Christmas Shopping

First things first.  You need to know that today marks nine months exactly since Hubs and I tied that knot.  Had we conceived on our wedding night I would be birthing a baby today.  We did not conceive on our wedding night.  And I am not birthing a baby today.  But it's the thought that counts, and boy what a thought!  Just let that blow your mind for a minute. 

One of my favorites... is it weird that I LOVE all the goofy pics?

Next... this weekend I set out with mi madre to do a bit of Christmas shopping. 

The items on my Christmas list were as follows:
- Some new jeans (I am down to one pair that is wearable)
- Boots that I can wear to semi-formal events but that don't look like hooker boots
- A new dress.  Because every girl loves a pretty dress.

What?  When you go Christmas shopping it's not just for you?  Oh... I thought that's what everyone meant when they said they went Christmas shopping...

First and foremost, I dragged my mom into Forever 21 and begged her for two new pairs of skinny jeans.  She didn't put up much of fight.  There was a day when my mom vehemently opposed skinny jeans, but I guess somewhere along the way she realized there are worse things in life than a 25 year old daughter who wears skinny jeans on the weekend.

CrazyA accompanied us on our shopping excursion.  Her main job was to entertain my mom while I was in the dressing room.  She did so by shocking my mom with every outlandish and inappropriate thing that could possibly escape from her mouth.  To top it all off, CrazyA weasled her way under the dressing room door to watch me change while I yelled "get out of here you perv!" and my mom giggled from the other side of the door. The sales associate no doubt was trying to stop the whole thing, but what can you do when you turn around and a grown woman is crawling under the door trying to harrass her friend? Absolutely nothing.

Next stop was boots.  I knew exactly what I wanted.  Tan.  Knee High.  Zipper on the side. We found it without much of a problem.  And not just any zipper on the side, either, a RED zipper on the side. 


 I'm in love.  It's practically all I've been able to think about since we bought them.  I'm so obsessed that I think Hubs might be worrying that I am going to run away with these boots.  It's a valid concern.

Our last task was to find a dress.  This was the hardest of the three since not many stores sell dresses.  Our first stop was Macy's where the sales girl was a girl I taught at Timpview.  My how they grow.  It was slightly uncomfortable to have a former student pulling me dresses and coming in to check if everything was okay while I flaunted my white, hairy legs in dresses that were much too tight for me. I mean, I'll let my mom see that as much as she wants, but former students?  Yes.  Uncomfortable is a good word for it.

After several dresses we decided on one that was flattering and elegant.  It was an Audrey Hepburn type dress. 

Then my mom insisted on checking the tag.

Three awful words.

Dry clean only.

My mom absolutely refuses to buy any clothing that is dry clean only.  I insisted I would keep it clean, and it wasn't a big deal to run it to the dry cleaner every once in a while.  Mom didn't budge.  We wouldn't buy the dress.  It wasn't worth it.

At this point, I was burnt out.  Yes, all the shopping we were doing was for selfish little old me, but I was exhausted.  My mom, who has the shopping stamina of a stallion, was just warming up.  We stopped at another store and I tried on every dress there before we found one we both liked.  Not as cute as the Audrey Hepburn dress, but it would do.  I took it off and my mom went to pay.

Thirty seconds later she was back outside my dressing room.  "Bonnie.  You're never going to believe this.... but I checked the tag..."

Yep.

Dry clean only.

I was done done done at that point.  I put my jeans back on and decided that a Christmas dress would not be in the cards for me.  Mom on the other hand, was not ready to admit defeat.  She found another dress, the right size, not dry clean only, etc, etc.  The only catch was that I had to try it on.

I refused.

A girl can only try on so many dresses.

I realize how ridiculous this all sounds.  But please.

Pity me.

My mom bought the dress anyway.  My approval or no, the dress would be purchased and the item crossed off the list.

Moving on... Saturday was Hubs shopping day.  Hubs is getting a suit for Christmas.  I discovered during our shopping excusions this weekend that Hubs is much less picky than I am.  He liked all the suits.  Pinstripes, black, gray, he was just tickled pink with every suit we showed him.  He picked a suit easily, found the right size, and was on his merry way in a matter of minutes. That's why I married him, folks.  WHY I MARRIED HIM.

While my mom talked to a friend in the store, Hubs and I went to check out the pet department.  Yes, the pet department.  You see, there are quite a few dog lovers on Hubs side of the family, so we thought this department might lend itself to some easy Christmas shopping for us.  We looked at all sorts of pet paraphenelia:  bones, clothes, toys, beds, etc.

We had something all picked out when my mom came over to approve our purchase.

Of course... the infamous question....

"Did you check the tag?"

No, we hadn't.

"Spot clean only,"  mom read.  "No good.  You have to be able to put it in the washing machine."

And so the pet furniutre was left at the store. 

And we are left still wondering what to get certain people for Christmas.

Why do moms always have to remember to check the tags? 

Curse those washing instructions.

DON'T FORGET:  The Holiday Giveaway is going on now until Wednesday at 5:00.  To be entered simply follow this blog or post your favorite entry on your facebook wall.  If you do both, you get entered twice!


Who wants to win earrings?!?



Holiday Giveaway La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!

The peeps at Blogger keep harrassing me. 

You see, they want me to keep track of my so called "followers".

They are constantly sending me reminders and notifications.  They won't let it go.  Won't let it drop.  "YOU NEED MORE FOLLOWERS!" They tell me in every email they send.

Actually, what they really tell me is this:

"Readers often visit a blog and enjoy it but fail to return. With the followers widget you can get all readers to return and become a fan. We highly recommend that you write a post about your followers widget and encourage all readers to become a follower."

Sheesh.  Those people heading up the Blogger business are kind of bossy, don't you think?

In any case, I'm obeying them.  There are a couple of reasons for my obedience, the main one being that I almost always obey authorities who own multi-billion dollar businesses.  I just think it's a good rule of thumb.

Here's the catch though.  I like to think I'm a hair smarter than those folks over at blogger.  I know that if I was a reader I would read this post, think "I'll have to follow that blog" and then close the window and go about my day without ever thinking about it again.  Once upon a time I read the book "Freakonomics" and the one thing that stuck with me after reading that 300+ page beast was this:  People respond to incentives. 

AKA.  You will become a "follower" if there is something in it for you.

So I'm offering a little incentive.

Wednesday at 5:00 pm I am going to hold a drawing.  Any person who is a "follower" of Life of Bon by that time will be entered into the drawing. Holler!  ALSO... anyone who has posted the link to their favorite Life of Bon entry to their facebook wall by Wednesday at 5:00 pm will be entered into the drawing. (Make sure to tag me in the link so that I know you posted it and can enter you in the drawing.)  Most popular posts are on the left side of the blog, and blog archives are on the right side.  On the top right of the blog is a facebook share button.  Just go your favorite entry and then click the share button.  Easy as pie.  If you become a follower AND post the link on your facebook page, you get entered into the drawing twice.  Double holler!

