Random tidbits from the last few days

Thursday (like every 3rd Thursday of the month) I got to go do baptisms for the dead at the Oakland temple with my ward. The names I was given were from Chile, Denmark, Italy, Korea, England, Michigan, and probably a few other places I can’t remember. The Korean names had Korean characters followed by the name spelled out after. It was neat. I’d never seen that before. I was glad I wasn’t the one having to pronounce those names.

Earlier on Thursday I was filling my gas tank at Safeway. I put in my home phone number so I could get the 3 cent discount since my Dad has a Safeway membership card and as I was hitting enter I noticed a 6 in there. I must have mis-entered my number, there aren’t any 6’s in it so I was anticipating an “invalid phone number” message to flash on the screen, but instead it said “Kim Tweedy, your discount today is 3 cents a gallon” and I proceeded to fill my tank.

Yesterday was Lauren’s birthday and for the first time in a couple years I got to yell her birthday poem at her in person rather than over the phone. I wrote this poem for her when she was 8 and this was the 6th time I got to read it to her. At one point I yell her age as loud as I can. It’s fun. It’s a very childish, rhyme-y sort of poem; I just change the age as she gets older. I plan to yell it at her every year until I die. She’s going to love it when she’s 48 and I’m 60 screaming her age at her through a Dr. Seussish sounding poem.

And just for Danny, here’s a picture of Lauren taken about 5 minutes ago eating left over birthday cake. Notice her beautiful hair straightened with her new hair straightener from mom and dad.



I finally saw “Where the Wild Things Are” last night. My 2 friends and I ended up having our own private showing which was nice. I’d much rather wait for empty theaters than see something opening night. I didn’t know what to think right after it was over. It wasn’t exactly enjoyable to watch for me. I’ve decided that I’m glad I saw it, and it was definitely worth watching at least once, and if it’s going to be once it might as well have been in the theater (especially since we had it all to ourselves), but it will take a special kind of mood to want to see it again- and I’m not sure if I will.

Pictures for Danny

My bruddah Danny says “more pictures, less talking”. Usually I save pictures for facebook and words for my blog, but seeing as how my camera has been recently resurrected I’ll post a few of my favorite pictures that I found on it (most of them are from a trip to the Oakland Zoo just before Christmas last year). Maybe from here on out I’ll try to find a picture to go along with new posts, but for now these are for you, Danny. Hope you love them.










my favorites


Fudge in it's premortal state. This was soon turned into Christmas deliciousness

Daisies in April

‘Tis the season for weddings and engagements. Spring romances are being concluded by significant knot tying before the return to school and serious summer courtships are heading to a happily ever after beginning this fall to last for time and all eternity. With all these new engagements, bridal showers, weddings, and receptions happening around me, even though I have no reason to, it’s difficult to not think about my own happily ever after...beginning with a beautiful day in April full of daisies and sunshine, for I have come to the conclusion that April is the ideal month to be married in for reasons that nobody would guess aside from the fact that it’s spring time and the world is in a happy state of new blooms and bright colors and the world seems to naturally fall in love with and around this time.

Growing up I never spent more than 2 seconds contemplating my future wedding other than knowing that someday I’d be married. When I was 18 I was listening to my cousin describe the colors and her plans for her dream wedding and looking over some sketches she had of what she’d like her wedding dress and bridesmaid dresses to be like. My aunt asked me what I had planned for my wedding. I told her that until then I hadn’t really thought about it. “What? No, every girl thinks about and plans her future wedding”. Dang it, I was failing at being a girl. I hadn’t a clue as to what colors I wanted, what my dress should be like, what food to serve, what kind of cake I should have, and who my bridesmaids would be or even what kind of ring I would like, which seemed so important for a girl to know.

The more I hear about what my friends, family, and acquaintances go through to prepare for a reception the more and more I don’t want to have a reception at all. The whole thing seems over done and commercialized and overshadows the meaningful part of the day. It makes me wonder how one can enjoy that special day or be able to focus on the important aspects of the event with all the hullabaloo of the reception to worry about not only that day but for weeks and weeks prior. It turns out I don’t have a choice in the matter of to party or not to party and that I’m going to have a reception whether I want one or not. I told my mom that was fine. We could do something really simple. I suggested a “drive through” reception. Guests could enter one end of the church parking lot and drive by the groom and myself. We’ll swap wedding favors for gifts and maybe send a piece of cake and punch through the window as well, exchanging thank you’s and congratulations all within 20 seconds before they drive off out of the other end of the parking lot allowing the next car the honors of speaking to us briefly through the car window. We joked about tossing cake through rolled down windows as they drove by and waving as they passed.

I don’t know why, but my mom thought this was a horrible idea. I still think it’s a brilliant plan, but I guess she’s right that it wouldn’t be very nice for guests who might have had to drive a bit to get there just to see me. So next I suggested cookies and water in an undecorated bare cultural hall- much like “break the fast” in the Antioch 5th ward: multiple fold-out tables and metal seats, but no decor. Functional and easy. No mess, no hassle, just a spot for people to congregate to congratulate me and have a cookie. What else do you need? My dad loved this economically priced reception plan. Guess who didn’t? Darn it mom, just let me have my stress free, cheap yet tacky reception! If I have no hope of getting away with my dream of a drive by reception or the cookies and water plan there are a few things I do know that I do or don’t want at my reception.

Over the past 7 years I have attended multiple wedding receptions and bridal showers and have taken note on things I loved, things I didn’t love so much, but most of all, things I found to be pointlessly silly.

For example, I know for sure I’m not going to throw my bouquet for all the single girls to attempt to catch. I hate that part of receptions. I have never (willingly) participated in this event at any reception I have ever gone to. I think it’s stupid and I can’t imagine myself flinging a bouquet behind me to a group of girls to catch to determine which of them will be married next. I fail to see the point of it other than every other wedding party has done it since the beginning of weddings. Similarly there will be no garter tossing at my reception either.

Another thing that is traditionally done that I cannot understand is the couple cutting the cake and smashing it into each other’s faces- or even feeding it nicely to each other. What is this for? Pictures? A show for the guests? This is dumb. Someone else can cut the cake for me. I will eat it though- off of my plate with my own fork along with everyone else.

One pet peeve of mine at receptions is when you can’t even see the person you’re talking to because it’s so dark. I guess it’s supposed to be a more romantic atmosphere the darker it is. The first reception I went to as an adult had all the lights turned off except for white Christmas lights. I didn’t like it. I decided then at 18 years old I’d have all the lights on at my reception. My mom agrees that lighting is important but seems to think that I won’t need ALL the lights on if we bring in rented light post things. I assured her I DO need all the lights on. The end. Unless of course it’s outside during the day.

I’m not going to have dancing. Nope. Not a first dance, or a daddy/ bride, mother/groom dance or any kind of funky chicken.

I’m not going to have bridesmaids. I figure my sister can wear a special dress if she wants to, and if my future husband has sisters that want to wear a special dress they can, but I’m leaving it at immediate family and what they wear and if they want to is up to them.

I don’t want a receiving line either. Myself and the groom and maybe our parents can greet guests in an informal way in some designated location for the very beginning of the reception, but I don’t want people waiting in line to say hi to me and I’m not going to make our families/wedding party all stand and make our guests file in and shake hands and speak with people they probably don’t even know before they finally get to me. I once went through a line where I had to make small talk with over 10 bridesmaids and groomsmen I didn’t know before I finally got to my friend to give her a hug and congratulations (and then there was over 10 people on the other side of her). It was painful for me. It was painful for those in the line who had to do the same thing with a bajillion other guests and since the receiving line was so long, the line of guests waiting to shake all of their hands went out the cultural hall doors down the hallway and I felt like I was at Disneyland waiting in line for Dumbo’s flight.

