Aren't you supposed to have kids first, THEN get the minivan?

Well, okay, so I've never been one to hold to convention for too long so I've done it yet again. No babies will be on board this great white beastie for a while yet though. Over the last few years when I would see commercials for minivans I would get so aggravated and say things like, "Why do they put all the cool features and stuff in stupid, dumb, kid-toting, soccer-mom, stupid minivans?!?" Of course, when faced with purchasing a car again for the first time in 10 years it felt like having to go on a first date knowing I had to get married at the end of the day. I finally just had to realize that what I hated about minivans was the stereotype, not the minivan. And hey, what the hell do I care about what other people think (or even what I thought yesterday)? This experience has gotten me saying, "Eh, I'm over it" quite a bit lately. I wouldn't so much say that I'm light on convictions or anything like that. It's simply that I am getting to the age where it's easier for me to see just how ridiculous some of my "stances" can get. So, the bottom line is that I LOVE my new (well, used but new to me :) car and I get to be twinners with Angela.

Birthday Babies!

Ok, so these guys all got themselves started hatching on my birthday last week but since they were all lazy-asses I had to help them; so they actually made their final exodus from their eggs the day after my birthday on May 25th.


Right out of the egg:












12 hours later:
























48 hours after that:

Maybe this is why I keep forgetting stuff:

It just seems like I have to get a good knock to the head at somewhat regular intervals in my life. Why that is exactly is far too philosophical a question for me to dare touch, but the fact does remain that I seem to have a knack for getting clocked. Here is the latest one from 4:30 this afternoon:



I've gotta say that climbing out of the window of a car is not something I would recommend.

Let's get together and watch a couple of butch nuns dance!

We had a wonderful run last week with very few and rather minor hiccups along the way. The best part though was making so many new friends - I don't exactly get out much and working in construction doesn't exactly present many women to get to know. Here is our homemade convent film display for your viewing pleasure:

Nunsense, Absolute Nunsense!

I have missed the stage so much and finally woke up to the bare-knuckles fact that I did indeed have the time and energy to put into it. The last time I performed for an audience other than for weddings and funerals was all the way back in the Fall of 1997 when I played Audrey in our high school production of "Little Shop of Horrors". The Farmington, Utah Community Arts Center announced in the February newsletter that arrives in the envelope with our city utility bill (can't you just feel the excitement building?) that auditions were coming up for their annual dinner theater production and that 2008's selection would be the musical comedy, "Nunsense". Whew!

Of course I had to audition! I mean, come on, a chance to dress-up in sacred religious garb and act positively irreverent? Where do I sign? Actually, the author wrote the musical based on real nuns he knew. I couldn't find where I read the story about it online though.

Rehearsals have been a bit ridiculous, but still fun. Our director is just a kid (she's 19), our Mother Superior (who has by FAR the most lines in the show) has never performed in a play before and we have only had time to run through everything once before we start dress rehearsals (which are next week)! Sweet Holy Moses! But hey, that's the thrilling fear that comes from doing local community theater, eh? You just never know what to expect.

Welcoming myself aboard

I have always loved keeping a journal, but have never yet in my life managed to maintain one for longer than somewhere around a year or two at a time. Many months and years then pass until an event occurs in my life that simply needs recording and the cyclical pattern begins all over again. So, perhaps placing my brain children in the hands of public domain will keep me motivated. We shall see.

I wasn't adopted, but I think these people might just be my parents.