Who volunteers to follow me around with a camera?

Oh Memorial Day
How I Love Thee
Let Me Count the Ways...

Saturday morning Hubs and I headed down to Moab, the red rock city of Utah, where he was performing at the Moab Arts Festival.  Now, before you look at all these pictures, I think it might be about time in my blogging journey to give a little disclaimer.

My pictures suck compared to other bloggers' pictures. 

There you have it.  I've said it and I'm not ashamed of it.  There's a couple of reasons why my pics are no good, and since I know you're all at your desks wondering why, I will tell you.  But you owe me for this, YOU OWE ME.

#1: I straight up don't enjoy taking pictures.  At all.  I hate when I'm having such a great time, a picture perfect moment if you will, and I think "Oh, I have to take a picture of this."  Why can't I just enjoy the moment?  I hate getting other people to look at the camera, I hate asking strangers to take pictures for us, I hate organizing and uploading and editing pictures.
 
#2: The flash on my camera is broken.  My camera is also somewhat cheap.  The pics don't look that great.  You have to do a lot of fiddling and a lot of adjusting to get a picture to look somewhat decent on my camera.

#3:  Because of reason #2 and also because I have no picture taking skills in the world, my pictures rarely never look that good and then I'm just bugged.  Have you seen some bloggers' pictures?  They have the most beautiful pictures of them doing EVERYTHING... playing with their kids, pushing strollers, eating dinner.  A few weeks ago I read a post from a well known blogger who had bought fruit from a sidewalk stand.  On the post were several pictures of her examining the fruit, buying the fruit, carrying the fruit.  BUYING FRUIT FOR PETE'S SAKE!  All of the pictures were extremely well taken, with beautiful lighting, and vivid clarity.  What I want to know is this:  WHO THE HELL IS FOLLOWING HER AROUND TAKING PICTURES OF HER?  AND HOW DO I GET ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE?
(Sorry for the cuss word mom!  That's two days in a row I've cussed in my post.  I'll cut it out, I promise.)

And now, without further ado, a few crappily taken pictures of my weekend:

 I don't know about you, but I think he's about the gosh darn cutest girl there ever was. Just look at those flirty eyes!

I was sitting close to this red shirted man during Hubs' performance in Midsummer Night's Dream.  He was making this face throughout the entirety of the show.  Just absolutely delighted and pleased.  You can't ask for better audience members than that, can you?

It was Hubs' and my first camping trip together.  EVER!  This is the morning after... you can't beat a baseball cap when you know you look like crap. 

Hubs refused to be in the picture in the morning.  Some people don't have the confidence to show off their dirty faces and nasty clothes after 24 hours of being outdoors.  Lucky for me, I do.

This campsite took us over an hour to find.  When ten people try to find a campsite at 11pm on Saturday night on Memorial day weekend in the most popular camping town in Utah... well, they ain't gonna have a lot of luck.  I was about ready to kill someone, and we almost had to make the 3.5 hour trip to Provo right then and there, but then miracle of miracles, we found a spot.

Wondering why there's a ladder in the middle of our campsite? 
Aren't we all, aren't we all.

Other highlights of the weekend include a campfire that went late into the night with witty jokes and clever games, a quiet visit to my dad's grave with Hubs, barbeques with both sides of the family where we obliterated my nephew in a game of tetherball, watched a dog terrorize a baby, watched three kids terrorize a dog, and ate a lot of really yummy food. 

But, of course, there are no pictures of those things.  Because I was enjoying the moment too much, too lost in enjoyment and satisfaction to worry about snapping a picture of it all.  Because I didn't feel like getting up and looking for my camera, instead I felt like sitting back and feeling the sun on my cheeks.

IS THAT SUCH A CRIME?!?

Home... let me go home...

My home for 20 years.

I haven't been to my hometown of Price, Utah for almost a year.  My mom sold our house in Price and moved up to Provo less than a year after my dad's death.  When I visited home in the year after he died, it took me the entire 90 minute drive from Provo to Price to prepare myself mentally to be in my house, to be there without dad, to be "home" but not feel like it was still "home".

After my mom moved, it wasn't something I had to deal with anymore, and in a way I have mentally blocked out Price.  It's been two and a half years since my dad passed away, and while I don't totally understand the grieving process, I do understand that I am in some ways still going through it. 

This was evidenced this weekend when Hubs and I decided to take a camping trip down to Moab.  Going to Moab requires going through Price.  It wasn't until we were on the road that I started getting scared.  I realized I would have to go through Price, and that it could be difficult. 

And it was. 

Every street, every store, every landmark reminded me of my dad, of my family before he died, of my childhood, of what once was.  Passing through Price I described to Hubs, "that's the car wash where I hosed down my friends on the last day of school", "that's my elementary school", "that's my dad's old office building."  We even stopped at KFC for lunch and I remembered my 17th birthday, eating there with my parents and my little sister and how now it's just a joint that we stop at on our way home from camping.

Isn't it weird to revisit a place that held so much significance in your life?  To return to a place that was your home but that isn't any longer?  I felt the same way when I went back to visit Argentina two years after my mission.  To be on the same dirt roads, to go to the same little shops, to return to an earlier stage of life.  It makes me think of the place I am in now, and wonder if one day it will be weird for me to return, maybe with my kids in tow, to this apartment complex or to Copper Hills High and say "That's where your dad and I lived when we were first married" or "that's where I had my first real job."  It is crazy for me to think not only of the significance that people have in my life, but of places too.

On our way home from our camping extravaganza, I wanted to drive past my old house.  But I just couldn't bring myself to.  So we drove on through, on toward Provo, and I promised myself that next time I'll stop by the house.  I guess that I gain strength and work through my grief one step at a time.

And the next step?  Getting my damn feet taken care of.  These burning toes have got to go!

Men are from Mars...

You know the golden rule, right?  The whole "Treat others like you would like to be treated" thing...
Well I'll tell you right now, that when it comes to marriage, that is a straight up lie.
Hubs does NOT like to be treated like I do.  And I do NOT like to be treated like he does.  I was confused our first few months of marriage why he wasn't overjoyed when I would do things for HIM that would make ME completely happy.  What?  You're not totally stoked that I hung up cute curtains?  Why aren't you doing cartwheels because of the cool shirt I just bought you?  How did you not notice our new scented candle, ya jerk?!?!

