Death of a cellphone

There was no bloodcurdling scream, just a simple refusal to wake back up after being put to sleep while I had a screening in radiology (routine checkup).

How do I cope without my celly?

Yes, I called it "celly" (uncapitalized). Although now I call it "dead."

The only theory I have regarding its untimely death is that it saw me shirtless for my exam and then it committed suicide so it wouldn't have the horrible memory etched in its tiny little sim card brain.

At least it didn't take pictures.

RIP celly.

Naptime is out to get me

Ten things I should be doing instead of taking a nap

1. Getting to bed earlier so I can survive a day without a nap
2. Why do I not like naps? First of all, I dream unpleasant dreams of people at work telling me that I'm doing everything wrong, and the kids at work telling me they don't like me.
3. I HAVE to clean my counters. I tried sleepwalking so I could nap AND clean at the same time, but so far, multitasking like that hasn't worked.
4. The cats have been shredding any paper that has been left unsecured. They must miss me petting them. I can't pet them while asleep (see multitasking in #3).
5. I wake up groggy and confused and say yes to things that people ask me to do that I have no business saying "yes" to.
6. I almost make myself late to the second shift at work that I have committed to because of a sick co-worker
7. I start to hate the phone because it wakes me up.
8. I feel like a preschooler having to take naps all the time to make it through the day.
9. I used to like naps and I don't like not liking them.
10. ZzZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...........

Watch the skies (and the streets)

Paul passed his driver's license this morning! My alien can now operate a flying saucer on his own.

I'm going to start calling the white car (which will be the car Paul uses) the UFO.

I like the word "dentifrice"

So lately I've been reading a book recommended to me by my brother. The book is called "Modern Dental Assisting" (I can't wait to see what happens at the end!! Will the labial maxillary gingiva ever escape from the buccal vestibule?) (Yes, I'm just picking random words off the page) and I can totally tell that dental professionals with lots of experience and much knowledge wrote it. Sometimes I have to read a sentence slowly and out loud and several times before I understand it (I'm lucky though--there are pictures in this book).

Most sentences in the chapter I am reading are like this: "The maxillary labial frenum passes from the oral mucosa at the midline of the maxillary arch to the midline of the inner surface of the upper lip." (Personally, I think they are making up some of these words).

The one that I needed no second reading and that I found humorous went this way: "The sulcus is the space between the tooth and the gum where popcorn husks become lodged."

After I read that, I envisioned a bunch of doctorates in dental-doctorology-teaching saying "Am I right or am I right?" and patting themselves on the back for inserting a bit of "humor" into their lofty dental textbook.

In grammatical news, yesterday after school Matt shared the horrifying tale of a wicked hard test in his English class. The teacher tested the class on grammar and almost no one passed. Matt said that the highest grade on the test was a B, and that there were a few Cs. He said "no way did I think I did well on it, but guess what I got?" That's right folks, when your grandmother is a persnickety English major, you get the highest score on a devilishly difficult grammar test in 6th grade.

Where is my ticket to the insane asylum?

It's Saturday, I slept in a little bit. I got up, I had breakfast. After breakfast, I decided to check the status of the pudding I made last night (and ate some of). No one else was interested in it last night so I was thinking there would be plenty to use as a good Cheerios chaser.

So I open the door to the fridge. I see the pudding bowl. I take it out. I look in the bowl. Someone had cleaned out the pudding leaving only a spoon-sized glob at the bottom of the bowl.

No, I'm not mad that whoever ate it ate it (well, yes I am actually. I wanted that pudding). I'm mad that he or she ate only enough to leave that little smidgen of something that meant he or she technically didn't have to put the bowl in the sink (which, by the way would have required MUCH less work than opening the fridge door, leaning over, squishing the moldifying mushrooms out of the way and setting the bowl in the cleared space) because there was still "some" left in the bowl.

And the first facial tic of the day develops and I haven't even gotten out of my bathrobe!

So left in the lurch by the person who will do anything to avoid putting a bowl in the sink (and who is also a pudding thief), I went downstairs to blog about it.

And found that one of the cats (probably Magic, whom I have observed doing strange things like this; he has a strange taste for plastic) had gotten into a sheaf of page protectors and licked them all into a big pile of plastic translucence. The previously new page protectors WERE new (they were in a plastic wrapping) but now they have been stepped on, fanned out, wrinkled, poked with little pointy kitty claws, mangled, probably sat on by a kitty butt, and licked to the point of page protector coma. Do you know how difficult it is to repackage wrinkled page protectors? Page protectors, by nature, are slippery beings too, so restacking them is an exercise in futility.

So now, having been awake merely half an hour, I have two facial tics and a faint desire for strong drink.

Help.

