The milk chronicles

My dad doesn't drink milk plain.

He never has. His reasoning is "I was weaned once."

He drinks chocolate milk. He drinks hot chocolate. He puts milk in cereal. He eats all other kinds of dairy.

But, I have never, in all of my 23.5 years seen my dad sit down and drink a glass of white milk.

It's odd, I know, but lovable.

My mom, however, can't remember this fact. If we're ever eating something where milk is complementary, she asks my dad if he too would like a glass.

When he gives her his flabbergasted face and says "No," she always says "Oh, yeah. I forgot you're not a fan of milk."

The Vegas of the midwest.

Have you heard of Branson? Of course you have. It's the home of Dolly Parton and the rest of the Osmonds. You know, the ones that no one remembers the name of. It's where old people go for vacation. It's very cute, all of these sweet little old couples riding in on their busses into Branson, MO and walking around the little shops and going to see Dick Clark's museum. The thing about Branson is, you see all these commercials for it and think, "huh, it's probably a lot like Vegas." Flashy, but cool. Then you drive in to Branson. It's not like Vegas (not that I have first hand experience. I've never been to Vegas). Vegas has a mini Eiffel Tower, Branson has a giant bust of Ronald Reagan. Outside a t-shirt stop.

Vegas has giant fountains. Branson has a replica of Mount Rushmore with the heads of Marilyn Monroe, John Wayne, Charlie Chaplain, and a face that is either James Dean or Elvis. It's very hard to say. Also, King Kong.

Like Vegas, Elvis performs everywhere. But the tourists in Branson just might be senile enough to think that Elvis is actually performing there.

Here are some more of the gems that this wonderful place has to offer:

A pizza place with giant instruments poking out of every window.

A giant rooster (are we seeing a giant pattern?)

A highly insensitive Titanic museum. You can't see it, but the marquis says "Now Boarding."

Driving past it gave me the heeby jeebies.

Really low flying helicopters.

Random airplanes on top of mini golf courses.

A roller coaster named after America's favorite pastime. Lumber Jacking.

About 20 minutes outside of Branson, though, the flare and gaudiness is gone. There's a really sweet resort that we stayed in. There was horse back riding. And indoor swimming pools. And miniature golf. And giant hot tubs. And paddle boats. It was beautiful.

She's little and sweet.

It took mom almost the whole ride to realize that there was a spot for Ollie to sit that wasn't on her lap. Luckily she had the only kid who could actually operate a paddle boat.

The babies used the adults' life jackets as tug boats. It was incredibly entertaining, but it did mean that the adults had to turn the boat around several times to go pick up the lost tug boat.

Apparently this is how Dahlia smiles.

Oh, hey, guys. I'm back.

So, I guess I should change the header on my blog, since I'm no longer in Manhattan.

I am now living in Oklahoma, mmmhmm.

BUT! Before I left, I had visitors.

First, Jeannine came to visit me. It was awesome. She came into New York, and we had a blast. We went to see How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.

With none other than Mr. Harry Potter, and it was AWESOME! Daniel Radcliffe has found his calling, and it is called Broadway. It was really good. Also, I almost made us miss the show, since I got us lost, and we had to run down 45th street for 3 avenues. But, we made it. Also, it was raining. And this taxi sprayed water all over me. Jerk. But the show was amazing. And we ate fried zucchini that was delicious.

The next day, Jeannine and I went to Serendipity. Have you ever been served something at a restaurant where when they handed it to you, you thought, "this is going to taste good." Then, it exceeds your wildest dreams. Beyond everything.

That's what happened when Jeannine and I ate the Pineapple Upside Down Cake Sundae.

We had a hard time deciding on our dessert, but the Sundae kept calling our names. It said it had "nutty cheese cake." And we wanted that.

So we ate it. Did I mention it had cake? The cheesey kind? It was beautiful.

Sadly, though, our next meal that day was not as good, our sandwich actually looked like a turkey had thrown up on it. And there was no cranberry sauce. NONE!

And we didn't even get the cheesecake.

We also went to lots of fun places, like the American Girl Doll Store (did you know that they have a salon for your dolls? Awesome)

and the NBC Experience Store (Boom boom boom...Muffins! I may have bought a Saved By the Bell calendar) and FAO Schwartz (there was a Muppet section. An entire section. Whaaaaat?)