There are a lot of silly and stupid things involved with getting married. I might not be able to escape a reception, but I might have more luck at avoiding a bridal shower. I’ve been to 1 bridal shower that was very nice and that I actually enjoyed. It was unlike any other bridal shower I had ever been to and I found myself pleasantly surprised at how nice they can be. Other than that, there was only 1 other bridal shower that I tolerated fairly well (because it was at my house and I was hosting it along with my mom and therefore, silliness and awkward moments were kept to a minimum). I find bridal showers to be awkward, full of weird games, and another occasion people have to spend money on a gift for you- usually indecent sleep wear given in the hopes that it makes you blush.

I was talking with my mom about wedding dresses and what they can do in the temple to alter the dress to be temple appropriate if it isn’t long sleeved or have a high enough neckline. She told me some girls wear a temple dress to be sealed in, and then their elaborate, pretty wedding gown to the reception. I don’t get it. If it’s your wedding dress, you should get married in it. It seems like a waste to wear it just to the reception- and how is that special? It’s no longer a wedding dress, but a reception dress that appears to be a wedding dress.

When I started thinking about wedding dresses and the nightmare of shopping for one I came to the conclusion that I didn’t need one. I hate shopping. I hate trying on clothes. Such hassle. I know it’s going to be nearly impossible to find a dress that I really like. When I thought about what wedding dresses are and their purpose, they seemed to me just one more pointlessly silly thing associated with marriage and weddings. And veils are just comical. They’re a bunch of tulle stuck on your head that has no purpose. Traditionally maybe it does in other church’s ceremonies, but it has no meaning for me and seems to be a waste of fabric. I am sure I would feel stupid wearing a veil as a part of my “reception attire”. It’s just not me. I started considering wearing a temple dress for my sealing and then just wearing church clothes to the reception. I wonder if I could get away with that. I wouldn’t be wearing a big pretty wedding dress for myself. It would be for everyone else to see me in and that’s not me either. I don’t need a beautiful elaborate white dress just because everybody else does.

My mom agrees with me about the veil thing, she didn’t have one. It turns out she didn’t throw her bouquet or cut the cake or dance at her reception either, but she thinks I’m weird for not wanting a wedding dress. Again, she vetoed my decision there and says I should at least go and try a few on when the time comes to see how certain styles look on me so maybe we could get ideas and make one if we can’t find a decent one that I like. Boooooo.

Maybe when I get engaged I’ll change my mind and be silly too, right there with the rest of them. I’ll have to re-read my thoughts here and realize how retarded I’m being and elope and thwart all my mom’s plans of a simple yet elegant reception and free myself from wasting hours trying on white dresses just so I can have a picture of myself in it for one day and show it off at a party.

Pointlessly silly. Usually I’m a fan of pointlessly silly, but not so much in certain cases. No bouquet toss, no receiving line, no dancing, no cake cutting or smashing it into faces, no darkness, and no elaborate wedding dress and...no fun? We’ll see. I’m still dreaming of that “drive through” reception. I’m going to see what I can do to pull that one off. That's a pointlessly silly I can live with.

A message to my sisters

I’m going to have to change the name of my blog to Katie’s blog about something (instead of nothing). Once again, I don’t find the following post to be pointless- and for that I apologize. Sunday was ward conference. I was supposed to give a 5 minute message in Relief Society. Since I was not in town that day, I wrote my message during the week before and my 1st counselor read it for me. I wrote this message specifically to my sisters in the 5th ward, but I think there are parts of it that every one can take something from.

My dear sisters,

I am sorry I’m not here to share this message with you in person. I hope that the same spirit I feel as I’m writing this to you will be conveyed through the reading of this letter and be present as you hear it. Actually, I’m rather grateful to have Rachel read this instead of my delivering it in person, because it will save me the embarrassment of crying in front of you.

Usually when I’m asked to teach a lesson, give a talk, or share a message without a topic being assigned one of two things happen: Either I know what I need to say right away and it’s the easiest talk/lesson/message ever written or, I think of a topic right away, but then think that’s not what I’m supposed to go with, struggle to find what I think it is I’m supposed to share, write and rewrite the lesson or talk only to return to the original topic I had thought of first. This time lucky for me there was no struggling and is one of those times where the message practically writes itself.

If there is one thing I would want for us to know at this time, it is that we are loved. I know we know this. It is such a simple truth and a truth that has been taught to us since we were sunbeams: “I am a child of God, and He has sent me here...”, but it is a truth that seems to be easily forgotten, and every once in a while we need a little reminder. The knowledge that God loves us is not just a comforting idea in our heads to be repeated as a “Sunday school answer”- it is a comforting feeling. It amazes me how much love our Heavenly Father has for each and every one of us as individuals and as a group of sisters in the Antioch 5th ward. My desire for us is that we are able to not only know in our heads that we are loved, but to be able to feel of it.

Growing up, I had always known God loved me. Primary made sure I knew. I knew it in my head and could repeat it whenever I was asked. When I was in Young Women’s we had a lesson about God’s love for us and how we were of worth. We were encouraged to ask our Heavenly Father during our next personal prayer if he loved us. I thought this was a stupid assignment. I’m not fond of people telling me what I should be praying about, especially in my personal prayers. I already knew God loved me, everybody knows that. During my prayers that evening, despite my dislike of being told what to do, I found myself sincerely asking my Heavenly Father if he loved me. The feeling that overcame me before I could even finish formulating my question was surprising. My answer wasn’t just a confirmation in my head of what I already knew was true like I expected or the normal “this is right and good” feeling, but an overwhelming feeling I was sent of how much I was cared for and loved- that God loved me was no longer just an abstract idea in my mind that I could repeat in Sunday school. I wasn’t expecting that feeling. I wasn’t expecting any feeling, at least not a feeling as strong and sure as that one was. It brought tears to my eyes as my understanding of what I meant to my Heavenly Father hit me. It left such an impression that I can remember that experience to share with you 10 or 11 years later.

I love my Heavenly Father, and I am so grateful to know of the love that he has for me and for you, and for each of us sisters in the Antioch 5th young single adult ward. I am grateful for the atonement of Jesus Christ that makes it possible for us to return to Him. I love my savior. He loved us so much that he gave his life in ransom for ours. The scriptures teach us that: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son...” (John 3:16) and “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). We are loved. We are of worth. We are cared about. It’s a wonderful feeling that I hope we are all experiencing and never forget.

Sometimes, many times, God’s love is seen and experienced through the love that we have for each other. In this way we also prove our love to Him. It is not necessary for us to die for those we love, but there are other ways we can “lay down our lives for our friends”. Mosiah 2:17 says “... when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.” I know that we all have a deep love for our Heavenly Father and our Savior Jesus Christ, it is what brings us together as sisters in Zion. I truly appreciate the love that we have for our sisters here in this ward. I can feel of the love that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ have for each of us and I know that our love of each other is a reflection and a symbol of the love we have for Them. I’m grateful for visiting teaching and the opportunity to share our love for our sisters, Heavenly Father, and Jesus Christ through this service. I appreciate all of our efforts we give each month to strive to get every one of us visited, I know it’s not easy. I am grateful for my visiting teachers and the time they take to share their love for me.