A little early bit of Kung Hei Fat Choi*

I got a fortune cookie today and the little piece of paper said, "If you bring up what is inside of you, what is inside of you will save you."

Nice little gem of complete and utter nonsense. Reminds me of some favorite lines from the movie "Mystery Men."

"If you can balance a tack hammer on your head, you can head off a balanced attack."

and "If you doubt your powers, you give power to your doubts."

But what I really wanted to share with you is that when I read my fortune cookie fortune, I read until the comma, "If you bring up what is inside of you," and before I read the rest of the fortune, I completed the sentence in my own words this way: "you are puking."

Hayley and Matt thought it was funny.

*First person who tells me what this is and why it's a little early for me to say it gets 25 points and a steamed dumpling.

Phone call #2 from Other Jim

I'm tallying the number of phone calls we get from our Idaho potato boy. OJ called last night only because he had texted first to ask if we could send out his swim trunks and I texted back that I didn't know where they were. So he called to explain where they were (although by the time he called, I had already found them).

How is he doing out there away from the comforts of his parents' home?

Here is a listing of the pertinent information I gleaned from our conversation:

1. He has eaten two whole pineapples since leaving home.
2. At some point, he might swim (hence the request for his trunks).
3. Math is hard, but not because he doesn't understand it. It is hard because he has to submit his homework electronically, which means either he does math problems in Microsoft Word (I dare you to try this at home. I guarantee you'll wind up in a mental facility) or he does math problems on notebook paper, then finds a scanner somewhere on campus and scans the homework, then emails the images to himself, then runs back to his dorm room where he can finally email the images to his teacher.
4. He is in a hurry.

Gotta hurry up and post this so I can get back to running my head through the grinder

I really shouldn't say yes to things anymore, except for sub jobs. When I say "why yes, I will do that" or "I would like to volunteer to do this," I get phone calls asking me to work 7 hour shifts on top of my 2 hour morning shift and teaching seminary. And then I have to make the chicken salad for the craft group tomorrow at the last minute and I don't even know if I have time to go to the grocery store beforehand and actually GET the supplies needed. And forget about dinner for tonight.

Bleagh.

I was able to postpone a shopping trip (scheduled for today) for a craft project for next week for work til Friday, so I was able to come home for a few minutes and print out some materials I need for the Braille activity that I'm in charge of tomorrow. So my head is not so poundy-thuddy. (But maybe your eyes are after reading my convoluted sentence structure)

If you were expecting some great blog content, I'm sorry to disappoint.

If you want something informative and instructional, go to this website instead. I got all dreamy and happy reading it. Ahhhh, Utopia. (and no I didn't look up any complementary instructions on how to be a modern lady. I'll let you do that. Tell me if you find anything)

Jelly belly

If only what I saw today were as sweet as candy...

For the love of decency, please people, COVER UP YOUR MIDSECTIONS! Especially if you are (like me) blessed with an overabundance of cubic acreage above the belt. PLEASE.

Especially if you are at work.

I have no idea what the face of this person looked like, she who broke all laws of human decorum by letting her gelatinous flab hang out, because every time I looked at her all I could see was TUMMY.

I will have nightmares tonight, or at least those anxiety dreams where all I'm wearing is a bath towel and an oven mitt.

Then I'm going to work tomorrow wearing my nightgown under my clothing and it will be tucked into the tops of my socks and buttoned securely up to my neck.

Note to thin people: this applies to you too. Even though you may not have the fleshy equivalent of a giant rubbery cauliflower applied to your abdomen, I do not want to have visual access to your navel lint.

Thank you for putting up with my prejudices.

Like Robinson Crusoe, as primitive as can be*

Jim taught Matt's class today at church (change in calling--Jim is no longer in charge, but he still gets to teach Matt). For fun, Jim thought he'd hand out a list of questions for the boys to answer about themselves. Matt balked at having to fill it out, claiming his dad already knows everything about him. Jim told him to fill it out anyway, and I'm glad he did.

The last question Jim put on the questionnaire was "What five things would you want if you were stranded on a desert island?"

Have we not all answered this question (or some variation thereof) at some point in our lives? I think I would have listed off things like a good knife, matches, a blanket, a suitcase full of books and a toothbrush.

Several of Matt's classmates wrote things like: Xbox (by far the most popular of the stranded-on-a-desert-island necessities), internet access, never-ending supply of food, house with electricity, and things of that nature.

So what did Matt write?

I quote:

1. A motorboat
2. Motorboat gasoline
3. food
4. kitchenware
5. Motorboat handbook

It never occurred to me to have on a desert island something to get me OFF the island, not to mention a vehicle that does not require any effort beyond lazy steering. I laughed long and hard. And out of necessity one would definitely want the appropriate fuel to power the boat and the instructions. Anything else is superfluous, really.