It's taken a little while, but I think I've figured out a few of the areas where I should definitely not do to Hubs as I would have him do to me.

1.  I love myself a good tickle/ caress.  I like it when Hubs gently tickles my back, my arm, my leg.  Being the good wife I am, I figure, hey, if I like this then he's gotta like it to!  So I start tickling Hubs' arm, ever so gently.  His response is "Stop it- that tickles."  "What, you don't like it when I touch you ever so softly that you would think a ladybug was crawling all over you?  You must be CRAZY!" I defend myself. On the other hand, when I want a back massage, Hubs goes to town, pressing, chopping, pulling.  "Wow, a little softer can you?!?" I cry.  But he doesn't get it, he just keeps kneading and rubbing- exactly the way he would like it.

2. When I need to vent to Hubs, I like it when he just listens.  The other day I was going off complaining about school, carpool, early mornings, you know, the daily grind.  Hubs started immediately listing a bunch of solutions.  I was bugged.  "Hey Crazy boy!  Zip it!  I don't want you to FIX the problem, I just want you to LISTEN to the problem.  Don't you know anything!?!?"   In contrast, a few days ago we were cruising around in the car and Hubs was talking about a lot of the things that were stressing him out.  I listened just like I would want him to listen to me.  "Well, say something!  Don't just sit there and listen!  I want your advice!"  Hubs bursted. I was shocked.  He actually wanted me to reply?   I just thought he needed to vent.

3.  When we're having an argument I always assume the best thing I can do is get real close to Hubs and smother him with love and kisses and attention while we work it out.  It always makes me feel better to get lots of attention when I'm sad, so why wouldn't it help Hubs?  On the contrary, he prefers to be left alone, to mull it over, to have some space.  But when I'm upset and Hubs gives me space I'm completely offended.  HELLO!?!?  Doesn't he realize that I need to be coddled, loved, cared for?  I'm upset, is he blind?!?  Come to find out, Hubs always thought he was being polite by giving me space and time to myself.  And here I was, getting all hot and bothered by it.

Sometimes when I think about it I'm completely shocked that any two people have the audacity to think that they can get married and just merge two completely lives.  So many differences to work through, compromises to make, and lessons to learn from.  So... how about you?  How are you and your husband most different?  Anything you love that he just absolutely hates?

P.S.  Don't forget to sign up for this sweet giveaway that closes tomorrow.  The number of entries is low meaning you are most definitely going to win!

Can't get enough of Bon?  

Check out:

Five sneaky little foods you think are healthy but aren't

Death threats to the President

S@$% Bloggers Say. (And Quit Yer Cursing!)

I am over my case of the grumps.

Because I know you've been really concerned at all.
Snow cones, swimming pools, cuddling on the couch, and The Bachelorette will do that to you- all things that have filled my life in the past 24 hours.  Oh yah, and I got some free windex today.  SCORE!

Unfortunately for me I've got 120 short stories, 240 portfolios and 240 notebooks to grade before I peace out for Memorial Day weekend.  That's right.  You read correctly.  That's a lot of grading and it's time like these that I hate my job and I hate myself for trying to be a good teacher.

Repeat after me: I do not want to be an English teacher.  I do not want to be an English teacher.  I do not want to be an English teacher

ANYWAY... I've got to go.  Those portfolios don't grade themselves.  To entertain you while I'm gone I have found the second funniest girl on the world wide web.  I think we all know who the first funniest girl is.  Ellen Degeneres obviously.  Anyway, this Taylor chick and her website are pretty bomb.  She's sarcastic, witty, and snarky- everything I look for in a woman.  Visit her blog.  You ain't gonna regret it peeps.

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Hello Life of Bon readers!
My name is Taylor and I blog over at The Daily Tay
(original blog name, I know.)

 

I'm the one in the apron.
And in case you were wondering the answer is
Yes, I do often walk around the house in a polka dot apron with a martini in hand.
You should try it sometime.

I live in Chicago with that handsome fellow you see smoking the cigar
and our insanely needy dog, Harlow.
I like to eat at restaurants I can't afford,
go to happy hours when I probably shouldn't,
and spend too much time watching Saturday Night Live wishing it was me
performing the "Gilllly" skit.

Over at the Daily Tay I blog about all sorts of shenanigans like the fact I (like Bonnie) have intense road/parking rage and sometimes find myself leaving angry post-its on stranger's cars, the movement I'm trying to start called WWED (What Would Emily Do), and the book I just published called "A Bottle For You. A Bottle For Me."

It's a children's book that probably shouldn't be read to children.

Oh yeah, I also like to blog about blogging.
Like this one for instance:

S@*% Bloggers Say:

So how do I get more followers?
Html is like really complicated.
I'll google the code.
I need sponsors.
Do you think I have enough followers for sponsors yet?
Do you have a button?
You totally need a button.
Button swap?
I got over 1,000 views today!
I hardly got any views today.
Do you think if I leave a comment she'll follow me back?
Omg ____ just followed me! That's like a big deal!
Why didn't ____ follow me back? I don't get it.
I just really have to write a post tonight.
I have nothinggggg to write about.
For real, what should I write about?
My post was such a force today.
I have a feeling this post is going to get a lot of hits.
Blogging is actually a lot of work.
That's totally going on the blog.
I just really want to get more followers.
Should I pay someone to design my blog?
Have you noticed a lot of the popular bloggers are Mormon?
Maybe blogger Gods just like Mormons more. (Or maybe I just say this.)
Why won't this format right?
Why is the text being so weird?
Why won't this center?
It's like frozen.
I am going to freak out on blogger right now.
Blogging is actually pretty hard.
She has like so many followers.
Will you take a photo of me real quick?
Hold on, I need to get a photo for the blog.
Yeah, it's for the blog.
I just wish my blog was prettier.
Blogging is like my full time job.
I wish blogging was my full time job.
I'll just do a giveaway.
Did you sign up for her giveaway?
I really thought I was going to win that giveaway.
I just really wish blogging was like my job.
I got three new followers today! That's like a lot in blog world.
I need more followers.
I think I might write a book...
If you liked this, also check out S%*$ Bloggers Don't Say
Okay, that's it.
Thanks for reading,
and don't be afraid to stop by sometime!

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Check her out.  She's hot.  And she's funny.  And she has a polka dotted apron.  You ain't gonna find that anywhere else on the world wide web, believe me guys, I've looked.

