Sunday, July 24, 2011

Adventures in being alive.

It's roughly 3:34 in the morning. I've been sitting at this computer since 11 p.m. I've come to understand that sleep is merely a casualty of war in the battle against worry.

I have an impeccable quality when it comes to worrying. It happens at the most convenient times, because, let's face it; when is it not convenient to worry?

It doesn't have to be about anything big either. No, just little things like, "If Mom shows up randomly at my house tomorrow, is it clean enough for her to come in and feel comfortable?" to things like "Is my pathetic little heart going to beat enough times while I sleep tonight so I will wake up in the morning?" Maybe that last one is a little less pathetic than the first, but I do the ranking here so what I say goes!

Just to be clear, my house is clean enough for my mom to drop in and feel comfortable.

Tonight's worries include the ones stated prior, but they span to this following week more-so. On Wednesday I'll be driving back to Mesa town alone. It's only two hours, but let me tell you, I can only sing Glee out loud to myself so many times! Jake has his externship in Winslow and work on Thursday so he gets to bow out of the Glee singing festivities.

Doctor's appointments are taking their toll on me. I think it's definitely more of a patience thing on my end than anything. At the last appointment I had quite the panic attack in the doctor's office when the specialist was an hour late getting in to our appointment. How crazy is that!? I knew he was busy, and I had two voices of reason (the Momma and Jake) trying to tell me to be patient, but I was not having any of their patience-ness! I'm a big pro at over reacting to things I have no control over at. all.

I'm to the point where I just want a pacemaker instead of all the yucky medicine I have. The kind that makes my skin crawl. The kind that kill my baby-baking eggs. The kind that make me stay away till 3:34 writing weird blogs that my neighbors will read and make fun of me for the next day (Please do, Karen!) But honestly. . . the meds that make my skin crawl makes my brain actually feel really great so I secretly loves them.

On another note, I was offered a stylist position just this evening before I even had my model in at Aveda in Flagstaff. That's so swell and made my day temporarily, but I would have to work on Sundays and I am in love with my primary class so I have to decline the position. After I thought about it for a while, Mombabe was right. It does kind of smell weird in there!

My primary class is the best. They love Harry Potter more than anything. I give them stuff when they ask me about Ron Weasley. None of them have seen the second part yet because they're only 11 tops and HP is pg-13. Aren't they such little role models? Little Rhett told me this last week though. "As soon as I turn 13 I'm going to call you and Brother Denham and we can watch all the Harry Potter movies and eat pizza." We also have time at the end of class because I'm still getting the hang of teaching them and we usually talk about building forts, eating doughnuts, watching TV, what is the best recess game, and what the Nephites really used to do when they were bored because "Nephites are older than the pioneers so they probably couldn't play the weird games pioneers played."

Seriously. Best. Class. Ever.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Our babies are naughty!

Earth, Wind and Fire and being so bad. Wind is just special, so she mostly stays out of it, but Fire keeps growling at Earth! They are like high school girls that all want the same boyfriend, but in their case it's actually only Timothy hay that they want. They've been cat fighting all week and jumping each other. I'm proud of little Windy for staying out of their sisterly drama, but dang dizzle ladies! We need to keep ourselves under control! They're scaring Daddy Denham and if you scare the pops, you can guarantee yourself a carrot and cucumber free week, and NO one wants that!

Earth tries to kamikaze out of her cage anytime I open it to feed that little punk.

And you have to love the weird faces Wind has perfected. Seriously. This is only half of her cool.

The end. They are so bad. I'm going to spank them. . . not really. They are much too fast to catch for spankings. For now I will just shake my finger at them and say "No!"

Saturday, July 9, 2011

The 1st and the 4th.

I love Canada . . . and I love America. And it's so convenient that my two favorite countries have celebrations in the same week.

Jake and I celebrated Canada Day early so that we could go to Show-Low for our annual firework vacation on the first, but Canada would have been proud. We were serenaded with the beautiful "O Canada" and then we got our poutine on with Stompin' Tom. It was superb. I love Canada. Oh Canada, my want-to-be home and native land, true patriot love in all thy sons command!!!!! With glowing hearts I see you rise the true north strong and free. I need to live in Canada. Hopefully future Dr. Denham will get accepted into a dental school there. . . that would be awesome!

After we had massive heart attacks from the cholesterol filled gravy-fries-squeaky cheese goodness and recovered from our food coma, we went to Show-Low. The fireworks were canceled around 7 so we went and played at the high school anyway. Around 8 we started heading home again and I fell into a love affair with Holbrook.

Just off the highway, literally, there were fireworks! We decided it was okay that we didn't get to see them in Show-Low because we saw lightning which is the truest firework ever, but then we got to Holbrook. I wish I would have taken a picture because I have NEVER seen anything like that. Imagine a city of cars pulled off the freeway at a random mountain view. . . that's what is was like only on steroids. I loved it and now I have a fading crush on Holbrook. Jake isn't pleased with this because apparently Holbrook is armpitty. . . but I'm okay with that.

Now, lastly, a story about Jacob. My hubs is adopted. It's a fact of life. When we first met he was rocking a goat-tee and he was super dark from just coming out of a summer vacation. Therefore, he looked semi-Hispanic. He always claims he is, but the longer I got to know him, the less Hispanic I could see. . . I talked many times with my mom. She thinks he's got Greek in him or something, but I am all about him being Indian. He looks like he's Arabian! Seriously. So on vacation we had an airsoft war and Jake needed facial protection because the wind was turning our back and belly shots into head shots. . . that being said, witness my Arabian husband. PS. He is totally Aladdin.