what boo did for her christmas vacation

you may have been wondering where i've been, and i can't say i blame you. well, like many of you, my life as of late has been filled with the wonderful hustle and bustle that is Christmas. it was wonderful on so many levels, and i had a really great blog planned out to talk about how much i love having an entire season dedicated to celebrating the birth and life of Jesus Christ (trust me, it was really touching).

however, since arriving back in scenic boise, i have recently been down with a wonderful case of the stomach flu. i don't recommend it.

i have to say that i blame it entirely on my friend andrea johnson, who astutely observed my body's psychosomatic connection to breaks from school. this semester, i had three breaks from school: labor day, thanksgiving, and now christmas. allow me to break it down:

labor day: severe chest cold.
thanksgiving: serious issues with my insulin pump led to poor sleep and severe headaches that had me down for a couple of days.
christmas: worst stomach flu ever (we don't need to get into the details, but you would concur if i were to tell you about it).

interstingly enough, these are the ONLY three times i have been sick this semster. why is my body so averse toward being on BREAK from school? i believe this may be one of the worst cases of nerdery in the history of nerddom.

don't cry for me, though. in the past few days i have been able to watch a marathon of what not to wear along with the fine films the karate kid, hook, and ET on television. hopefully in a couple days i'll be up on my feet again (without that whole nausea thing).

carry on, friends.

i keep hoping that one day i'll be a grown up

so that i'll actually complete assignment two days before they're due, instead of this whole starting large assignments two days before they are due.

it's time to create 20 pages of clear writing out of a succinct abstract and 8 pages of rambling notes. bah humbug.

the joys of the celebrity spokesperson

much to jesse's dismay, i spend a lot of time lately researching type I diabetes and the various ways it could drastically decrease my quality of life or simply end my life (morbid, isn't it?). luckily, i stumbled upon this little gem of internet uproar, the sheer ignorance of which sadly warmed my heart. thank you, halle berry...



for a wonderful response to this blissfully misinformed cure to diabetes, may i recommend this article.

hey, who needs the facts about a serious disease from those unattractive "professionals" when we have the wisdom of cat woman to guide our medical decisions? in the meantime, i'll be working on "weaning" myself off of insulin.

thanks given

create and ravenously consume feast

check

take mandatory happy picture

check

move on to next holiday

check

we made it!

yesterday jonesy and i celebrated our first anniversary. well, we actually began the celebration on saturday, but as we watched our nineteenth straight episode of LOST on our living room floor last night, i couldn't help but start to do that overly thoughtful and sentimental type of reminiscing that i am so prone to.

see, jesse and i have known each other since junior high school, but never in my wildest dreams would i have imagined being married to jesse. my relationship with jesse started in eighth grade when a friend of mine (who, for the sake of those terribly embarrassing junior high experiences we ALL share, shall remain nameless) was certain that she was quite in love with him. as you can imagine, anyone who even considered jesse as a crush option was immediately out of good graces. how we somehow progressed from that experience to an extremely close friendship and now to a wonderful marriage still baffles me.

i don't intend to get into the lengthy details of our story here (i'm saving those for my best-selling memoir), but i do know that our relationship is absolutely the result of so many small events in both of our lives that led us to where we are today. as our anniversary coincides so closely with thanksgiving, it is nearly impossible for me to not evaluate how truly blessed i have been in my life.

i am so grateful for a wonderful, courageous, hardworking, honest husband who commits to everything with exemplary conviction and integrity. i am so blessed to have a marriage that is built on such a wonderful friendship. most of all, i am so thankful that i have a Heavenly Father who loves me and knows me better than i know myself--who guides my footsteps down paths that often seem confusing and frustrating but even more often fill my life with such peace and happiness.

happy anniversary, jones. you are the greatest blessing in my life. i love you like swayze, cake, and puppies combined (times thirty trillion).

my celebrity look-alikes

apparently there are mixed results on this... what do you guys think? who am i?




and jesse's was just too funny. so i am including it also (without his prior knowledge--sorry honey!)

the french are glad to die for love

i was glad to mortify myself in front of my class on behalf of the (mrs.) french. sexy lexy. for any of you that attended skyline high school, hopefully you are aware of my halloween role model.

see, i tire very quickly of punk eighteen year-olds constantly telling me that their high school english teacher was really great and really knew what she was doing; therefore, any "advice" i may have about how to do their assignments is null and void. in a form of passive-aggressive retaliation, i elected to come to class as my high school english teacher for halloween (even though i was being evaluated that day... not the best idea?).

unfortunately, i now know how women with hot pink lipstick and moustaches are really treated in the world. apparently no one at boise state university appreciates halloween, and they thought i was being serious. i have never had so many uncomfortable looks in my entire life. a girl sat next to me on the bus, and said something. i looked up to respond, and she spent the rest of the bus ride staring intently at that speck of white stuff on the bus floor. for this purpose, i will be forming yet another organization: CCPMW (concerned citizens for the promotion of moustached women)


luckily, i finished the day off with the culinary delights of my sister, jilene. she earned full points for plating this dish. 'twas spooky, delicious, and certain to make any mouth (hot pink or otherwise becolored) satisfied.