P.S.  Don't forget to enter the giveaway before Saturday. Shhh... A little secret between you and me... not too many have entered yet so your chances of winning are good.  GOOD I TELL YOU!

The perfect cure for a no good rotten very bad day

Today was a BAD day!

BAD, you hear me?

My patience was short.  My mouth was quick.  My head was pounding.

When one student asked what he had to have in his portfolio, I about busted a cap, screaming at him to look at the board because it's been up there all year for crying out loud doesn't he have a clue in the world?!?!?  Even my favorite students were a-getting on my last nerve.  "Chris, shut your trap, why do you always think you can talk over me?" I burst out at my favorite redhead.  And you know I usually love those redheads.

I about dang near strangled my car pool buddy on the way home from school today when he brought up the gay marriage issue again.  We got in a heated debate about it last week, and so I've avoided the topic since then.  I prefer not to talk about it as we are both set in what we believe.  (My thoughts on gay marriage here)  Apparently the feelings aren't mutual cuz he wanted to talk.  Listen buddy, if I've got to be stuck in a car with you for an hour let's talk about flowers or rainbows or even math or grammar for all I care but NOT gay marriage because I need some peace and quiet after what those 17 year olds have put me through for the past eight hours so shut yer yapper!  (Run-on sentence award goes to.... ME!  Thank you, this is truly an honor.)

Oh heavens to Betsy, will I make it to June 1?!?!?

Lucky for me, I plan to spend my afternoon and evening taking a nap, snuggling with Hubs, watching the Bachelorette with my girlfriends, and reading a book until I fall asleep.  Think it'll cheer me up?  Because I tell you, I've got a SERIOUS case of the grumps!

Oh yah- there's one more thing that might- just might- cure this temporary fit of absolute grouchiness.
Elissa is giving away a beautiful print on my blog.  She's a ridiculously talented illustrator and nothing makes your day as awesome as winning something, am I right or am I right?

You can win the print of your choice during the giveaway.  I have the "All you need is love" print hanging in my living room.  It reminds me to loosen up every once in awhile.  And I'm madly in love with the Beatles, so that helps.  Whatever your style is, Elissa will have a print for you.  (How cute is the "I believe in Pink" for a little girl's nursery?)  The winner will get a print up to $25 bucks worth.

The rest of you losers are still in luck.  Wow, that came off so abrasive.  What I mean is those of you who don't win the giveaway.  You understand me, right?!?  Anyway... like we would leave you out in the dark on this one; you know we're gonna hook you up!  You can apply the code TAKE15 to your checkout at her shop and Voila! you've got yourself fifteen percent off.  Man, I really am awesome, aren't I?!?!

Giveaway closes on Saturday.  Here's how to enter:

MANDATORY:

Follow Life of Bon via GFC
Follow Elissa on facebook

EXTRA:
Look at Elissa's shop and leave me a comment telling me which print you would like
Follow Elissa's blog

Follow Elissa on twitter
Follow Life of Bon on twitter
Follow Life of Bon on bloglovin
Follow Life of Bon on facebook
Give me a foot massage

Just kidding about that last one.
But seriously.
That'll get you ten entries.

Leave me a comment for each way that you enter the drawing... it's a possible eight entries per person.  WOWZERS!

Now... for my second way to make this day a little better.  My birthday is coming up in June and to celebrate I am giving away limited  (very limited) sponsorships on the blog at half price.  Half price my friends!  That means 5 bones for a guest post and 200 x 250 ad, and 2 bones for a 200 x 200 ad.  WOWZERS!  Those spots are going to go quick so email me asap at lifeofbon@gmail.com to reserve your spot.  Check out this page for stats and more info.

And now, if you don't mind...  I'm outta here.  Here's hoping your day gets better.  Or was it my day that was sucky?  Whatever.  I can't remember at this point.  Time for chocolate peanut butter ice cream.

Peace.

Signs of the end

I have six more days of teaching.

Then it's summer.

Summer.
Summer.
Summer.

I am restless.  So are the kids.  And by kids I mean teenagers.  But they're still just little kids in my mind, oh how the young uns grow.

This morning, in the middle of silent reading time, a sophomore walked into my junior class with a strange blanket.  Now, I've definitely seen weirder things at the high school than a blanket on a warm spring morning so I just shrugged it off.  The student came right up to me and my desk and said, "Teacher, look" and well, by golly, what what you guess was under that blanket?  A SNAKE! 

YEP!

A big old honkin snake!

A couple of questions have likely risen to your mind at this point in your reading journey. 
Why did she think I of all people would want to see a snake? 
Don't know. 
Why did she bring a snake in a blanket to school? 
Don't know. 
Was I happy at the distraction and did I allow my entire class to get WAY off task? 
You bet your sweet bippy!

It's the type of thing that I would never allow happen in September or December or even March.  But May?  May 21 to be exact?  Yah, sure.  Why not?

Naturally, all the 17 year olds were impressed that I am ever so brave enough to hold a snake.

Another sign that school gets out in a mere week happened at 2:56.  School gets out at 2:25 and I am contracted to be at the school until 3:00.  Usually filling this time is no problem- I'm planning lessons, putting in roll, getting copies ready.  Busy with plans and teaching and homework for the future.  Not today.  I just stared at the clock and waited until it hit 3:00.  No motivation and no desire.  And don't even think about asking me to grade your paper because I'm not going to do it, you hear?!?!  

3:00 where are you?!?

Another sign that school's almost over?  When I get each day home I can think of only three things:

Volleyball

Tennis

Swimming

And snow cones.

So I guess that makes four.

Oh summer.  Why doest thou tease me so?

Hubs' comment:  Why do you ruin picture with those faces?
My answer:  I don't know.

What does your body do for you?

I spent much of my weekend curled up reading this book.

Most bloggers are familiar with Stephanie Nielsen and her story she was a popular "mommy blogger," constantly blogging about her children and her love for being a mother.  Suddenly her life changed in an instant when a plane crash left her near death with over 80% of her body burned.  She spent three months in a coma and then countless months after that trying to heal, trying to recover.

This book chronicles the entire experience.  I started and finished it this weekend.

Before

After

Both Saturday and Sunday I woke up earlier than normal.  I tossed and turned for a moment, and then decided to turn on the bedside lamp and read in the quietness of the morning- in those hours of stillness before the hussle and hecticness of the day begins.  Hubs lay curled up and peaceful beside me, and I pushed my body up close to his and read page after page.

