Dear Ashlie-

I could have responded in comment fashion, but this note from you

p.s. I saw a preview on the History Channel for a show called Monsterquest and it was about Giant Sized Spiders that eat DOGS!!! Thought about you. :)

deserves more than a measly hidden comment.

I. Am. Horrified.

And also, I googled "dog eating spider". (What can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment.)

Behold:

Trust me, the Brain Blog had a profanity-laced caption for this one. In fact, every time I see it, I post again.

Shut the heck up.

So, anyway, thanks for the heads-up. I'll steer clear of the History Channel for a while. It'd be like sending Wendy to Shamu's house for Thanksgiving.

Only with more legs.

Love,

Kris

mybrainblog.blogspot.com

Does anyone else find themselves thinking in blog-ese? I'm not talking about the casual "oh, this will be so funny to blog about later" blip that flashes across the mind-screen of every good blogger. I'm not even talking about the somewhat more obsessive-bordering-frantic "something good better happen today so I can hurry up and blog about it" commentary that runs like stock quotes across the bottom of my brain version of CNN. I'm talking about constructing a detailed, complete, word-for-word post mentally without ever logging in.

There are lots of benefits to a successful Brain Blog. You can put the final touches on the punch line before you ruin the joke, for example. Or use swear words as adjectives for people in the real world with out your alive blog friends thinking less of you. You know, stuff like that. Also, typing posts on the Brain Blog is a great problem solving skill.

See, just today I was crafting a post in my mind. Yesterday, we spent a positively delightful evening catching up with the Allreds (mentally planned hyperlink) at ye old California Pizza Kitchen before heading over to the Klug's pad (mentally acknowledged no hyperlink as they remain blog-less) to see their newly birthed child. All of this was fine and dandy, except that we forgot to record The Office.

Repeat for emphasis (in both mental and real-life blog): WE FORGOT TO RECORD THE OFFICE.

And then, a miraculous thing. I inserted a hyperlink to The Office on the Brain Blog. And, naturally, I clicked on my Brain Blog's link with my mind. HELLO! What have we here? Oh yeah. Free episodes.

I refuse to believe I am alone here. Wanna know why? Because some of you commented on my Brain Blog.

As I was saying...

I mentioned a coupl'a posts ago that this young man was headed to the Philippines to serve a 2 year mission for our church. Since he's flying out early next week, I figure I should squeeze in a few of the pictures of Day 1 for good measure.

As his big sister, I can assure you that Tommy is a safe and cuddly 9 year old who loves Michael Bolton and Steve Young and projectile vomits on every car trip. Where this 6'3" mature monster came from is a mystery to me.

We've worked hard to reassure the Tomster that having oodles of estrogen around for his formative years will mold him into a fabulous husband someday. Having 6 sisters around obviously did nothing to stunt his growth. (I can count, too. In true Ari fashion, she was halfway around the world in Russia when he left.)


He does have a couple cute brothers, as well. We kept them around to make sure he could properly throw a football, and to stock him up with plenty of hideous polyester ties for the mish. (See the cute one on the end? No, not the one with the Lamanite complexion. The other end. Guess what? I'm married to that piece of sugar. Mmmm.)

This is the whole fam-damily. All told there are 4 last names in this group; Ari would've made 5. For fun, we'll count Ari in from now on. There are 3 married couples, one engaged brother (I took so long to post this that he's married now, too), 4 returned missionaries, 3 college students, and 2 kiddos in high school. 5 of the lot swim/swam competively. 4 play(ed) high school soccer. 9 members of the crew are taller than I am, including the 12 year old. (Query: How did the eldest daughter of paternal 6'4" and maternal 5'10" genes end up a chunky 5'6"?) 2 are Spanish-speakers, 1 speaks Thai, and Tom-Tom is learning Tagalog. 4 were born outside of Utah (including 1 outside of the USA). There are 3 altos, 1 soprano, 1 tenor, 1 bass, and a grundle of tone-deafers. There are 3 Aggies, 5 Bruins, and 3 Cougars, plus 1 U of U grad who doesn't care about being a Ute. All but two of them have left the country at least once; 4 can say they have lived outside of the U.S.

Oh, and one leaves for the Philippines on Monday.

Try signing that Christmas card. We all love each other.


Bonus question: Can you figure out who goes into which groups? Betcha Mom can't. :)

Pop Star Cents

As a general rule, I don't discuss the economy much. Numero uno- I'm the first to admit that I don't really understand global or even national economic structures beyond, say, a second grade knowledge of supply/demand, and B- I live in Utah and therefore generally disagree politically with about 78% of my neighbors. I try to keep at least a working knowledge of issues up to speed by watching plenty of the Today Show in the morning, reading slate and MSNBC while I'm at work, and catching some good ol' John Stewart whenever possible. Nothing like being well-rounded, you know? (Aside: that was not a fat joke.)

Lucky for me, I stumbled upon a brilliantly educational article which resolved all my concerns about the current state of our nation. It's like a parable, really.

Check it out.

How I yearn to be that funny.

Ode to a roommate

You know how in college, 96.8% off all new conversations start with, "what's your major?" (For those who haven't ever lived in a college town, the other 3.2% of conversations likely come from someone sporting a Tweety Bird t-shirt and begin with some version of, "and did you see the last episode of Stargate?!?" Sigh.) Well, anyway, I once had the good forturne of stumbling across one particularly intelligent male specimen (at ward prayer, naturally) who, upon learning of my course of study, decided on this course of conversation:

Him: "Um, wow. So you, like, wanna take babies away from their moms, huh?" (Winks in an attempt to be witty.)
Me: (with the blankest expression I can muster) " Sure. But only if you slap them around first."
Him: "Oh."

And I neatly slunk away, leaving him to chat with my cute roommate. If memory serves, she was clad in a Minney Mouse hoodie, eager to discuss the deep plot line of the latest episode of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.

Anyway, the point of all this rambling is that I'm having a little trouble connecting to my Inner Sanctum of Happy Heritage today.

Normally, I don't mind my job much. Ever seen Scrubs? The social worker at that hospital "vomits sunshine" all over the place. To be honest, it's a fairly apt and downright hilarious description of our world, and it's even funnier if you happen to actually be a hospital social worker, like mwah.

Today, I just can't seem to connect to the cheerfully dizzying nausea of being pleasant all day. From time to time, my little Jimminy Cricket says: "H'lo? What's wrong with you? You've chosen to work in a cancer building. And to work trauma at a children's hospital in the middle of the night. Have you no heart?" Usually, I can convince myself it's because I have a little heart. But not today. I've been all wrapped up in myself and feeling supremely 'eh' about the whole thing.

I've been trying to convince myself all morning that there is simply no reason for it. After all, I am wearing new pants and have my zebra stripe purse with me today. I should be absolutely exploding with joy.

You know what I need? A good lecture on why it is not at all weird and/or worthy of sarcasm to watch a show where some of the antagonists have actual horns. Something tells I've heard the lecture several times before. Multiple times, prolly, from the aforementioned roommate. I think she was wearing a cartoon shirt.