Then, she sadly had to go back to Oklahoma. And her flight left way late, but she had to be at the stupid airport for 4 stupid extra hours. Instead of staying at my house.

But, the weekend was amazing. I loved every second of it. Even the gross turkey ones at Carnegie Deli.

Then my mom, Mary Anderson and Ginger Myers came to visit. We stayed in Soho, right down the street from Little Italy and China Town. (Did you know they sell buckets of live frogs there? Disgusto) We walked the Brooklyn Bridge, wandered Central Park, and basically walked all over Manhattan and parts of Brooklyn. It was amazing.

We ate a ton of great food. That's what happens when you stay in Little Italy. There's a lot of Italian food (a shocking lack of pizza, though).

Also, there was a hurricane. We had to get my stuff out of my apartment early, since my apartment was in an evacuation zone. The cab driver taking us from the Upper East Side to Soho was the creepiest man I've ever met. He actually offered to sell my mom to Africa to give money to his family. I know you may think he was joking, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't. I think he actually wanted to ship my mom and all of my stuff to Africa. It was creepy town.

But, we weathered the storm, and did not die. And we actually made it home safely.

So, now I'm in Oklahoma. Woohoo.

This is the statue at the beginning of Newsies. I found it.

Weirded out.

Yesterday, I took a nap. A nice long one. The kind where you are so dead asleep that it's like you're waking up from the dead.

You're disoriented (and demented, and a little nuts. Name that tune).

But mostly, you have some freaky time dreams.

I have a long history of having weird dreams. Dreams about underwear fairs and doing drugs and never ending diet cokes at Sonic.

The one I had yesterday was pretty strange, though.

My family was in New York with me. My parents, my sisters, and my cousin, Elizabeth (I'm not sure why the rest of my extended family wasn't there. I'm sure you were all invited, I just don't remember you being at the activity).

We were in the subway, and had been tasked with chasing ghosts. Yeah, ghosts. We had to run from subway station to subway station, making sure we were in the right spot when the ghosts passed. Some were going faster than others, so it also involved some math (Don't worry, if this isn't weird enough for you, it will get weirder).

The last ghost we had to meet, we had to talk to (Just as a side note, his torso was accordion-esque). At first, I didn't recognize him, then I realized, he was my brother-in-law, Tim. We each spoke with Tim individually. When he talked to me, he told me that my husband, Denny, could sometimes be an idiot.

"Um, Tim," I said, "I'm not married."

"Oh," said Tim, "your boyfriend."

"Tim, I'm not dating anyone."

"Hmmm...well Ghostbusters is still cool."

I realize the insanity of this conversation. It's pretty bizarre.

However, in my mind, the weirdest part is that, in my dream, my brother-in-law had died,

AND NOBODY HAD BOTHERED TO TELL ME!

We finished our quest, got back in the van, and I stopped my family's conversation and confronted them about the member of my family that had passed. Mostly Daisy, since Tim is her husband.

They told me that he had washed an apple with warm water and put it in the microwave and it had given him cancer, which he had died from a few months earlier (Because that's real. Watch out for it), and they were sure they had told me.

They hadn't

Then I woke up.

Upon my entrance back into real life, I was pretty frustrated with my family.

Why didn't they tell me that...my brother-in-law was...dead?

Wait a second.

Then I realized: my brother-in-law was not dead. He was on his way back to Missouri from Indiana. And he had definitely not died from cleaning his apple in a freaky town way.

But, he was right about one thing.

Ghostbusters is still cool.

Remember this song?

Kathleen and I used to listen to it. I would say on repeat, but we had it on a cassette tape, so we would listen to it, rewind, and listen again. For hours upon hours. My mom warned us that she was going to take the tape away, we didn't really believe her. Then she took it away, and hid it for about a year. When we finally got it back, we listened to it just as much. Oh man, this song brings back so many memories.

I really like how the birds and dogs dance along to the music in the video. Classy.

I'm going there!

Don't ask me when, I'm not sure yet, but I know that I'm going (even though it causes my mother much consternation).

I'm very excited.

I'm gonna be the [queen] of New York.

In the city that never sleeps.

The concrete jungle where dreams are made of.

I'm gonna take New York by storm.

And I won't come home until I fall in loooooooooooooove.

(So, put on your Sunday clothes, there's lots of world out there)

Today is the day we honor mothers.