WHAT DO YOU WIN?!?!?!

WHY, JEWELRY, OF COURSE!!!!

There will be two winners of the drawing.  The winners will get their pick between two sets of earrings (a stud and a dangly) or a necklace from Mia's jewelry line.  Go to her website to check out which jewelry you like because if you win you get to choose what you get!  The pictures above are just a few of many.

If you are not in to jewelry, then it makes a GREAT Christmas gift.  Surely there is someone on your list who will love a new pair of earrings.

If you are not in to jewelry and you are not shopping for anyone who likes jewelry, then it looks like we're S.O.L.  But you should still follow the blog because you are awesome and I am awesome and people who are awesome should stick together.

One last thing.  As an extra incentive, Mia is offering 30% off of her jewelry to any of my "followers"/ blog readers/ friends.  So check out her website, buy some jewelry, and when going to the check out, just type in "lifeofbon" to the discount/coupon box to receive the 30% off.  No caps.  No spaces.  Just lifeofbon.

So.... now that you have read this post, scroll up to the top right of the page and click "Join this site" to become a follower.  Easy as pie.  Then go to your facebook page and post the link to your favorite entry.  Then sit back and enjoy your life while you win the giveaway and get free jewelry mailed to you.

The winners will be posted Wednesday night, and the prizes will be mailed on Thursday! 

Alright, now Blogger, I've offered them everything I can.  Will you get off my back now?  Please.

Hope

I started to cry on my way to work this morning.

It was 97.1's fault.

I flipped to the station right as they were doing a "Secret Santa" segment- a part I have previously always skipped because it sounded, well... boring. 

A girl (Mandy) was at the station who had put in a Secret Santa request for her friend (Hayle) and her family. Hayle's dad died in a car accident this summer, leaving behind a wife a four children under the age of fifteen.  The family has been struggling coping with the grief, dealing with no life insurance, struggling to find work, etc.

So right there at 7 am, do you know what that clever station 97.1 did?  They called up Halye's mom to tell her that her family had been chosen to be recipients of a Secret Santa.  No one answered the home phone the first two tries, so then they called Hayle's cell phone.  She was clearly still sleeping.  I was laughing so hard at the radio announcer, Frankie, because he could not have made the phone call seem more strange, "(In deep raspy voice) Hello Halye, how you doing?" 
"Uh.... fine...."
"Halye, we need to speak to your mother."  I don't mean to criticize, but Frankie could really work on the way he introduces himself to strangers on the phone at 7 am. 
"My mom is sleeping..."
"Will you go wake her up?"
And so she did.  You could hear the teenager walking through the house and then shaking her mom awake.

Finally the mom came to the phone.  Frankie informed her that she was the recipient of a Secret Santa.  At first that poor mom was so confused, but slowly she came to understand what was going on.

The best part was when Frankie said, again in that deep raspy voice,
"Go open your door.  There are two people waiting for you."

By this point you could hear that the kids were all awake and trying to figure out what was going on.

Mom opened the door.
And in came the gifts.

As they brought in the gifts, Frankie announced what was being given: clothes, gift cards, food, music, shoes, games, etc.  He listed about four or five gifts for each of the children.

As he was doing this you could hear the mom crying and the kids celebrating in the background.  The excitement was almost tangible.

When Frankie asked the mom how her Christmas shopping had been coming, she replied, "I haven't done a stitch.  It just makes me too sad; I can't do it.  Life turns on you so fast, and I just can't keep up."

And then she said, probably a thousand times,  "Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you."

And I couldn't help it.  I just joined in on the crying.  I could just imagine the excitement of the kids, waking up to see strangers bringing in loads of presents.  Going to school that day and not being able to concentrate because of what was waiting for them at home.  Seeing the gratitude and the joy on their mother's face.

I'm having a hard time expressing exactly how this story affected me.  Something about the way the mom said thank you, or the way the radio station people waited outside her door in the cold, or the way the daughter walked to her mom's room at 7 am to wake her up, something about it all just deeply affected me.  And I felt selfish and ungrateful for complaining about Christmas decorations and caramel apples.  Because none of that really matters.

It just goes to prove.  You start thinking the whole world is full of people who cut you off in traffic and butt in line and lie about their homework assignments and then something like this happens and proves you wrong.

It almost gives you hope in humanity.

In case you were wondering, I did get the Christmas decorations up.
Lime green+Christmas tree+ Mexican sign= holiday bliss.

The stockings are hung by the curtains with care.
Of course, you wouldn't know, because Hubs is blocking them with his hands
due to his pure excitement

Prank time

All 17 year olds deserve a good prank every once in awhile.

Today I took it upon myself to administer said prank.

This morning we started the play The Crucible by Arthur Miller.  It is about the Salem witch hunt.  Basically the play is about widespread paranoia and rumors that quickly run out of control.  So before we started the book, I decided to give my students a little dose of... well...widespread paranoia and rumors that quickly get out of control.  It couldn't hurt, right?

Unlike my Christmas decorating fiasco, everything went exactly according to plan.  Which proves my theory that I am more talented at being a teacher than being a wife.

I started out explaining a bit about the book, about Puritan society at the time, etc.  I drew a map of the U.S. on the board and pointed to Massachussettes where the book takes place.  As I lectured, I kept stealing quick glances and jerking my neck.  A quick head turn here, a sudden stop there.

After a minute of this, I knew my students were primed.  "I'm sorry, it's just that I keep thinking I see something out of the corner of my eye.  It's because I saw a mouse this morning and I don't know where it went and I've been real jumpy ever since." 
"WHAAAAAAAT?!?!??!?!" every girl in the class screamed as they jumped out of their chairs onto their desks.  "Teacher there's a mouse in here?!?!?!"
"Yes, yes, just calm down, you hooligans.  It's probably just my imagination.  I'm sure the mouse is gone by now, I just get nervous.  Every time I see one of you tapping your foot I think it's that mouse."

I looked around at their faces.  The girls were scared and nervous and anxious.  The boys were excited and pumped up and anxious... a different kind of anxious.  The "let's kill a mouse!" kind of anxious.

Oh, you poor young students.  So gullible.  So ripe.

"Let's just stop thinking about it and continue on with the lesson."  I managed to get them concentrating on the board again.  "Puritan society at the time was extremely harsh.  You have to understand that these people were religious fanatics.  Fanatics, I tell you!  Dancing- SIN.  Singing- SIN. Laughing- OH MY GOSH I SAW THE MOUSE!  IT RAN UNDER KATE'S BACKPACK!"

And just like that, I had the entire class in an uproar.

The girls were up crouching on top of their desks; the boys were all up out of their seats, looking where I was pointing.

