdy and so stable. A sturdy and stable toilet seat can make a big difference in a persons life...I feel more in control of my life now than I have in the past two years when I was living with a wobbly one. Thank heavens for stable toilet seats.

Lessons Learned

Two weeks ago today I entered room number 315 and experienced my first day of Art History 201 with Professor Gough. After my first 2 1/2 hour session with him I was convinced I had just walked out of class at Hogwarts; this man is Dumbledore's doppelganger, and I reluctantly admit that I was a little hesitant about the class/professor. Now, just four classes later, I'm sitting at home anxiously awaiting for 5:00 p.m. to roll around so I can sit in awe as he teaches brilliantly about the art of Ancient Egypt. The 2 1/2 hour class flies by as he so passionately shares his wealth of knowledge with the eleven other people in the class. Every Tuesday and Thursday I walk out of that room with a cramp in my right hand so severe it requires a mini-massage, just from trying to scribble every word that comes out of his mouth down in my red, wide ruled notebook. I have never in my life had a professor so passionate about the subject he teaches. Art is this mans life. And I've realized that is why I love the class so much: he is so ardent about what he teaches and then projects that passion in his class, all in an attempt to cultivate a love of art in his students. It's working. For the past three hours I've been working on a paper for the class and I can honestly say, I've never had more fun writing a 5-7 page paper. Professor Gough has provided me with a life lesson. Ten years from now I'm not going to remember the dimensions of Khufu's Great Pyramids or that the Stela of Hammurabi contains the first written code of law, but I will remember Professor Gough's passion for what he teaches. Although Art History isn't necessarily my calling in life, I have learned from this class that the best teachers and people in general are the ones who love life and are passionate about living life to it's fullest. I think the world at hand could use a few more people like Professor Gough. What do you say? Join in with him and become passionate about whatever it is you do. I'm going to.

So I Devoured a Slice of Coconut Cake

Have you ever beheld a more glorious sight?

Me either.

And the best part is...

it tasted even better than it looks.

I'm so sorry you weren't able to enjoy it with us.

It truly was a little slice of heaven.

Happy Birthday Daddy

Today, the 5th of May {Cinco de Mayo}, is my father's special day. He is the most brilliant, kind and loving person I know; I just love him so much. Tonight we are celebrating by having a delicious birthday dinner and finishing up strong with a scrumptious coconut cake {his fav}. Oh, I can't wait, I just love birthday celebrations.

If any of you know Scotty H you know that his Top 10 lists are almost as famous as Dave Lettermans. In honor of him, I thought it would be appropriate to compile a Top 10 list of things I love about dear old pops-i-boo:

Top 10 Things I Love About My Dad

{in no particular order}

1. His made up songs. I get a pretty good ab workout from laughing so hard when he closes his eyes, gets in the zone, and composes a song as brilliantly crafted as say, "Be Thou Smart, Like Mr. Dart" A classic.
2. He keeps the wolf away from the door.
3. He tells me he loves me and shows it too.
4. He has never yelled at my mom or any of the kids.
5. He speaks in acronyms (I.L.) sometimes. He invented a game where, rather than calling on someone for family prayer by merely saying their name, he creates some sort of I.L. name that we have to guess. It really spices up family prayer...I love it.
6. Whenever I get worried about something {which is almost every day} he gives me a hug and tells me it will be okay. And he is always right.
7. He has never stayed awake through a whole movie. I think it's fitting to clump 'rubbies' in this one as well.
8. I see him reading his scriptures and praying every morning before he goes to work. He is the perfect example to me of what I should be doing.
9. He treats my mom like a queen.
10. He supports me in everything. No matter what I do, he is behind me all the way.

Of course, I could go on, but ten will suffice for today. I love your face, pops. I hope you have a fabulous birthday and make lots of happy memories.

Plan to Be Suprised

Tonight for the "Sunday Night Film" my family watched one of my top five favorite movies: Dan in Real Life. For any of you who have not had the pleasure of watching this flick, get off of the computer, go rent it, and watch it asap. You won't be disappointed. I've seen this movie too many times to count and it has yet to get old. In fact, quite the opposite occurs, it gets better each time I view it; tonight I picked up on a few lines I have never before noticed. And they were lines that caused me to erupt with laughter. I thought long and hard about why I love this movie so much and I've come up with my top three reasons, read on to learn why.

1. I feel like I'm watching family home videos when I watch it. There are several moments in the show when I realize this family is very (maybe too) similar to mine. That part when Dan comes home from the bookstore and within 2.7 seconds every human in the house knows about this "hottie" that he met: my family exactly. Everyone knows everything about everyone. Oh, I love it though. Remember the song "Ruthie Pigface Draper" that the brothers make up on the spot? Every time I watch it I feel like I am watching my dad and Uncle Rob. There is a good chance the directors of the movie got the idea for that scene from them...they just changed the lyrics. And that family talent show? Been there, done that. Unfortunately I haven't had an uncle sign up for "murderer of love" for their talent yet, give it time though and I'm sure it will take place. I love that my family is like this though, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. It definitely spices up our family reunions.
2. The humor kills me every time. If you know me at all, you know it doesn't take much to make me laugh, but I bust a gut every time I watch this. I thought about it and I can't even come up with my one favorite line from the show, there are just too many good ones. Some of my favorites are: "Put it on my tab", "He's just starring into the vast void that used to be his future and you just happen to be in the way", "We so prefer her to you", "Even your sweat is beautiful", "YOU ARE A MURDERER OF LOVE", and "You guys broke up, right? Yeah two hours ago, we broke up two hours ago". Although you may not find much humor in these lines if you haven't seen the movie, those of you who have know what I'm talking about. I've been giggling out loud just typing them onto this computer screen. Something about Steve Carrell just cracks me up.
3. The last line of the movie: Dan is talking and says something to the effect of, "Rarely things turn out as we planned. Maybe we should plan to be surprised." I don't know why I love that so much. I think it sums up life perfectly. I've learned that it's true, rarely things turn out exactly as we had planned. Maybe we should let loose and learn to love the surprise that living life brings. Who knew such a deep line could come from such a movie as Dan in Real Life. Humorous and inspirational...it's fabulous.

If I haven't convinced you of how superb this movie is, then I have failed. It really is one of my favs.

Oh, and it reminds me of my sister, Ang, who gets home from her mission in less than a month now! Wahoo!

Tribute: I feel a need to write a tribute to the lovely Miss Emily Gurecki, who informed me today is one of my avid readers. I miss her dearly and can't wait to see her in four months. Thank you for being such a dedicated reader and adding numbers to my blog counter. I love you mucho.

I have a slight obsession with Wicked...

Less than 48 hours ago I sat in seat number 122 in the Capitol Theatre in downtown Salt Lake and watched in awe as the cast of Wicked performed brilliantly in my favorite musical. My dear mother snatched some tickets to the show over a year ago and since that blissful day when they were revealed to me I have been anxiously awaiting for April 29, 7:30 pm to arrive. It was just as good as I remember it being and I loved it just as much, if not more, this time around. If I could, I would attend the show every night for the rest of my life and I'm positive it would never get old. The music is to die for, but the message that the play has is equally inspiring. Oh, I just can't get over how delightful it is! After seeing this show, I have a secret desire to be a Broadway star...highly unlikely, I know. But I was taught to dream big, so dream big I will.