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Just wanted to show off my new camera!
The colors don't look as amazing on this blog because of my hazy template. They are actually vibrant and beautiful! You'll just have to take my word for it. These pictures were taken at the botanical gardens by my house.
This is my dear friend Megan and her angel baby, Molly. The color in these pictures is actually pretty awesome (trust me), but you can't tell because of my hazy blog template. Oh well.
Bad haircut. Told you so.
Good thing I'm so dang cute.
So, I realize that this is a gigantic spider and not a human. I just wanted to brag about how cool my camera is! I was way super far away from this evil creature and you would never know. My zoom is the BEST!
The cutest boy in the WORLD!
Doug splashing away in the water fountain! Look at the water droplets! They were made possible by my cool new camera!
If you know me, really know me… then you would know that I have priorities. And these priorities are basically the framework for my life. My priorities are—and in no particular order—family, the gospel, and hair… but especially hair.
When I get the thought that I need a haircut—it must be done. It becomes an obsession. It is all-consuming. The problem is that I’ve been trying to grow my hair out. And I’ve been doing a great job. My locks almost reached bra-strap length… which in my world is billowing. But then I got the itch.
In most moments of weakness (such as this) I would just call my sponsor (my mom). I’d tell her that I was about to falter and she would lovingly, but firmly, talk me out of it. But this week my mom was in Europe and unreachable. So I blame her completely for the haircut.
I gave the hairdresser what I thought was pretty good direction. I pointed to the picture and said “I want this haircut exactly.” Then, in case she had cataracts or over-dilated pupils, I verbally outlined exactly what expected from this haircut.
Snip snip snip. I could tell that she was doing it all wrong but it was too late—the damage had already been done.
I looked down at the piles of my once luxurious hair. At first I was glad to be rid of it. I felt like shouting “I’m free! I’m free!” and running naked around the salon. But then I looked in the mirror. This woman, this so-called stylist, had stripped me of all that was feminine. She had maimed me. She had given me “the mom haircut.”
“I love it. Thank you,” I said and gave her a generous tip. I got in the car and cursed my mother.
Yes, I'm a very spoiled girl. Spoiled-rotten. I just got my second new very cool toy this month. My first toy was the Rav-4. It is the best car in the world and I would bathe it in kisses if I wasn't already married.
The second cool toy was a birthday/Christmas present for me and Ryan from my in-laws (Thank You!!!!). Our current camera is has never given us satisfactory pictures and is now producing more offensive images than ever. I look fat in every picture... oh wait.
So I did a lot of research and picked the perfect camera. It's an advanced point and shoot with about a bazillion mega-pixels and a generous zoom. I've always wanted to learn about photography and now have the perfect equipment to start.
Ryan was a little hesitant about my choice. When we got married we agreed that Ryan could be in charge of all the Best Buy purchases if I could be in charge of all of the Crate and Barrel purchases. This arrangement made a great deal of sense at the time. Ryan hated shopping for anything that was not a gigantic TV and I claimed an allergy to any product with wires and an instruction manual.
It was only natural that Ryan was concerned about my health when I told him I wanted this slightly expensive and slightly complicated equipment. But I pulled out the big guns. I asked Ryan how important it was to him that we choose a basic point and shoot (which I admit are very cute and very little) over a better-in-every-way camera. He rated it a seven on his scale of importance. I then informed him that it was a nine on my scale. I needed that camera. I had to have it. I loved it.
Ryan agreed that we could get the surperior camera. He said it was a ten on his scale if it made me happy. Which makes me happy. Which in turn will make him happy... but I'll not go into that.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to the Lee's for this amazing present! I'm still trying to figure out how the dang thing works, but once I do I'm going to take some brilliant pictures of your grand babies and send them straight to you!
A stake high counselor spoke to our ward on Sunday about how the way we speak reflects who we are inside. Perhaps I liked his talk so much because I love words… especially writing them. I can say the exact thing I want to say in the exact way I want to say it. If I write something illogical or grammatically odious I can backspace until all evidence is destroyed.
How I wish real life was like that. When I say something mean or muddle up my words, wouldn’t it be nice to right-click delete? I am a far less graceful in person than I am on paper. Sometimes I feel clumsy when trying to hold an actual conversation. And on the cell phone… a downright failure.
But really, how does the way I speak—or more importantly the words I choose to use— reflect who I am inside? I remember in high school a few of my girlfriends and I experimented with a few naughty words to prove that we weren’t as Mary Tyler Moore as we looked. I’m sure any person lucky enough to catch us mid-blaspheme would be more inclined to howl with laughter than be offended. We could never make the words sound convincing enough and eventually tossed the cause. We were trying to be something we were not.
This does not mean I shun all bad words. I find a good “damn” or “hell” appropriate and even necessary if used well and sparingly. I have a friend who is the picture of Clorox clean. She was an EFY counselor and a missionary, but also one of the more hilarious people I have met. She was relaying a story about how she was on a date and accidentally peed her pants in the middle of a goodnight kiss (I could relate more than I care to admit…. but I’ll save that for another blog). Anyhow, I was doubled over laughing as she was reenacting the episode and narrating what was going through her mind mid-stream. When the “d-word” slipped out of her mouth I hit the floor. It was the crowning glory of the chronicle. It was unexpected. It was brilliant.
So I admit, I mix a little dog poop in with my brownie batter. Don’t tell anyone (or sample any of my baked goods). But for the most part I try to radiate who I am with the topics I choose to speak about or the words that leave my mouth. There is a great deal of room to improve, though.