"Everyone lift up your backpacks, it's around here somewhere!" I ordered.
"I'm going to kill it for you!" declared Allan as he grabbed the nearest yardstick.  "I'll beat it's head off if I have to, but I won't let it hurt you!"  Aren't teenage boys charming?

Then, from the other side of the room, my aide yelled, "It's over here!  I see it!"  You better believe I had enlisted the help of my aides to make the scene more believable.  Yes, in addition to making my lunches, I force my student aides to star as supporting actors in key roles.

All the boys in the class ran to the other side of the room, where the mouse was reported to have been seen.

The boys looking for the "mouse".  Such fools.

"I saw it go behind the computer!" yelled the aide.

At this point I knew I could do just about anything and the kids would believe it.  I had them eating out of my hand. EATING RIGHT FROM MY HAND I TELL YOU.

"Ok, ok, boys, get out of the way, let me check this out!"  I commanded.  "I think we are scaring it too much, and it's not going to come out."  So I pushed those young bucks aside and went "looking" for the mouse myself.  Aren't I a brave soul?

I moved the cardboard that was next to the computer.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  Boy, did I let loose.  I screamed, I jumped up and down, I ran away like a little girl, I waved my hands in front of the face, I about dang near believed myself- the acting was that good.
"It's over there, it's over there, it's over there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I cried.

Allan started hitting everything in sight with the yardstick, "You will not live to see tomorrow, you conniving little S.O.B. mouse!"  Wow, for not saying a peep in class, Allan sure does have a violent side.

" I'm going to go get the custodian to set a mouse trap!"
" I'm going to faint!"
" I'm going to tear that mouse limb for limb so he'll never bother you again!"

My students were a-ranting and a-raving.

Time to fess up.

"Silence you fools!  I lied to you!  There's no mouse!  You're getting worked up over nothing!  Get back in your seats."

There was silence indeed.

They all stared at me blankly, frozen in place.

Finally someone spoke.  Softly.  "What?"

"It was part of the introduction to the book.  There's no mouse.  I just made it up."

They were shocked.   Dumbfounded.  Utterly confused.

Exactly the way I like my 17 year olds.

Oh don't you worry, I tied it all in.  Turned it into the greatest object lesson ever seen this side of the Mississippi.  "Why did you believe there was a mouse if you hadn't seen it for yourselves?"  "How do we liken this to the witch trials?"  "How do rumors and paranoia spread?"  "What makes rumors catch fire?"  "What cases do you think we will see of this in the book?"  I got their little brains a-ticking.

If you are wondering if I feel bad about pulling a huge prank on 160 students, the answer is no, I don't.  Not at all.  Those sneaky little punk kids have had it coming for awhile now.

And you know what?  They might act mad- upset that I lied to them and pranked them good- but they're not really.  They enjoyed every second of it and we all know it. 

One of these days I'm sure the principal is going to walk past my classroom while I am pulling a massive prank on my students, and then I will surely be in a world of trouble. 

But until then....

prank on!

Holiday Cheer

I got in quite the Christmas mood yesterday.

It happened on my way home from school when I decided that my lime green walls could use some holiday cheer. This is mine and Hubs' first married Christmas, so I figured I would be the good wifey and get the house decked out. Hubs had rehearsal until nine so the plan was to have everything bought, decorated, hung, placed, perfected by the time he came home. I could see it now, Hubs walking in the door and his sexy, not-tired-at-all,  every-hair-perfectly-in-place wife greeting him sweetly, "Merry Christmas honey bunny!"   All this would be happening while the lights twinkled in the window, the Christmas tree glistened, and the stockings hung perfectly. Maybe even a gift would be waiting under the tree, wrapped and completed with bows and ribbons.

That was the idea anyway. Sometimes girls are funny. Now, 24 hours after the plan hatched, I can see it was destined to fail.

Problem number one: What guy comes home after a long, tiring day, sees an apartment full of Christmas decorations, and is just beside himself with glee?

Answer:  No man.

Sometimes I think about things that I would like, then I get really excited about doing them for Hubs, and then consequently get confused when he doesn't show the same amount of pure joy that I would in the same situation. It's a strange world we live in with men and women trying to co-exist. I realize now, of course, that what Hubs was going to want when he came home was a hot dinner, a pleasant wife, and a couch. Unfortunately for Hubs last night, he got neither the Christmas decorations nor the hot dinner and smiling wife.

It all started out innocent enough. My intentions were pure.

The plan:
1. Get a tree
2. Get lights for the tree
3. Buy stockings
4. Buy glitter and glue to put mine and Hubs' names on the stockings.
5. Stop by my mom's house to borrow some ornaments.
6. Pick up a caramel apple at Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory.
7. Make dinner while Christmas music played.
7. Decorate the tree and hang the stockings while dinner cooked.
9. Fix myself up so I look sexy when Hubs gets home.
10. Light all the Christmas lights and set the table, dinner ready to be served in a romantic Christmas atmosphere the instant Hubs opened the door.

Funny how plans never work out.

It all started at Wal-mart. My arch nemesis.

I have never before bought a Christmas tree, and I was grossly misinformed on the price. I saw a friend's facebook status that said she had got her full sized tree for $10 with a coupon. Naturally, I figured from that that a normal priced full sizer would go for $15 tops. No problemo. I ain't no millionaire, but I think I can spare $15 for some holiday cheer.

So naive. 

Full sized trees were in the $100 range, and $10-15 trees were... well... non-existent. The best value I could find was $25 for a four foot tree. That's about $6.25 a foot, and if you ask me that is $6 a foot too much for some fake pine needles.

I was quickly determining that I was going to have to cut some steps in my ultimate plan if I was ever going to live through the day.  First thing scratched: stopping by my mom's to get ornaments.  I could just get some here at Wal-mart for a couple of bucks and save myself the trip.  Fat chance.  Do you know what the going rate is these days for a box of ornaments at Wally's World?  Fifteen bones. FIFTEEN!  Who are these people?  Needless to say, I resigned myself to a stop at my mom's to dig through her Christmas decoration leftovers, in spite of my increasing weariness.

Thus the night went.  There was no glue at Wal-mart, so I had to make yet another stop.  The ornaments at my mom's house were nowhere to be found, and my phone was out of battery.  After nearly half an hour of searching, I found the ornaments in a closet I never knew existed.  On my way home from my mom's, the gas light came on in my car.  So I stopped to get gas- eighteen degrees and all.  Back in my car, and on the road I got cut off in traffic by a Buick.  And I really hate Buicks.

And slowly, but ever so surely, my Christmas cheer morphed in to a 5'4" white female version of the Christmas grinch.

The straw that broke the caramel's back was the candy store.  Of course, I shouldn't have stopped.  I realize that now.  Should have just kept driving on home, sights set on the road and my mind never wandering to that $6 piece of caramel apple heaven.  I'll save you the trouble of reading my post from yesterday and summarize- basically the candy store involved dozens of BYU zoobies, on ornery ex-zoobie (me!), and some blatant butting in line.  Twenty five minutes later I was back in my car, arriving home after an endless day at 7:45 pm.