While I was reading, I was so overcome with admiration for somebody who has endured so much, and gratitude for everything I have been given.  I thought of the trials we are all given and how we conquer them, how we become better or worse people because of them.

In her book, Stephanie speaks candidly of her most difficult moments, her feelings of hopelessness, her struggles, her pain.  And more pain.  And more pain.

She tells of having to wake up and learn where she was after three months in a coma.  Of having to here the awful news and then having to rehear it every time she woke up again.

She tells of her week of having her eyelids sewn shut and feeling so trapped- not only by the bandages that covered her body, but by her inability to see anything.

She tells of being constipated and not being able to do even the most basic of human functions.  She couldn't go to the bathroom by herself and instead passed her bowel movements in a diaper and had to have another adult wipe her clean.

She tells of her first day being home from the hospital and having her sister try to give her a shower.  After water soaked the sister's clothes and spilled all over the bathroom she just took her clothes off and showered with Stephanie- both of them bathing together.

She tells of trying to buy Christmas gifts online for her kids from a hospital bed- how proud she felt of herself for being able to make a purchase on the internet.

She tells of her kids being afraid to look at her, of her baby crying "mommy" for someone else- for the sister who took care of the baby for months while Stephanie was in the hospital.

At one point, Stephanie couldn't get into the tub and her sister couldn't lift her, so Stephanie's brother in law came in and lifted her naked body into the shower.

Stephanie talks about the difficulty of doing even the most basic physical movements- like raising an arm or pointing with her finger or taking a step.  She describes the fierce physical pain and her desire to just give up all together.  As incentive the doctors would say to her, "Pretend like you are getting spaghetti sauce down from the cupboard to make dinner for your family."  She talks about how she yearned to be able to do basic mom and wife duties- make dinner, fold laundry, and go grocery shopping.

I couldn't help but feel guilty as I thought of everything that I take advantage of every day.  Just yesterday I went grocery shopping, with my list in hand and my coupons in tow.  I complained in my head the entire forty five minutes I was in the store about how much I hate this chore.  I pushed the cart around without thinking once about my ability to do so.  I grabbed noodles and bread, beef and bacon, crackers and cheese and threw them casually into my cart.  I sifted through coupons, waited in line, thumbed through a magazine, slid my credit card, signed the receipt.  I loaded the groceries in the car, drove home, parked the car, carried the bags into my apartment, put the food away, scooped a bowl of ice cream.  My body did exactly what I told it to do when I told it to do.  I lifted heavy groceries, I pushed a cartful of food, I drove home- steering and braking and fiddling with the nobs on the radio.  And I had taken advantage of it all.  Not once had I thought about how grateful I should be for my ability to do so. Instead I was annoyed that they were out of otter pops, stressed at how much groceries cost, offended by the driver that cut me off.

I was so overcome with gratitude as I read all morning long.  I looked over at Hubs, lying so peacfully beside me, grinding his teeth in his sleep and dreaming of superheroes and dragons (And yes, he does dream about those things.)  I look at his arm curled up under his pillow- the perfection of it, its ability to move whenever he wills it to- even while sleeping.  I looked at his ears, his legs, his long torso, his toes, all body parts that do exactly what body parts are supposed to.  I looked at him and thought what an amazing thing a body is and how often we take advantage of it.  The spot in the bed was warm where he lay, so I cuddled up close and put my arms around him.  I stroked his back casually and then thought how even this was a gift- to be able to move my arm where I wanted it to, to cuddle up with him on a Sunday morning, to feel my forehead rest against his chin.

I suppose this is a resolve to be a little more thankful for the endless blessings I have been given.  To stop complaining about commuting to school and kids who don't turn in their homework and people who cut me off in traffic and waking up at 5:50 and power bills that are too high.  Instead, to be grateful for my healthy body, my intelligent mind, my family who loves me, my friends who laugh with me, and my Heavenly Father who has given it all to me.

Go read the book, will you?

Five ways to STAY in Love

This is a guest post I did a couple of weeks ago.  I was rereading it today and realized, Hey!  I actually had a lot of good old fashioned intelligence in that post, and yet I never shared it with my very own readers.  They need to learn from me!  They must partake of my wisdom! 

Hence.  Here is it is.  Partake.

Hi.  I'm Bonnie.  I am a marriage and family scholar and counselor so naturally, I know everything about marriage.

Oh, I'm sorry, did I say I'm a marriage scholar?  Because I'm not.  That was a lie. 

Oh, and did I say I am a family counselor?  Yah... I'm not that either. 

Actually, if you're going to start hounding me for the truth, I might as well fess up. I know nothing about marriage or family except for the fact that I am in a marriage and I'm in a family.  But that counts for something right?

You see, I've been married barely over a year, and we have hiccups in our marriage all the time.  Every day even.  Roadblocks, problems, trials, things we gotta work through together.  I don't know everything, that's for sure, but I guess I know one or two things that I could share with you.  Or even three.  Or maybe five.  Yah.  Let's go with five.

Five Ways to Fall Stay in Love

(Because it's easy to fall.

But how easy is to stay falling forever?)

This is me and my husby. Some call him Greg.  I call him whatever I want.
This picture is proof that I am actually in a relationship
and not just some bum living in a trash can telling you how to live your life.

1.  EAT TOGETHER.  I think we often undervalue the importance of meal times.  It's easy to let other things get in the way, and dinner becomes something that often falls by the wayside.  Greg and I make it a priority to eat dinner together as often as we can.  This means sitting down at the table to eat without the TV, computer, and cell phones.  It is our time to talk, to catch up, to joke, and just to communicate.  Without dinner together, I wonder if we would ever have time to just talk.

2.  PLAY TOGETHER.   I'm a huge supporter of couples having their own identities and their own hobbies within a relationship.  However, I also strongly believe that there needs to be at least one or two recreational activities that a couple greatly enjoys doing together.  Greg and I both love volleyball, and we have a group of friends who we play with often.  For some it's rock climbing, for some it's biking, heck, even if it's a favorite TV show that you enjoy watching together, as long as it is something you both enjoy and that you enjoy doing WITH EACHOTHER.

(Parents, siblings, aunts and uncles.  Please skip number three.  Also students.)

