An Epic Win...

Guess who won an 18,000 dollar scholarship?


That's right...my cousin-in-law Jason.  


There were 39 other people in the running, but Jason got 34,000ish votes and was the big time winner.  


So thanks to everyone who took the time to vote...every little vote counted.  


For more info about the exciting news go here. 

Kid History I

Okay, so either I'm completely weird and/or bored or this video is pretty freaking hilarious.  I laughed out loud...by myself.  And, even if you don't find it as funny as I do, you've got to at least give these people 10 points for creativity and amazing video editing skills.  


As far as I know none of my readers are brain surgeons or the like, so I can say without reservation that this is most definitely worth six minutes of your time.  


Enjoy...




What was your favorite part?  I think mine is right around 5:04.  I couldn't stop laughing.  


Later, 
Becca

A Moral Question for my Readers

Dear Readers,

On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being cannibalism and 1 being picking your nose, how morally wrong would it be for a person to sell their free of charge Mormon Tabernacle Christmas Concert tickets to desperate David Archuleta fans for say, 200 dollars, on Craigslist?  

Just wondering.

Becca

A Spinster Posts on Parenting...

Even the best of parents make mistakes sometimes.  
Parents aren't always right.  

Some parents scar their child's self esteem early in life by buying Baby Bangs...

Other parents find creative uses for duct tape...

And some do interesting things to help their child enjoy a trip to the zoo.

Parents sometimes resort to sketchy means of transportation, like here...

and here.  

And, occasionally parents inadvertently encourage neo-Nazism,

or obese-ism.  

My parents always told me that I should accept any church calling I'm ever asked to do...and I'm not sure they were right about that.  

Obviously they have never been asked to work in the nursery.  

However, the jury is still out on whether or not I absolutely despise working in the nursery.  

Because one minute I'm like, "oh, these kids are darling, I've got to get me some of these."

And the next minute I want to move away ASAP and therefore passively get out of this calling forevermore.  

Anyway, today it was my turn to teach the "lesson."  They didn't hardly listen, at all...to my wonderful lesson on gratitude that I so thoughtfully prepared during Sacrament Meeting.  Little ingrates.  

But really, nursery isn't all that bad.  It's getting better really.  I might even start to like it someday.

Might.

Someday.

I think my main gripe really has less to do with the kids, the fact that I babysit for free for two hours every Sunday, the fact that I've ended up with snot on my dress two out of three weeks, the fact that I go to church but don't really get much out of church, or the fact that quite often the parents are more of a problem than the kids are...

and, more to do with how much nursery has limited my wardrobe.  

I already had troubles when it came to knowing what to wear to church.  My wardrobe was already severely limited.  

And when I accepted the calling I knew that I would have to eliminate all dry-clean-only clothes from my already limited wardrobe.  But I guess I didn't anticipate having to also eliminate: any outfits involving uncomfortable heels (or heels at all for that matter), anything delicate or hand washable because I would have to wash my skirts after every wear, any outfits involving jewelry of basically any sort, any skirts or dresses I can't kneel and sit in, and anything I don't want to get completely ruined.  

So, I vote that we approve leisure suits or sweat pants as appropriate Sunday attire for nursery leaders.  All in favor, say aye.  

But really, I kind of like just hanging out and playing with kids...especially the cute and well-behaved ones.  So I can't say that nursery is all bad.  

And, if I play my cards right and get my life figured out and get a full-time job and move somewhere with a Singles Ward, then I guess I'll be free of nursery forever.  

All I know is that if I'm ever asked to accept a calling with the word "scout" or "girls camp" or anything like unto, I'm ignoring my parents' advice and running away...running like the wind.  Because, everyone knows that parents aren't ALWAYS right.  

Life Lessons Learned While Living With My Grandma

Since I came back to the US of A at the end of August I've been staying with my cute little grandma.  

It's the longest I've stayed in one place for the past year...nearly two months! I'm starting to get a little stir crazy (even though I did go to California for one week of those two months) and I bet my grandma is getting sick of having me around, but for now (until I figure out what to do with the rest of my life), it's where I am, and I'm glad my grandma is nice enough to let me be here.  And, while I'm here, I might as well learn something.  

Here are a few of my life lessons learned while living with my grandma...