I want you to know that you are loved by so many people. Your family and friends love you, my counselors and I love you, your visiting teachers love you, the bishopric and their wives love you, the stake RS presidency loves you, Stake leadership and general authorities love you, but most importantly Heavenly Father, and Jesus Christ love you. I know we know it, but I hope we can feel it because knowing it in our heads isn’t nearly as nice as feeling it in our hearts. We are of worth. We are known. We are loved. We should know it, and we should feel it.

Finally I would just like to thank you for everything you do and for all that you contribute to our Relief Society. We are a fantastic group, and I feel so blessed to be getting to know all of you.

I feel like I should write: Sincerely, or Love, Katie, since I wrote this like a letter, but I guess I should end it the way we’re supposed to: in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

What makes you smile?

I was thinking about smiling today and remembered a list I had created when I was 18 of things that didn’t just make me happy, but things that had actually caused me to physically break into a grin at some point in time if not every time I encounter it. I’ve always thought that if smiling were impossible my face would crack. Here’s the list (in no way complete) that I came up with 6-7 years ago of things that had made me smile:

☺ Christmas music (especially when it’s no where near Christmas)

☺ seeing the yellow notice outside my classroom canceling class for the day

☺hearing a favorite song come on the radio

☺flannel sheets on a cold night

☺good/happy music

☺seeing someone else smile

☺friends and cousins

☺chocolate

☺smell of fog

☺hearing a friend sing

☺remembering an interesting dream

☺anything and everything, but nothing in particular

☺little kids

☺feeling the spirit

☺hearing music with memories behind it

☺hearing children sing

☺swinging

☺riding on a rollercoaster

☺reading one of Eric’s (my younger brother) letters

☺getting a letter from a friend I haven’t seen in a long time

☺feeling happy

☺when things unexpectedly go well or change for the better

☺when I realize Heavenly Father has answered a prayer or given me something I asked for (or didn’t ask for)

☺Hearing the phone ring when I’m expecting a call (depending on who I’m expecting a call from!)

☺receiving a blessing

☺liking what I see in the mirror

☺realizing how sad I must look when I’m not smiling

☺hearing the rain fall outside while I’m in my warm bed

☺thinking of things that make me smile

☺hearing laughter

☺g-ma’s “evil eye”

☺oldies music

☺absolute silence in a group of friends/people when it’s not common

☺fun socks

☺seeing someone willing to help another

☺hearing g-ma tell stories from when she was young

☺meeting someone new

☺walking out of my last class on a Friday afternoon

☺giving a gift the other person really enjoys

☺realizing how much certain people care about me

☺hearing a compliment or something nice about me when the other person isn’t aware that I’m within hearing range

☺when someone says, “don’t smile”

☺having the hiccups when I’m trying to talk to someone

☺getting a good grade on a test when I wasn’t expecting one (actually- to edit this I smiled
when I got a good grade on anything whether I was expecting it or not)

☺seeing the way gay people act

☺Kim’s destressitizing breathing exercises

☺when the wind blows and hits me just right

☺bubbles

It once was lost but now is found

Spring semester in 2007 required purchase of this massive red book titled Medical Surgical Nursing. It cost a pretty penny, somewhere around 130 bucks I think. When I say massive, I mean massive. This wasn’t a book you’d take to class with you unless you were looking to get some muscle toning action to incorporate into your walk around campus. In fact, when I had bought it (along with a few other hefty texts) I was sore the next day from lugging it the mile to my car since I parked off campus just across the street at the LDS institute building. I hated paying so much for a book, even if it was of a significant size, but I accepted the price by figuring I could divide it by two since we were using it again the next semester which made it reasonable. I was happy that there would be one less expensive book to buy that upcoming semester even if in the long run it averaged out from the crazy cost of books the semester before. I was still happy I wouldn’t have to buy another super expensive ginormous dead tree.

With the end of the semester I went home to Antioch for the next 3 months. I brought Big Red with me, just in case I felt like perusing it to keep me from forgetting important nursing information over the summer break. Of course I never even cracked it open, but there was something comforting seeing it on the table in my room everyday and knowing it was there if I had wanted to. There it stayed untouched, yet clearly visible on the corner of my long table next to my doorway all summer long.

August was coming to a close and it was time for me to get ready to go back to Sacramento. I didn’t notice when it was exactly Big Red had disappeared, but when I was packing up my things it was not on my table. A DVD a friend had lent me that I had placed on top of Big Red went AWOL as well. I searched everywhere I could think to look for that book and the DVD. We came to the conclusion that somebody must have stolen it-nobody in our house had touched them and there wasn’t any other reason for them to be gone from their normal spot. My parent’s house was up for sale at this time and on most Sundays while we were at church and other random days a realtor would have an open house showing the house to people. We just couldn’t figure out how they managed to walk out of the house with that massive book unseen…in summer no less when big puffy jackets (that wouldn’t have covered the bulk of that book anyway) weren’t worn.

I thought, maybe, just maybe I really hadn’t seen it on my table all summer and left it in my room in West Sacramento and I left the DVD somewhere else. I could not imagine someone stealing them! Alas, ‘twas not so. Upon return to my room at my grandma’s house in West Sac I found what I already knew but couldn’t understand. The book and DVD remained mysteriously vanished. I wound up having to buy a replacement DVD for the one that was lent to me, and buying another Big Red book. Gaahh! It was most disappointing and very frustrating.

Fast forward to May 2, 2009 in the evening. My dad walked into the family room holding a large rectangular shape in front of him. What was that? The lights were dim and all I could see were some words reflecting the small amount of light it was catching. At first I thought it was a trivial pursuit game box. What is that? He kept holding it in front of him and said, “Look what I found!” I peered closer. Oh my goodness! That boxy looking rectangular form my dad was holding said “Medical Surgical Nursing Clinical Management for Positive Outcomes 7th edition” on it!!

“Where did you find that??” We were so sure it had been stolen. The whole family had looked everywhere for it that summer in 2007. I even looked at my Aunt’s house I had gone to when I knew I didn’t bring it there in case I did and forgot (I had brought it there on other occasions in the past).

He said he thinks someone had played a trick on us, because it was on the lowest shelf on the bookcase in their room behind a row of other books in front of it so you couldn’t see it by looking at the bookcase front on unless you pulled out the books that were on that shelf in front of it. The books on that shelf were not used (obviously) and stayed there for almost 2 years until my dad was cleaning it out and reorganizing it tonight and ta daaaa. There was Big Red. I guess some kid or strange adult who went through one of our open houses that summer hid it from me. I can’t believe it was in the house the whole time. What a weird hiding place, yet genius. Hiding a book on a book case in a room it didn’t belong in behind other books.

I asked if he’d found the DVD too. Nope, that one is still gone but now I’m thinking I should check my little brother’s shelves in his closet for it. He’s been gone in Brazil for almost the last 2 years and I don’t think anybody’s been through that closet much- I wouldn’t be surprised if I found it somewhere in there.

