I'm obsessed with these.

I sit in my bed and watch for these.

It's hard for them to happen... when I'm the one driving...

Ready or Not

Here it comes.

Scared? Naw.

Terrified I think is the word.

should be a great semester though. I love school.

Let Me In

Sometimes... you're just related to really great people. This is... one of my favorite cousins. Listen. Enjoy. Purchase on Itunes.

Scrambled Eggs

There are these things I have, That everyone has really. Some people have more than others, Some people's are simple. I have alot. Mine are complex.

They're eggs.

I've had them for years (21years 7months and 28days actually). I don't seem to rotate through them, or get rid of any, but actually, add more to the collection. Every year there are more and more, and I find myself trying to figure out where to put them all. So I find random places to put them.

In bowls that were never meant to hold them.

On plates they sometimes roll off of.

Then the most extraordinarily wonderful peculiar thing happened...

I met someone with a basket.

Overly thrilled, Overly enthusiastic, and Overly eager, I gathered up all my eggs and threw them all in their basket... Agreeably too soon.

And of course, understandably, they became overwhelmed and dropped the basket. A few of my eggs cracked.

They didn't mean to, I know that.

We agreed though, maybe I should just add the eggs one by one.

So that's what I began doing. Softly placing eggs in the basket, one by one, and sneaking in an extra one from time to time.

They've occasionally handed me back an egg and said "not yet," to which they've always come back, found the egg, and placed it in the basket themselves.

I only have a few of them left now. They're just sitting there, and I'm just staring them. I know they're not ready for these eggs. Just like I'm not ready.

Will they be though? Will I be?

What if I give these eggs in the basket, these last few eggs, what if I put them in there, the basket becomes too heavy........ and they drop them? All of them. Again. Only...this time they wouldn't crack.

They'd break.

So. Completely out of fear of the basket being dropped again, I've begun to put the last of them back in bowls, on tables, and in drawers.

Trying to decide whether I'm supposed to give the eggs, placing them gently in the basket.

keep them to myself... keep them sitting.

...Or let them take the eggs themselves...

Drive me Crazy!

I'm a prideful driver.

I can fully admit it.

I'm prideful... because I'm good. I realize how serious cars are, but at the same time I'm not endangering everyone in my car because I'm too timid.

I'm also overly confident in my sense of direction, and I get upset when... I do in-fact know EXACTLY where I'm going and you don't listen to me while I'm sitting in the passenger seat. (Luckily... I'm dating someone who is patient with my false ego in directions, yet also trusts me when I say "I know what I'm talking about").

All this being said... I rarely tell anyone I think they're a bad driver. When... I usually do think people are bad drivers. I will rarely tell you HOW to drive, unless I begin to fear for my safety.

I just grew up with my mom being a really good, yet aggressive driver, and I picked up her driving habits. And I've come to accept, most drivers didn't have such great teacher.

So while I stand by my, I don't like telling people how to drive, I feel I need to make this public announcement, bring an important driving... issue(?)... to the forefront of peoples minds.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like today to speak to you of the blinker. I have two points to make.

Item number ONE.

One of my favorite jokes about drivers is, "Well... if you buy a used car in Utah, at least you know the blinker is brand new.".... This is funny when you're sitting around a kitchen table trading stupid jokes. But let me tell you... it's not funny on the free way. Or on any road where I'm going over 20 mph. Please. Take the two-three seconds to use the universal signal that informs people around you of your desire to change lanes.

Item number TWO.

My blinker is located roughly on the side of the back of my car. (see image)(Blinkers are located two in the back, right and left, as well as two in front, also, the right and left).

They call it a blinker, because it is a light that once turned on, flashes on and off. That is my non-verbal communitive of telling you (freeway drivers) that I would like to change lanes.

MY BLINKER IS NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH A YELLOW LIGHT!

Somewhere along the line we, as a society decided to ignore the "yellow means slow down." We in-fact, do the opposite, we speed up. We all are guilty of it. We as a whole. As a society collectively made that decision .

WE HAVE NOT COLLECTIVELY DECIDED TO TREAT BLINKERS THE SAME WAY.

so... stop it.

If someone turns their blinker on. Allow them the room to merge over. It's not a big deal that they want to play in your lane too. They'll most likely leave quicker than they came. Also... when they do come into your lane, don't throw your hands up and shout something like they can hear you. You just look dumb and makes them decide they don't like you. When... you're probably an okay person when not behind "the wheel."

..... That is all for this public service announcement...

Thank you and happy driving!

Not Quite One, Not Quite Two.

(Original Reading- August 5, 2010. Funeral for Angela Ivie)

I went on a hike today, And I couldn't find you, You weren't near, "Mom where are you?"

That's when I heard it, That simple reply, Somehow understood through my Hysterical cries.

I was in the woods, The last place you'd be. I forgot it wasn't you that loved the mountains, Silly- That was me.

You hated the outdoors, And anything with a camper, I can't get enough of that so... How are you my mother?

Your hair is stuck in the 80's, Mom you needed a straightener, The poof was never in- I'm not claiming you, mother.

I can't stand spending money, I'm sorta a penny pincher, We know that's not you, I'm not sure you're my mother.

Diet Coke and Diet Pepsi, Of that you're an avid drinker, I won't get near the stuff, Again, how are you my mother?

McDonalds is gross- Please eat healthier. It's cheap for a reason! Good gracious mother.

Our views on dating, Are less than matching, Somehow I'M the conservative one, You sure you're my mother?

We used to fight a lot, Sometimes still do, I'm right, you're wrong, Still wanna be my mother???

I've eaten the wrong thing, A little nauseous you could say, A weak stomach just like you, OK, maybe I'm your daughter.

Walking through the store, Jewelry, it sparkles and shine, That my friend, can not be passed- Most likely I'm you daughter.

Christmas time and 'Black Friday'- Has always been our favorite, No question on what to get each other, It's been exciting to be your daughter.

In a business setting, You're an outstanding worker, Maybe I got that too? I'm proud to be your daughter.

Living with the demons, That won't seem to leave, You've understood my tears, I need to be your daughter.

Your love to create music Matched mine to tell it's story, It's times like that, It makes sense I'm your daughter.

Walking by your casket- Glancing at your pretty hands, There lies your temple recommend... I'm honored to be your daughter.

I went on this hike- Just trying to find you, You weren't there, "Mom I need you."

I hiked back down, With big mascara tears, How am I going to make it, With out you through the years?

I got back home- In the mirror I saw more of you, Not just the usual me, Cause, now, we're not quite one, yet not quite two.

Maybe

Standing in surgery, nearing the 6th hour. No lunch and getting a little annoyed.

With dead conversation... this song came on. ....I wonder how many people saw the goofy smile through my mask...

Summma Tiime & the livins E.Z.

Shout out to the white nectarine. Favorite fruit of Summer 11'. Try one today! Sold at your local grocery store.