3.  SHOWER TOGETHER.  Ow-ow, it's about to get steamy in here!  There is a powerful physical bond between married couples and it shouldn't be ignored or forgotten.  It needs to be given time and effort, just like any other part of a relationship.  In the beginning it comes oh-so-easily, but as soon as life and job and babies come along it gets harder and harder.  Make it a priority and make time to connect physically.

4.  CRY TOGETHER.  Some of mine and Greg's closest and most sacred bonding moments have been over great sorrow, disappointment, or heartache.  I know that when I am upset I can go to my husband.  I don't have to keep it in.  I share with him my struggles, and he shares with me his.  When I didn't get the job I wanted, we shared it together.  When Greg stressed over a relationship with a friend, we both stressed.  Someone else carries the weight with you, and suddenly it becomes much less of a burden.  

5.  PRAY TOGETHER.  Marriage is going to be hard no matter what.  It was never supposed to be easy to merge two completely lifestyles.  Everybody needs help in their marriage and everybody needs divine inspiration and guidance.  Of all the ways to bond with my husband- physcially, emotionally, intelligently- I think my favorite is spiritually.   I love hearing Greg pray for me and for struggles I'm going through, to know that he cares enough to take it up with God.  It's an incredible experience to pray with my husband, to feel close to him and closer to a higher power that is guiding your marriage.  

For more complete and utter wisdom on the topic of marriage you might want to check out Lessons at the Gyno, When Kim gets Divorced, and How to Not Kill Each Other the First Year of Marriage.

Also, because I know you care, here you can read about how I was affected by my favorite basketball team getting swept in the first round of the playoffs.

Stolen cookie dough and a cute girl from L.A.

Guys.  I have Bad News.

TWO Bad News, actually. 

Bad News #1:  I lost my phone last night.  There are two options of where it could now be:  A) Buried in the seat of a car or B) In the possession of a young hoodlum who stole it from me at the tennis court.  Whichever the answer, I don't have it.  To be honest with you, I'm much more bothered by my reaction to not having my phone than I am by actually not having my phone. (Still with me, folks?  Try to keep up.)  I reach for it subconsciously every ten minutes, I  feel completely disconnected to the world, as if I it were my only tool for communication.  It's like I lost my right arm.  And I don't like it.  Don't like how much I rely on it.  Since when did I become so dependent on a little black box?!?


In any case, Hubs vowed he will find it today while I am off filling young brains with knowledge.  Wish him luck! (Also, have I mentioned that Hubs is now the new Master Painter in town?  More on that later!)

#2:  I got in trouble for stealing cookie dough yesterday.  I was swimming at an old apartment complex of mine, and I happen to know that they keep little balls of delicious cookie dough in the freezer of the lounge.  Naturally, I went into the little kitchen to kife a few.  I grabbed one, turned around, and was boldly accosted by a little woman with an upturned nose. 
"Can I help you?" 
I was so caught off guard that I could think of absolutely nothing to say but the truth.  "Uh... I'm just grabbing cookie dough." 
"That isn't for you." 
"Oh." 
"You need to leave." 
"Ok." 
Needless to say, I felt like a complete idiot.


Due to Bad News #1 and Bad News #2, I am in no condition to sit on this blog and entertain you with wit, whimsy, and wisdom.  Lucky for me, I got Jessica to do the trick for me.  A newcomer in the blogging world, she's an absolute doll and her blog will leave you feeling good all over.  So go pay her a visit and make all of our days a little better, will you?

 

Hello readers of Bonnie’s darling blog! I’m Jessica from “Living the LA Life.”

I’m a recently engaged gal (leap year to be exact) who likes blogging about her coming wedding, juicy sale rack finds, scouting out new places, and eating out in Los Angeles. I believe that by documenting my life, I've been able to capture the faces, places, and moments that make life worth living. I am extremely thankful for my many blessings and having this space to write my story. In the two past months I decided to expand my blog beyond just family and friends and have created remarkable relationships with people! The experience has been wholly rewarding and look forward to the future!

Here are a few little facts about me:
I'm ambidextrous and have recently moved past just writing with two hands and onto painting. I probably look like a crazed octopus but I find it fun and challenging.
I'm very traditional but would like to one day be remarried in Las Vegas by chubby Elvis. Packages start at $60 with titles like "Concert with The King" and "Can't Help Falling in Love"
Maybe in two or three years? :)
I sadly have never been able to successfully snap, whistle, or do a cartwheel.
I guess I'm doomed to a lifetime of clapping and somersaults.
I met my fiance at a college party, our first date was at Disneyland, we share a lovely cat daughter, and can't wait to tie the knot.
I'm just a normal girl with a love for life. I invite you to stop my little piece of cyberspace and say hello!


Told you she was cute.  I know my stuff, people.

When Sizzler rejects you. Twice.

Well, I'll tell you this much, it's a very humbling day when you call a ghetto steak restaurant for a job and they tell you no.  It's even more humbling when you had already worked at that ghetto steak restaurant for four years.  And even MORE humbling when you are a college grad and certified teacher and have no business working at a place like Sizz and are completely overqualified and they still say no.

But that's what happened.

Last year, after completing my first year of teaching, I figured I could use an extra couple hundred bucks a week.  Pick up a shift here and there at old Sizz and I'd be good as gold.  I'd worked there on and off throughout college, surely they'd be chomping at the bit to have me back.

Nope.  They said they were full.  Didn't need no more servers.

I shrugged it off.  Maintained my confidence.  Stood strong and proud and instead got a gig at the Old Spaghetti Factory which I would later grow to hate with all my heart, but that's another story for another day, isn't it?

Now, one year later, my summer is two weeks away and I've started wondering what I'm going to do with all that time off.  Naturally, I called up old Sizzler.  I mean they might have been totally full last year, but they'd make some arrangements to let me work there again temporarily.  Surely they'd be chomping at the bit to have me back this time around, right?
 
Nope.  They said they were full.  Didn't need no more servers.

And that's what is feels like to get rejected from a ghetto steak restaurant.  Twice.
Now you know.

Got any ideas for a summer gig for me?

It's a messed up world we live in.

Listen how jacked this is.

Two years ago I bought this pair of pants.

I received a lot of crap for it two years ago.
Alot.
My friends made fun of me relentlessly.
My roommate wondered why I would ever actually spend money on that.
The kids that I student taught thought I was wack.
My sister said, "I thought you were supposed to be the one in the family with fashion sense."

RUDE, AREN'T THEY?