Funny that I didn't feel like cooking dinner at that point.
Funny that I didn't feel like putting up the damn Christmas tree. (So sorry, mom)
Funny that I didn't feel like changing into something sexy.
Funny that I didn't feel like being cute and clever and sweet and flirty for Hubs when he came home.

Instead, I dropped the overpriced fake tree on the floor, threw the stockings, glitter, and ornaments on the table, heated up a can of soup, changed into old dirty pajamas and vegged on the couch.  I didn't do the dishes that were waiting in the sink.  I didn't empty the overflowing trash.  I didn't vaccuum up the bugs that are undoubtedly starting to build a small community in the carpet.

Luckily, Hubs didn't much seem to notice when he came home.  That's the nice thing about boys.  They care so much less than girls about those unimportant things. Instead of commenting on my gross sweats, the Christmas vomit that was spewed all over the front room, or the lack of dinner, Hubs cuddled up next to me on the couch.  "Want to watch an episode of the Kardashians?" he asked.

Yes.  As a matter of fact.  I did.

Twenty four hours later, I am staring at my Christmas tree box, the tree still nestled tightly inside.  The ornaments and stockings still litter the kitchen table.  It may be as far as I ever get in my decorating. 

And if so, that's okay.

The Christmas tree  It is anyone's guess how long it will stay in that box.

Our first ever stockings.  But will they ever hang my walls?

BYU students, a Scrooge, and a caramel apple

Tonight I stopped on my way home at Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory.  Have you ever gotten a caramel apple from there?  I wouldn't recommend it.  Because if you get one caramel apple there you will be a slave for the rest of your life and always be forced to buy $6 apples against your will because you simply cannot resist them.  FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.  But if you do go, get the caramel apple pie apple.  It is to die for.  Tell them Bon Bon sent you and you will get... jack crap.  Got you there didn't I?  One day I will be famous enough to demand chocolate stores to give discounts to everybody to see, but that day is not yet here.

ANYWAY...both Hubs and I are completely addicted to these apple pie apples, and unfortunately neither of us make enough money to support a $6 apple addiction, so as you can imagine it has become quite the conundrum for us.  I do everything I can to avoid Riverwoods mall for the exact reason that I know I will be sucked in to the store and forced to give away my life savings for a few apples.

Tonight was a night where I just couldn't resist.  I was dead tired and after a million Christmas errands (more details on those tomorrow) all I wanted was a little innocent apple to comfort me at the end of my day.  So I pulled on over, promised myself it would be no longer than three minutes, (it was already 7:30 and I hadn't been home since 6:00 am) and ran on in to the chocolate store.

Death.  The small chocolate factory was filled to the brim with people.  Not just people.  Students.  Not just students.  BYU students.  Not just BYU students.  BYU FHE students.  And I had my second BYU student experience in three days.  That is two experiences too many for a three day span.

You see, I wasn't in nearly as good a mood as I was on Saturday night.  I wasn't flaunting bright red lipstick, on a hot date with Hubs after a relaxing day off.  Instead, I was at the end of errands on an endless Monday and I hadn't seen Hubs since I kissed him goodbye at 6:00 am when he rolled over in the bed and mumbled something that sounded like "Princess Ariel."  I don't ask questions when it's that early.

So no, I was not really in the mood for hordes of BYU students.  The line was at least 12 people long and there were 33 people all together in the shop.  Yes, I counted.  I watched intently the people around me.  It didn't take long for me to figure out that most of these people weren't even there to buy chocolate, but mostly to get out of the cold, and to get free samples.  Unlucky for them, the girls working had discovered their aim, and had hid all the free samples behind the counter.

I stared at the students with disdain as they bumped shoulders with me.  "Oh my gosh, are you sure there are free samples?  I LOVE CHOCOLATE!" I heard a girl scream.  They laughed, they giggled, they flirted with each other, the whole loud obnoxious group of them.

Open. Close. Open. Close.  Students entered.  Students left.  Cold entered.  Cold stayed.

"Doth my nose deceive me, or is this really a store filled with the sweet aroma of chocolate?"  I turned around to see another Zoobie zealously entering the store.  And I shot that person a look of death.  Annoying comments like that are only funny when I'm in a good mood.  When I'm in a bad mood, they make me want to do things to them so bad it'd make you puke if I told you. (Kidding, mom!)

"Excuse me, we are in front of you," I turned around to see a pimply man/boy, "We were here before you, you slipped in front of us." 
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know," I replied.  Because I really didn't. 
He and six other people got in front of me.
I think it was a trick.
Ten minutes and sixty door closings and openings later, it was time for the group in front of me to order.  "What can I get for you?" said the girl behind the counter.
"Let's see... does anyone know what they want?" the boy asked his group of six.  They all shook their heads.
I felt like jumping in front of them in line and screaming, "I do!  I know what I want!  I want a caramel apple pie apple and then I want to get the hell out of this store!"
But I didn't say that, mom.  Because I'm a good girl.
Instead I waited impatiently and cursed them in my head.

The group ordered six small hot chocolates.  I continued to spy on them because when I am alone in line, it happens to be the thing I do best.

"Oh, look!  I think she is cutting up an apple in the back for a free sample!  I want a free sample of an apple so bad!"  One of the girls cried excitedly.  The lady in the back cut the apple in the bag and gave it to a paying customer, dashing the young girl's hopes to shreds.  This group was really not coping well with the lack of free samples.

Do you find it amusing that I, the queen of free, the queen of coupons, and the queen of discounts was annoyed at a couple of kids wanting something for free?  I was.  I was very annoyed.  I wanted to scream, "Just buy a dang apple!  They are really quite affordable!  Only six dollars for one apple!"

FINALLY.  It was my turn.  "One caramel apple pie apple." I said confidently and hurriedly. 
"Okay, would you like that... Whoa whoa whoa!  What are you guys doing?"  The girl at the counter was distracted by something going on in front of me.  I turned to see the six in the group reaching over the counter and grabbing cut up apples.
"Uh...we're just grabbing samples..."
"You can't just grab stuff on our side of the counter!"
"Oh... we thought they were free..."

"They're not ready to be passed out yet!"  The girl was at her wits end.

And that's when I realized.  I had been wrong on Saturday when I looked at the BYU students with envy at their frivolous and seemingly responsibility-less lives.

Sometimes it's good to grow up.



Is it worth the $6 and the twenty minute wait in line?
No it's not.
But I'm a slave.
And slaves don't get to choose if they buy it or not.





Back to BYU

WARNING:  THIS POST HAS NO ORGANIZATION WHATSOEVER.  NADA. ZERO.  ZILCH.  If this were one of my student's papers, I would give them a zero for organizaiton and tell them to learn how to organize their thoughts before they insult me with such material again.  You have been warned.  Read at your own risk.