Also, what kid writes "kitchenWARE?"

*15 points and a coconut if you can guess where this line comes from.

WORK!

Paul got himself a job! Jim probably helped though, since the job is at the same pizza joint as Jim works. Paul went for training last night and will start making pizzas this afternoon!

In other Paul news, his driver's test is scheduled for next Wednesday.

That's all the time I have for today because I got a noon supervisor sub job RIGHT NOW.

For my eyes only

I'm close personal friends with eye exams. I've had them nearly yearly ever since I was in second grade when my teacher noticed I had a hard time with math problems on the board.

Since I've had so many eye exams over the years, I've been aware of the changes in eye care technology.

For example, when I went in today, I was treated with a brand-spankin'-new machine that showed me a picture of a road leading to a hot air balloon in fabulous colors. I just had to look at the hot air balloon while the machine whirred and fiddled with the focusosity of the hot air balloon (fyi, "focusosity" is the degree to which an image is in or out of focus). I liked the picture of the hot air balloon; I felt all full of summer even though Minnesota right now is only available in black and white (and not very much black, to tell you the truth). How's that for new technology and innovations in eye care?

Later, the optician told me that the hot air balloon machine measured the smoothness (smoothocity?) of my corneas for a better fit of contact lenses. I don't see (get it---see?) how hot air balloons have anything to do with corneal shape, but she showed me two green circles with little spots of yellow on them and said, "Your corneas are very flat."

So logically, I determined that hot air balloons=green circles with some yellow in them=flat corneas. (This is why I am not an eye doctor) Flat corneas also mean no mountains or valleys in my corneas, which I thought "DUH." I would have FELT a mountain in my eyeball, especially if even a little eyelash causes me so much pain I have to gouge out great fistfulls of eyeball matter just to remove it. Imagine if a mountain had REALLY been in my eyeball--I would probably be blind for lack of any eyeball matter left after all the gouging.

But as far as eyeball health maintenance has come, they still have to use the machine with all the dials and with which they give you choices like "#1.....or #2? #3.......or #4?" That's the machine that you stick your face in and then you feel like a cyborg. I was just noticing that the mirror in the eye doctor's office is purposely distorted in such a way that when you stand right in front of it, you do not actually see your face, but you can see up the ceiling vent (which really should wear a slip) so when you sit in the chair with your face in the cyborg eye machine, you cannot see what you would look like as half woman/half machine. This is supposedly a good thing, which is why they angle the mirror in wacky ways, although my curiosity is piqued. What do I look like as a cyborg? I think I should know, just in case I woke up one morning to mechanical implants. I think I would want to know what that would look like so I would know whether or not I could still go out in public as a technologically enhanced human being without having to put on a really large hat so as not to frighten the children.

I think I'm a bit loopy from having my eyes dilated. The cyborg-ization has most likely begun.

(PS. On the plus side of things, my eye doctor said I have really young eyes. Presbyopia has not set in yet. No reading glasses for me yet!)

Can you stand another post about Paul?

Yesterday morning in seminary, I saw a giant evil spider crawling on the table as I taught. I was caught off guard (must now always always wear my anti-spider armor to church) and screeched. One of the girls (yes one of the girls) came up, faced the frontal attack, and bravely beat back the monster. I thanked her for saving me from certain death.

One of the boys who sat up front turned to the class and said, "I've heard a scream like that before when Paul was over at my house and he saw a spider. Same exact scream with a little more baritone in it."

Paul took the comment in good humor. He is well-known for inheriting my dislike of the sneaky underhanded ways spiders try to infiltrate human habitations for the purposes of guerrilla warfare or outright murder.

I missed Paul

Paul came home this evening and I asked him how the basketball game went. (He's playing at church)

He said, "Finally after four years [of playing church basketball] I scored a point. Except it was eight points."

Oh, and...

Happy 21st birthday yesterday to Katie!

I am rationalizing my lack of mentioning it yesterday by saying we celebrated a couple times while we were in Utah.

Home minus one.

The separation is complete. Jim and I are back in MN and Other Jim is in ID. Which is where he belongs, I must say. He's happy to be there. He has made a few friends and has run into a few old friends (namely one missionary who served in our area and who is apparently at college now).

This morning I went to seminary, then to my job, then I came home, and then I slept for 3 hours.

Now I gotta upload some photos, don't you think?

Katie's foot. I was trying to take a picture of a semi-reposing OJ and Kate hadda get her toes in the picture.

The approach to the new digs, Biddulph Hall.
Jim and Other Jim
Jim helps OJ figure out some stuff while I take a picture of the dorm room. OJ lowered his bed. He didn't want a half-loft.
See? No crying on my part. Or OJ's.

Tyrannasaurus Rexburg

I don't know why I have that title for this post. I suppose I just like wordplay.

