Write about ME?!

I made a "profile" on mormon.org today. The idea is to showcase typical Mormons and show how they are just typical people. I looked at a few before making mine and they were pretty neat. I have friends who have made them before and their's always seem nice.

I didn't have a problem with the "why I'm a Mormon" part or the "how I live my faith" part. Oh, no. Those parts were easy.

I had to write a whole paragraph on ME.

Yes, I love a lot of things. I am passionate about so much. But I can't just write about ME. Do you know how hard that is?

Rants, thoughts, observations . . . I got this. But simply talk about me? Yikes.

I did it with some help from my seester. I said something about how I write and mentioned Harry Potter and Disney. I think it sounds kind of silly.

But maybe that's what people will relate to. Maybe they'll go "She's ridiculous! So am I!"

Riiiiiiiiight.

Well, it's not a dating site, so maybe they can forgive my ridiculousness. 

I'm a Mormon. I live it. I love it.

See my profile here. 

Adventure is Out There! 1 Week

In exactly 1 week I will fly away from the Great Northwest. I won't be back for 18 months. It will be a new record for me.

And going from Portland to Atlanta . . . now that will be drastic.

But I'm going to embrace it. All of it.

I hope to come back saying "ya'll" in a perfect southern accent.

Now, try to follow as I jump from thought to thought. Warning: this will be random.

I'll miss Harry Potter memes. I spam my friends Facebook feeds with them. I like to think they appreciate it and enjoy it and that they'll miss it while I'm FB free in GA. But, the truth is, probably no one will even notice.

I'm trying to be okay with that.

I'll miss cooking up all the random recipes I've discovered via Pinterest. 

I'll miss Murry scratching at my door. And Murry's circle dance. And him sleeping on my bed. And his cute little tail wagging when I walk in the room. And his goofy smile when I get home. And our afternoon walks. And our morning ones. And evening. 

Can you tell I love my dog?

Shows I'll miss watching/discussing: Psych and Downton. 

I'll miss watching Phineas and Ferb and Pretty Little Liars.

I don't mind too much about missing out on movies except for the new Oz and The Host. And they both come out the month I leave too. UGH.

There aren't any books I was specifically looking forward too, so that's good.

Mostly I'm excited to go. It will be an adventure. And I do like adventures.

Adventure is out there!

I'll miss roller coasters.

Downton Abbey. Need I Say More?

Matthew Crawley.

Right in the feels, huh?

I am not a media crier. I have never shed real tears while reading or watching anything. I do tear up every once in a while, but it has to be good to make that happen.

Let's just say Downton has been that good a few times.

First Sybil. Poor innocent, independent Sybil. I adored her. She was brave and spunky. Maybe I see some of myself in her. Yeah, probably. If I lived in the 20's I would totally root for pants.

But then they killed Matthew. MATTHEW. He is the glue that holds Downton together! He made himself a part of the family when they were hesitant about him being the heir. He was the first to accept Tom, he supports Edith with her writing, he loves Mary regardless of her spiteful nature.

And now he's dead.

When Matthew was lying there, I freaked. I could not believe that he was dead. The author in me was saying,

It's dumb to have him be dead. It's too similar to the Sybil story line of "have a baby, then kill off a parent." 

No, the author in me was convinced he was alive.

But the reasonable part of me was saying, 

His head is bleeding, his eyes are vacantly staring. He's gone.

No. No, no, no, no.

I told my mom she had to write me a letter on my mission when Downton started up again just to tell me if he really was dead. I needed at least that much closure before not seeing these beloved characters for 18 months.

But then my internet-savvy sister showed me this interview, and The Oregonian started printing reviews and interviews too. 

The writers aren't cruel people after all. Dan Stevens (he plays Matthew) is done. He didn't want to renew his contract with Downton. 

Okay. Fine. I can accept that he has a right to his life. I guess. 

But I'm going to miss Matthew so, SO much. I love him. 

But I can accept characters dying when it's because the actors were through. Apparently that's why Sybil died too. And also O'Brien is out. 

But I'm fine with that last one.

Sigh. I love these characters. I have a friend who I discuss Downton with (I call him my "Downton Friend") via FB. He is a sneaky mom and watched season 3 before it aired in the U.S. I feel like because of this he has a broader and better perspective and I sort of take his thoughts on Downton as truths. But we were both sad over Matthew's tragic death. 