1) Wheel of Fortune is actually a pretty decent show.  I quite enjoy watching it and I love how super smart I feel when I know the correct answer before the contestants do.  Pat Sajak owes me thousands of dollars.  

2) If you donate to the Veterans of Foreign Wars, Paralyzed Veterans of America, Vietnam Veterans, Retired Veterans, the Special Olympics, Firefighters Association, Police Association, St. Jude Hospital, March of Dimes, Republican National Committee, Native American Association, etc. you will forever receive mail and phone calls from those charities asking for more.  I guess it's just the price you have to pay for being a kind and giving person.  

3) NEVER, under any circumstances buy videos from Feature Family Films.  If you do, they will call you for THE REST OF YOUR LIFE and will drive you absolutely crazy on the phone until you buy more.  My brother finally had to call them and tell them to "stop harassing the elderly" to get them off my grandma's back.  

4) Candy can actually get stale and hard.  This was a major eye-opener for me.  I truly had no idea this was even possible.  I grew up in a house where it never lasted long enough for us to know that this was even a possibility.  We'd hoard candy sometimes, but only until the next Fast Sunday or snowstorm when we could re-sell it to each other (and my to my dad) at exorbitant prices.  

5) Pies and cakes and other desserts can get dry or moldy.  I never would have imagined this.  But, with only me and my grandma around we've had cakes get dry and stale and an apple pie get moldy.  Growing up in my house, you never wanted to take too long of a nap on Sunday afternoons or you'd miss "Second Dessert."  You had to time your naps just right and not take too long of one, or the entire chocolate cake from Sunday dinner would be gone before you got to it.  Either that or you had to write your name in spit on the portion of the dessert that you wanted to stake a claim on before you went to take your Sunday nap or you might as well forget about getting another shot at dessert.  Our treats were always super fresh because they never lasted longer than a day.  

6) The fridge can seem to be empty and yet you can make a delicious meal out of practically nothing.  This has always amazed me about my grandma.  My mom can do it too.  You think there's nothing to eat and then all of a sudden they've whipped together a delicious meal.  I'd like to learn to do that someday.  

7) How to always have a delicious fresh pineapple.  Here's my grandma's secret.  After you buy a fresh pineapple, cut off the top, turn the pineapple upside down, and place on a plate (either in the fridge or on the counter depending on how quickly you want the pineapple to ripen).  Your pineapple will ripen evenly and all that sweetness that usually gets concentrated at the bottom of the pineapple and almost turns alcoholicish will instead sweeten the entire pineapple.  Trust me on this one.  The trick works every time.  I only recently learned why my grandma always has delicious fresh pineapple in her fridge and now I want to share that tip with the world (or at least with my blog leeches).  

8) Fox News isn't all that bad.  And, I think I secretly have a crush on Glen Beck (even though I think he's sort of crazy and he cries a lot).  

Oh, and my grandma wants to know if you (and everyone you know) voted for Jason.  Today is the last day to do it.  So, don't be a loser and forget.  

Later,

Becca

On the art of Ward Hopping...

Ward hopping is an art. 

One that, until recently, I excelled at.  

Here are the rules of ward hopping.  

1. Never go to the same ward more than three weeks in a row. 

Week 1: They either don't notice you or just consider you a visitor.

Week 2: They notice you but just think you are on an extended vacation from school, work, or whatever you do (people rarely know). 

Week 3:  They notice that you've been around a lot and start asking questions/put you on a list of people they need to get church records for, get a calling for, etc.  

2.  Avoid eye contact with any and all people in any sort of leadership position in the ward.  Eye contact can lead to direct contact and conversations.  Avoid this at all costs.  Also avoid close friends and spouses of said leaders.  

3. Leave church quickly at the end of the meetings.  Avoid lingering.  Especially anywhere near the Bishop's office.  Never exit from the main doors.

4. When people do ask you what you're up to and where you're living, etc., be vague and act really unsure about what you are doing with your life or how long you will be living in the area.  (This is usually easy for me as I usually am unsure about what I'm doing with my life, how long I'll be in one place, etc.)

