No, I'm Not Twelve

For my birthday, Rachelle bought me concert tickets . . . for the Jonas Brothers. This year I'm turning twenty-two. . . not twelve. Seriously. And we were both legitimately excited. Seriously.

We waited to go into the Pepsi Center with thousands of twelve-year-old girls. Thousands.

We actually had pretty good seats; we could see the JoBros' faces. *dreamy* haha.

These girls sitting in front of us were really cute and had these signs they held up whenever the any of the Jonas Brothers came to our side of the stage.

The screaming, however, was excessive. Our ears were literally ringing by the time we left.

And even though we unashamedly went to the Jonas Brothers concert--and we weren't taking any younger relatives--at times we felt a little silly. Sure we went and sure we sang along and sure we took the free poster from the Verizon vendor outside, but we drew the line at t-shirts with the JoBros' faces on them.

PS--Admittedly I had to listen to legit music when I got home. I can take only so much twenty-first-century boy-band music.


Operation Superhuman Reader: Summer Book #5; Reread #1

These Is My Words These Is My Words by Nancy E. Turner

My review

rating: 5 of 5 stars
This was about the third time I've read this book. It's one of my all-time favorites. Sarah is such a real character, and her story is so honest. Jack Elliot is one of the dreamiest fictional men ever to grace a page, and every time I read this book, I fall in love with the characters all over again, and every time I finish it too soon. I would recommend this book to anyone.

View all my reviews.


desperate times

Remember when I wrote those tip articles about how to do your hair straight and how to walk your dog? I dropped that at the beginning of last school year, because I didn't have the time and it was so incredibly tedious. I had done it for a year and a half and was ready to be finished.

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. I really don't know why I didn't think of this earlier, but I'm starting to write articles again. I'm going to pump them out as fast as possible to rake in as much cash as I possibly can. I should have started doing this at least a month ago actually, but oh well. I'm doing it now.

First item on my article docket? "Creating a Healthy Glow."

I really need money.


Slow Start

Ha I hope you're enjoying the slew of blog posts today; I don't promise this many a day on a regular basis, but I didn't blog much last week.

Anyway, I've gotten a slow start today. Over the weekend (when I was in Utah) I got violently ill. No worries, all is well, but I did spend the last part of Friday and all day Saturday on the couch. Yesterday I felt mediocre enough to fly home, but today I'm still feeling a little under the weather. Achy mainly, not nearly as bad as Friday. Really, it just was lame to be sick when I was on a trip.

However, a big shout-out to Michelle and Co. and the Loose clan--if I couldn't be home when I was sick, at least I was surrounded by people who made me comfortable and catered to my invalid needs. Thanks :)

I'm hoping to feel more up to scratch tomorrow. Today I'm taking it easy, eating light, and watching season 7 of Gilmore Girls. Being sick is lame.

Emily the Sleep Talker

Since we moved into our new house (about five years ago), Emily and I have shared a room, and not just a room, but a queen sized bed. While not my preferred arrangement, the bed is super comfortable, and if Emily's feet come close to mine, I just kick them. One of the perks of this particular arrangement, however, is the incredible conversations I have with my sister . . . when she's sleeping.

She's always been a sleep talker, and when we shared a room before, she'd fight with me in her sleep. And she still sleep talks. Ha.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to bed about an hour after Em, and when I started clearing off the bed, she started chatting it up. She sat up, with her eyes opened (yeah, kind of creepy), and asked me, "Hey is it your turn yet?"

I paused; I smiled; I answered, "Yeah, I just went."

"What number are you?"

"Oh, I'm number 7."

"What number am I?"


"Oh, did I miss a turn?"

"Yeah, you had to go to the bathroom."

Then she heard John fiddling around on his guitar in the next room (don't ask me why John was playing his guitar at midnight).

"What's that noise?"

"Oh that's the timer. It's Cheyne's turn now."

Then she went back to sleep. Hahahaha.

I love sleep-talker Emily. . . . Except when she shakes me in the middle of the night to warn me about the snake, like last night. I didn't like that so much.

Operation Superhuman Reader: Summer Book #4

The Moonstone The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars
The story itself was intriguing, but what I found most fascinating was the narrative style. The story was told from many different viewpoints (not a Vantage Point kind of thing, though; the story was picked up by different characters throughout the book), and the writing and characterization was excellent. I've never read a book like it before and definitely enjoyed it!

View all my reviews.


back to life

I went to Utah this week. And loved it. Now I'm back. Still no job. Lame.


yup, it's one of those days

Oxygen network had another America's Next Top Model marathon today. I plead the fifth.


Emily and I are both unemployed and decided to take advantage of an otherwise bummer situation. We watched all five Harry Potter movies in one week. We initially wanted to watch one a day Monday through Friday, but come Friday, we had a crazy day and couldn't. Saturday was crazy. But Sunday let us finish our HP goal.