At least I had someone to rant and mourn with. 

And my FB friends know me so well. This showed up on my wall:

And of course I posted it on Downton Friend's wall.

Basically I love Downton. It is a fantastic show. I'll miss it while I'm in Georgia.



Also I love crossovers. Enjoy Downton's version of 1D's What Makes You Beautiful:

Flabbergasted.

The Wristband Fiasco: A Tale of Tragedy, Frustration, Despair, Worry, Stress, Persistence, and Victory

Yesterday, I decided to vacuum my bathroom floor. It's tile, yes, but I used the hose extensions for the vacuum. Basically I hate sweeping, and this was easier.

After vacuuming the floor, I decided to run the hose across the bathroom counter too. Get all the stray hair and loose make-up powder, right? Seemed like a good idea at the time.

Never. Again.

I was being careful, avoiding the things that could get sucked up, but apparently I wasn't careful enough because WHOOSH there went my white plastic wristband. The one I got in my BYU ward for indexing 100 names. The one I was so very, very proud of. And since I was using the hose, I couldn't get to the vacuum fast enough to turn it off before it chopped up and gobbled my wristband. 

And then the vacuum started smelling bad. I flicked it off and took the hose off. And what was I greeted with? Gooey blue plastic-y gunk. I tried to wipe if off, but instead it just spread around. YUCK.

So, in times of distress, what does any 21 year old default to?

Call the parents! Quick!

Dad said to clean it up as best I could then try running the vacuum again. If it still smelled bad, stop and leave it alone.

Ok, Dad!

But first, I had to lament the loss of my wristband. So this was my Facebook status:

that stinky moment when the vacuum eats up your awesome Indexing wristband. UGH. that's what I get for trying to clean the house.

Then I reapplied the typical vacuum attachment, turned it on, and pushed the vacuum forward . . . and back. And ended up with a fine vacuum and . . . 

a blue streak of goop on the tan carpet.

WHAT?

There had been a spot of the gunk on the carpet that I had not seen. When I ran the vacuum over it and then back, the vacuum smeared it in one big old long streak. Yaaaaay. 

Remember how I said it just spread around, didn't wipe up? Yup. And now I had a good 4 feet of the stuff on the carpet.

Part of me was thrilled Mom was out of town. Maybe I could get it cleaned up before she got home?

Well, my attempts seemed fruitless. I got the Zout fabric stain-remover, nothing. Dog Pee Cleaner, nothing. 409, baking soda, hairspray, nail polish remover . . . Nothing really worked. It just got messier. And I ended up with this FB status:

white makes blue....???? yeah, does NOT make sense.

Seriously. I am still at a loss for how my WHITE wristband created this BLUE mess.

And then this FB post after a couple more hours of spraying, wiping, rubbing, and breathing in chemicals:

it's still blue. this is gonna make the best blog post ever. sheesh.

But then (thank you Google!) I read to get wax off your carpet you (ready for this?) iron it. 

Well, it was worth a shot. I had tried everything else.

I put a paper towel (good thing we had a lot) on the blue mess of the carpet and started ironing. Literally sat there for two hours. It seemed to be slowly, very slowly, making a difference. 

And after another hour of ironing it today, I ended up with this carpet:

Success!!!!! Somehow, a combination of Zout, 409, baking soda, hairspray, dog pee remover, nail polish remover, and heat took my carpet from blue to tan again. It took off my nail polish and stained my fingers blue in the process, but that is a price worth paying for getting the carpet back to normal. And all before Mom gets home, too.

I think this gives me all rights to being called an adult now.

But I'm still baffled over the white wristband creates blue mess conundrum. If anyone figures that one out, please let me know.

You may all call me Carpet Master.

And I don't think I'll use the vacuum hose on a bathroom counter, or any counter for that matter, ever again.