Christ’s atonement and the need for the resurrection

I got to give another talk in church today. It was “invite a friend Sunday” so our talks were geared towards those who might not be familiar with our church. Ta daaa, here it is if you couldn’t get it live:

Have you ever tried to complete a crossword puzzle- or for those of you who prefer numbers to words- a sudoku grid with a pen? Have you ever typed an essay without once hitting the delete button? Remember “do overs” in elementary school when you didn’t get it right the first try? Or maybe for some of us it’s a little more recent than elementary school. Can you imagine going through life without any way to correct our mistakes? What a drag that would be! How long would it take until we just gave up in frustration?

Before this world was created, God had a plan for us. We would be sent to this world. We would obtain a body, like He had. We would experience life and all the joys and pains that come with these bodies. Our lives would be a time to prove our faithfulness and love for Him. When our mortal lives were complete, the plan was (and still is) for us to return back to live with Him again.

When we were created, God knew that we would be imperfect. He knew human nature was not a sinless one. He planned on that, however, in the Pearl of Great Price, from the book of Moses, we learn that “no unclean thing can dwell” in God’s presence. How would we be able to return to live with him, if we are imperfect, unclean beings? Without a way to repent and become clean there would be no point in going through this life. It would be like trying to complete a crossword puzzle with a pen, or typing an essay without a delete button, or having no “do overs”. We’d never win. What is it we’d like to win? Eternal life, exaltation in the life to come, living again in the presence of God. Lucky for us we have been given a way so that life is not frustratingly pointless. We can win.

God knew we would not be able to keep his commandments in perfectness. Christ was the only one to accomplish such a feat. The laws of justice demand a price for sin. There is no way we could ever pay that price ourselves. Christ, our Savior, the only one who had no price to pay, paid our debt for us, through which justice is met and we receive mercy and salvation.

Jesus Christ volunteered in the life before this one to take upon him the sins of the world. He was born and was the only person in the history of the world to live a perfect life. He was the only qualified person to do what he did for us. He gave his perfect life in ransom for our imperfect lives. In the Garden of Gethsamane he took upon himself the sins, pains, afflictions and burdens of the world. As a final sacrifice he gave his life on the cross. He would not stay dead forever. 3 days after his burial, he rose as a resurrected being. His spirit and body had been reunited and he lives again. He had overcome death and paved the way for us that we might overcome death as well. Without Him, our bodies would lie as dust once our spirits left us at the end of our mortal existence, and our spirits would be in such a state that would be unfit to return to our Father’s presence leaving us under Satan’s dominion. Christ paid the price we could not pay ourselves to save us from such a fate.

The atonement accomplishes two things. First it overcomes physical also known as temporal death. Christ was the first person to be resurrected. We too will be resurrected. Everyone will have the gift of immortality in the life to come. After our bodies die, our spirit and our body will become separated. When we are resurrected our spirit and body will be reunited in a perfected form.

The second thing the atonement does is saves us from spiritual death which is not the same as temporal, or physical death. Spiritual death is the separation of ourselves from God. Remember how no unclean thing can dwell in the presence of God? While every one will be saved from the physical death and be resurrected, to be saved from spiritual death requires personal choice and repentance. The atonement allows us to repent for our sins and cleanse ourselves if we so choose. It’s like being allowed to use a pencil while working on a crossword, or the delete button when typing an essay or using “do overs” when playing a game and you mess up first thing. It allows us to win.

Can you imagine what would happen if Christ hadn’t overcome these two forms of death for us? If we’re not able to return to God, where would that leave us? In the Book of Mormon, the 2nd Book of Nephi, Chapter 9 verses 6-10 describes the importance of a resurrection and what would happen without it and the atonement:

“6. For as death hath passed upon all men, to fulfil the merciful plan of the great Creator, there must needs be a power of resurrection, and the resurrection must needs come unto man by reason of the fall; and the fall came by reason of transgression; and because man became fallen they were cut off from the presence of the Lord.”

What this verse is saying is we need the resurrection to fulfil God’s plan that he has for us- the plan for us to return to Him. We need a resurrection because we have death. We have death because of the fall of Adam that occurred in the Garden of Eden. With the fall of Adam came not only physical death, but spiritual death which is being cut off from the presence of the Lord.

7. “Wherefore, it must needs be an infinite atonement– save it should be an infinite atonement this corruption could not put on incorruption. Wherefore, the first judgment which came upon man must needs have remained to an endless duration. And if so, this flesh must have laid down to rot and to crumble to its mother earth to rise no more.

8. O the wisdom of God, in his mercy and Grace! For behold, if the flesh should rise no more our spirits must become subject to that angel who fell from before the presence of the Eternal God and became the devil, to rise no more.

9. And our spirits must have become like unto him, and we become devils, angels to a devil, to be shut out from the presence of our God...

10. O how great the goodness of our God, who prepareth a way for our escape from the grasp of this awful monster; yea, that monster, death and hell, which I call the death of the body, and also the death of the spirit.”

So as we can see from these verses here, without the atonement, and without a resurrection, we would become subject to Satan, but God made sure that we would have a way to make it back to Him. He wouldn’t send us here with no hope or chance to return. Who wants to play a game you know you have no chance of winning? He wants us to win this one. He loves us so much he gave his only begotten son, the only person in the world who had no price to pay for his sins, as a sacrifice to pay the price for ours. He lives again, and because of him, we will live again and have a way to repent of our sins so that we might regain our Heavenly Father’s presence.

I know that these things I have shared with you are true. I am grateful for the atonement and what it means for us. Without it life would be frustratingly pointless and God’s plan could not be possible. I love my savior, Jesus Christ and I love my Heavenly Father. Life is not frustratingly pointless. Because of the atonement, if we play the game as best as we can and endure to the end, we can win.

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

And he’s like, and I’m all, and um, you know, like uh…

Have you ever like, actually listened to yourself speak? A few weeks ago I was out to lunch talking with a friend and, like, when I had finished what I was saying to her, I realized I had like, used the word “like”, like, like, a million times. See what I mean? By the time I was done talking I was annoying myself and hoped I wasn’t irritating her with my overuse of it. As lunch went on I noticed she used that word just as often as I did. Huh, I hadn’t been aware of this before. It’s a word so programmed into my head that until then I didn’t hear it or notice when it was used or even think anything was wrong with it. For some reason that day I finally started to hear it. And since then, I’ve been hearing it a lot. What used to blend into the conversational background hardly noticeable now pops out at me like a bomb whenever anybody else is speaking. I have learned that I am no where near as bad as some people when it comes to the like, you know, uh, “like factor”. As you can see, or should I say, hear, “like” is not the only repeat offender. “Um” and y’know in combination with a whole lot of likes bless our conversations with their presence on a regular basis. It’s been interesting listening to those around me the last few weeks. At least I am not alone in my like, habitual use of, you know, certain words and like, uhh, phrases. So with this new found awareness, I’m trying to be very careful in my speech and purposefully edit my words before they come out so I don’t rely on habitual speech patterns that might make me like sound like, like a valley girl. Duh.

I'M AWAKE!!!

As you know from the previous post, Courtney and I drove to Utah Thursday night/Friday morning. We got on I-80 in West Sacramento around 10pm and drove all night long. We were fine. Wide awake. Full of energy and pizzazz! That is, until around 3am. That’s when it started getting hard to not feel drowsy, and as a passenger not doze off…for me anyway. We agreed that we would both stay awake and the passenger would help keep the driver alert. I drove from about 1am to 5am until I needed a break and switched spots again with Courtney. It was very quiet in her car besides the upbeat music we kept playing. The road was passing by and the engine was humming a very soothing lullaby beneath the sounds of the CD player. It was still dark outside. I remembered how hard it was to feel alert and awake while I was driving and wondered how Courtney was doing. As a passenger I was fighting to keep my eyes open. I had nothing I could think to bring up to talk about, the only thing going through my head I kept thinking to myself was “I’m awake, I’m awake, I’m awake.” Even though my thoughts weren’t very interesting, I knew it was my duty as a passenger to share them with Courtney anyway to break the silence and help us keep our minds alert.