5. And, come to church late.  Slip into the overflow section in the back.  (This is probably the easiest part of all for me...I excel at being late.)  Oh, and sitting in the overflow is especially wonderful if they haven't yet opened up the section with those accordion door things (I don't know what they're called) and nobody else is in the section because this gives you extra time to get in that one last shot of hairspray to fix your bangs or to finish applying your makeup.  Also, if you grabbed some candy for "breakfast" on your way out the door this is an excellent time to eat your snacks before they open up the overflow. (Not that I have done those things or anything...)

So all year I was going along just fine...hopping between the Spanish branch, my home ward, my grandma's ward a time or two, a couple of trips to SLC, and broken up by large intervals of time when I was out of the country.  

Those long lapses of traveling time is really what threw people off of my path...in Idaho for a few weeks, out of the country for a month or two, back in town, and then gone again.  I could hardly keep track of myself, so I doubt anyone else could either.  

And, it was great.  Mostly because I could get away with the fact that I only have two or three spring/summer and two or three fall/winter church outfits that I like and that like me (aka: fit me).  And, by ward hopping you never have to worry about that.  All you need is three outfits.  Because then you rotate to the next ward and nobody knows that you just wore those same three outfits in your last ward, and then you're back again to the first ward and it's been long enough that nobody remembers what you wore (unless you wore something really weird).  

But, then I broke rule #1, which may well be the most important rule of all.  Because, if you disappear after three weeks then the whole cycle starts over again and you're safe, but if you chance it and go that fourth week you're just asking for trouble.  

And, I knew I was in the danger zone when I went to my home ward that fourth week in a row.  But for some reason I broke the rule anyway.  I guess I just wanted to feel the exhilaration of living life on the edge, of taking a chance.  

And, as I sat in Sunday School that 4th week in a row, one of the ward clerks or secretary guys or whatever you call them comes in right before the meeting started and said, "Can you meet with a member of the Bishopric right after church?"

My sister-in-law looks over at me and makes a face that seems to say "busted."

'Dang,' I thought.  And "okay, sure" I said.  

So I meet with the Bishopric member and he asks me if they can call me to be a "Primary Helper," which I understood to mean that I would just be an on call primary teacher for when someone needed a substitute or would just do crowd control during Sharing Time or whatever.  

So, after explaining to the Bishopric guy that I: 1)didn't actually live in the ward boundaries, 2)wasn't sure how long I'd be staying in the area, 3)knew nothing about children, and 4)go out of town a lot and am known to leave the country for months at a time, I agreed to the gig.  

Then, just this past week I get a call from the Primary President and she asks me if I can be a "Nursery Helper" for the rest of the year.  So, after explaining the above four point disclaimer to her, and thinking 'Oh h&!! what have I gotten myself into?,' I agreed to this more specific gig.

People who know me are probably thinking, "Why did you say 'oh h&!!' when you found out you'd be working in the nursery?...I thought you loved kids." 

And I do love kids.  But if there is one age of kids that's pretty much my least favorite age of kids to deal with it's 1.5 year-olds to 3 year-olds.  Because: 1)many of them are at that age when they only like their moms (and maybe their dads) and if you aren't their mom or dad and you even look at them or dare talk to them they will cry, 2) they have started to talk but since I don't speak "kid talk" I have no idea what they're saying so there's lots of miscommunication, and 3) it's the potty training age (need I say more?)

But, I agreed to the gig and decided I'd better buck up and deal with it.  Besides, 'I'm only a "Nursery Helper," how bad can it be?' I thought. 'And, it's only through December.  I can endure to the end (of the year).'

So, Saturday afternoon I call the lady whose helper I am to ask her if there's anything I need to do for or bring to nursery on Sunday.  

"Nope," she said, "just show up."

So, I showed up.  

Only problem was that she didn't.  

So, I walk into a room with eight of these...

waiting for me. 


And, I was totally unprepared.


I had:
1)no snacks
2)no key to the toy cupboard
3)no lesson plan
4)no clue what to do with eight screaming children for two hours


And then the music lady came in and said that they were short staffed or whatever and that she wouldn't be able to come and do music time.  Ahhhhhhhhh! 


I'm sure the parents of said screaming children could see the look of sheer terror/incompetence on my face.  They probably wondered if they dared leave  their children with such a person.  A couple of them didn't.  Thank heavens!


And, looking back, that was the moment when I should have run.  Right when I walked into that room and realized that the Nursery Leader was not there and saw all the chaos...I should have pretended that I had turned into the wrong room and hightailed it out of there.  I think I could have gotten away with it.  It was my first week after all.   


