Fix You

I no longer will live in the City.
I am going home.
Home is:
 Where I can watch FRIENDS with Dad on Saturday nights.
Where I bring Mom lunch @ 11:15
Where I can drive to Krystal's house in 5 minutes not 45.
Where I can now actually go see Ruth sing @ an open mic-night
Where my "Big Girl" bed is in the basement making the need for a noisy window cooler obsolete.
Where I can going walking with out needing 3 keys, a cell phone and my wallet.

The City was great. It was Fun.
But I am glad to go home.
It feels right :)
Like this song feels right.

Now for the big question?
Change the Blog name?
and to what?

Empty Nest: Party of 1

My parent are MIA.
I drove down to Orem and they are no where to be found.
After calling them each 25 million times, I was on the brink of leaving very nasty "WHERE THE HECK ARE YOU???" phone messages when I remembered that it might have been mentiond that tonight Dad is fishing and Mom is at back to school night...hmm. I will give them until 9 PM.
Then nasty yet loving messages will be given.
Please send these two empty nesters home if you see them.
And remind them that Chicken Strips and Ranch are always a great " I am not dead/ glad you are home" Dinner :)

Potty Mouth

Sometimes I worry about humanity......
Like when at the City Library a mom brings her little girl into the the bathroom and says " Does your Hunchy need to go pee pee?"
Hunchy????

Why do parents nickname private parts??? And why must we even ask if specific parts need to pee?
Can't we just say " Hey Kid! Need to go?"
Then again... today I asked Penny if she needed to use the restroom and she promptly answer that she didn't want to take a nap yet.

Dear Readers

Dear Olympics,
Please come back with your good looking athletes, dreamy shots of London and  magical power to instantly lift my mood. I miss checking divers for a "vertical entry", figuring out how many laps 1500 meters is and holding my breath while girls do triple flipper spinny tricks on narrow pieces of gym equipment. How am I suppose to survive the next four years?

Dear Smith Cookies,
I crave you! I need you! Yet I am unwilling to pay $4 for a dozen of you. So I simply revisited the sample box 10-20 times with in five minutes. Poor college kids have no shame.

Dear People Who Make Jane Austen Movies,
I would like to request a new version of EMMA. Gweneth Paltrow is NOT a good choice. Also where might I find a Mr. Dracy?

Dear FYI,
One week every month I have a greater urge then normal to watch every cheesy sappy romantic comedy/drama DVD I can get my hands on. Also I find random, slightly annoying, actors in these films to be quite good looking. This monthly week is Ashton Kutcher ( A Lot Like Love) and Andrew Garfield ( Social Network/ Spiderman).

I do belive in Faries.

It's that magical TGIF morning where you get up at 6 for no good reason. I still have a sleep hangover going on, so I can't do anything productive like shower, read or go pee. I can however lay in bed with my laptop and scroll through facebook.
 BTW did you know there is apparently a Student Loan Fairy? I just so happened to be checking through my student loan history from last year and it magically says that I have "Paid to Date" every bit of my loan except 7 dollars.... Once my sleep hangover clears up I may be able to be rational and realize that since I have yet to pay anything back on my loan, it is most likely not all "Paid to Date" except for 7 dollars becuase stuff like that only happens to blonde people in movies.

Captivating

I rented Sense and Sensibility from the City Library yesterday. I got the one with Alan Rickman playing Captain Brandon..... at age 50. Now Alan Rickman looks nothing like 50 in this movie but the fact is this man IS 50! My normal "Ick "factor however did not last long and I was captivated by the movie. I always feel the need to talk like a Jane Austen character after I watch these sorts of films. I was so captivated by this stimulating presentation that I went on the indulge myself in a midnight viewing of Pride and Prejudice. I think I may just watch these two captivating films over and over until I die with happiness.
Just Remember Keep Calm, Avoid Willoughbys, and Find your Mr. Darcy or Captain Brandon. Whatever floats your boat!

It's a Goal.

Dear Trax Conductors,
You must magically know that 4-6pm in the great city is so busy and crowded that a person could die and no one would notice. They would simply be shoved along in the great stampied of jaywalkers, screaming babies and pissed off people. Thank you for holding the train up while I waited for the mythical walking sign. You must of been able to see the desperation on  my face as I considered bolting into traffic to make the train. I must have momentarily lost the few rational brain cells that would have reminded me that a new train comes every 15 minutes so bolting into traffic was not a top priority. It was however very kind of you to wait and if I knew your name and number I would send you a box of cookies or maybe a bouquet of newly sharpen pencils or maybe a copy of You've Got Mail so that you could fully appreciate the newly sharpen pencils.

Poop.

Poop.
Poop is a big part of my job.
It is a awfully good thing that babies are cute.
Today was a blow out day.
Sicky orange poop all over.
I used around 100 wipes.
But to no avail.
Poop got everywhere.
Ben was even so kind as to wipe it on my arm.
My father is shuddereing as he reads this.
He hates baby poop.

After work I managed to make it to the City Library to pick up summer camp books on butterflies.
Every thing was nice and dandy until I relaized I had four minutes to check out and race to my car before the Libaray would then charge me 1.50 to be parked in their garage.
Everything would have been find and dandy still except that I decided the best way to hurry the old elevator doors was to push on them was the opened.
There I was with half open doors, in sight of the ticket machine and I was stuck....
10 minutes later a kind sir let me out and I payed my stupid 1.50.

I will now read Cheaper by the Dozen, eat yogurt bites thata re ment for babies and try not to be bitter about the second bag of bites I could have had if I had never pushe don those stupid doors.

Maybe they give their Families Back

Nothing is better then a weekend at home with my parents.
We tend to do hardly anything that would be considered "exciting" to the outside world.
We Simply hangout.
We watch Olympics, Stay in out PJs until noon on Sundays and talk for hours.
My Dad and I are quite big talkers.
(If it was Olympic sport I would be sitting in London right now having tea with Kate and William)
My mom is the listener who nods and say says " Yes....Sure... How Fun....Really?" as we chatter on like chipmunks.
See this post is nothing close to excting.
All I can say is I hope everyone else has a place to call "Home" like I do. A place where you can wear PJs and have frizzy hiar while eating Peanut Butter balls and watching the Olmpics. Simply a place where oyu are loved, teased and blessed.