It's not so much the front of the fireplace, or even inside the fireplace. But rather another place, that is in close proximity to the fireplace.
Could it be under the fireplace? No, that's impossible.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Monday, December 24, 2012
Ruining Christmas
Last night while working on the Christmas puzzle and eating cookies I said, "My favorite part of Christmas Eve is that we get presents the next day!"
Brandon got this smug look on his face and turns to his oldest daughter, Elle, and asks her, "Elle what is your favorite part of Christmas?"
Immediately she responds, "My favorite part is that we get to learn about baby Jesus!"
Ugh. Kids. Always trying to ruin Christmas.
Brandon got this smug look on his face and turns to his oldest daughter, Elle, and asks her, "Elle what is your favorite part of Christmas?"
Immediately she responds, "My favorite part is that we get to learn about baby Jesus!"
Ugh. Kids. Always trying to ruin Christmas.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Christmas Book
Mother and I were at the breakfast table this morning, and she asked if I saw the presents under the tree. (I may or may not have made a big deal about how there weren't any presents under either of the Christmas trees, and what is up with that?!)
I immediately went to inspect them, and determined they were books for the Grandchildren. I asked about them, and Mom picked them out, but they were funded by G-ma. Mom said, "I even read one of Elle's chapter books. It was really great! I laughed out loud a few times."
"Aahh, I wish I could read it!
"Yes, it's a good one, and I think there are lots of discussion topics."
"Oh man, I wish it wasn't wrapped."
And then Mom got up, went over to the tree, and proceeded to unwrap the present.
I read it this morning, and I really liked it. I would tell you what it is, but what if Elle reads this blog? I don't want to ruin the Christmas surprise.
I immediately went to inspect them, and determined they were books for the Grandchildren. I asked about them, and Mom picked them out, but they were funded by G-ma. Mom said, "I even read one of Elle's chapter books. It was really great! I laughed out loud a few times."
"Aahh, I wish I could read it!
"Yes, it's a good one, and I think there are lots of discussion topics."
"Oh man, I wish it wasn't wrapped."
And then Mom got up, went over to the tree, and proceeded to unwrap the present.
I read it this morning, and I really liked it. I would tell you what it is, but what if Elle reads this blog? I don't want to ruin the Christmas surprise.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Free Underpants
I forgot to tell you:
Grandma and I were walking around the intimates department in JC Penny, and we passed some underwear for sale. It was a set of briefs that were pastel, satin, and full coverage. Super full coverage. Think almost to the waist and straight across the top of the legs.
G-ma points to them and says, "What size underwear to you take?"
Uhhhh.....
"I bought some just like this but they are too big, maybe they would fit you."
Hmmm...
1) What 28 year old woman would want to wear her G-ma's underwear?
2) I wear garments. Which, really, have more fabric than the satin set in question, but that's not really the point. Doesn't she know about garments? Maybe she forgot. I don't mind that.
I had been racking my brain for a way to get out of this, and so I said, "Oh, I don't like this style. Too high at the waist."
And, somehow, that got her to drop the topic.
Anyway, we still have a three pack of Grandma underpants hanging around if you know of anyone who wants them.
Grandma and I were walking around the intimates department in JC Penny, and we passed some underwear for sale. It was a set of briefs that were pastel, satin, and full coverage. Super full coverage. Think almost to the waist and straight across the top of the legs.
G-ma points to them and says, "What size underwear to you take?"
Uhhhh.....
"I bought some just like this but they are too big, maybe they would fit you."
Hmmm...
1) What 28 year old woman would want to wear her G-ma's underwear?
2) I wear garments. Which, really, have more fabric than the satin set in question, but that's not really the point. Doesn't she know about garments? Maybe she forgot. I don't mind that.
I had been racking my brain for a way to get out of this, and so I said, "Oh, I don't like this style. Too high at the waist."
And, somehow, that got her to drop the topic.
Anyway, we still have a three pack of Grandma underpants hanging around if you know of anyone who wants them.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Grandma, because it's been too long
It was Father's idea to gift Grandma a day of driving her around. It sounded like a pretty good Christmas present, seeing how I love shopping, she loves shopping, and also I couldn't find the pickled peaches Brandon wanted me to find which was the original gift idea. I felt a little bad bailing on the pickled peaches plan, but then I remembered that he can just give Grandma a picture of his kids for Christmas and call it good.
Anyway, the date was set for today! It had been too long since I had hung out with G-ma.
