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Showing posts from February, 2009

Amy Barry is entitled to this post

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The Harwards were a big influence on me and my entire family in the formative Glendale years (1986 to when I moved away from home in 1994). I believe that everyone who spent time in the powerhouse ward of Glendale 7th would say the same. Big family; really smart; super talented; famous mom; generous dad; vocal; the knowers of all that went on.  Amy was the oldest of the second half of Harward kids and I was always a little intimidated: by her height and beauty, her best-friendedness to my older sister, and her sarcastic sense of humor. I'm over it now, though. I think she's cool, just plain and simple. My freshman year of high school, Amy drove me to seminary every morning in her brother's convertible with Yaz blasting. Yes, Yaz. I don't think anyone before or since has loved Yaz as much as this girl. Or even knew they existed. Let's take a Yaz appreciation break, shall we? Amy now lives in Washington and is the mother of five. She and her husband adopted one of th...

Tip of my tongue

Tonight I was telling Steve about my statistics lab, and how my 30-something comrade Bryn and I are the only ones who will open our mouths AT ALL. To answer a question, to ask a question, to read a question out loud -- whatever. We'll wait for a while in awkward silence while no one says anything, and then one of us pipe up to help the poor TA out with a response. None of the teens and twenty-somethings seem to think their silence is rude or in any way out-of-the-norm. They have no expectation whatsoever that they should be participating in our small group discussion. SO, Bryn and I -- in our old-ladyish, momly wisdom -- have chalked it up to a generational thing. And I was telling Steve this, but I couldn't and still can't remember the word that I want to use to describe this generation of reticent college students. Help me? The word means: expectant that they are deserving of everything. It's killing me that I can't remember. It can be used to describe a generatio...

we are not pigs

I'm going to teach my kids to be clean(er) if it takes everything I've got. I'm also going to throw things away with zeal and vigor. I'm so sick of stuff everywhere. How do all you, my clean friends and family members, do it? I salute you.

I recommend

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Showing the dead rat in the pool to the visitors center's director, aka Mark Eubank the Weather Guy. Here are some things I think you should do if you go to Oahu: Stay on the North Shore. At least for half the trip. Rent a condo at Kuilima Estates at Turtle Bay, perhaps. Vrbo.com will get you there. Eat at the shrimp trucks in Kahuku. Giovanni's is our favorite. Get the scampi. Spend a day at the Polynesian Cultural Center. Do the luau and evening show, maybe the IMAX. You can hop on a quick tour of BYU-Hawaii and the LDS temple, or go there on your own another day. Very pretty. Sing, "Oh, I'm going to the Hukilau. Huki, huki, huki, huki, huki, Hukilau." And then go to the Hukilau Beach for a sort of Hawaiian Provo/Mesa experience, if you know what I mean. Lots of one-piece bathing suits and big Polynesian college boys wrestling on the beach. Maybe you don't know what I mean. Pick a beach, any beach. Don't settle for crowds. You can have a beach all to yo...

Which is to say that my vanity is zerozerozero

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Today. Sick sick sick. I never get sick. Except today. Normal day. Although Photobooth shots are never flattering (of me).