“I’M AWAKE!!!!”

I shared my thoughts all right. In an instant I had decided to share them at the top of my lungs.

At the time I thought it was a genius idea. Now I realize I’m lucky we didn’t end up flying off the road in case Courtney jumped. Actually, the flinch was well maintained and we didn’t even leave our lane. I was very impressed.

I was laughing hysterically once I yelled it and through more idiotic laughing told her, “And now you are too!!” Once she recovered from the scream out of nowhere Courtney laughed with me. “You scared the crap out of me!” Hahaha! It was probably only funny because we hadn’t had any sleep and everything was hilarious at that time, but it was a fairly effective tactic. We were wide awake for at least the next 7 minutes.

The First and the Last

Thursday last week I was getting ready for a weekend trip to Utah with my cousin Courtney. The plan was to leave Thursday night and drive all night and arrive at my brother’s house around breakfast time the next morning. Courtney dropped me off there for the weekend and she continued to drive on another half hour to spend the weekend with her best friend.

Thursday afternoon before leaving to my grandma’s house where Courtney was going to pick me up I stopped somewhere to complete an errand before I was on my way. I was heading back to my car in the parking lot when a man calls to me and says, “Excuse me, Ma’am?”

Uh oh. I hate it when strange people talk to me. I usually try to avoid this by walking with a purpose and not making eye contact with people who look to be wanting signatures for something or money or time I don’t have to give. I got quite good at it going to school at Sac State. They always have people trying to corner you in the busy walkways by the library. As good as I got at the “walk with a purpose don’t make eye contact” strategy, obviously it doesn’t always work every time and despite my not looking at them they’ll ask me their opening line- one of: Do you have a few minutes…do you have money…do you want to save the earth…do you like animals…etc. Those are the times I go to plan B and flash a smile at them as I continue my purposeful walk forward without slowing. No need to say anything unless I feel like it that day (or if they start walking with me) and as long as I don’t slow down or stop. Never show any signs of hesitation or slowing or else they’ve got you. Sometimes I’ll throw in a “Sorry, no” while grinning at them and continuing my quick determined walk forward.

I approached my car. The man walked towards me. “Excuse me Ma’am” he said again when he saw I was stopping at my car. He made sure to leave enough distance between us that I wouldn’t feel threatened. “Do you happen to have…” I immediately tried to think of ways out of whatever it was he was going to ask me and was dreading the end of his question. I don’t have any money to spare, I don’t want to sign your petition, and I don’t know how to get to where ever it is you’re trying to get to. It wasn’t like I could resort to my usual Plan B; I was already at my destination I so purposefully walked to. He finished his query, “…any food?”

Oh.

It was a pleasant surprise and any dread or irritation I had went away. I wasn’t expecting that. It just so happened I had a whole bunch of individual bags of sun-chips in a brown bag in my back seat to snack on during my upcoming drive to and from Utah. I looked at him, opened my car door with out saying anything, pulled out a bag of chips, smiled at him and said, “Here, I have a bag of chips for you!”

“ALRIGHT, haHA! Yes!” He did a little jump up and down dance. “Thank you! God bless you! haHA!”

“You’re welcome!” It made me feel good yet sad at the same time to see how grateful and excited he was over just a bag of chips. He took them, and blessed me again. He put the chips under his jacket/sweater and walked back to his post in front of the building. I saw him talking to another woman walking out of it before I drove off. I wondered how successful the rest of his day would be.

On the drive back to California on Sunday, Courtney and I had 2 more passengers. My brother Danny and his wife Brittany came back with us so he could pick up a truck in the bay area he was getting for his car dealership business. When we got to be 20 minutes away from our g-ma’s we stopped to pick up my other brother David so he could come home with us to visit while Danny was in town. His wife Nancy and kids would come the next day. I had one bag of sun chips left when we pulled up to David’s house. I felt like I needed to get rid of it, so I offered it to him. He declined. Nobody else wanted it either so it sat in my bag by itself missing the other bags of sun-chips that had already been eaten. We took the exit off the freeway towards my g-ma’s house where my car was parked waiting to take my brothers, Brittany and I the last hour or so of our journey home. The light had just turned red. Instead of staying in the middle lane that could also turn left, my brother pulled into the next lane over so we wouldn’t be stuck behind slower cars once the light turned green.

There was a very somber looking man sitting on the side of the off ramp right next to where we stopped. He was holding a card board sign that had “$” drawn on it. Hmmm. I remembered my bag of chips I was trying to get rid of. I asked those in the car if they thought I should give them to him- it wasn’t money like he wanted. I was sitting between Brittany and Courtney in the middle back seat. Feeling safe with Brittany as my buffer I reached over her, rolled the window down, held out the bag of chips to the man and asked him if he wanted them. “Sure,” he got up walked over to the opened window and took them, “Thanks”. “You’re welcome!” and up went the window again. He sat back down on the ground, put the chips in the front pocket of his hoodie and continued to hold his sign looking just as morose as before. The light turned green and we rolled away. I wondered how successful the rest of his day would be. At least he had a snack to munch on while waiting to make it big on the Jefferson off ramp in West Sac.

I realized how appropriate it was to give him my last bag of sun-chips when I remembered where my first bag had gone. Yesterday there was a bowl of sun chips at my Aunt’s house. Brittany saw them and said, “Katie, there’s sun chips.”

“I know. I saw them. I was thinking, where’s a bum I can give them to?”

How can I help you?

A few weeks ago I went to Wal-mart with my mom. We were walking around the aisles and I saw a woman pass by us wearing the exact same colored shirt and pants I was. Weird. We continued to shop. After awhile I saw the back of another person walking by that also matched my outfit. What the heck? We then went to the craft and fabric section of the store. Again, more people in the same colors I am wearing, but this time I could see the front of them, not just their backs. I looked closer. The only difference between our outfits was I was missing a red, white and blue name tag with a yellow happy face that said "how can I help you" on it. I hate when that happens. It was like the time I had gone to Target wearing a red sweater and khaki pants. At least nobody stopped me to ask where the laundry detergent was.

A post about something in a blog about nothing

Today I had to give a talk in church. The delivery was awful, but I had fun writing it, and yes I’m one of those who are too nervous to speak without every word pre- thought out and written down to be read from. I don’t normally post personal meaningful posts in this, my blog about nothing, but here it is anyway. I wasn’t really given a topic to speak on, but rather a reason as to why I had been chosen to speak and was told that I’d know what to say once I started outlining my talk. Here’s what I came up with.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wish I could tell you how excited and happy I am to be up here today, but because of what I have learned and been taught in this church I know that lying is a sin. So I content myself to tell you how happy and excited I will be once this is over and I can sit back down.