Anyway, to make a long story short, we found the key to the toys, one of the moms ran home for some snacks, and two of the moms stayed with me and helped me with the "lesson" and crowd control.  


And, since there were zero major injuries (one kid did punch another kid in the face) and zero escapes, I'm counting the day as a success even though everything else was pretty much a disaster.  


Oh, and I learned that two year-olds don't respond well when you don't know their first names and you just call them "Sister Peterson."  


"Sister Peterson, are you done eating your Fruit Loops?" 


"Sister Peterson, fold your arms."  


"Time to pick up the toys Sister Peterson."


You don't get much of a response. 


And, when you write "Sister Peterson" on her picture of Jesus that she's coloring for her dad, she'll get mad and will scribble it out.  


Busted.  


I guess I'll have to learn their names.  I'd better ask their parents though.  I can't understand a word of what those kids say.  


Well, I guess it serves me right.  I'm the one who wanted that dang Get Out of Jail Free card.  This wasn't what I had in mind though. 


Oh, and just in case there are blog leeches from my ward who have children in the nursery in my ward (and I'm pretty sure there are), I don't think all the children in that nursery are hellions.  Actually a few of them are extremely adorable, and sweet, and fun, and are not snot nosed bawl babies.  I won't name any names though.  I'll just let you think it's your kid I'm talking about when I say that a few of them were absolutely adorable.  It's more fun that way.  




Next week is Stake Conference.  


Hallelujah!  Praise be.  


Boy am I glad I'm not the Octomom.  Poor, stupid, lady.  

Traveling Domestic

The last week in September I hopped a super cheap Allegiant flight to California.  I flew from Idaho Falls to LA, rented a car, drove to San Luis Obispo and spent the night there.  Then the next morning I headed up the 101, making a short stop to visit my long lost high school friend and blog reader, Kirsten.  

We played soccer together for Rigby High School.  We sucked.  

Anyway, it was fun to catch up and visit and for me to learn all about Kirsten's place of residence, Greenfield, CA, which may as well be called Campo Verde, California because it is pretty much a little piece of Mexico, right in California...in fact 90ish% of its population is Hispanic.  

The electronic marquee at the school where Kirsten's kid attends is in Spanish...only in Spanish as far as I could tell.  I didn't want to stick around too long though to see if it would change to English...snapping photos while sitting in a rental car outside an elementary school might be seen as freaky.  I just don't know if "Yo soy un blogger...les prometo!" would be a good enough explanation for why I was taking pictures of the school marquee.  So, I moved on quickly.  

It seems that only Hispanics dare/care to run for office.  

Anyway, Greenfield was an interesting little podunk town to visit and it was fun to see Kirsten after all these years.  

Then I headed up to Palo Alto, stopping at the outlet mall in Gilroy to try to find some new clothes... particularly church clothes.  But, I was unsuccessful and all I left with was messed up, staticy hair.  Sad.

I got to Palo Alto Friday night and met up with my friend, travel buddy, and former mission companion Katie.  (She's the one I traveled in England, Turkey, Norway, and Switzerland with this past Spring.)   

We grabbed some dinner at a nice little Italian place that was supposed to have amazing ñoquis, but they ran out before we got any.  Dang.  Ñoquis are my favorite.  

The next morning Katie and I, as well as Katie's friend Danielle, who I got to know and travel with a bit while she and Katie were working in London, all headed to San Fransisco for the day.  

We had breakfast/brunch/lunch at Mama's.  It was delicious.  

Then we just toured San Fran.  

A view

A gorgeous view of the Golden Gate Bridge.  I've always wondered why it isn't golden though.  That would have been a nice touch.  

P.S., did you know that the Golden Gate Bridge is the world's number one suicide spot?  Weird/sad, huh?  

The weather was gorgeous...actually quite hot for the end of September.  There wasn't a bit of fog covering our view.  

Me, Danielle, Katie, and a really annoyed girl (because she had to wait for 10 seconds while we snapped a picture) at the super crooked part of Lombard Street, a typical tourist stop.  

Katie and I after we took a sweaty hike up to a viewpoint of the bay.  The view was worth the sweat.  