This weekend Hubs and I did a little FBI work.

You see, Hubs belongs to a comedy club at UVU called Laughing Matters.  This weekend, BYU's comedy club, and sorta-kinda-rival, Divine Comedy, was performing.  We decided to head on over, check out the competition, and possibly cause bodily harm to the cast members if we deemed it so necessary.

I wore bright red lipstick to prove a point to those zoobies.  Yes, I may be a BYU alum, but I'm no prude!  I like to stand out in a crowd of righteous smarties, and if red lipstick is the way I have to do it, then so be it.  Believe me, that lipstick was red.  RED AS SIN.

Our "spying" was disappointingly uneventful.  There was nothing for us to get riled up about, and we noticed only one thing that Divine Comedy does better than Laughing Matters.  D.C. had millions upon millions of glowsticks falling from the ceiling. THE CEILING, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! Does it get any cooler than that? Hubs and I were sitting front and center, and therefore were being constantly barraged by dozens of glowsticks. I kept about two and then spent the rest of my night chucking the glowsticks to the back of the auditorium. I may have hit some people in the face and that may have been my goal.  Don't judge.

That ended up being the extent of our spying.  Kind of a let down, I know.

While I was on BYU campus, however, I did notice a few other things. 

First things first:  We saw this guy.

In case you don't know who this guy is, he is in essentially every Mormon movie ever made.  He is also the Qwestar spokesman.  He also does not look this good in real life.  He is chubbier and less groomed.  Someone had to say it.  Still, it was exciting to see him because anytime you see someone who is practically famous it is exciting.

Now, for my observations.  Observation #1:
The line for the show was looooooooooooooooooooooooooooong and weaved throughout the entire building.  That's zoobies for you.  Showing up two hours early for a little clean comedy.  There were people camped out all over the place- playing cards, playing guitars, playing each other.  On my way to the bathroom, I saw a boy and girl with their Book of Mormon in Spanish, reading out loud to each other.  I was shocked, confused- didn't know where I was.  What world had I suddenly warped into?  Then I remembered.  I was at BYU.

Observation #2:  They started the show with a prayer.  A PRAYER!  I thought about yelling out, "Excuse me, what about separation of church and state around here?!" and then I remembered that BYU is a church school and they can do whatever they please.

Observation #3  I was shocked that everyone looked so...young.  I no longer felt like I was part of them, but rather that I was an outsider.  I felt like I do when I'm at Copper Hills... that everybody else is a student and that I am a teacher.  I had a fleeting moment of sadness and nostalgia as I watched the college students laugh and flirt and have fun, and realized that this was not a part of my life anymore.  That I did not belong to that group.  BYU is no longer an active part of my life, but rather a piece of my distant past.

Which led to my Observation #4 which is:

Sometimes it is hard to grow up.

Now, before you go feeling too bad for me, let me just tell you that I am about to go pop some popcorn, curl up with Hubs, and watch Kourtney and Kim take New York.  Isn't he the greatest?

Lessons at the Gyno

Every year I have an appointment with the ...*ahem*... lady doctor.  To make sure all my...*ahem*...lady parts are doing everything they are supposed to do.

Today was said...*ahem*... lady doctor appointment. 

I always get just a tad nervous before these appointments.  And by always I mean the two times in my life that I have ever been.  To calm my nerves in the waiting room, I looked for something to read.  Well, I'll tell you what, that place was hard up for some reading material so I resorted to the pamphlets on the wall.  My choices were "Menopause:  What you don't know you don't know," and "The infection question:  it's not always yeast."  This much I know for sure, whoever is writing the titles of their pamphlets needs to get paid less.  I opted for the menopause pamphlet.  You see, I always like to be prepared.  Sometimes things happens sooner than you'd think, people.

I didn't get far in my riveting read when they called me to the back, demanded to know my weight, and them told me to strip and put on a robe with the opening in the front.  They've got a lot of nerve.

The lady doctor came in.  She was asking me a bajillion questions.  I figure she did it to take my mind off the exam and I'll tell you what, it worked because I was so busy answering her relentless questions that I didn't have a second to think about what else was going on in the room.

"How was the wedding?"  "How's teaching?"  "Do you want to get pregnant?" "What does your husband do?" "Do the students mistake you for a student?" "Have you ever gone on an African safari?" I mean it.  This lady didn't let up.

Then she asked me, "So how is the marriage going?  Everything marital bliss?"  I considered briefly telling her that we had already divorced- just to see her squirm- but I decided instead to be a good girl.  "Yah, pretty much."

"Yep, that usually lasts about two years." She said with a complete straight face.  "Now, I'm going to give you this prescription for a year..."

We finished up and I took my prescription and free birth control and menopause pamphlet and headed on home.

I got to thinking on my drive.  About the whole marital bliss thing lasting two years.  Here's what bothers me about it.  I have gotten that remark, or a similar version of it, probably 100 times since I tied the knot.  "Oh, that will soon wear off and before you know it you'll be two people who live together and tolerate each other's bad smells." or  "Oh, you're probably just so in love right now, aren't you?  It doesn't last forever you know,"  or "After a few years you won't even be touching each other anymore, trust me."

Its not that I think me and Hubs have a better marriage than everyone else.  It's just that... I think everybody should have a better marriage than that. 

While my marriage has been a blast and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, it's no cake walk.  It's not like we've just been sitting on the couch kissing and eating ice cream.  We've had to struggle through things.  We don't always see eye to eye.  We're both strong willed people.  Sometimes we are selfish.  Sometimes we say things we don't know are hurtful.  Sometimes we just don't even really know how to be married.  But every month is easier.  Every month is more fun.  Because we understand each other more, we know how to treat the other person, we know how to talk to each other.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that it seems to me that each year of your marriage should be getting better, not worse.

Then I started thinking.  Maybe I'm just being naive and stupid.  Maybe the whole marital bliss really is just a passing phase.  Then I thought of the marriage besides my own that I know the best.  My parents' marriage.  Of course, as a child of the marriage, I don't know half of the struggles that went on, the disagreements, the trials, the hurt feelings.  What I do know from pure observation is that my dad told my mom she looked pretty at the dinner table, they said their prayers together at night, my mom organized my dad's desk for him, they danced in the kitchen, and they took week long vacations without the kids every year.  It sure doesn't seem like a marriage where the bliss ended after two years. 

I also know that the two years since my dad passed away have been the most difficult and trying times of my mom's life.  I know that she has experienced severe heartache, on a level that the rest of us can't understand.  I know that she misses him every day.  I have seen her shed countless tears because of his absence.  And I'll tell you this much- my mom's not crying because somebody she tolerated and picked up after left earlier than she thought.  She's crying because they were right smack in the middle of marital bliss.

I don't know diddly squat about marriage.  I'm a freaking amateur over here.  But I know this much.  Marital bliss isn't supposed to last for two years.  It's supposed to last for eternity.