I had forgotten.
First, she has a new walker wheeled seat. I wish I could explain it better to you. I think the official name is the Smooth Walker 3000 or something. Does that help?
That thing is very difficult to get into the trunk. She wanted me to call Mother and ask her how she does it, but I was too prideful, so instead I struggled for a few minutes every time I had to get it in or out of the car.
The day started at 10 am, and we were going to Kohl's. As soon as we pull into the parking lot, G-ma starts talking about an article she read about how all the Mormon women are trying to change some things in the Church by wearing pants last Sunday.
Sigh.
Okay, G-ma, it's not ALL the Mormon women. Please don't classify me into a group of women who have forgotten that God loves them and that He is perfect, and has a plan and a reason for everything, even if it's not completely clear at the present time. I have three problems with this 1) Whatever article G-ma read made it into a newspaper. I think this is absolutely the wrong publicity. 2) I attend Sacrament Meeting to renew sacred covenants. It is not a time for protesting. 3) It worries me when members are just waiting for the Prophet to, essentially, change his mind. That indicates that the Prophet gets to do whatever he wants, which is false. The Prophet does what has been revealed to him. Wearing pants to church will not cause the Prophet to ask God to give women the Priesthood and then God will say, "Oh, why didn't I think of that? Absolutely, let's do this." And the Prophet has no authority to make that decision on his own. This isn't a company we are dealing with. This isn't a government. This is God. It just surprises, saddens, and angers me to know that this many people don't understand the way God works, how he speaks to His prophets, that His timing is not our timing, and His infinite love for us.
Anyway, I couldn't say all that to Grandma. I was trying to get that darn Smooth Walker 3000 out of the trunk during this time. And then a car alarm went off, and Grandma was yelling over the car alarm about how that is her main problem with the Church, how women can't do what men do (which she didn't specify, I just let it slide) and also how Dad won't be able to see me married. Those are two different topics, but just to ease her mind on the last one, I'm in no danger of getting married anywhere, so don't worry about it. She said, "Those two things I have a problem with, the rest I don't care about."
This should be an interesting day. Our first stop: Intimates.
On our way to hunt down a bra, G-ma says, "You know, I was married to Al for 30 years before I changed my religion."
What? When did you do that? How come I've never heard of this? G-pa was Catholic. So what is G-ma? Also, if G-pa was raised Catholic, it must have been his mother's doing, because Great G-pa was Jewish!
I was trying to sort all this out in my brain as I was searching for a bra size that doesn't exist. But G-ma said it would be there, so I kept looking.
I couldn't find it.
Also, we are looking for a terry cloth robe if you happen to have one. Maybe I'll just order her a Juicy Couture track suit.
In other areas of the store we found elastic waist pants, which are perfect, and also three fleece tops because it's just "so damn cold" outside.
Then, we went to JC Penny. They did not have the magical bra size. So we had to go to Walmart, where my soul died a little and where we did not find this particular bra we have been so madly hunting for. She did, however, find some cozy pajama pants with a Hello Kitty print, so that's a win.
Then we went to lunch across from an assisted living home. Grandma then entertained me with stories of her friend Millie, who used to be at that home, but she got kicked out because she once went outside practically naked in the middle of the night. She got kicked out of a lot of places, that Millie.
Anyway, I told G-ma that I would like to go to our local jewelers if she wanted to come with me.
She did.
When we got there, everyone greeted her by name. She's a regular! I had no idea. I knew she liked jewelry, but I had no idea that I should immediately go back to her place and try to place dibs on pieces and stones I particularly like.
Anyway, all in all it was a pretty good outing. I went home and Greta and I started wrapping some Christmas presents. The phone rings, and it's G-ma.
"Myriah, wouldn't you know it, not one of the things we bought today fits me properly. You're going to have to exchange or return it all. Can you go tonight?"
"Sure. Sure I can. I'll be over in ten minutes."
Anyway, the date was set for today! It had been too long since I had hung out with G-ma.
I had forgotten.
First, she has a new walker wheeled seat. I wish I could explain it better to you. I think the official name is the Smooth Walker 3000 or something. Does that help?
That thing is very difficult to get into the trunk. She wanted me to call Mother and ask her how she does it, but I was too prideful, so instead I struggled for a few minutes every time I had to get it in or out of the car.
The day started at 10 am, and we were going to Kohl's. As soon as we pull into the parking lot, G-ma starts talking about an article she read about how all the Mormon women are trying to change some things in the Church by wearing pants last Sunday.