We critiqued each movie and made comparisons of the film adaptations to the books, which both of us know freakishly well. I felt incredibly dorky, but it was fun. Here are our summarized opinions:
  • HP 1, Sorcerer's Stone: Pretty low quality. Acting pretty poor but hilarious. Dumbledore awesome. Quidditch pretty cool. Hogwarts warm feel.
  • HP 2, Chamber of Secrets: Still kind of low quality. Acting a little better but still. Dumbledore still cool. Basilisk pretty cool. Lockhart hilarious.
  • HP 3, Prisoner of Azkaban: Lamest one. Too fast. Creepy Rastafarian head in Knight Bus. Not such a fan of Sirius. Trelawny (Emma Thompson) hilarious. Dumb way of portraying werewolf. Lupin pretty good. Dementors pretty good. New Dumbledore--adjustment. Glad when it ended.
  • HP 4, Goblet of Fire: By far better than 3. Fast paced but not too fast. Quidditch World Cup awesome. Death Eaters scary. Cedric Diggory dreamy. Dragon sweet. Voldemort frightening. Overall awesome movie.
  • HP 5, Order of the Phoenix: Super super awesome. Loved it. Kept the viewer involved. Umbridge nasty. DA cool. Harry-Cho kiss impressive. Dumbledore and Voldemort's duel pretty awesome. Harry's possession by Voldemort well acted. Stellar movie.
We're ready for HP 6, Half-Blood Prince. Ha this is what continued unemployment brings--ultimate HP freakishness.


Jump into Journaling

Back when we were in Vail, Mom received an email asking if she knew anybody who would teach a class about journaling for the stake women's conference this month. So she asked me! I felt able to teach this class, because I love blogging so much.

I extolled the various virtues of blogging and gave several examples of how to journal and what to journal about. I hope that I helped the women who came to the class expand their definitions of journaling, because a pen-and-paper journal is by no means the only way to journal. Pen-and-paper journaling doesn't work for me, but a combination of blogging, scrapbooking, and scripture journaling does.

I found this great quote from a talk Spencer W. Kimball gave a long while back:

Your own private journal record the way you face up to challenges that beset you. Do not suppose life changes so much that your experiences will not be interesting to your posterity. Experiences of work, relations with people, and an awareness of the rightness and the wrongness of actions will always be relevant. . . .

Your journal should contain an image of your true self rather than a picture of you that applies cosmetics to everything you ever did, making you appear to be flawless. There is a temptation to paint with words one's virtues in rich color and whitewash the vices, but there is also the opposite pitfall of accentuating the negative. Personally, I have little respect for anyone who delves into the ugly phases of the life he is portraying, whether it be his own or another's. The truth should be told, but we should not emphasize the negative. Even a long life full of inspiring experiences can be brought to the dust by one ugly story. . . .

Your journal is your autobiography, so it should be kept carefully. You are unique, and there may be incidents in your experience that are more noble and praiseworthy in their way than those recorded in any other life. There may be a flash of illumination here and a story of faithfulness there; you should truthfully record your real self and not what other people may see in you.

Your story should be written now while it is fresh and while the true details are available.

Writing a journal is the literature of superior people. Each individual can become superior in his own humble life.--Spencer W. Kimball, "The Angels May Quote from It"

I love this quote. I feel that through my own blogging--and I'm coming up on my three-year blogging anniversary--I've been able to paint an accurate picture of myself, good and not-so-good.

Here's to blogging and jumping into journaling!!


It's All about Who You Know

For several years Dad and John home-taught this one woman in our ward. They became good friends with her, and besides the fact she's an amazing person, she also has some pretty sweet connections. Barbara Slade just happens to be the aunt of Isaac Slade, the lead singer in one of my favorite bands, the Fray. The Fray just released a new album and are preparing to go on tour this summer, and as part of that preparation the band rented out the Broomfield Events Center to rehearse all week last week. To top off their week of intense rehearsal, they held a family-and-friends-only "dress rehearsal," and all of the invited family and friends were allowed to invite their own family and friends. I felt pretty cool knowing Sister Slade.

So Saturday night Marilyn Fowler (another family friend), Barbara Slade, Emily, John, and I all headed up to Broomfield for our VIP concert. When we arrived we went in through the area backstage and each had to put on this wristband indicating that we're legit concert attenders. Isaac Slade got up on the stage about forty-five minutes before the concert began and asked anyone who could to come down and stand on the floor to make it seem as much like a big concert as possible.

There were only a few hundred people in attendance, so it was a much more intimate performance, but the intimacy did in no way inhibit the grandeur of the show. It was a big show with a big bang.

This was Emily's first concert since she went to an N*SYNC performance eight or nine years ago--she was pretty excited for this one!

The Fray have been one of my favorite bands for a long time now (I saw them in concert a few years back), and while some bands or people aren't as good live as they are via recording, the Fray are phenomenal live.

We were only about ten feet away from the stage, so we could see everything: their faces, their instruments, their communication as a band.

The show was run primarily by Isaac and Joey (the two founders of the band). They interacted well with the audience, bringing the performance to a more personal level. Some of the performances were big, with big light choreography and intense sound, and some other songs were toned down and emotionally intense.