And that's what I learned today on my trip to the lady doctor.

Bliss

So exciting!

I have to tell you something.

It's a secret and it's so exciting!!!!

You know when you discover something that is so dang exciting that you just can't keep it to yourself and you absolutely HAFTA HAFTA tell someone or else you might just EXPLODE from excitement?!?!?!

It's like that.

I just found out something.  It is so good that you likely will not believe me.
Wanna guess? 
Am I excited because...

THE NBA LOCKOUT IS OVER?  Nope.  I broke up with my team, so this news means absolutely nothing to me.  Doesn't phase me in any way.

KOURTNEY KARDASHIAN IS PREGGO?  Please.  I'm a Khloe and Kim fan.  I couldn't care less what happens to Kourtney.

MITT ROMNEY IS A FRONT RUNNER FOR THE REPUBLICAN NOMINATION?  Romney?  Really?  My vote's on Herman Cain.  Easily the most trustworthy candidate.

THAT I MYSELF AM PREGGO?  No.  No.  No.  No.  One more time. No.

Are you just dying of suspense?

Are you finally ready for what the real news is?!?!?

Okay, fine, here it is...........!!!!

There exists something in this world that can do everything you have ever dreamed of.  It is an electronic device, so small you can put it in your pocket, and I kid you not, this thing has no boundaries.  Would you believe me if I said that with one small electronic device I can...

Send spicy messages to Hubs at any time of night or day?
Watch Youtube videos?
Update my blog?
Follow Ellen and Conan on twitter?
Download and read entire books, such as Great Expectations?
Take pictures of myself in my classroom?
Get minute by minute directions to somewhere I need to go? (It's called GPS, and it's opening my eyes to a new world.)
Download and play and music anytime I want?
Play scrabble with my mom? (who has her own said pocket electronic device)
Call my pharmacy and yell at them for not filling my prescription on time? (birth control, you nosey snoops.  You should really stay out of other people's business)
Check an email that my sister has just sent me from Argentina?

Match prices at Wal-mart?

Look up the weather?

Read my scriptures?

Check my calendar to see what I have going on this weekend?

Transfer money out of my checkings account?

Pay my credit card bill?

Look up movie reviews?

Stare at pictures of Hubs when he is gone all day long?

And many many MANY more things!?

I know this is totally uneblieveable, but I promise you, I speak the truth.  This is all possible with one handheld pocket device. 

This thing is called a smartphone.  It is very new and up and coming in our world, so it's likely you don't have one yet.  And you have probably never heard of it.  It's okay, not everybody is as with it and technologically savvy as I am.  But you might want to look into getting one of your own one day.

(Yes, I just got my very first smartphone, and I am LOVING it!  Happy Black Friday to me from mom.  And now, a moment of silence for my ever faithful flip phone. R.I.P. Flipper.  You will be missed.)

And, now, for some very professional, quality pictures taken by me with my incredible smartphone.  Experience a day in the Life of Bon.  (And when I say a day I mostly mean I took some pictures of myself in the morning, and then remembered again and took some at night.  It's all you're getting, people.)

5:55 am.  I ain't happy.  Getting out of bed is the worst part of my day.



7:39 am  Waiting for the little brats to come in so
I can fill their minds with mush.

 

This shirt was free.  My #1 criteria for clothes.

 

8:10 am.  I love the way the sunshine streams into my classroom
in the morning.  Makes me feel like all is good and right
in the world.



9:24 pm  This is the ugly collection of pictures on my lime green wall.
Just in case you ever wanted to see this.

10:04 pm.  Done with this post, tired as heck and waiting for
Hubs to come home.

A case of the giggles

Something weird happened today.

My students have just finished writing research papers. Now they must report their findings to the class.  You know, the good old fashioned 3-5 minute presentation .  I sit in black with my blood red pen and grade everything that comes out of their mouths while they ramble on up front, nervous and sweating profusely.

Today, Jamie, one of my very best students, gave her presentation on the death penalty.  She stated that sometimes those sentenced to the death penalty are killed in rather inhumane and hurtful ways.  For example, the hanging.  She stated that that there can be miscalculations on the weight and pressure, causing the rope to be too forceful and literally snap a person's head off.

Now I don't know why this happened.  I just know that it did.  Right smack in the middle of explaining this brutal effect to the class, Jamie cracked.  Out of the clear blue, she started to laugh.  Jake, the class clown, called her out on it immediately.  "Oh my gosh, Jamie why are you laughing?!  You sicko!"  And the fact that Jamie, the class angel, was laughing, and the fact that Jake, the class clown, was calling her out on it, was too much for me.  I started to laugh, too.  And laugh hard. 

And there we were, Jamie in the front laughing away, me giggling uncontrollably in the back, and the class inbetween us, wondering what in the world was going on.

Jamie attempted to go on with her presentation.  "There are other ways that can be brutal, too.  It's been said that when they use the electric chair, they have seen smoke coming from the person's head..."  Jamie could barely get this part out, breathing deeply and trying to stifle a laugh every two words.  It was more like "They have seen (laugh giggle laugh) smoke (laugh laugh) coming from (giggle giggle) the person's head!" (laugh laugh laugh laugh).

And of course that made me laugh harder.  I don't think death penalties and hangings and electric chairs are funny.  Not at all.  I think they are very serious, in fact.  Very serious.

But, boy was I laughing.

"Jamie!  Stop laughing!  If you stop laughing then I'll stop laughing!" I ordered in a very mean, authoritative, "listen-to-me-I'm-your-teacher-dang-it!" kind of way

Jamie just kept on giggling, "I'm only laughing because you're laughing!"

And then because he wanted to be involved, Class Clown Jake jumped in with a mocking girly voice, "I'm only laughing because you two are laughing!"

And, man oh man, did that set the rest of the class off.  Anybody who wasn't laughing before was laughing now.  The whole class was in an uproar, doubling over, heads in laps, slapping the desks, having trouble breathing.  Laughing away at the thought of some mass murderer having smoke come out of his head in the electric chair.

I knew I should quiet those kids down.  Get them back on task.  Not waste any of their time.  But I just couldn't do it.  So we just kept on laughing.

And that's when I sure love teaching those 16 year old crazy laughing punks. 

I really do.

Twilight...what I don't understand

I'm just going to say this about Twilight and then I promise you I will say no more about the subject.

I don't get it.

Did I promise I wasn't going to say anymore?  Because I'm going to say a lot more.  Now you know the worth of my promises.

I just simply don't understand the popularity or the attraction to the books or the movie.  The whole thing baffles me.  Oh believe me, I tried to hop on that bandwagon, and I tried to hop on early.  Long before the movies ever came out, I read the first book.  My English professors counselled everybody in the English teaching major to read Twilight.  Their reasoning was that the book was a hit with junior high girls and teachers should always be aware of the big trends and the books their students are reading.  At that point that was all the book was- a junior high girl book.  The rest of the world was far from catching the craze. 