There are a lot of wonderful mothers in my life. My three beautiful sisters, my grandmother, my aunts. All of my church leaders. Basically any woman who has set an example and made a difference in my life is a mother. And today, to all of you dear sweet mothers, I honor you. You are great.

However, as it is mother's day, I would like to take this post to thank my mother. Pamela. She is the beautiful, charming, hilarious woman who brought me life and made me the person I am today. She is amazing. She taught me about the gospel. She taught me how to sew a skirt and how to do a cart wheel. She listened to hours upon hours of me practicing the violin, which I know for a fact was not always pleasant on the ears. She made sacrifices to make sure that my life has been a happy one. I am so grateful for her goodness and her love. I know that without my mother, I would not be the person I am today. It is through the discipline and love that she showed me, the determination and effort she put into raising me, that I have had success in my life. Because of all of these reasons and more, I would like to take this time to thank my mother.

Mommy, I love you.

motherly instincts

I believe that I've mentioned one of my plants before.

I've mentioned my bamboo. My wonderful bamboo that has gone through more college with me than anything or anyone else.

But, I have other plants. I was talking to my mom about my plants and what will happen to them when I leave BYU. There are just so many, I can't take them on a plane. I also can't ship them. I could leave them with someone staying in Provo, like Alison, Dana, Bianca or Katie. But I told my mom that I wasn't sure that I would be able to do that. It would be like giving up a child, and while I know that my friends would take good care of them, I love my plants.

My mom said that this is a result of my motherly instincts kicking in. I can't have a baby right now, and I can't have pets (my apartment won't allow it) so I'm attaching myself to these plants.

But of course I'm attached. I have nurtured these plants. I have raised some of them from seedlings. The others I have raised from almost dying. Plus, they're just so cute.

Basil

Rosemary

Cilantro

Morning Glory

Lavender. This one is exciting. This little guy just sprouted in the last couple of days. I've been waiting for him for about a month. Isn't he sweet?

Bamboo

Aloe Vera (and my clocky).

Money Tree.

just to show off.

For part of my mom's Christmas present, I needed to gather some pictures of the fam. Upon looking at these pictures, I decided that I may have one of the prettiest families in the world. So, I'm going to show you all of the pretty pictures so that you can all bask in the beauty of my family.

leaving on a jetplane.

I believe that I have mentioned before my dislike of flying. But, I don't think I've told you why. I know that flights can go smoothly. I've heard that it can happen, but somehow, it's never happened to me.

Examples:

1. The first time I flew on my own, I was going to BYU to visit my sister for spring break my junior year in high school. My flight was to leave at 1:00 in the afternoon and I should have arrived in Provo around 6:00. I got through security, was sitting in my gate calmly waiting to board the plane, when a loud voice came on the intercom and told everyone to go back to security. Let me emphasize something. Everyone. Not just my flight, not just the airline, but every single person in the airport had to go back through security. Then wait for about 3 hours before we were allowed to go back to our gates. Then wait another 2 hours before we actually made it into the air. I don't think I made it into Provo until around 10:00 at night. Why? Because some idiot tried to get onto an airplane by walking around the airport. First really crappy experience.

2. For the most part, the next couple times were okay. Don't get me wrong. Lots of turbulance, lots of delays, but no huge issues. Then I flew to Jackson, MS after my freshman year to help Daisy after she had twins. I had a layover in Chicago. Dana told me to find the rainbow tunnel. I never found it, but that's only the tip of the ice burg of why that layover was bad. Along with not finding the magical rainbow tunnel, there was a ginormous storm in Chicago. Torrential rain. My 1 1/2 hour layover turned into a 7 hour layover. I was starving, tired, and beat down after finals, and I sat in the Chicago airport with no cell phone to tell anyone what was going on. Finally, I got on the plane at 11:00 at night (I had been traveling since 8:00 am). When I arrived in the airport in Jackson and my bag came off that little roundabout, I found out that the jerk airport people had left my dark blue duffel bag out in the rain during the entire storm. The dark blue die leaked on all of my clothes. Then I got down to the pick up area and there was no one to pick me up. So, at 1:00 in the morning in the airport in Jackson, Mississippi, I sat down on the floor and cried. I continued to cry for about 5 minutes until my mom came running in the door.

3. More delays, more crap. But, yesterday's flight took the cake. The flight went pretty smoothly. It was not the plane that I was the problem. It was me.