Sigh.
Okay, G-ma, it's not ALL the Mormon women. Please don't classify me into a group of women who have forgotten that God loves them and that He is perfect, and has a plan and a reason for everything, even if it's not completely clear at the present time. I have three problems with this 1) Whatever article G-ma read made it into a newspaper. I think this is absolutely the wrong publicity. 2) I attend Sacrament Meeting to renew sacred covenants. It is not a time for protesting. 3) It worries me when members are just waiting for the Prophet to, essentially, change his mind. That indicates that the Prophet gets to do whatever he wants, which is false. The Prophet does what has been revealed to him. Wearing pants to church will not cause the Prophet to ask God to give women the Priesthood and then God will say, "Oh, why didn't I think of that? Absolutely, let's do this." And the Prophet has no authority to make that decision on his own. This isn't a company we are dealing with. This isn't a government. This is God. It just surprises, saddens, and angers me to know that this many people don't understand the way God works, how he speaks to His prophets, that His timing is not our timing, and His infinite love for us.
Anyway, I couldn't say all that to Grandma. I was trying to get that darn Smooth Walker 3000 out of the trunk during this time. And then a car alarm went off, and Grandma was yelling over the car alarm about how that is her main problem with the Church, how women can't do what men do (which she didn't specify, I just let it slide) and also how Dad won't be able to see me married. Those are two different topics, but just to ease her mind on the last one, I'm in no danger of getting married anywhere, so don't worry about it. She said, "Those two things I have a problem with, the rest I don't care about."
This should be an interesting day. Our first stop: Intimates.
On our way to hunt down a bra, G-ma says, "You know, I was married to Al for 30 years before I changed my religion."
What? When did you do that? How come I've never heard of this? G-pa was Catholic. So what is G-ma? Also, if G-pa was raised Catholic, it must have been his mother's doing, because Great G-pa was Jewish!
I was trying to sort all this out in my brain as I was searching for a bra size that doesn't exist. But G-ma said it would be there, so I kept looking.
I couldn't find it.
Also, we are looking for a terry cloth robe if you happen to have one. Maybe I'll just order her a Juicy Couture track suit.
In other areas of the store we found elastic waist pants, which are perfect, and also three fleece tops because it's just "so damn cold" outside.
Then, we went to JC Penny. They did not have the magical bra size. So we had to go to Walmart, where my soul died a little and where we did not find this particular bra we have been so madly hunting for. She did, however, find some cozy pajama pants with a Hello Kitty print, so that's a win.
Then we went to lunch across from an assisted living home. Grandma then entertained me with stories of her friend Millie, who used to be at that home, but she got kicked out because she once went outside practically naked in the middle of the night. She got kicked out of a lot of places, that Millie.
Anyway, I told G-ma that I would like to go to our local jewelers if she wanted to come with me.
She did.
When we got there, everyone greeted her by name. She's a regular! I had no idea. I knew she liked jewelry, but I had no idea that I should immediately go back to her place and try to place dibs on pieces and stones I particularly like.
Anyway, all in all it was a pretty good outing. I went home and Greta and I started wrapping some Christmas presents. The phone rings, and it's G-ma.
"Myriah, wouldn't you know it, not one of the things we bought today fits me properly. You're going to have to exchange or return it all. Can you go tonight?"
"Sure. Sure I can. I'll be over in ten minutes."
Monday, December 17, 2012
Compassion and Tonight's Service Fiasco
Eye Roll.
I just figured I should start this with an eye roll to set the mood.
So, I've been feeling these strange stirrings of compassion in my soul recently. It wasn't my idea to get them, and I've been trying to figure out what to do with this excess love ever since.
Obviously, a way to release some of this pent up love is to serve.
Our branch did this cool thing this year where they bought Christmas for two families in the Stake.
Tonight for FHE, we were suppose to bring everything we bought and wrap it up.
I got there a little late (because of last week's Soviet Union struggle) and things were already under way.
As soon as I walked in, someone was already freaking out. And they were exploding all over me.
Something was missing. Then we had to figure out who was suppose to bring it, so the google doc had to be consulted, and did that person give those items to anyone else, and where was that person, and do they really have it, and will it get to the family in time? Now, this was not done in a calm, rational manner. No, it was going down with too much excitement and a heightened sense of possible immediate destruction. Seriously, it was too much drama.
Too much drama!!!!!!
I felt like I needed to get out immediately.