I read the first book just days before I entered the MTC.   I barely swallowed it down.  The writing was slow and mediocre, at best.  The main character was as unlikeable a character as I have ever seen.  If Bella existed in this life she would be the type of person I would avoid like the plague because she would suck every morsel of positive energy out of me. 

Somehow, in the eighteen months that I was down South sweating away and running away from dogs, Twilight exploded.  By the time I came home, the first movie had recently been released and everyone and their dog was talking Twilight! Twilight!  Twilight!  I ignored all the hype and turned my snooty nose up at it all.

My plan was to ignore Twilight and everything Twilight related until the phase went away.  It might be popular for months, or even years, yes, but I knew that eventually the fad would fade and I could successfully live in this world without having to be a part of the vampire and werewolf circus.

Then I met Hubs.

Hubs likes Twilight.

Yep.  I married a man who likes Twilight.

Hubs (who at that point was just BoyToy) tried to get me to watch the movies with him.  He told me it was important to him.  That I needed to experience them, and that they weren't "that bad."  And because people in love do crazy, stupid things, I complied.  It was the longest two hours of my short existence, and I couldn't stay awake for the life of me.  Hubs nudged, he begged, he pleaded.  He even threatened that if I didn't stay awake I'd just have to go home because there was no use for him to sit there by himself and watch a movie he had already seen while his girlfriend slept.  He had a point.

So I tried harder to stay awake, I blinked my eyes, I tapped my toe, bobbed my head, sipped on coke, crunched on ice.

But to no avail.  I still fell asleep.  The movie had nothing in it to make me want to stay awake.

And that's when Hubs gave up on me.  In the Twilight sense that is.  He realized I would never share his love for the fantasy, the dark romance, the fierce battles between creatures that don't exist.  He never bothered me about it again, and I have been enjoying a life of Twilight peace ever since.

That is, until last week.  On Tuesday, Hubs informed me that the next day, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, he would be going to Twilight with his family.  Everyone had the day off of work and school except for little old me, and since I hated Twilight anyway, this would be a perfect time for him to see it without me.

Then I started to pout.  REASON NUMERO UNO:  Of all the Twilights, this was the movie I wanted to see the most.  I knew enough to know that this was the book where Bella was thrown a lavish wedding, went on a sexy honeymoon to Brazil, and consequentially became pregnant with a demon baby.  Now I myself have recently been weddinged, honeymooned, and impregnated, so this strikes a chord.  Wait, did I say impregnated?  I didn't mean that part.  Just the weddinged and honeymooned, and yes, those are real words, look them up in the dictionary if you don't believe me.  Now, if you'll stop distracting me, I can finish my point and my point is THIS.  I was mildly interested in the film because it parallels the part of my life I am currently in.  And let's be honest, who doesn't want to see a sexy honeymoon in Brazil?

REASON NUMERO DOS I STARTED TO POUT:  I hate it when people have fun without me.  ESPECIALLY when those people are my husband and family and especially when I am working while they are out having fun.  Naturally I felt left out.  If I can't have fun, no one can have fun.  That's logical, right?

I attempted to argue with Hubs that I did, indeed, have a great desire to see the movie, that I have wanted to see it all along.  But, the problem with marrying a sensitive and smart guy is that he sees right through my excuses.  He didn't believe me for a second. 

However, Hubs did convince his family to go later in the day so I could join them after school and kick off my Thanksgiving break right!  Yes!  No one was having fun without me!  I was stoked out of my mind.

It was the worst film ever. 

The movie consisted mainly of slow music montages, long stretches of time with nothing happening, awkward dialogue, virtually no character development.  I think my real problem with the whole Twilight saga is Bella.  She's pouty, annoying, rude, and whiny.  She looked like she was going to throw up as she walked down the aisle.  Uh... Hello Bella!  It's your wedding!  Cheer up, you idiot!  She scowled when they left the wedding to embark on their honeymoon.  Uh... Hello Bella!  It's your wedding night!  Cheer up, you idiot!  She sulked throughout the entirety of their 14 day honeymoon.  That's when I started throwing popcorn at the screen and yelling "Stop it, you ungrateful b****!" (So sorry mom.)

And that's essentially what I don't understand- how this pouty, selfish girl became a worldwide phenomenon.  In the first three days of its opening, Breaking Dawn made $283.5 million dollars.  TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY THREE MILL.  Just to put that into perspective, I would have to teach English for 8,859 years to make that much money.  And you're telling me I can make that much money just by creating a whiny teenage girl and writing a book about her?

Hubs says the movie is so popular because it came at a perfect time for sexually repressed teenage girls.  I guess I would buy that if teenage girls were the only ones watching this movie, but last time I checked teenage girls don't have 283 million dollars laying around in their pockets.  Somehow a horribly written book with weak characters has taken everything I know about writing successful and quality literature and thrown it right out of the window.

Yah.  I'll never understand.

Black Friday

If you are in to laughing at people you have never met before, please note the lady mid right
with the gray hair and double chin.

It makes sense that I would be in love with Black Friday.  After all, I am the girl who price matches every item she buys and refuses to get a 12 pack of coke if it's 60 cents overpriced.

But I'm not in love with Black Friday.

Here's the problem.  Black Friday overwhelms me.  There are too many good deals.  I feel like I am being attacked by hundreds of dollars of savings everywhere I turn, but I can only handle saving dollars and cents.  Black Friday massive savings deals are too advanced, too scary for me- I'm still just an amateur at this whole saving money thing.

I saw the ads.  I know I could have saved on just about anything- TVs, cameras, Xboxes, furniture, clothes, computers, etc.  Half off!  Hundred dollar savings! Opening at midnight!  The ads flashed in my face.  But it all just intimidated me instead of excited me.   So I ignored the "screaming deals", (That's my mom's official term) slept in on Friday morning, and tried to pretend that the rest of the world wasn't out saving thousands of dollars while I was snuggled deep down under my plush down comforter.

My best friend, CrazyA called Friday morning around nine.  I knew exactly what she wanted.  She wanted to know if I was still planning on going shopping with her- as the plan had been for the last week.

I ignored the phone call.  If I didn't go out shopping, I would never know what great deals I was missing out on, right?

Thirty seconds later, CrazyA texted, "We still going shopping?"

I didn't return the text.

Then she called again.

And that's how I ended up meeting her in the parking lot half an hour later. I invited Hubs to come along. He said he would rather choke himself. That settled that.

(Random side note:  Getting into our car, we were approached by two Colombians, a man and a woman, needing a ride to the mall.  We were happy to give them a lift, and when we dropped them off at the mall, we asked if they would be needing a ride back.  They said probably not, because they were intending to buy a mattress, and they wouldn't be able to fit that into our car.  Which leaves us to wonder, exactly how were they planning to get that mattress back to their apartment?)