I consider myself to be very blessed to have always had the church be a part of my life and to have been born into the family that I was born into. I remember when I was in my teens, I was pondering on the concept of eternity. I was trying to wrap my mind around such an awesome idea. I couldn’t begin to comprehend forever... and ever and ever and ever. The more I thought about it, the more panicked I became. Oh my goodness. Forever. It was scary for about 30 seconds until I remembered that I wouldn’t be alone. My parents had been sealed in the Oakland temple. My brother’s, sister and I had been born under the covenant. If I didn’t do anything horrific, like lie in a talk in sacrament meeting, I would be with my favorite people forever, and I was ok with that. I’d be ok existing for an eternity if my family could be there with me. As soon as I remembered this truth I was instantly at ease and the panic that had begun to grow faded out. It is my goal in life to be able to provide the same love, learning and knowledge that I have been blessed to grow up with to my future children. These blessings of the atonement that make eternal life possible give me peace as I look forward to eternity and gratitude as I look back on my past.

I have many fond memories of my childhood, and having 2 older brothers there were many other interesting experiences that I was slightly less fond of. I was the victim of unending merciless teasing and the target of many practical jokes. I didn’t always feel as blessed as I do now to have been born into my family, but we had a lot of fun together, too. I appreciate the effort my parents put into teaching us the things that are important when we were still young even if it seemed to be ineffective at the time. My brothers and I had gotten into trouble more than once for not taking family home evening seriously, making light of serious topics and laughing at inappropriate times. Despite what seemed to be failed efforts at creating spiritual, happy, obedient children, that would grow up to be spiritual, happy, righteous adults not all lessons were lost on us.

I can remember the first time I ever repented. I wasn’t even 8 years old yet, I was probably around 6. Seeing as how I was so young, it wasn’t really necessary for me to repent, but it was a learning experience I was given so that I might know how. I don’t remember what I had done (perhaps that’s the miracle of forgiveness working it’s magic, or maybe it was just so long ago and I so young there’s no way to remember), but I had been sent away from the dinner table for some form of misbehavior. There were many things strange with this. First, I wasn’t usually the one being sent away from the table. Knowing my situation, I was probably provoked by either one of my 3 brothers and was being unjustly dealt with.

Secondly, being sent away from the table was the opposite form of punishment I usually got at dinner time. I was used to being told to "sit right there until a certain fraction of the green things were gone from my plate". I was not a picky eater, but there were a few things I did not care for that my family tended to have on a regular basis and we’d have a sit out until I’d get bored and eat my peas so I could go play.

Another thing that was strange about my being sent away from the table this time was I was not sent to my room, which was usually where I would be sent when I was in trouble. I was told to go to my parent’s room. After a minute or two by myself sitting on the floor in my parents room my dad came in. He wasn’t angry. He told me that when we do something wrong, we should apologize to those we wronged. This was nothing new to me. I was very familiar with the art of "I’m sorry" and the expected response "It’s ok" both in theory and in practice. I must have been forced to say I’m sorry multiple times a day to my brothers, to my parents, to our pet dog, to my neighbor friends. I was forced to say "It’s ok" even more often than I was forced to say I’m sorry. This was mostly in response to my brothers after they were forced to apologize to me. Hearing this I told my dad I was sorry. He then said that when we do something wrong, we not only have to apologize to the person we were mean to, we have to make it right if we can, and we have to say we’re sorry to God too. He then asked if I could say a prayer to tell Heavenly Father I was sorry for what I had done. For the first time in my life I told my Heavenly Father I was sorry. I was familiar with repentance in theory thanks to primary and family home evenings, but not in practice. This was new to me. I had never considered repentance as something for me, but rather for other bad people. This lesson of repentance at such a young age was something that stayed with me and something that taught me the importance of taking advantage of the atonement. I was taught how to repent so that I might be able to do so on my own once I grew up and actually needed it. It was like a practice round with the help and guidance of my dad so when the time came for the real thing I’d be ready. It also showed me that repentance was necessary for me personally, not just every one else who did really bad things like I had thought, but for me too who did only kinda bad things...but only when provoked.

Every once in awhile as a child I was given the option of pursuing different things even though I would have been content to play outside with my bike and skates with my brothers and neighborhood kids. Because these choices were presented to me as my own to make and not something I was being told to do I always gave each decision serious and lengthy thought. At least 30 seconds worth, which in child time when your mom is waiting for an answer is actually quite long. Sometimes I’d require clarification on what it was exactly that I’d be signing up for before I’d say yes, like when I was asked if I wanted to go to Brownies. What are brownies? Do you make brownies there? I almost always accepted these opportunities. Some didn’t quite work out or last very long, like the brownies, dance lessons, or soccer. Others were decisions I was glad to be given the opportunity to make and have brought a lot of joy and gladness into my life, like when I said "yeah ok" when my mom asked if I’d like to take piano lessons from my grandma, or when I said yes, I would like to be baptized when I turned 8.

I remember the day I was asked if being baptized was something I’d want. I felt empowered and important to be given the option with something so important. In my primary classes there never seemed to be an option. When they spoke of baptism it was always "when you turn 8 and get baptized" not "if you get baptized when you turn 8". When I was asked I stopped and did my serious 30 second reflection. Considered saying no since I had the power to do so but I’d only be saying no to say no and I didn’t want to say no so I said yes and I’ve never regretted it. Now, when I was 3 years old my mom was pregnant with my younger brother and she asked me if I wanted the baby to be a boy or a girl. I honestly thought I was getting to choose so I thought about it and considered my options carefully and after my typical 30 second reflection came to the conclusion that I’d like another brother. THAT was a decision I grew to regret after a few years. I kicked myself for not making him a girl when I had the chance and wondered what I had been thinking, so I amused myself with dressing him up in my dress-up clothes and pretending he was a girl anyway. I eventually grew to like him as a boy (which was good because I got in trouble for dressing him like a girl), and ended up getting a little sister later on so it all turned out in the end. My decision to get baptized on the other hand was never looked back on as a mistake. When I was baptized I was determined to never sin again. I figured Jesus did it, I can too. Unfortunately, try as I might to be like Jesus, I found those repentance lessons with my dad in my earlier years to come in handy.

As I grew up I continued to have many little experiences that would help build and strengthen my testimony that my parents and primary teachers had kindled in me. When I turned 12 my new favorite activity was baptisms for the dead. It was so exciting for me to know that I was helping someone who couldn’t help themselves in such an eternal way. The joy I feel in those moments is something that I can hardly believe and I can never help but smile. One experience I had with baptisms for the dead left me smiling for a completely different reason. A few of my friends and I were going to be baptized and confirmed for some family names my grandma had sent while on a youth temple trip to Oakland. Usually, you’d go in and be confirmed for those who have already been baptized by others and then go on to do baptisms in order to limit the number of times you’d change, but since we were doing my family names that I particularly wanted the experience of doing myself, my 2 friends and I were the only ones who did baptisms first and then the confirmations for the same names we had been baptized for after. I was being baptized for my set of names, many of which had the last name Pigg. When "Ima" came up I didn’t have time to react because nearly as soon as the name is said you’re being sent under the water. I was reverently laughing to myself in my mind and thinking what it must have been like to live a life with such a name while I was changing into a dry jumper before I went to be confirmed. I felt I had control of myself, but I was worried I’d lose it and laugh out loud when it came time for Ima Pigg to receive the holy ghost. It was one of the most difficult times I’d ever had in keeping my laughter in check. If I’m ever going to get myself in trouble it will be from laughing. Not including all the times my brothers and I had driven the spirit off with our laughter during family home evenings, one other time in particular my cousin and I laughed together so much that we were put into separate rooms by my aunt/his mom. After she left us alone for a while she brought us together, told us she didn’t mind that we were happy and laughing, but there is a time and place for everything. She then read a scripture to us. I don’t remember what the scripture was, but I think it had something to do with thou shalt not laugh at your younger brother/cousin while he’s choking on milk.