Sometimes I Can Bake: Creamsicle Cake

I made a Creamsicle Cake. Seriously. It is cake that tastes like a creamsicle. It was so delicious. And pretty easy too, so here's how ya do it:

What you need:
1 box yellow cake mix + oil and eggs (amount on the box)
2 boxes orange gelatin (Jello)
1 box vanilla pudding mix
1 cup milk (I used 1%)
2 eggs
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 tub whipped topping

1. Bake the yellow cake as directed on the box. Let it cool completely.

2. Mix 1 box of orange gelatin as if you were going to make jello: pour gelatin powder in 1 cup boiling water until dissolved, then add 1 cup cold water.

3. Poke holes in the cooled cake (I used a toothpick) and pour jello liquid on top. It will pool on the sides, don't fret, it'll work out just fine. 

4. Cover the cake with plastic wrap and put in the fridge for 4 hours (more won't hurt it). This lets the jello soak into the cake. 

5. Mix the pudding mix (mix only!), milk, vanilla, and the last box of orange gelatin (gelatin powder only!) in a bowl. Whisk it all up.

6. Gently add all the whipped topping to the liquid from step 6. Don't stir, just fold the liquid over the whipped topping until you have it nicely mixed, but still a whipped topping consistency. I used a spoon.

7. Frost the cake with the whipped topping mixture.

Store leftovers in the fridge.

I love this cake! I did steps 1-4 in the later morning and finished the cake up right before dinner. It wasn't hard, and it really does taste like a creamsicle. Tastes good leftover, too.

I guess I can bake!

Marriage on the Brain Part 2: Pinterest is Where It's At

I'm pretty sure that at least one of my friend's relationship status gets changed to "Engaged to..." at least once a week.

Not even lying.

Just over Christmas break, I went to 2 - TWO! - wedding receptions. And those were just the ones in my good old home town. I was invited to...around 3 more I think. Taking place in Georgia and Utah. That's 5 friends who have now tied the knot. Except the Georgia couple. I adore both of them, so that's 2 friends in one go. 

And in the last 2 weeks, there have been 3 more engagements. 

I'm running out of room for all my wedding announcements.

And my Pinterest account? Well, let's just say "goodbye memes, hello dresses!"

My friends are all planning. My Pinterest is flooded full of flowers, invitations, cakes, dresses, rings, bridesmaids, suits, shoes, venues, ribbons, veils, skirts, tulle...

Wedding Chaos.

And then there's me. And I see these ideas and some I'm like, "oh cute" and some get a "meh" but then there's a few where I'm like "I gotta do this!!!" So now I've got a wedding board on Pinterest too.

But one day I'll be glad I have this online idea catalog. Because it's starting to collect some AWESOME ideas...

Marriage on the Brain Part 1: 21 is Old

Me, just doing my thing, being the coolest babysitter ever for three boys.

Ages: 3, 5, 10

We were playing basketball (see? I'm so cool!) but paused for a brief meltdown and snack. 

Meltdown: 3 year old over his lack of points.

Snack: 10 year old (now referred to as T) to kill the time during the meltdown.

Well, T goes to open one of those snack-bags of Goldfish (good choice, T, good choice), but the bag pretty much EXPLODES and orange fish go flying. 

I, of course, bust up laughing.

The younger boys stop to look at the strewn Goldfish (stop genocide now!) and also look at their turned-crazy babysitter. And I just keep laughing. T looks slightly upset, slightly amused, then bends down to start gathering those poor crackers.

I walk over to join him. As we're scooping up fish with the little guys "supervising", T asks me one of my most-hated questions:

"How old are you?"

I respond the way I usually do when kids ask me this (horrible) question, "How old do you think I am?"

"19."

Well, that was better than 16 or 17, which I can still easily pass for. "Nope."

T glances at me, goes back to the fish clean-up. "20," said with confidence.

At least he's headed in the right direction. "Nope."

"18????" Guessed in utter confusion and disbelief.

"NO!" Seriously? Yuck.

"Higher?"

Whew. "Yes."

"21?!?!?!" Big eyes, shocked expression.

"Yuuup." I figured he was surprised since most people think I look so young. Remember how I can pass for a high schooler? But no, T then says the worst thing he possibly could:

"AND YOU'RE NOT MARRIED?!?!?!"

Thanks, T, thanks. I'm so glad to know that the 10 year olds of my world think I am an Old Maid at the ripe age of 21. 

I'll just go back to my cat and knitting now. Maybe I'll watch some Glee later, gotta live on the edge, ya know.