i'm only 30 days behind

this week is surprizingly light (which means that the upcoming weeks are most likely going to be certain death) in terms of schoolwork, so i decided it was finally time to fulfill my tagged obligations set in place by my dear friend ally flegal nearly a month ago. i was tagged by said dear friend to complete a survey about my husband. although this could be potentially embarrassing, i'll do anything these days to claim i have female friends, so here it is:

my husband

what is his name?
jesse arin jones (aka jonesy, honey, jester pester chicken molester--i didn't make that one up, you can credit his brother--or kitty)

how long have you been together?
it will be three years in march and a year of marriage coming up on november 18!

how long did you date?
we dated for approximately 1.8 years pre-marriage

how old is he?
jonesy is approximately 24.3 earth years

who eats more?
jonesy eats more in one sitting, but i constantly eat all day long, so it probably balances out.

who said i love you first?
jonesy. it was quite cruel, actually (but in a romantic way?).

who is taller?
HAHA seriously? that would be jesse by a long shot

who sings better?
well, jesse's voice warms my heart, but he is slightly tone deaf (not that i'm a regular britney spears or anything--i mean, i could never produce anything as brilliant as "gimme more")

who is smarter?
jonesy. in fact, i think he has been surprized by how unintelligent i can be at times since we have wed. luckily i bagged him before he caught on.

who does the laundry?
me. i love it. you would have to rip the (warm, deliciously fragrant) laundry out of my cold, lifeless hands.

who does the dishes?
usually jesse, but we try to share.

who sleeps on the right side of the bed?
i don't know what that means. jesse sleeps on the north side of the bed, and i sleep on the south side of the bed. also, our bed faces due west, if that helps.

who pays the bills?
that would again be me. i'm kind of a control freak.

who mows the lawn?
HAHA. again, seriously? who has a lawn at this point in their life (please don't answer if you do have one, because that would depress me). jesse is in charge of sweeping off our porch and killing all the spiders out there, does that count?

who cooks dinner?
usually mcdonalds. occassionally me. even less seldom jesse.

who drives when you are together?
whoever forgets to dibs out of it. which is usually me, but then jesse kindly retracts the dibs and allows me to ride shotgun like a true lady.

who is more stubborn?
i'm going to say jesse, because he keeps glancing at my work, insisting that i change my answers.

who is the first to admit when they're wrong?
well, i'm never wrong, so i guess jesse?

who kissed who[m] first?
tricky question. i refuse to answer (it was me, but it was a really long time ago--think 2002--and i was just out of high school, and jesse was really cute, and i had all those weird raging hormones they talk about in health class, and i was really confused about what was happening to my body, so i can't be held responsible for that (obviously). the second time we started dating, jesse kissed me first, so technically the answer should be jesse).

who asked who[m] out?
jesse asked me out. he's a gentleman.

who proposed?
that would be jonesy. however, i would be somewhat inaccurate if i didn't indicate that he certainly received a great amount of gentle prodding from yours truly.

who is more sensitive?
me me me me me me me me me me. why? what is this question implying?
also, jesse makes fun of me for crying at just about anything (church talks, queer eye for the straight guy, rory gilmore's high school graduation)

who has more friends?
i probably have more "friends" but jesse has more friends that actually spend time with him on a regular basis. i have cyber friends.

who has more siblings?
me. jonesy has but one. i have five.

who wears the pants in the family?
think of me in the right leg and jesse in the left. it's like a more advanced (and difficult) version of the three-legged race... but with two legs... well, four, but we're pretending to have two, ya know?

i would like to tag:
stephanie robertson, talia douglass, and angie rice

bragging rights

was everyone aware that i own the typewriter on display on this blog? because i totally do.

did you know i took a swimming class in college, and i earned an A despite all predictions that i entirely lack physical coordination/athletic prowess? because i totally did.

were you aware that i drive a stick shift? because i totally can.

was it within your realm of understanding that i was bonneville county top county model (for my age group, of course. my sister also earned the title for her own age group) circa 1995? because i totally was.

is it in your ken that i once stared at claire danes for so long (in real life. i know, right?) in the airport on my way to stephanie's wedding that she actually moved to another terminal, and then i found out later that she was on my flight anyway? because i totally did.

did you know that i just polished off an entire bag of haribo gold-bears by myself in the library in the face of a fallen pancreas and strict rules regarding the consumption of food in the campus library? because i totally polished it.

if you answered no to one or more of these questions, we obviously haven't spent five minutes together in a long time.