With my track record of laughing at inappropriate times I was so proud of myself for making it through Ima’s confirmation, although if anybody had been looking at me they would have seen the biggest smile in the world on my face and if I had seen you looking at me I probably would have cracked. This is why I personally keep my eyes closed during prayers, I learned at a young age the tragedy that can occur if you make eye contact with a silly friend, cousin or brother during a moment that is supposed to be spiritual .

I used to think that because I had grown up in the church and never had one major life changing spiritual experience, or any one amazing single experience where it all hit me at once, that my testimony must not have the same strength or validity as others who had amazing stories prefacing the birth or growth of their testimony. I had never fallen away from the church only to realize the church was true. I wasn’t a convert that found the church through missionaries. I never had visions or had anything dramatic or miraculous occur to give me a great "how I got my testimony" story. While I was a teen after hearing young women and Sunday school lessons about testimonies and how we should find out the truth of the gospel for ourselves, I prayed many times that I might know for myself with out a doubt. The only thing was I already did know. I had always known. There was nothing new that came to me as a result of those prayers. It wasn’t necessary for anything dramatic or huge to happen to know what I knew.

While I was at Sac State the last few years I was never able to take institute classes during the day because my nursing classes and clinicals kept me busy during those times every semester, so I would go every Wednesday to the night class. I always looked forward to these nights. I didn’t usually have time for many fun social things even on the weekends, and going to institute halfway through the week in the middle of my stressful nursing courses was a source of strength for me, and I loved the sister who taught the class. I’m not one who will voluntarily answer a question in any kind of class. This class was never large and I wasn’t the only one not willing to offer opinions and thoughts. The teacher’s way around this was to ask a question and have every person give their input going around the room. One night, she wanted to know all of our conversion stories saying even if we’re born in the church there is some point when we come to know on our own and experience our own conversion. She herself is a convert and has an amazing story that I’ve been able to hear more than once and can sit and listen to again and again.

We went through the room and every body had their own amazing conversion story to tell whether they were born in the church or not. It came to be my turn to tell my own conversion story. I had nothing amazing to tell them. I told them I- like a few others- had been born in the church, that while I had probably relied on my parent’s testimony as a child I can’t think of a time when I didn’t know it to be true. That family prayer and scripture study led me to my own personal scripture study and prayer as I got older. There wasn’t one point in my life where I can say this is exactly when it happened. This day at this time is when I knew for myself the church was true. Not one prayer in particular, or one particular time of reading the scriptures. I had a lot of little events and experiences all the way from when I was a child until even now that helped build and strengthen my testimony. It took me awhile before I realized that just because I didn’t have one point in time where I had a clearly defined moment where my testimony was born or significantly strengthened that it didn’t mean my testimony was any less strong, valid or real than any other person’s who might have had one of those amazing stories to tell. A testimony is amazing all on it’s own, regardless of the story it comes with.
I feel I have been blessed to have been raised in a home where I was able to know and develop a relationship with my savior, Jesus Christ. I am grateful for the role the atonement had in my life and for what it means for my future and my future beyond this life.

Mosiah 4:6-7 says:

I say unto you, if ye have come to a knowledge of the goodness of God, and his matchless power, and his wisdom, and his patience, and his long-suffering towards the children of men; and also, the atonement which has been prepared from the foundation of the world, that thereby salvation might come to him that should put his trust in the Lord, and should be diligent in keeping his commandments, and continue in the faith even unto the end of his life, I mean the life of the mortal body–

I say, that this is the man who receiveth salvation, through the atonement which was prepared from the foundation of the world for all mankind, which ever were since the fall of Adam, or who are, or who ever shall be, even unto the end of the world.

I know that if we follow King Benjamin’s counsel to continue in the faith and keep the Lord’s commandments that we can gain salvation through the atonement of Christ. I know eternity will be tolerable because the atonement has made it possible for families to be together and I won’t be alone. I am grateful for the early education my parents gave me in teaching me how to take the atonement personally. While I don’t have an amazing story to accompany my testimony, I do know of the truthfulness of this gospel and the love God and Jesus Christ has for me and all of us.

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

I see nothing funny about this

It always seems that whenever I need to send something in the mail my mail carrier knows it and puts extra effort in to getting their route done unusually early. This way, they are done and gone before I can put my letters out for them to pick up. Any other day my mail comes between noon and 3. On this particular day I had a few time sensitive letters I needed to get out. At 11 that morning I went out to put those letters in my mailbox thinking this time I’d be early enough to beat my mail carrier. Apparently there is no changing the ways of the universe. Had I gone out at 7 in the morning with letters to mail it would have been the day the postal workers go on strike. I collected the envelopes my mail person had so promptly delivered and took them and my own freshly stamped envelopes back into the house. Oh well, I didn’t hold it against my mail carrier for being efficient. I was going out to run some other errands anyway, it would be easy to stop at a mailbox somewhere.

I ended up going to a nearby grocery store that I knew had a mail box in front of it. I turned down a parking aisle and noticed a bum-ish looking older man sitting on the ground to the side of the mail receptacle. What an interesting place to sit. I got out of my car and walked towards the big blue US postal box and the bum man sitting next to it. We both saw each other looking at the other. It was hard not to look at him sitting there on the sidewalk next to the mailbox I needed to get to. As I got closer I gave a half smile, my reserved attempt at being friendly. Instead of watching me like he did when I was further away he responded to my reserved smile and eye contact by shyly looking down at his hands and chuckling. I was intrigued. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what had made him laugh like that. Maybe it was me. Maybe he thought I walked funny, or smiled funny, or looked funny. Maybe he knew something I didn’t, like a postal worker had just come and picked up the mail early. Maybe he was just crazy. I placed my mail into the slot and looked over the mail box at the bum man again to see if I could get any other clues to his amusement. He continued to avoid direct eye contact and sat there smiling at his hands. He discretely watched me through the corner of his eye without turning his gaze away from his hands in his lap. He looked like he was trying to hold back more laughter. I guess I wasn’t meant to be in on the joke. I started to think perhaps I really was the joke. Looking around I couldn’t find anything that I thought would be interesting or amusing enough to bring a person to laughter... that is except the bum man himself sitting on the sidewalk laughing at who knows what. Maybe he was laughing at himself. I wanted to laugh too, but then I’d be the crazy one laughing to herself at who knows what. I should have joined him on the sidewalk.

Moe

I was scrummaging around in my sock drawer yesterday trying to find two socks that matched when... AHHH! M’GASH! (That’s "oh my gosh" for those of you who don’t speak my language)...perched as pretty as can be on top of my pink fuzzy sock was a dark, 8 legged critter about the size of a quarter including legs. I decided to try to remove this beast from my beloved socks so I got a cup like container and tried to usher him in with plans to flush him down the toilet. From the angle he was at I couldn’t tell which end was his butt and which end was his head. I placed the cup at the easiest end to reach, and alas, it was not his head- it was his butt. He scurried deeper into my sock drawer never to be seen again.