Because of the endless flack (Yes, flack is a word.  An awesome word!) I caught for wearing these pants, I gave them up.  Folded them into a neat little square and stowed them away at the back of a rarely opened drawer.

A few weeks ago,  I found the old pair of pants, lovingly waiting for me to come back to them.  I tried them on.  They fit.  They looked good.  And just like that, pink pants were officially back in my life again.

I wore the pants to school the next day (causal Friday, of course!) and every seventeen year old girl in sight was raving at those hot pink pants.  "Oh, Teacher, you're so stylish!  Wow!  Love the pants!"  My best friend commented that she had been looking for a pair like that.  My own sister said she thought they looked good on me.  Hubs said I was looking oh-so-sexy.

And that's what's wrong with our world- the fact that two years ago I wore pink pants and was made fun of and that now I wear pink pants and am praised to the heavens for it.  It's just messed up, you know?  And in two more years, will I still be able to wear the pants?  WHO KNOWS ANYMORE?

Just make up your mind, you know?  Either hate the pink pants forever or love them forever but it makes me real mad, REAL MAD, I tell you when people go hating one thing and then loving it and then hating it again.  That's why I think fashion is just a big hoax and we should all just go naked every day.

Who's with me?!?!




P.S.  Winner of the Avon makeup giveaway is Sami who said "I think I need some new lipgloss.. so I can have luscious lips obvs ;)".  Sami, girl, email me at lifeofbon@gmail.com and we'll get those luscious lips on their way to you!

P.P.S. Spots for sponsoring Life of Bon in June are going fast!  It's $10 for a individual post and 200 x 250 ad for the month and $4 for a group post and a 200 x 200 ad.  Life of Bon is sponsoring three large blogs in June and participating in two giveaways, so it's a good time to get in on the sweet sponsoring action!  Email me at lifeofbon@gmail.com for questions or check out the sponsor page.

P.P.P.S.  I sluffed school today.  Please don't tell.

While the cat's away, the mice will play...

Hubs is been out of town the past five days.  He's been in L.A. doing comedy workshops and going to comedy shows and learning all things comedy.  I know what you're thinking.  However did Bonnie survive without him, right?

It was easy, my friends!

Without Hubs I....

Played tennis

Went to the pool.  Three times.

Played volleyball.

Went to a birthday party.

Won a game of Settlers of Cataan.

Ate a lot of junk food.

Let the dishes pile up all the way to the top.

Read a good book.

Slept in.

Celebrated Mother's Day with my mama.

Ate all of the sour watermelon without having to share any.

Went to a concert.

Watched my six month pregnant friend bump and grind her husband at a dance party.

Ate out at a pizzeria with three of my best friends.

Drove Hubs' car all weekend.

Went to girly crafty markets and scored free earrings.

Watched Kardashians and other trashy TV.

Got a pedicure.

Yes, yes, I think I survived.

That being said..... I'm pretty freaking stoked to see that boy in half an hour.

Oh Mama!

Love this picture of my mom.  It's on the Pakistan/India border with Indian soldiers.
She's showing them pictures of her family.
She could make friends with a wooden fence, I swear.

I knew my mom was something special the day I got my wisdom teeth taken out.  I was in college and lived 90 minutes away from my parents.  I decided not tell my parents that I was getting the old molars pulled.  I was striving for independence.  I wanted to be an adult and do adult like things- like getting teeth pulled- without the help of my parentals. 

The morning of the surgery I was having second thoughts.  I had never gone under with anesthesia and the little girl in me wanted my mama here during this scary moment.  I figured if I could at least talk to my mom, I would be okay.  I called her on the phone and when I told her that I was getting my wisdom teeth out in ten minutes she sounded so sad that she couldn't be there.  

When I came out of the surgery an hour later, my friend drove me home and propped me up on the couch where I quickly dozed off.  When I woke back up, my mom was at my apartment.  She had brought juice and soup and yogurt and gatorade.  She changed the bloody gauze in the back of my mouth and fluffed the pillow and got me the remote and asked if I needed more Loratab.  Just like that she had rearranged her day, driven through two canyons, and been there for me when I needed her.  And I hadn't even bothered to give her an hour's heads up.

That's when I knew my mom was something else.

Happy Mother's Day to all! 
Unless you're a father.  Today's not your day.

Breastfeeding, oh my!

Did you hear about the controversy over THIS?

Naturally the country is outraged. 

Up in arms, I dare say! 

This is profane! 

This is ludicrous! 

This is just gross!

How dare Time magazine show a three year old still suckling from his mom?

Upon seeing the cover, I didn't even realize there was anything "controversial" about it.  I had only two reactions:  #1:  What is all the fuss about? and  #2: I hope I look that good when I'm breastfeeding.

I suppose my lack of outrage at the cover can be blamed on Argentina.  Once you see breast feeding Argy style, nothing can shock you.  I still remember the first time I watched a woman feed her child, three days after arriving in the country.  There I was, nothing but an innocent 21 year old, trying to do good and help people make better decisions with their lives, and BANG!  BREAST!

We were in the middle of a lesson on the plan of salvation- you know, resurrection, returning to God, etc.  A child came up to his mom, pulled her shirt down and started to drink.  I absolutely could not take my eyes off of it.  I was riveted.  Transfixed.  Glued.  My companion went on with the lesson, as if this was routine as brushing your teeth in the morning, teaching, talking, testifying.  I just stared, open mouthed.  When the kid was done, he ran away, leaving the mom completely exposed.  She wasn't paying enough attention to what was going on to notice, and she sat there, bare breasted for the world to see for what seemed like hours.

There is no limit to the breastfeeding bananza down south.   Women in Argentina feed their children whenever their children want it.  There's no routine, no schedule.  It's like a water fountain.  The kid runs up for a quick drink, and then runs off to continue his playtime, like it ain't no thang.  And you can forget blankets or waiting rooms or trying in any way to be modest.  It is absolutely unheard of, just whip that thing out!

One time a lady pulled down her shirt for her six year old, who had just come home from school.  Another time I watched the bishop's wife stand up to bear testimony at the pulpit, in the middle of church, with a babe attached to her bosom.  Once I even saw a woman riding on the back of a motorcycle, holding one child in her lap while another held on through a scrumptious feeding.

I saw more breasts in those 18 months than I've seen clouds in the sky.  And when I came back to the states and my own flesh and blood sister left the room to breast feed, I was shocked.  What's the big idea?!? I wondered.  Just feed the young one right here in front of us all!