*this message brought to you by the Foundation for Building Self-Esteem in Grad Students Gradually Losing Sight of their Long-Term Goals and Sense of Self (FBSEGSGLTGSS)

it's the most wonderful time of the year

the leaves are changing color and falling
squirrels scurry through the trees and streets searching for nuts
children are eagerly anticipating halloween
the air feels like the inside of a crisp apple

'tis true, fall has arrived

like so many, i eagerly anticipate the first leaves falling to the ground

the first day of sweater weather
the first day of sweater + scarf weather
the first day of sweater + scarf + boots weather

most importantly, i anticipate the beginning of mcdonalds monopoly season like a child anticipating their first bite into the bobbing apple

friends and family, please partake of the joy of the season



(and should anyone get the kentucky avenue piece, let's work something out)

NOVEMBER 14!!!

i'm so excited that i squealed when i saw a commercial FINALLY announcing a date for the new season to start on bravo.

i really hope this means that heidi klum is pregnant again.

inaccurate cross-section of american culture?

i'm hoping that my itunes spying on campus in no way reflects the true musical tastes of our society. finds so far:

ace of bass
iron maiden
vast amounts of kanye west and missy elliott
acdc
blink 182
sugar ray

do people really listen to these on a regular basis?

in other news, i quit my job (well, put in my two weeks' notice).

in other other news, i am attempting to find meaning in finnegans wake for tomorrow's presentation. pray for me.

only in dreams

i am really trying not to say things like "man, i can't wait until we have money so that we can buy a house" or "i really wish that we had money so that we could hire bobby flay to come prepare all of our meals." that's not to say i don't have those thoughts--i do (and you're lying if you say that you don't have them... or you're just a really good person). i usually take those moments to reflect on all the wonderful things in my life, because they are certainly plentiful.


but today i have reached my threshold, and it is time for public coveting. i'm just going to say it: i cannot wait until discount toilet paper is no longer the norm in our home. i fantasize of fancy, soft toilet paper with teddy bear embossing slowly infiltrating all of my normal storage areas, accumulating under the bathroom sink, stacking in the closet, somehow finding its way into my backpack and purse.

let's be honest with each other here: there's no way anyone would ever do this with "super discount ultra-soft" (which in no way resembles actual softnesss). do you recognize the look in his eye? that, my friends is what we call pure joy.

dare to dream. dare to dream.

over the highway and through the suburbs...

my sister and her sweet husband take such good care of jesse and i. i just wanted to take a few minutes to illustrate all of the many reasons we love going to visit them, and why we are so grateful to have such wonderful family in our neck of the woods:

jesse and heath are pretty much best friends forever (0r bff's for those of you who are more with the hip lingo). they both have spiderman t-shirts, like to talk about good guys vs. bad guys, and love their chocolate milk. heath and i were having an intellectual discussion the other day about which members of our family are boys and which ones are girls. after assuring me repeatedly that jesse is most certainly a boy, i decided i would ask the ultimate question: "who do you like better, heath, me or jesse?" he didn't even hesitate. response: "jesse. do you wanna play with my transformers?" it certainly doesn't hurt that heath is the smartest and funniest child in the world (not that i'm biased at all). heath is still the only person i know that can get jesse to genuinely smile in a picture.

not only is heath handsome, but his little brother wade is also particularly charming. i actually dreamt the other night that i had a baby girl whose beauty baffled everyone i encountered. after waking, i realized that the baby girl was really just wade in a dress. however, i think you can see why i can't imagine a more beautiful child.

last weekend, jil and dave let us have jesse's birthday party at their house, and jil helped me make jesse's cake (and by helped, i really mean that she did all the hard work while i stressed about school and then let me help decorate). to top things off, they gave me a present too (hooray for aprons!)! does it get any better?

heath has taught me that being a big brother is really frustrating, but at the end of the day, no matter how many of your toys your little brother may have put in his mouth, you have just got to have fun and help a little guy out.


frankly, the whole place just keeps me grounded. thanks for letting us make your house our second home, guys.

'tis a modern miracle

when your high modernism professor notes the obvious mistakes of your book review (such as forgetting to include significant words like "chapter" in sentences as well as including obviously unread phrases such as "they find display this attraction-repulsion...") and still selflessly gives you the benefit of the doubt. today i give thanks for undeserved good grades.

two weeks down

things survived thus far:


beginning two new jobs
a whole new semester of classes
a parasite
an ambulance ride/ER visit
a terrible chest cold
a deep scrubbing of my entire apartment
two weeks of not touching my husband (see number three)

it seems odd to look at these minor setbacks as accomplishments, but i can't help but feel an eery kinship to this image.

we're gonna make it after all.

happy 24th!

he may have a parasite...

but he's still standing strong

he may be 24 today, but he is still comfortable dressing up as a twelve-year-old

and i couldn't love him more

happy birthday, jonesy!