Yesterday morning, I had to wake up at 3:30 in order to get from Joplin, Missouri to the Tulsa airport by the time my flight left at 6:43. I had to drive, as my mom had to work that day and my dad's eyes make it hard for him to drive in the dark. About 10 minutes from the airport, my stomach turned itself inside out and decided that it was time for me to not be driving anymore. After crying out "Imgonnapukeimgonnapukeimgonnapuke!" I pulled over to the side of the road, switched places with my father and curled in a ball in the corner of the car until we made it to the airport. I made it through security and onto the plane without a glitch. The flight went smoothly, I assume. I slept through it. I woke up when we were taxiing around and my stomach was flip flopping all around. It was upside down and inside out. It was tap dancing and doing back hand springs (my stomach is very talented, apparently). I knew that even though there was nothing in my stomach, it was coming up. And it did. Thank heavens for barf bags.
However, the next flight did not have those happy little bags in them. For this one I had to make a fun for the bathroom. Getting sick in an airplane bathroom is not really the easiest experience.

I am grateful for airplanes. I'm glad that I can make a 22 hour car trip shrink to 7 hours. It's great, it's exciting, it's fantastic. However, just once in my life, I'd like it if I could just have one flight that goes smoothly.

The day the music died.

(Kay, maybe not the music. Maybe it's actually the Tabasco)
When my parent brought me to BYU, they took me grocery shopping and to Wal-Mart.
My mom helped me pick out the food and all of the household items.
My dad bought me a flashlight and Tabasco. Green and red.
Today, the green ran out. I almost cried.
I know, that's a weird thing to be sad about, but I almost made it all 4 years on those bottles. For some reason I get really attached to weird things that my parents buy me.
Bamboo, Tabasco, the flashlight.
I may keep the bottle.
I know, I have issues.
photo courtesy of

The Latke Who Couldn't Stop Screaming

(and other potato related stories)

Today, after spending 5 hours in the library, totaling to 8 hours on my portfolio today, I realized that I hadn't eaten dinner yet. So, I opened the fridge. Not much stuff, not much stuff.
But, there were the makings of a potato pancake.
Strange? Maybe to those of you who's mothers didn't like to make leftover things into other things, but to those of us who's mothers did, it is glory.
Simply adding eggs to left over mashed potatoes and cooking it like a pancake may not sound euphoric, but in fact, it is.

Speaking of potato related euphoria, you should all read this book.it=awsome

photo courtesy of

The Happy Book.

Last night I went on a crying jag. My face was puffy and swollen, my eyes were red, and my mascara was running wild.

I called my mom so that I could lament everything that was wrong with my life. But my mother wasn't having it. She told me that I had too much in my life that was good to focus on the few small things that aren't exactly as I want them to be.

At the time I was talking to her, I didn't fully appreciate it. As my dad says, "It's my unhappy, and nobody's going to take it away from me." But, the more I thought about my breakdown today, the more I realized that my mom was right. She knows exactly what she's talking about, and she's correct to tell me that I need to be more grateful for what I have.

And then I had an idea.

It spurned not only from what my mom said, but also from what Thomas S. Monson said last Sunday Morning in his talk, The Divine Gift of Gratitude.

"We can lift ourselves and others as well when we refuse to remain in the realm of negative thought and cultivate within our hearts an attitude of gratitude. If ingratitude be numbered among the serious sins, then gratitude takes its place among the noblest of virtues."

So, Here's the idea. A Happy Book. I will start to carry around a journal. In this journal, I will write down everything I see that I am thankful for. I will sketch things that make me happy, and include pictures and quotes and colors and leaves and flowers and swatches. I'm very excited about my Happy Book.

I think that it will help me in the future when I'm feeling the way I was last night. I will read it and remember everything that I'm grateful for.

hot hot heat

i am now in oklahoma (hooray!!!!)

i love oklahoma.

i love the fact that there are no mountains.

i love that my family all lives here.

i love my parents' house.

i love the library.

but, there is one thing that is no bueno.

it is hot here.

i'm not talking about warmth.

you know, where it's a little uncomfortable but doable.

i'm talking about serious heat.

the kind of heat that is fatal if you spend too much time outside.

the kind of heat that hits you like a pound of bricks when you walk outside.

the kind of heat that kills cacti.

photo courtesy of

yeah. the cactus is dying.

that's hot.

but, you know, it could be worse.

i could be going to school in this heat.

like all of the kids in oklahoma.

suckers.