Me

We three

Anyway, Katie, Danielle, and I hung out all day in San Fransisco but for some reason I didn't take many more pictures.  Maybe I felt too sweaty and gross.  I can't remember.  

Sunday Katie and I took a long and winding road up into the Santa Cruz mountains where her ward was holding church since they'd had a ward camp-out that weekend.  I doubt that is really legit per the Church Handbook of Instructions, but whatever, who am I to say.  Besides, having church in the middle of a Redwood grove is pretty spectacular, except for those hard wooden benches.  I lost all power to concentrate on anything other than my tail-bone after about one hour.  Too bad I didn't have a doughnut pillow with me. 

After church, Katie and I went over to Danielle's house where we all cooked a delicious dinner together.  

Then Katie and I went to the rebroadcast of the Relief Society General Broadcast.  I'll be honest.  I usually try and avoid going to that meeting.  I like to screen the talks myself from the privacy of my own home and just read or listen to the ones that I want to.  I know.  I'm a brat.  I just have a low tolerance for exclamation points and bragging about perfect children. 

But, it was actually quite good this year.  I'm not saying I'm going to make going a habit, but I will admit there were some very good talks.  

Monday morning I headed to the Stanford mall for several hours of shopping.  I figured I'd have better luck in California then in Idaho to find some decent clothes, but I still didn't have too much luck.  More messed up, staticy hair.  

I just hate shopping for clothes.  I hope we have uniforms in heaven because I just don't think any place where you have to go shopping for clothes could be considered heaven.  But, I also feel that heaven won't be heaven for me unless it is dog free and I know that lots of people feel the opposite and I'm not sure how they're going to work all that out.  Maybe there will be dog and non-dog sections...like smoking or non-smoking tables.  I'm really hoping we can all come to a consensus on the uniform thing though.  But not ugly ones like MoTab outfits or anything.  

Anyway, after I'd had as much of the mall as I could take I drove over to Half Moon Bay and began my journey down Highway 1.  

For some weird reason I've always wanted to drive all of Highway 1, or all of the whole coast of the Western United States if I had the chance.  

I guess it's just something I heard about and decided I would do at some point in life. So, I decided that now was as good a time as any to get started on it.  

That first day I drove from Half Moon Bay to Monterey, where I stayed for the night.  I was just driving and driving and driving to get to Monterey and I was so hungry but kept passing places thinking that something more delicious would come along but finally when I got to Seaside (which is basically part of Monterey) I was so hungry that I made a desperate choice and went to Taco Bell, which isn't one of my first choices.  

Well, to make a long story short, Taco Bell became Taco Hell, as I spent the rest of the night ralphing up my taco.  Yup, food poisoning.  

How is it that I have eaten street food, salads, and strawberries in Africa, Central and South America, as well as the sketchy parts of Europe and Asia and have always come out okay, but one little taco from Seaside, CA could wipe me out?  Seriously.  

Anyway, the next morning I walked around Monterey a bit and then got on the road and headed down Highway 1.  

The views were gorgeous.  It was so hot that it was almost a little hazy but it was really pretty.  

Another view.

More Highway 1 scenery.  

I stopped by Hearst Castle.  It was pretty stinking awesome.  I thought I wouldn't be too impressed because I've seen some pretty cool castles in my day, but this one was just so interesting because it was so over the top and crazy and had artwork and even whole rooms from all over the world.  And William Randolph Hearst, the builder of Hearst Castle, was a little bit crazy...and slightly crazy people fascinate me.  

Here's a view of Hearst Castle which overlooks the ocean.  

I think the pools were my favorite...great views, Roman or Greek or whatever ruins, marble statues from Italy...just completely over the top.  

The indoor pool was super cool too.  I just didn't get a very good picture of it.  William Randolph Hearst originally had plans for the indoor pool to be salt water and have sharks and crocodiles and other scary things swimming on the other side of a glass partition from the humans.  That gave me the creeps because I used to have nightmares of swimming in a pool like that.  

I drove pretty much all the way down highway 1 to LA where I flew back to good old ID.  The picture above is Morro Bay.  


Anyway, it was a good trip.  It was nice to see some of California besides LA/San Diego or the very north near the Oregon border, which are the only parts of California I'd been to before this trip.  And, I really liked Northern California and the Central California Coast...it's definitely better than Southern California, in my humble opinion.