So, no, I guess you could say the cover did not shock me.

What did YOU think of it?

Time to Impress!

Today's a big day around here at Life of Bon.  I'm expecting a bunch of strangers to show up and I've got to impress them quick and convince them that they want to stick around!  You see, Katie, from Keep Calm and Carry On told all her buddies to come on over and say hi.  I'm not nervous about making a first impression, because I've already got the perfect plan to lure in these unsuspecting victims!

This'll convince them to stick around, don't you think?
And yes.  I'm asleep at Denny's.

Part #1 of plan:  Give them something!  How about lip gloss, bronzer, and bubble bath, oh my!  Anybody new around here better hop in on this giveaway action.  And don't worry, you don't have to visit every website this side of the mississipi to enter- just one :)

Part #2 of plan:  Make them think I'm really cool.

Here's where it gets a little tricky.
You see, I would like to have someone conduct an interview, but since Hubs is always the one who does my internet interviews and Hubs is out of town (Yes, I'm a lone woman in the garden of Eden for five days!) I've got no one to interview me.  Alas, I am just sitting here on my couch alone, wishing someone would...

I got it!

I'll make up questions and interview myself!  It's bound to be totally riveting!

Bonnie:  So, Bon, how does it feel to have your very own blog?

Bon:  Uh, it feels great, Bonnie.  It's really hard now days to get a blog and you've really got to be an expert to get one.  They don't just give these things away for free, you know.  So, the fact that blogger gave ME a blog, well, it makes me feel darn right special!

Bonnie:  You should feel special!  You're a great gal!  Now for the next question!  Everybody's been wondering how you get your toes to look so uber cute in those sandals.  Tell me, what is your trick?

Bon: I'm quite the expert on a lot of things and I answered this question in detail here.  But for the short and skinny of it (That's a saying, right?!?) I'll just tell you this one little trick.  When the paint starts to chip, I repaint them.  Easy, really!

Bonnie:  What is the maddest you've ever been in your life?

Bon:  That's a weird question.

Bonnie:  You don't feel comfortable answering it?

Bon:  No, I feel completely comfortable answering it.  It's just weird.  The maddest I've ever been in my life was YESTERDAY as a matter of fact when my sophomores told me they didn't know the difference between a noun and a verb.  They've got a huge state wide test coming up TOMORROW and here they are, telling me they practically don't even know what a sentence is!  I threw markers, pounded on the board and beat my chest like an ape to show my fury.  And they still just stared at me expressionless.

Bonnie:  Why do you have such expensive car insurance?

Bon:  Because I drive like an idiot.

Bonnie:  Define idiot please.

Bon:  I drive too fast, I don't pay attention to anything around me, I switch lanes every five seconds, and I run red lights on the daily.

Bonnie:  You sound proud of this.

Bon:  When you've spent as much money as I have on tickets it's the only thing that makes you feel better, ma'am.

Bonnie:  How do you keep organized with all those assignments you have to grade all the time?

Bon:  I pay students $20 to grade their own assignments.  They give themselves an A as well as make money doing it, so they're happy.  I don't have to grade their work, so I'm happy.  Plus, I think it's the most honest way of grading since it's not skewed by my bias toward the student.  Win/Win!

Bonnie:  Rumor on the street is this guy, Hubs, has quite the thing for you.  How'd you lure him in?

Bon:  Well, back in my single days I took an interest in him because he was a cute redhead and those can be few and far between!  To win him over, I threatened to hit him on the head with a hammer if he didn't come over to my apartment to play cards.  Naturally, he obliged.  Forget this flirting and looking cute and acting nice stuff.  If you want a guy, there's only way to go now.  Now, I have a question for you.  Can this interview be done?  I'm bored.

Bonnie:  You're rude.  But yes.

That's me in both pictures, BELIEVE IT OR NOT.
I change my hair color more often than most people change their underwear.
This is proof that the hammer strategy works.
Try it.

Alright, so I think part 2 of the plan went well.  At this point my guests should either love me or think I'm a psycho.  Can you say win/win?!?!

Part 3 of the plan...

Shoot.
I ain't go not part 3.

I do have THIS, though.  It's a little tour of the place, if people aren't quite sure yet if they want to stick around.  On the tour they'll find all they ever wanted to know about me pranking my students, Hubs babysitting a teddy bear, and why it's necessary to steal underwear to get ready for Valentine's Day!

That's bound to convince people to stay, don't you think?!?!

Give oh give, Give oh give!

I about lost it on a pack of 40 ravenous sophomores today.  I literally stamped my foot on the ground and told them they all needed to go back to fourth grade.

Not my finest moment.

But there's a HUGE test coming up on Thursday and they couldn't identify the verb in a sentence for me.  Then they claimed they didn't know what a noun was.  They just sat there, staring at me with glazed over eyes.

You understand my frustration, don't you?  Please.  Please!  Tell me it's okay to call a bunch of sixteen year olds fourth graders!

I am wondering if I'll be able to make it until summer.

Summer.
Summer.
Summer.

That gets me thinking.  With summer coming and all, we gotta get prepared around here. You know, prepared for sun, lazy days, pools, endless tan lines, and low maintenance looks.

What three things do you need for summer?

1. Light lip gloss
2. Light bronzer
3. Light eyeliner

Obviously. Every girl knows that. An easy, light look that says, "Hello! I'm ready for anything you throw at me, summer!" Oh gosh. I'm getting so excited just thinking about it.

You know what? I like the people that read this blog. And you read this blog. And because I do nice things for people that I like, I'm going to hook you up. Hook you up with the perfect summer look.  Annie is giving away a summer set- gloss, liner and bronzer- along with a bottle of bubble bath. BUBBLE BATH!!! Can life get any better? I submit that it cannot!

The makeup is absolutely perfect for summer. I simply cannot get enough of it. The bronzer is in beads, and I don't know about you, but any make up that comes in beads has already got my vote! The lip gloss is the perfect mix of color and gloss... a beautiful, light look for summer.

And the eyeliner. Oh the eyeliner. I will be wearing this stuff until the day I die. I have searched for ten years for an eyeliner that does the trick for me. I've tried liquid, lead, even eyeshadow disguised as eyeliner- nothing did what I wanted. It smudged, it didn't go on even, it made me look gothic.

Somehow Avon has had the perfect eyeliner all along, and I didn't even know about it. The liner goes on so smooth, not too thick not too thin, and it is the ideal bronze color for summer.