So.

Other Jim is officially dropped off. He's gone, flown the coop, left us behind. Which he is supposed to do. I'm not sad, but I do feel the urge to call or text him to make sure he remembers to do the things we didn't get a chance to help him with yesterday.

Like get his student ID picture taken. All because of his hair. We were informed that it was too long. We had to find a place off-campus to get his hair cut. That threw a wrench in our plans, but Jim found a place while he was off shopping for the last few things that OJ needed (bedsheets in a weird size and a padlock) and we were able to get OJ's hair cut so he'll be all ready for his ID picture this morning.

He has his books for class, he's met his roommate, who seems very nice and just the kind of kid we want OJ to associate with. They exchanged cell phone numbers of course.

OJ's dorm (I'll have to post pictures tomorrow because I'm on the hotel computer right now) is sufficiently roomy for a college freshman. He has a sink right in his room! And a microwave and a fridge/freezer. His room is right across from the bathroom, which can be good and bad, but for now, we're calling it good.

While we were going in and out of the dorm for various purposes, we noticed that one end of the dorm hall had begun to smell like feet already. It had the pervasive odor of sweaty gym socks. The boys down at that end already had their XBoxes set up and were cranking the rap music. Oh joy. Women aren't allowed in the men's dorms, but personally, I don't see why they would WANT to go there.

I still can't wrap my head around the idea that OJ will be GONE until July.

I wonder how he is doing now? (it's 7 a.m., he's probably still asleep) (suppressing the urge to text him to ask)

In which Other Jim gets Katie good in a photo

Yes, I'm blogging from Idaho. I'm blogging from a motel room the night before Jim and I leave our eldest son to his own devices (one of which is a pull-up bar)(another is a calculator)(iPod)(laptop)(etc.).

We spent last night sleeping in Katie's apartment. I am so glad to see Katie again; she is doing well on her own and has an interview at work to see about a possible step up. But I don't want to jinx it by blogging about it. Suffice it to say that Katie is a good worker, and what did happen at her 2 year review is that she got a pay raise beyond what her company usually gives. And she likes working there.

I also like to see her in charge of her own things--laundry, dishes, food, personal hygiene (although I haven't had much to do about that particular area for a good 16 years).

Katie turns 21 in a few days. Oh my.

Anyway, she is with us on our little trip up to Rexburg and it has been a joy to drive with OJ and Katie in the back seat acting like siblings. Katie wrote in the fog on her window, "Jimmy sucks." OJ reached over to rewrite the "sucks" but edited the wrong letter, so it spelled, "Jimmy suoks." He meant to add a little cap to the 'u' so it would spell "Jimmy socks" but accidentally changed the 'c' instead. Then he scribbled it out with his hand. Then he wrote "Katie's butt" on his window and Katie squealed and had to reach over to rub it out.

Then they calmed down and shared music on their iPods and all was forgiven.

We met up with Jim's mom and her companion Larry in Twin Falls for lunch. It was great to see the two of them! I also discovered where Paul gets his tendency toward airheadedness: my mother-in-law. HA! She even said that Paul's little leaps of "logic" are not so strange to her. So there you have it! Anne is an alien too.

Since you've read this far, here are some pictures to lull you into believing you were actually at the restaurant with us.

Katie scrunches her face for Grammy Anne:

And OJ gets Katie right at the moment of shutter deployment:

Jim and his mom:

Katie and a snack she bought at a gas station:

This gigantic Rice Krispie Treat has brought much laughter and enjoyment on the trip. I suppose I could use up several million megahertz of bandwidth just to tell you all about it, but I will have to save it for some other day. Cuz I'm tired. (The treat cost 8.99 but was on sale for $1 off) (it isn't half bad) (nor is it even half gone) (I guess I'm not too tired for parentheticals) (I've consumed a lot of caffeine) (a lot for someone who usually does not drink it) (I used it for medicinal purposes today) (diet Coke, in case you were wondering) (and am suffering the consequences too)

Tomorrow. Katie is going to spend the day with a friend while Jim and I make the most out of the last day we have to boss OJ around.

Trip time

This New Year bit of advice comes from a soon-to-be college freshman:

Pack your paintball gear.

Sigh.

His gear is on his bed right now, waiting for him to be off the phone with whoever he's talking to so it all can be packed. (His shoe trees are also waiting to be packed. Can't go to college without your shoe trees) (or your 396 ties)

But I can't complain. I'm a heavy packer. When going on a five-day vacation, I'd have to bring BOTH kitchen sinks JUST IN CASE. And the can of purple interior primer.

I am trying to pack light for the trip so that Other Jim can have all three suitcases for his stuff, but I am having a very hard time paring down the list of essentials to fit in a carry-on roller suitcase.

Happy New Year!