Ok, just kidding, that would make for a stupid story. Actually don’t get your hopes up, it’s still a stupid story. Anyway, I was too afraid to go digging around for him and I had to go, so I carefully selected a matching pair of socks and left hoping the spider would disappear like a bad dream and not return. This morning my mom woke me up and then notices something on my wall by the doorway and tells me she found my spider. And so she did. There he was in all his glory hanging out by the door frame. We exchanged greetings and I named him Moe. Mom told me if I didn’t kill him he’d find his way to my bed at night. I told Moe if he stayed right there on the wall where I could see him, it would not be necessary for him to meet with the bottom of my Avia running shoes. And so he stayed put. Through out the day whenever I’d walk in and out of my room, I’d say hello and goodbye to Moe. Every time just like he promised, Moe was hanging out by the door frame. When I went to my room tonight to start looking for pajamas something felt wrong as soon as I had entered the door. I looked for Moe. Dun dun duuunnnnn...Moe was not at his post. I did a quick sweep along the walls and ceiling. Oh great. Mom was right, he was going to be in my bed. I looked down at my feet. Half way underneath a box of stuff I need to donate or throw away was Moe just chillin on the floor trying to be all sneaky hiding under the box. Hide and go seek was not on the approved list of activities for the day. I moved the box off of him and he knew he was in trouble so he froze. I started looking around for my Avia’s, but then I couldn’t do it. Even though he broke the rules, Moe and I became friends. He was my pal, albeit a creepy, disgusting, I would only touch you using full force with a running shoe friend, but still we had bonded today. I just couldn’t, but I knew if I left him alone he would for sure find his way to my bed while I slept (apparently we still have trust issues despite the bonding). So I got that cup thing I used yesterday and trapped him under it, slid a paper under Moe to create a ceiling. I flipped it upside down so I was holding Moe in the cup and took him outside. I let Moe keep his life. He should be very grateful, it’s not every day I let a spider go free.

Pero vs Postum

I miss Postum. I really do. Pero just isn’t as good. I don’t know how many of you, my lovely readers, know what Pero or Postum are. They are two kinds of hot beverages with different tastes that are both naturally caffeine free. "Mormon coffee" if you will. I am a Latter Day Saint aka Mormon, and as a part of my religion I don’t drink coffee or tea. For me personally it goes for sodas too, I won’t drink the caffeinated ones. I was taught not to drink caffeinated sodas growing up even though it is not exactly against the LDS religion to drink sodas with caffeine in them. When I was 16 I went to a Halloween party and feeling a bit rebellious, threw all caution to the wind and indulged in Pepsi and Dr. Pepper. When I got home that night I went to bed, only to wake up a short time later to vomit. Lesson learned. When I was a kid, I would see my dad drinking Postum. I tried it once. I thought it tasted nasty and had a funny name. When I was in highschool, probably around the same time I experimented with caffeine I decided to give Postum another try. I would drink it with a teaspoon or two of sugar and a dollop of canned milk. I became used to it and even liked it and grew to love it. After a while I started cutting out the milk, then the sugar and was drinking it plain. About a year ago they stopped making Postum for some unknown awful reason.

While I was living with her, my grandma always had both Pero and Postum in her house. I tried her Pero once. I thought it tasted nasty and had a weird name that means "but" in Spanish. It really is nasty, so I stuck with Postum, but now Postum ceases to exist and I miss it, especially in winter. In attempts to adjust to no Postum I began drinking Pero. It is best if you make it with milk and chocolate syrup... and leave the Pero out. But really, I’ve been able to tolerate it with a ton of creamer and a packet of Splenda. Today I drank it plain with no Splenda or creamer. It was tolerable. If Pero and Postum were pet dogs, Postum would be the beloved pet who would be allowed to stay inside, while Pero would be shunned and left to sleep out in the rain. Then Postum would die. There would be tears. In attempts to replace the hole that Postum left, Pero would be allowed inside only he smells funny, but you don’t want to kick him back out because in a weird way even though he smells funny it’s almost like Postum is back again. Then after awhile, you can’t smell the stink anymore, however you still miss Postum and wouldn’t hesitate to throw Pero back out in the rain if Postum ever miraculously came back to life. Ugh, I wish Postum would come back to life.

Farewell, my Sweet!

Yesterday I had my last bowl of thrifty’s mint chocolate chip ice cream, my last root beer, my last salt water taffy, my last cup of hot chocolate with whip cream. Hello, my name is Katie and I’m an addict. I have been sugar free for 16 hours, Heaven help me make it 24. I can’t get through a day without some kind of sugar, chocolate, or dessert. I have decided to kick this habit and my goal is to go for 2 weeks without eating candy, desserts, juices/sodas etc. Hopefully by then I will no longer feel the sugar craving as strongly as I do now. My sweetness should come from within not from without! This has to be cold turkey or nothing because if I crack even a little it’s all over and I will make no progress and still be a slave to the goodness (or should I say evilness?) of the sweetness. As Jimmy Eat World says "The sweetness will not be concerned with me". I’m not looking forward to the detoxification that will occur over the next few weeks. My body just recently expanded from the upper end of a healthy BMI (body mass index) to the lower end of an overweight BMI. I found this out while playing Wii fit at my brother’s house. It had been 35 days since the last time I had played and it told me I had gained almost 6 pounds. Gross! Although this was hardly a surprise. I knew it was coming, my fat pants had found their way out from the back of my closet and I’ve been avoiding putting on my normal sized pants. This expansion has got to stop. Manifest Destiny is not a policy I want to apply to my body. I’ll be replacing hot chocolate with Pero, ice cream with yogurt, and salt water taffy and other sweet things with fruit and vegetables and return to my old exercise habits that went away when my sugar kick came. Let’s return the fat pants to the back of the closet!

Yellow

Hello fair readers. In Miss Manner’s advice column she always addresses the person she’s advising as "Gentle Reader". I find this interesting because she has no way of knowing whether or not her gentle readers really are gentle. I find it odd, but for some reason it still appeals to me. Seeing as how I am not Miss Manners, I will refer to you as "fair" rather than "gentle". Please don’t take offense if you are black, brown, or extremely tan...or really pale wishing you weren’t for that matter. My blog is free for anyone of any color to read, but I didn’t really mean light skinned when I said fair. Speaking of colors, this was the reason for my post. I love colors. There isn’t one color that I can say I really dislike...ok, so I can, but if it is a color occurring naturally somewhere rather than a color I’m wearing I don’t hate it. For example, violets are the cutest thing, and the purple haze in a sunset is enjoyable, but if I have to wear it I’m less than thrilled. Purple used to be my favorite color in Kindergarten. I thought it was the prettiest color ever and couldn’t understand why it wasn’t everybody’s favorite color (my best friend’s favorite color was blue)...I can understand now. Purple and I are not great friends, but again, I don’t mind purple, I just wouldn’t choose it for anything other than violets and sunsets, oh, and grape juice. As I’ve grown up my favorite things have changed from the most pretty to the most happy. If I had to pick the happiest color, I would choose yellow. There’s no contest. No other color can compete with the cheerful brightness that yellow exudes. In a rack of clothes no matter how ugly the garment, my eye is always drawn to the yellow one first until I see it is a hideous style. It makes me think of smiley faces, sunshine, lemonade and daffodils. I tend to be a very happy person. Yellow is a very happy color. This is why yellow and I are friends.

Congratulations!

You found my blog! Good work and welcome! This will probably end up being the most lonely blog on the web since I haven't decided if I want to advertise it with my friends or family yet. It will just be a collection of random thoughts and stories that are impersonal in a personal way.