Whoever wins this giveaway is going to get the hook up and the ultimate look for our favorite season!

Ignore the fact that I look like a horse in these pictures and pay attention to the fact that
the make up is GORGEOUS!

Don't forget to stop on by Annie's Avon shop for a couple of pieces of summer make up necessities. It's surprisingly affordable and you'll be singing praises to my name forever!  And we all know I would love the world to sing praises to my name.
MANDATORY
Follow Life of Bon on GFC.
Visit Annie's shop and leave a comment, telling me which piece of makeup you most want.

ADDITIONAL ENTRIES
Follow thelifeofbon on twitter
Follow Life of Bon on bloglovin
Tell the world that I'm almost out of school and on my way to freedom!!!  Um.... I mean... tell them about this giveaway on Facebook. Or twitter. Or your blog. Whatevs. One entry for each.

***Make sure to leave one comment for each thing you did to enter the giveaway***

Giveaway closes Friday at midnight.

Good luck girlies!

Displaced

"We're moving you out of your room for today so that we can re-do your carpet!" Brady yelled to me when I came to high school today.  Brady's the head custodian.  He knows his shiz.  When the man says move, you move.

That was at 7 am.  7-7:50am I spent running around like a chicken with its head cut off, preparing copies, typing papers on someone else's computer, and moving junk to my replacement room.  I showed up for "class" ten minutes late. (Just like when I was a student!) "Class" was being held in the tech atrium, which is grossly misnamed because there is no tech equipment and it's not an atrium.  It's actually just a huge room that looks like a warehouse.

To add to the chaos of the morning, all of my classes are doing their state wide testing on Wednesday.  The tests are called CRTs and they are the devil's sister.  We prepare all year for the tests, and come May it is CRUCIAL that our students do well.  CRUCIAL, YOU HEAR ME?

Knowing all that, you can imagine that today was a very important day.  The last day before the big test.  Reviewing.  Questioning.  Testing.  A BIG DAY! 
And.  Well.  If you want to know the truth, I don't think a single student learned jack crap today.
I spent the majority of the morning running from the tech atrium upstairs to my classroom downstairs, getting books I needed, worksheets, markers for the whiteboard.  By about 11:30, I thought I finally had found my rhythm.  It was at this point that a very huffy and a very puffy counselor barged into the classroom tech atrium. 

"Teacher!  They said you were only going to be up here for first period!  We need this room for AP testing.  The AP test starts in 15 minutes!" This woman was on the verge of a nervous break down, you could just tell by looking at her.
"Um... so where do I go?"

"Just go in this room next door."

Seemed easy enough.  We opened the door.  The room was filled to the brim with tables, upside down desks and broken down computers.

"Hmm.... that's not going to work.  You'll just have to go to the library," she suggested.

"Isn't the library doing CRTs?"  This counselor thought she could pull a fast one on me, but I am smarter than I look, people.

"Uh... yah... they are.  But not for another half hour."

"But this class has 45 minutes left.  What do I do for the remaining 15 minutes?"

The counselor looked around.  I was asking the tough questions, my friends, and this lady was ill-fitted to answer them.

"I don't know."  And she left.

Translation:  Let them go 15 minutes early.  When they have the biggest test of the year the next day.  Sounds like a plan!

So, we relocated to the library for 30 minutes.  The hoodlums were released 15 minutes early, and I spent my prep period wandering around aimlessly because the carpet men wouldn't let me back in my room.  Finally I settled down here, at a computer in the library to try, if nothing else, to get some writing done.  Only problem is that the boy next to me keeps farting is having some gas issues.

It's not an easy life I live.

Now.  Could YOU pass the grammar portion of an 11th grade CRT?  See for yourself, you fools!
I don't think I did too ___________________ on that test. (Good/well)
How were you ________________ by September 11? (Affected/Effected)
What are the _____________________ of marijuana on the brain (Affects/Effects)
I don't think her pony tail ______________________ her high forehead. (Complements/Compliments)

Is the following sentence active or passive?  How would you write it the other way?
The bus driver was hurt yesterday.
The Declaration of Independence was written in 1776.
I heard what you said.
The class will be held in the tech atrium today.
Are the papers graded yet?

What's wrong with the following sentences?
I don't want students that are lazy.
Each student needs to get out their homework.
The team is so excited about their new uniforms.

A Good Hubs

I have a condition.

It's called:  Hot Feet.

At night, my feet are subjected to a cruel form of firey hell.  I cannot get those buggers to cool down for the life of me.  Every night  I have to sleep with my feet hanging outside the covers, and even then, the feet just keep on burning, burning, burning. I toss them around desperately, constantly moving from here to there, trying to find that one inch of coolness left on the sheets.  My firey feet leave no part of the bed untouched and when I wake up in the morning, my feet are bright crimson red.  I have to sprinkle water on them just for a little relief.

Hubs has long suggested I go see a podiatrist about my condition.  Podiatrist = Foot doctor.  While I know this is what I should do, I can't quite bring myself to go marching on in to someone else's podiatry office.  You see, my dad made his living practicing podiatry, and I spent four years helping in his office.  I suppose I am not quite ready to have "another podiatrist" in my life.  I don't understand it completely, I just know that is is painful for me to go to a podiatrist's office.  I almost feel like I'm replacing my pop, finding someone new.  And I just can't do it yet.

While Hubs definitely doesn't understand any of this, (Who does?!?!) he is sweet not to push the issue.  I know he silently thinks I'm a weirdo but he smiles and gives me kisses all the same.

The other night I was dozing in and out of sleep, but my burning feet prevented me from being able to really nod off for good.  I tossed.  I turned.  I searched in aimless futility for that cool spot on my sheets.

Then. I felt something cold.  Oh so cold.  So cold and so refreshing and so absolutely wonderful. 

It was Hubs. standing at the foot of my bed, rubbing my feet with a wet wash cloth. 

He didn't say anything, he just rubbed, covering every spot of my poor feet.  Then, when he was done, he rinsed the washcloth with fresh, cold water and wrapped my feet so I could sleep soundly with my heels and soles surrounded by beautiful coolness.

And that is how you know you've got a good Hubs.



Now tell me, what was the weirdest part of the story?  The fact that I need a wet towel to be able to sleepat night or the fact that my husband stands at the edge of the bed while I'm sleeping?