parasite jones

i am sad to announce that jonesy has been preoccupied with another closely clinging group of individuals: cryptospiridium. although the past nine months have been filled with my efforts to continually reassure myself that i am jesse's one and only, others infilitrated his heart--well, his small intestine.

allow me to start from the beginning.

it was a calm, temperate tuesday afternoon during the first week of school. my husband was complaining of stomach ... discomfort, so i volunteered to go to his class for him in order to pick up his syllabus. i arrived home to find my wonderful in-laws perched on our couch (they stopped by boise on some travels in order to take jesse out to dinner for his birthday), anxiously looking toward the bathroom. my interest piqued by their positioning, i rounded the corner to find little jonesy camped out on the bathroom floor with a blanket and pillow, shivering and hyperventilating.

debbie (mother-in-law) and i swiftly set off to the nearest pharmacy to find something to make him feel better. it wasn't long before i received a phone call from larry (father-in-law). jesse was freaking out, and i needed to get home. thanks to the inept traffic skills of many boise residents, i didn't make it home before larry called again. this time he informed me that the paramedics were on their way.

i returned home swiftly to find that jesse was in no good state. all the muscles in jesse's body had contracted. he couldn't move. he couldn't talk. he was hyperventilating significantly more. he was white as a sheet. however, in true jesse fashion, he was keenly aware of his situation and making what i'm sure was very intelligent commentary. however, because all his mouth muscles were contracted, we only received a muffled version of his comments. the entire situation was, in a word, terrifying.

the firemen showed up first, and they were great at getting in there and helping jesse. then the paramedics showed up and helped jesse roll to his side (he couldn't really move). jesse began to tell them all about his medical history (still in his strange, muffled voice), including all of his latest blood test results from his latest physical (i'm fairly certain he remembered the exact number of his white blood cell count...). the paramedics told jesse that he probably couldn't move because he was dehydrated, had lost his electrolytes, and was losing his carbon dioxide because he was hyperventilating. they needed to take him in. the paramedics and firemen worked together to transport jesse down the stairs of our apartment building, and we emerged to see our parking lot filled with firetrucks and ambulances. in retrospect, i realize that this moment was the closest we will ever come to being rockstars. jesse was harnessed in the back of the ambulance, and i got to ride shotgun over to the ER.

as soon as the paramedics got an IV into him, jesse's muscles started to loosen up. a few hours later, when he could start using his hands again, we both knew that he had made it over the rough part of the mountain.

after a few hours of humiliating tests and gilmore girls reruns on hospital tv (i wasn't complaining), we soon found out the root of jonesy's suffering: parasites. apparently they are going around ada county. i also found a newspaper article that says they're going around utah (be careful, utah friends!). the doctor asked where we had been swimming. luckily, losers like us don't even get parasites swimming (because we don't actually have time to go swimming). jesse most likely got the parasites from someone else who was lucky enough to go swimming, unlucky enough to pick up a few microscopic friends, and unhygienic enough to pass it on. awesome.

i think that this may go down as jesse's favorite birthday celebration of all time.

i must admit, i'm glad the ordeal is over and hope that i never have to see my jonesy in such a state again. however, don't think that the experience has not had its funny moments. two conversations i had at work yesterday:

me: jesse has a parasite

co-worker: other than you? how much can one man take?!?

me: jesse has a parasite

different co-worker: what? does that happen in america?

bottom line: wash your hands. and avoid public restrooms. just don't leave your house again. ever.

a boo by any other name would smell as sweet

here is a list of what i am officiall addressed as all across my life:

rebecca lee jones
rebecca jones
rebecca davis
rebecca lee davis
rebecca davis jones
rebecca davis-jones
rebecca jones-davis

a typical phone call with any official corporation/organization/employer/entity goes something like this:

business dude: alright, can i get the name on that?
boo: rebecca jones
b.d. : umm... i'm not seeing it
boo: try rebecca davis jones
b.d.: nope, not there
boo: rebecca davis?
b.d.: nothing
boo: boo face mcjones?
b.d.: umm... that looked more likely
b.d.: rebecca davis jones banana hammock?
b.d.: oh yep, there you are. could i get you to verify your contact information?

(forgot to post this last week...)

it all started with a simple thought.

biscuits and gravy. then i realized. i have no biscuits. i have no sausage.

brilliant plan: ride pink monster to winco and acquire biscuits and sausage.

i harness the pink monster up out front and start walking into winco. approximately two steps in the front door i hear a male voice behind me say: hi. i turn to my right, and respond: hi. it takes a moment to process, but i soon realize that i have never previously laid eyes on the plaid-clad thirty-something next to me. he stares. i quiver.

sorry, he says, i thought you were my neighbor.

silent pause.

oh, well, i'm not. i coldly reply.

yeah, you mostly looked like her from behind.

he stares intently at some part of my face. sweat drips from his dwight schrute haircut. i make a quick left down an aisle i have absolutely no interest in.