We didn't hit our first store until 10:30, and I was convinced we would have missed all the best deals by now.  But miracle upon miracles, we didn't!  In fact, we scored several great Black Friday deals.  And it wasn't nearly as hard as I thought it would be!  In fact, it was easy!

Now, I can't go into too much detail about said screaming deals, because most of the people that I was buying for read this blog.  So I will just give you some vague clues so you can be impressed with how much money I saved.  Be impressed!

50% off gift certificates to an anonymous place to eat
50% off gift certificates to an anonymous place that offers some kind of pampering service
60% off an unlimited amount of anonymous entertainment
30% off pieces of anonymous clothing/accessories

And that's all I can tell you!  No more hints, you little snoops!

Black Friday better watch out.  Now that I've done it once, there's no stopping me.  Next Black Friday is going to be epic.  (Yes, I said epic even though I hate the word.  Yes, I am ashamed of myself.)

Now it's Sunday night.  Sunday night at 8:00 is a hard hour for me.  It is the hour that I admit defeat and realize that the weekend doesn't last forever, Monday morning is indeed right around the corner, and that I can no longer ignore the stack of 160 research papers waiting to be graded.  Yes.  I said 160.

(Alright, listen students, if you're reading this, I'm making you a deal.  I won't show up if you don't show up.  Kapish?)

Giving thanks... a few days late!

I think Thanksgiving is just about the best holiday ever. What other holiday says, "You know what? Even though life can be pretty rough sometimes, we are still dang lucky. Why doesn't everybody take the day off of work and go eat a huge meal with their families and loved ones? And after they're done eating they can all sit back and think about how thankful they are for all of the incredible blessings in our lives."

Yep, pretty sure no other holiday says that.

Here's an interesting tidbit of information for you. Thanksgiving was officially declared a holiday in 1863 by President Lincoln.  In the midst of the United States Civil War, amid death and heartache and misery, Old Abe said, "You know what?  We need to be grateful.  We're making this official." 

Okay, okay, so I paraphrased that.  What he actually said was:

"In the midst of a civil war of unequalled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed... They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy... I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States...to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens."

(If you want to read the whole thing in a bigger, more readable font, go here.  Yes, I am linking you to Wikipedia's article on Thanksgiving.  That's how awesome I am.)

But the point is THIS.  Both Lincoln and the pilgrims who first celebrated Thanksgiving back in 1621 had this in common- they realized that no matter how much is going wrong in life, there is still much to be grateful for.  There is war, there is starvation, there is poverty, there is death, yes.  There will always be those things.  But there is also a God who loves us and who showers us, yes, I said showers us, with blessings.  Sometimes we just have to step back from the hussle and bussle and the crazy chaos of our lives and realize that no matter how you look at it, we are blessed.

And that's why Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.

(Well, that and I also have a great love for banana cream pie, candied yams, watching boys play football, strange conversations with relatives, and random family dance parties to the glee soundtrack... all of which were part of my Thanksgiving.)

P.S.  This post may have been a little too serious for some.  I understand it's not along the lines of the funny and frivolous things I normally post about.  I promise you that tomorrow I will be back to my trivial, nonsensical, un-profound postings. 

Yes, I will be posting about Black Friday.

Would you like some burnt orange with that lime green?

Here's a confession for you.

I have no idea how to be a wife.

No idea.

I blame it on society.  Society tells you to have a big wedding, to throw a big party, to buy a lot of flowers.  Which I did.  All of those things.

Then you get married and then you are a wife and then all of a sudden society is nowhere to be found to tell you what to do anymore.  Complete abandonment.

Some girls are naturally gifted in wifely duties.  The wedding is over and all of a sudden they just slide right into that wife role, no questions asked.  They enjoy sewing, cooking, decorating, etc.  It is an innate part of them. 

I see these wives and I try to copy them.  But it never turns out for me like it turns out for them.  I am not naturally gifted in wifely duties.  I am naturally gifted at.... talking?  telling kids to shut their mouths?  being bossy?  (All good motherly traits, might I add, just not wifely traits.)

I first knew I might be in over my head with the whole wifely duties thing when I was at my bridal shower.  I opened up a gift and explained, "Tupperware!  Thank you!"  All the married women laughed and turned to each other, "Isn't she funny?  Haha.  Haha!"  I sat there, completely unaware.  "Silly Bonnie, that's not Tupperware, it's Pyrex!"  They told me.  I looked at them.  "What's Pyrex?"  They laughed.  They chuckled.  "Ain't she the darndest?  Haha!  Doesn't know the difference!"

A few weeks after we got married, I noticed that a lot of wives were cooking for their husbands.  So I tried the same.  I cracked open that recipe book and went to work on a chicken cordon bleu recipe.  Whip whip whip, stir stir stir, mix mix mix, bake bake bake.  "Why, this is easy!" I thought.  "Anybody can be a wife!"

"Hubs!  Dinner is ready!" I called lovingly with my pink apron on and my cute little wifely smile.  We sat down to eat.  Hubs took  the first bite.  He didn't take a second bite.  I tried the chicken.  It tasted like... how do I say this... burnt cardboard?  I had followed the recipe exactly right!  Why did it work for other girls, but it didn't work for me? Hubs hugged me, told me it would be okay, and ordered a pizza.

Wifely failure number three came when we moved into our new apartment.  They told us we could paint the walls and decorate however we wanted, so I looked at some pictures online and figured, "Please.  This will be a piece of cake."

Carlos at Wal-mart advised me against it, but I insisted bright green would be the best color for the walls of our living room.  So naive.  So naive.  The color is nauseating, and after two weeks of looking at the lime green walls, I was certain I would die of a headache.  I was also certain that I was not cut out for this wifely business.

Yesterday I decided it was time to paint the bedroom.  My color choice?  Burnt orange. 

Don't mind if I do!

I did learn from my living room experience... instead of paint all four walls, I just painted one.  That way the color wouldn't be too overpowering.

HA!  Who's learning how to be a good wife now?

Our room before.  (I made it messy on purpose, please, our bedroom NEVER looks like this!)

A touch of orange.  Looks better, right?  RIGHT?!

The bedroom view from the living room.  Don't burnt orange and lime green go GREAT together?

Oops

What is the best way to start a Monday morning?

Is it....

Waking up an hour late, and therefore showing up to work an hour late to see 40 students clammering outside your classroom begging to be let in while the Vice-principal loses her hair from stress, trying to control the students and wondering where in the world their teacher is?!?

No.  No it is not the best way to start a Monday morning.

The good news is I didn't get a speeding ticket.

And believe you me, I was speeding.

P.S.  As a side note... guess who made the newspaper today?  ME!  If you already read my Jazz post last week then it's nothing new for you.  Here's the link if you want to see it... and a few mean comments that people have been leaving too!  You can't win em all, I suppose...