The Sunday speaker also talked about how it is easy to identify if a marriage likely to fail by the tone of voice one spouse uses to another. If one partner consistently sounds reproaching or superior when speaking to the other, chances are that the marriage will end in divorce. This had been statistically proven. Scary, huh? Sometimes it is not what one says but how one chooses to say it that makes all the difference. I am so grateful to a husband who speaks to me lovingly and kindly (and often relentlessly teasingly) and I hope that I do the same. It’s something for me to watch for when the inevitable differences arise.
Speaking of words… I think I’ve used my quota for this entry.
I did it! I purchased my first baby girl outfit! Isn't it the cutest thing? You can't tell from the picture but it is itty-bitty.
Girl's clothes are about twice as expensive as boys clothes... but notably twice as cute. I am half-way terrified to buy girl stuff and find out that it is actually a boy. The temptation, however, is too huge and shopping for my new baby is so fun.
We are thinking about the names Kianna and Evangaline. I am interested to see which name everyone likes better so please feel free to express your opinion.
Ry and I just got the basic cheap cable package, but lo and behold, the BYU channel was included! This excited us to the point of a happy dance! If you’ve ever had the pleasure of watching the BYU channel you might have seen a documentary on peach-canning or a recording of an Orem Ward sacrament meeting from 1979. This will come in handy if (a) you missed church that week or (b) you missed the last episode of What Not to Wear.
Anyhow, last night I was channel surfing between MTV’s The Hills and BYU channel’s broadcast of a university performance medley… and yes, there was clogging involved. Perhaps it was the stark contrast between the two shows, Hollywood vs. Zion, but one thing became painfully obvious; us Mormons are a bunch of dorks.
And it is glorious, isn’t it? I am all for the Mormon culture. If I ever hear people bad-mouth Provo I say “Pardon me, have you ever been there? Have you ever experienced the joy of running into two extremely important celebrities in one week (Marie Osmond and John Bytheway)? Have you ever guzzled so much Hawiian Punch laced with 7-up that you swear you had a buzz? Have you ever been to a place where it is equally cool to wear a 1960’s leisure suit on a date as it is to wear Banana Republic? I think not so shut your darn flippin’ mouth!”
Provo is amazing but Mormon culture extends far beyond the reach of Utah. When I was teaching in Guatemala I attended a ward party in the church’s cultural hall. An amazing Guatemalan delicacy was served. I can't remember its name but it was made from of potato, pork lard, and meat, and then wrapped in a banana leaf and boiled. I devoured several of them before I realized the reason I liked it so much. They tasted suspiciously like funeral potatoes. I wouldn’t be surprised if the church sends special shipments of ‘crema de mushroom’ soup to church branches in foreign countries alongside tithing slips and hymnals.
All jokes aside, I really do like the Mormon Culture. I am proud to sport big hair, eat Jell-O containing mystery vegetables, groove to the MoTab on my I-pod, send my child trick-or-treating in a suit and tie with a badge that says "Elder Lee", and wear an undershirt to cover my undershirt. This culture is part of what makes Bethany Bethany—even if I am a big dork.
My little angel. We are on the way to the Aquarium for a fun and free labor day activity.
Look at those big brown eyes... they see a fish!
These are my handsome men. All of the ladies that work for Ryan have crushes on him. I embarrasses him to no end. Someone even told him that when he turns around they all check out his bum. While I am personally well aware that he has the cutest bum, I think those ladies should mind their own business.
Throw it in the oven!
22 weeks and counting. I think it is time for this shirt to go into retirement. It is too small and after close inspection I realize that it makes me look like either a tootsie roll or Mr. Hanky (think South Park).
All and all it was a fun labor day. We really missed our families, though. We look forward to a time when labor days are with large quantities of people and food.
I realize that its been a while since my last blog. I have not been on vacation. Rather, my mind has been occupied on two very important matters and I have had little time for anything else.
Important Mind-Sucking Matter #1: True to my promise to myself I have been plugging away diligently at my book. I am already about fifty pages in and really enjoying the process.
Here’s the main idea of the book: My main character (Katelin) is a fifteen year old girl whose parents unexpectedly send her off to summer camp. This is weird because she is too old for summer camp and her parents can barely make rent, let alone send their daughter to what appears to be a rather luxurious summer vacation. Then—while she is there—weird things start happening. Campers mysteriously get ill and disappear in the middle of the night. Camp counselors, who seem ill-suited for their jobs in the first place, act evasive and indifferent to the campers needs. Perhaps the weirdest thing of all, however, is that boys start acting interested in Katelin for the first time in her life.
Anyway, that’s all I’m telling for the time being but if you are interested in finding out more you can purchase the book from Barnes and Nobel in the summer of 2008 (hee hee).
Important Mind-Sucking Matter #2: Waterslides. All I can think about are darned waterslides. I want to go to a water park so very badly that it has almost become an obsession of mine. They are building a small water park by our house and I make Ryan take me there after church every Sunday so we can gauge its progress. I sit in the car and daydream about plunging into a cool pool of water. I imagine lounging in a rubbery tube floating carelessly down the lazy river. I picture myself swishing through a tube slide as the water joyously splashes me in the face (meanwhile, my boys are daydreaming about the meal that the crazy waterslide “freak” is keeping them from).
And then reality hits. I cannot go on waterslides. I am too pregnant. Perhaps it is better this way. I would clog the waterslide anyway (picture Augustus Gloop on the way to the fudge room).