oh, well have a nice day, he calls behind me.

while panicking about my vulnerable position all alone in the grocery store--my only getaway the two-wheeled, pink contraption powered by my wee little legs--i spy the only thing that can restore sanity: circus animal cookies. on sale.

i grab the cookies and biscuits and gravy necessities and hustle back to the pink monster, carefully stowing all goods in my front basket. speeding down (or up) myrtle street, i realize i have made a clean getaway from the sweaty, dressed-by-his-mother, socially inept, i-hope-he-was-referring-to-my-hair-when-he-recognized-me-from-behind, dwight schrute look alike.

i was little aware of my impending doom.

i can't tell you why i didn't notice it. perhaps the thrill of avoiding another awkward encounter. perhaps the fact that i am mere minutes away from enjoying circus animal cookies in the comfort of my own blue couch. either way, i soon find myself speeding directly toward the curb of death.

i watch as all goods in the basket bounce uncontrollably. the biscuits fly to the left. the sausage flies to the right. the cookies land six inches in front of me. without having any time to react or absorb the shock of what has just happened, i feel the pink monster's front wheel make direct contact with the circus animal cookies. the crunching sound makes me instantaneously nauceous, and i react as i always do in incidents of minor destruction: panic.

helplessly screaming, "oh no oh no oh no" on one of the busiest streets in boise, i carelessly park the pink monster, praying that there is some hope for the cookies. the bag is rent apart, all cookies smashed into the sidewalk.

i struggle not to actually cry, so i start picking up all the smashed animal cookies in an attempt to distract myself. i convince myself that any good citizen would clean up their smashed cookies, not realizing that in my effort to keep sidewalks clean, i am actually depriving all the local birds of the best feast of their short lives.

i complete the clean up, packing the remains of the cookies in the grocery bag to properly dispose of in the privacy of my own home. as i sit baffled on the sidewalk, i reflect on the eventful past fifteen minutes.

what did i learn from this experience? well, there are multifarious positions to take on it. perhaps i should learn that judging the socially inept to be inherently perverted and creepy and taking all measures to avoid them isn't the best way to perceive an uncomfortable encounter. perhaps it i now know that impulse buying unnecessary food is never a positive response to emotional trauma. however, in the initial moments following my sidewalk trauma, i learn a very valuable lesson.

one when loses a bag of circus animal cookies, it is best to immediately fill the void with a bag of red vines purchased at a convenice store on the way home. lesson learned.

some things never change

i heard this song on the radio today, and it changed my life. again. it's one of the many tunes that makes me wish that i were an alto, irish, and in my own rock band. however, i am glad that i am no longer in the nineties.

i dare you to listen to it without singing along. it's impossible.

it seems i'll never be athletic

because although i frequent the gym, i have also found that you lose street cred when you will exercise ONLY if cable tv is involved. do people actually run without being able to watch the food network, gilmore girls, or whatever makeover show is on tlc?

let's be honest here, if i could run on the eliptical while consuming a mcgriddle, large fry and diet coke, i would.

(can i count this as my patriotic post for the year?)

apparently the real boo isn't so cool

life gets a little slow here in boise, and now that i've finished the harry potter series, i've had to develop a new hobby to keep myself occupied. i chose reinventing myself (you know, like madonna). a few demonstrations:

bootylicious. as a white girl in idaho, i've always held exotic dreams of walking down some ghetto-fabulous street surrounded by whispered awes of "baby got back." i figured stuffing my rear-end with washcloths and modeling for jesse was pretty much the same thing.

crazed homemaker. let's be honest, as a newly married lds girl, there is an unspoken level of pressure to become a perfect homemaker. i haven't had time to perfect green jello with carrots or even to make some glass grapes, but i did venture so far as to make a pie. however, i think that the stress is getting a little too close to pushing me over the edge (examine the eyes for further proof). i may have to just revert to microwaving corndogs.

hermione granger. i wanted to be ginny weasley more than most anything i have wanted in my life. however, i lack the skill to properly apply hair color spray. it took me four hours to scrub said spray off of my bathroom floor, kitchen sink, and even out of my ears. in a moment of panic before our midnight magic party, i chose to go as hermione granger. after reading the last book and recognizing her rocktasticness, i am ok with the decision. i still have redhead envy, though.

let's speak hypothetically, here

suppose i had a friend that did not actually share a name with a television crafting personality with million dollar corporations and a brief stint in prison under her belt, but we all called her by said christian name nevertheless. and then suppose that said friend seemingly harrassed me for not having posted on my blog for a while, and even tried to intimidate me through exploiting my previously mentioned fear of not fitting in.

one may then wonder how i would handle said comment. suppose i had nothing interesting to report in my life. suppose all i had been doing lately was catching up on my harry potter (hypothetical remember) reading and perhaps even getting an outfit together that made me resemble ginny weasley for the midnight release party of book 7 (DEATHLY HALLOWS!!!) at barnes & noble this upcoming friday evening. i suppose said friend might feel silly for making me confess this publicly.