I did have a run-in with a particularly drunk girl, but she was just obnoxious. Fortunately she was the only drunkard I encountered at the concert (another perk of a quieter, private concert--not nearly as many wasted people).

They sang all of my favorite songs including "Syndicate," "Say When," "Cable Car," and "All at Once." I've been listening to the Fray a bunch since the concert, wishing I could see the concert again. I would totally pay to see it again, but alas, Denver isn't on their concert docket, except for the Mile High Music Festival, and I don't want to pay for that.

Saturday night was all about who you know, and I felt pretty lucky to know Barbara Slade!


Five for Friday

So I'm back at Catholic Health Initiatives today and potentially for a lot longer. (One of the receptionists is out on medical leave, so I'm crossing my fingers that I can work here for at least a few weeks.) Thank heaven it's a job, but as of right now, when I don't have other duties besides answering phones and signing for FedEx packages, I get pretty bored. (And for $13 an hour, I'm okay to be bored.) I think I can get away with some reading, which is nice; plus I can blog and read blogs (the company I worked at last week didn't allow access to anything, including blogger and pictures on blogs). I don't have anything in particular to say, but it's Friday, and I'm bored.

1. I've been watching a lot of Quantum Leap lately. It's a funny sci-fi show that follows the "leaps" of Dr. Samuel Beckett, who stepped into the Quantum Leap Accelerator. Now he's trapped in the space-time continuum leaping from life to life, righting what once went wrong. His only companion on his journey is a man named Al, an observer from Sam's own time who appears in the form of a hologram. (I'm doing my best to accurately quote the explanation in the opening of the show.) Anyway, I've been watching several of those reruns and start to rerealize really how dorky this show is . . . but I love it.

2. My temp job today is downtown, so I decided to be bold and brave Denver's public transport system. I haven't ridden the bus since my first days as a teller at Washington Mutual, but it's easy enough. I've heard rumor that some of the buses in the Denver public transportation are pretty ritzy, but the one on 32nd Avenue is not. Fortunately when I got on, there were maybe three other people already in the bus, so I got to sit in a seat by myself. I didn't look at anyone and just read my book. Sure it's a pain to have to be ready and out the door by 6:45, but the forty-five-minute ride into downtown isn't that bad. It's an excuse to just sit and read (I mean, Operation Superhuman Reader needs all the help it can get, right?).

3. The longer I lack steady employment, the more I just want to stay home. I've had pretty good days. I sleep in a bit, leisurely get ready, have some Eggo waffles for breakfast, watch some TV, read some of my book, run errands with Mom, talk on the phone. I mean, this is the life, right? . . . Oh yeah, except that I'm close to broke and still need to finance my last year of college. Easy Street will have to wait, I suppose . . . for a long time . . . a really long time . . . perhaps forever.

4. Sometimes I end up taking naps at 10:30 in the morning. (Reference point 3.) That's just ridiculous.

5. I don't get to pick my lunchtime here. I was told that I'll be taking lunch from 11:30 to 12:30. There are two things wrong with this: 1) Who wants a lunch break at 11:30 in the morning? I'm a late-lunch kind of girl. I figure that I can stick out a longer stretch of boredom in the first part of my day and then have to wait through only a few hours of boredom after lunch. 2) I don't need an hour when I'm off at 4:30. I'd rather get a full eight hours in and take thirty minutes for lunch, but alas, they're forcing an hour lunch on me.


beautful start to June

It's been raining since about 7:00 last night--a steady downpour. Love it. It thundered. It continued raining when I went to bed. I left the window open and went to sleep to the unwavering pitter-patter of rain. Granted, I did have to close the window around four in the morning when I woke up to the wind flowing flecks of rain onto my face, but all in all, a great way to sleep.

And this morning--still raining.


Oh the Flowers at O'Toole's

For Mothers' Day Dad got Mom a gift certificate to O'Toole's flowers, a local flower nursery, and Saturday was the day she got to use it! Early Saturday afternoon, Mom, Dad, John, and I all went over to the nursery and had a blast browsing all the different flowers, greens, and trees. (I was so irritated with myself when I realized I forgot my camera--imagine the missed photo ops. *sigh*) We're going to have to get many more flowers to completely fill up the bed in front of the house, but we got off to a good start.

We spent the an hour or two in the afternoon weeding and prepping the bed for planting the flowers! (I'm not sure about all the specifics of what Mom got--hopefully she'll blog about it soon.) Grandma and Grandpa came over for a few minutes to check out our gardening endeavors. Above is a picture of Grandpa helping John dig out a giant bush root--I can't believe my almost-ninety-year-old grandpa help take on a hardcore bush root.

And I discovered a favorite flower--dahlias. I rooted for Mom to get some of those to no avail. When I got home from the nursery, I looked up more about dahlias to really see if I could put them on my favorites list and decided that I definitely don't like all dahlias. Just the pretty ones. Ha. Some dahlias look weird and spongy and pourus. I only like the ones with actual, full petals (not the ones with the weird spiky petals).

In short, Saturday was a ShamWow day full of flowers--a great way to end May.
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