i suppose it's a good thing that we're still supposing. cool kids don't do that kind of stuff.

well, i was going to write a really great post about the 4th of july and how much i love america (but not in an e. e. cummings way). i was even going to include a picture of myself and the pie that i made (strawberry apple = delicioso). but we left the camera in our friend's car. and then time passed on. and now it's simply uncool to post about the 4th of july. and let's face it, as much as i love america, i love being considered "cool" and fitting in exponentially more.

shallow?

most definitely.

apparently i remember too much

my sister tells me that i may remember too much of our childhood. like the fact that we determined that the combination of blue, green, and purple was by far the holy trinity of color schemes. or that we would rush home from church in order to reenact what we were certain our cats had been doing while we were away--holding their own sacrament meetings.

i, however, feel that these memories are what keep me sane in the midst of all the chaos that has become my daily life. in fact, i am fairly certain that one of these memories recently saved my personal sanity. as i was walking around the hospital at work the other night, trying desperately to calm myself from the fury that naturally results from poor workplace treatment, i was suddenly struck with a vivid memory of my father.

you have to understand, i was terrified of my father as a child. i couldn't really tell you why; my father is absolutely wonderful, but he frightened me nonetheless. now, i have always recognized a lot of the amazing gifts that my dad gave me: a strong work ethic, a distinct sense of right and wrong, an intense love for books, and an amazing example of charity in unexpected environments. however, the other night none of these were coming to mind. i just remembered my father carrying me. you know, when i'd fall asleep in the car, on the couch, or even on the floor (those who know me well know that i can--and do--fall asleep most anywhere while doing most anything). the more i thought about it, the more my mind was permeated with childhood memories of the countless times that my dad would carry me from one inconvenient sleeping position to my bedroom, carefully treading the whole way in order to not wake me.

many years and two herneated discs--bart's--later, my dad has stopped carrying me to bed. it could be the fact that we live hundreds of miles away from each other or maybe even that i now make jesse carry me to bed (much to his dismay). last summer, however, at least 12 years after our last careful walk, my dad carried me to bed again. i was a pathetic wreck--fresh from the oral surgeon's office--i got my wisdom teeth out roughly seven years behind the national average-- filled with drugs and crying out of sheer confusion (note to self: becca + anesthesia = no good). this time, dad couldn't pretend to be quiet--he was a little more out of shape and apparently i have grown an inch or two. i'm sure that if i could watch it again, i'd probably laugh at him bumbling down the stairs with me weeping uncontrollably in his arms. strangely enough, this may go down in my personal all-time favorite moments in history. i liked having my daddy carry me to bed again; there was something reassuring about it...

so, i may remember too much--stretch pants, mariah carey impersonations--but i like it that way. after all, my memories are all i'll have in 50 years when i have been robbed of my ravishing good looks and stunning intellect.

apparently diabetes sucks

but only one thing about being diabetic really bothers me: judgments from those that i have barely met regarding my diet (e.g. "you eat a lot of sugar for a diabetic" ~new coworker). you know, sometimes a girl just needs a cookie.

miscellaneonity

All is summed up in the prayer which a young female human is said to have uttered recently: 'Oh God, make me a normal twentieth-century girl!' Thanks to our labours, this will mean increasingly, 'Make me a minx, a moron, and a parasite' ~Clive Staples

a few crucial updates in my incredibly normal life (warning--for those interested in anything remotely thoughtful or thought provoking, this blog is intended purely for mundane life updates):


i'm officially in love. with this ice cream. it blows my mind. my dear friend stephanie recently composed a blog regarding a book that had struck her so much that she wanted to hand it out on the street (and i strongly encourage anyone to check out her blog for more details). i had a similar experience with this.




moving on. jesse has finally started a blog, and it is highly worth examining. feel free to check it out. in addition to his blogging and new role as my golf instructor, he also found some time to practice his bruce campbell skills in preparation for the imminent zombie/living dead invasion.

i have given womanhood a second shot and just finished (thanks to a significant amount of help from my dear sister jilene and her patient husband david--aka jil and dave or dilene... i'm still trying that one out) making an ottoman for our sad, little living room. this baby was a sweet DI find, and after far too much time dedicated to sanding, staining, and upholstering, the project is complete.

at the advice of a friend, jesse recently checked out the public library book store (approximately three feet from our apartment... give or take a few hundred yards), and picked me up some SWEET finds for an even better price. it is, in a phrase, the happiest place on earth.

lastly, i only have one week of summer school left. this is blog-worthy only because i am reaching my threshold of questions such as "is that what God thinks?" from students in the class...

alright, blog out.

joining the ranks

i got a set of golf clubs this week. alright, in the interest of full disclosure, i must admit that my daddy bought me a set of golf clubs (i'm not too proud to acknowledge it). now, i know what you are thinking: "but becca, whatever shall this do for your street cred? how are people to take you seriously as a bad-A if you're toting around a driver, some hybrids, and a putter?" well, i must admit that i also feared about this.

however, in the interest of my mental health, i have decided that it is time to take up a hobby other than reading books in dark crevices of my apartment; watching Gilmore Girls every day at noon (again, not too proud to admit it); and working in an office full of catty, old women.

well, friends, worry no more. i have found (quite to my relief) that i am not losing touch with any creativity that may have once pumped throug my wee little veins; i am merely joining the ranks of the bold, brave, ravishingly attractive, and stunningly creative/intelligent who have gone before. i give you, ladies and gentlemen, kenny g:

tonight at work i jammed a pencil into my hand

on accident, of course.
i did the same thing in sixth grade.
but in my thigh.
and not at work.

questions that make me question my career path

so, i'm taking a c.s. lewis class for the summer just to get a little caught up on my credits (i started my program a semester late and am trying to graduate on time... AHHH!!!). unfortunately, because the grad program doesn't offer any courses in the summer, i am actually in the class with a couple of girls from my program and a LOT of undergraduates.

let me make something clear, i have no problem with undergraduates. you may find this hard to believe, but i was once an undergraduate myself. however, as the fall semester approaches and i begin to contemplate my upcoming role as an English 101 instructor, i have been particularly shocked by some of the conversations in my class. examples:

teach: well, the problem with dualism is that good and evil will never be equal forces. good is, by nature, better than evil and will always triumph. that's why it's good.
kid in first row: so what you're saying is that if evil triumphs then it BECOMES good?
teach: no. no, that's not what i'm saying. evil will never triumph. that's why it's evil.
kifr: maybe you just don't get what i'm saying. see, if evil triumphs, then it is better than good, so it becomes good.
teach: no, i understand you. you're just wrong.

teach: well, you see, the problem was that lewis just got kant wrong, and he learned the hard way...
kifr: wait, wait, wait, you keep talking about some kant. what's a kant?
teach: oh, sorry, kant is a german philosopher. he's pretty influential in the philosophy world.
kifr: got it. kant. how do you spell that? c-a-u-n-t?
teach: no, he's german, so it's k...
kifr: (interrupting) on K-a-u-n-t?
teach: again, he's german... k-a-n-t. anyway, so lewis was probably more closely related to descartes.
kifr: what's descartes?
teach: another philosopher. see lewis aligned with descartes in his...
kifr: how do you spell that? d-e-k-a-r-t?
teach: no. d-e-s-...
kifr: OH d-e-S-k-a-r-t
teach. no. d-e-s-c-a-r-t-e-s
kifr: oh, that's actually pronounced DES-CAR-TES.

teach: lewis was really mocked for writing a science fiction story. see, at that point in time, science fiction was really seen as a lesser genre within literature.
kifr: it's not different AT ALL now. every time i ask to write a science fiction story in one of my writing workshops, the teacher says no. i still think that in literature they only like the boring, stupid stuff.
teach: well, i don't think that they want you to read the "boring" stuff so much as build a foundation. i also don't think that science fiction is looked at as a lesser genre... i think your teachers. well, frankly, (exasperated), i think your teachers might not think that you know what the hell your doing. and that's frightening.

kifr (after class): listen, i'm not a philosopher, ok? i study literature, not philosophy. i've never read any of these books, i've only seen the movies, ok? i don't CARE about the difference between pagan and christian infleunces, ok? i just care about the books.

why do i share this with a vast audience? frankly, because i doubt my own ability to patiently respond like my teacher did. when the fall comes, pray for me.

dark confessions

warning: the following list is not for the faint of heart (or those who are unsure of their intense--don't worry, you'll get there--love toward me).

fact: i have started playing a video game (it is called zelda for the nintendo wii) that involves me creating a character and interacting with other characters in a fantasy world. i actually play this game into the wee--no pun intended--hours of the night and--today--before lunch (does that mean it's an addiction?)
feelings: i am ashamed of myself for going back on my resolve to never do such a thing, and yet i am exhilerated by its forbidden nature.

fact: i hate my job, but i am getting so good at hiding it that my boss recently thanked me for being so positive and creating a happy work place.
feelings: i am either (a) glad that i have fooled everyone enough that my sarcastic "happy to be here" and "fake it 'till you make it" has come across as genuine or (b) saddened that i work in an environment that is so blind to sarcasm...

fact: because i never see the light of day, i have begun frequenting a tanning body lotion. this lotion, however, has turned all of my white towels a disgusting brown color.
feelings: meh. that's what bleach is for, right?

fact: no one in my ward will talk to me. no one. jesse and i spent an entire linger longer (with delicious crepes) sitting by ourselves at a table in a room full of crowded tables. it could have something to do with the fact that i introduced myself in relief society like this: "hi, my name is rebecca jones. i am working on my master's in english. (in response to the worried looks that indicate shock that i am not in dental hygiene or nursing school) yeah, i'm kind of a dork. i don't really recommend talking to me... it's pretty bad."
feelings: i am slightly saddened to be the ultimate social outcast, but it sure beats awkward church coversation, eh?

fact: i felt guilty that i had not posted on my blog for roughly a coon's age. however, without anything exciting to report, i created an entire blog filled with arbitrary facts about my life.
feelings: well, i enjoy writing about myself, so people probably love reading it, right?

summertime: the living is easy

today jesse and i took our bikes on their summer picnic maiden voyage in the park behind our apartment. it was so lovely that i actually arrived at my wretched place of employement with a smile on my wee little face. i just thought that this was a good time to introduce everyone to our children.
this is jesse and his bike (our son) The Flash. please pardon the goobery look on jonesy's face; he was pretty much oblivious to the fact that i was taking a picture.
this picture is of me and my bike The Pink Monster. i think that this picture not only captures the love affair i have with my bike, but also my inner desire to be the horseback diver from the fabulous film Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken. if you questioned what that film is, i urge you to rent it as soon as possible. it will undoubtedly change your life.
the end.

perhaps one is not really "loving" things

if he/she (practicing awkward gender neutrality) has to end so many personally descriptive sentences with the phrase, "and loving it."
save it for mcdonald's commercials.

*EXCEPTION: i am 22, living in boise, dirt poor, happily married, about to finish school for the semester, and loving it.

we must use windex

while enjoying a lunch of leftover Italian food and gilmore girls, jesse and i were surprised by a sudden *BANG* on our window.

we then watched a very confused bird fly away.

he sat perched outside on a telephone line with a somewhat dazed demeanor for about, oh, ten minutes (long enough for me to snap a candid shot from our living room window). i can't imagine the headache that comes with flying full-force into one's window, but i am quite certain that it puts a snag in one's afternoon.

do you ever

spend all of your time devoted to a paper only to read through it and realize that it actually kind of sucks?

wake up from a nap and feel like your arms lost all function?

procrastinate, but pretend that you're not procrastinating because you made muffins?

find (or create) messes just so you can clean them up?

make lists and lists and lists of things that can't possibly be done now in order to avoid doing things that you need to do now?

decide that your hair looks like a triangle when it's down and like a twelve-year-old's hair when it's up?

argue that going to the gym is imperative for your health when you should be spend your time on more necessary tasks and that it's a distraction when you really should go?

plan on going to the ward whatever (visiting teaching brunch) all week, wake up early for the event, and decide to stay home and eat cereal instead?

if your answer to any of these questions is yes, we may have a great deal in common this week.
it's time to shape up, kids.

today we made a pact

we don't want to gain weight just because we're married. we agreed. and then we ate mcdonald's breakfast.

i have to write roughly 45-pages in two and a half weeks

and all i can think about is whether or not it's time to change the title of this blog from jesse and rebecca to just rebecca, seeing as jesse adamantly refuses to be a part of the blog.

a moment of vulnerability

this is what happens when i am left alone with a scarf, a pair of scissors, and the notion that i should be french: i give myself bangs (you know, like shorter bangs than i already had...)

i was ready for a change of sorts.

Per Bitty's Advice

jesse and i had our first easter all by our lonesomes. originally we were going to have some friends come visit, but bitty's health simply would not allow her to travel the distance. i'm not gonna lie; i was a little bummed out that we didn't get to be with our families and friends, but luckily bitty was wonderful enough to suggest a perfect easter activity. following her advice, jesse hid diet beverages around our apartment for an easter hunt. he also documented the entire hunt with photographs. i don't really understand what hiding eggs around a house has to do with Christ's resurrection, and i'm fairly certain that hiding diet beverages around the house didn't increase my understanding of Christ either, but it was a gay old time. i also realized why people always want to have kids around holidays: pictures of adults searching for things in a living room really aren't that fun to look at. nevertheless, i am posting some of ours. i hope that everyone had a lovely holiday--i know that i did.

one hiding position for the diet wild cherry pepsi
jesse kept telling me that i was RIGHT at the last one, but i couldn't see it. i became forlorn. if you look carefully, you can actually see the can in the window sill.

hooray! happy easter for all, and diet pepsi for me!

my husband has a first name--it's J-E-S-S-E

and he is singing the oscar meyer song in the kitchen while making a sandwich.
we're grown-ups. promise.

so i said, do you love me?

and she said, no, but that's a real nice ski mask.

my new look: wife

i like to pretend that i know what i am doing.

thanks to melissa, i can now dress the part in my sweet new apron.

Tillamook Orchard Harvest Yogurt

didn't rock my world. raspberry is still nectar of the gods, though.