So, while this person was freaking out all over me, I started freaking out, and someone said, "Don't let Myriah have scissors."
I started wrapping presents. And did you know, when I got home, I found that I had cut myself?
(I contemplated not posting this picture because it isn't very pretty, but, it was so sweetly ironic that I decided it would be an injustice not to post it.)
That guy was right. I was dangerous with scissors.
Just another reason why I'm bad at service.
Sigh.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Nevah Gonna Happen
I've been making this crazy effort to be more social. I don't mean that my effort is crazy, I mean that it is a crazy idea to think that if I become more social, I will meet more people, which will open me up to more opportunities, which will lead to a man who is really cool, funny, and taller than me who wants to date me.
For example, I have started going to FHE.
We were all sitting in a circle, waiting for things to begin, and I was suffering through a conversation about the Soviet Union and the Berlin Wall. As you know, if there is anything lovely, of good report or praiseworthy, I will take scrupulous notes to share with my dear friends and family later.
But there was nothing. Just people nerding out on the Soviet Union. And, unfortunately, that just isn't my cup of tea. It does not set my heart aflutter. I find it... boring.
I'm in a wasteland.
I got back from FHE tonight, looked at Nelly and said, "I'm never getting married."
I told her my Soviet Union/Berlin Wall/Historical woes, and she said, "You can get an information app or something for your phone next time."
"Uh, the issue is not keeping up with the topic, the issue is my severe lack of interest in joining the conversation."
The lack of interest was so intense that I contemplated leaving before FHE had even begun. I had this feeling like I needed to get out immediately or I would hate myself for the next 12 hours. It's this horrible panic attack that happens when things get too nerdy.
Anyway, another example:
A few months ago I was at an FHE at my Branch President's house. They had recently moved in, and needed help moving something. The Branch Pres comes in to the room and asks for any strong volunteers. Out of 6 guys, only one raised his hand.
Why, you ask? Because they all know that their skills do not lie in lifting things. They know they are scrawny.
It made me sad.
That was a few months ago. I was hoping things might get better, but these past three days proved to me that it most certainly will not get better, and that it's nevah gonna happen.
For example, I have started going to FHE.
We were all sitting in a circle, waiting for things to begin, and I was suffering through a conversation about the Soviet Union and the Berlin Wall. As you know, if there is anything lovely, of good report or praiseworthy, I will take scrupulous notes to share with my dear friends and family later.
But there was nothing. Just people nerding out on the Soviet Union. And, unfortunately, that just isn't my cup of tea. It does not set my heart aflutter. I find it... boring.
I'm in a wasteland.
I got back from FHE tonight, looked at Nelly and said, "I'm never getting married."
I told her my Soviet Union/Berlin Wall/Historical woes, and she said, "You can get an information app or something for your phone next time."
"Uh, the issue is not keeping up with the topic, the issue is my severe lack of interest in joining the conversation."
The lack of interest was so intense that I contemplated leaving before FHE had even begun. I had this feeling like I needed to get out immediately or I would hate myself for the next 12 hours. It's this horrible panic attack that happens when things get too nerdy.
Anyway, another example:
A few months ago I was at an FHE at my Branch President's house. They had recently moved in, and needed help moving something. The Branch Pres comes in to the room and asks for any strong volunteers. Out of 6 guys, only one raised his hand.
Why, you ask? Because they all know that their skills do not lie in lifting things. They know they are scrawny.
It made me sad.
That was a few months ago. I was hoping things might get better, but these past three days proved to me that it most certainly will not get better, and that it's nevah gonna happen.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Squeak
It was a lovely afternoon. It was very unseasonably warm for Chicago. I got home from Church and found a quiet and peaceful house. Perfect, I had some things I needed to work on.
After about 45 minutes I decided it was time for some food, so I scrounged around in the fridge and found my left overs from last night's Kuma's Corner. So good. Just as I was about to put it in the microwave, Nelly comes out of her room and says, "Do you hear that?" I look at her and ask, "Um, the microwave? Cause I hear that."
"No," she says, "the chirping."
I was quiet for a second. Then I moved my foot and the floor squeaked. I looked at her questioningly. She shook her head.
Then I heard it. A chirp. And again. And again. What was that? After some ridiculous brainstorming and a bit of fun, we decided that maybe we had a bird in the house? I told Nelly that I was going to look for it. Good thing I had my head lamp.
After I told Nelly to close all the doors to the kitchen, she made sure to close herself out of the kitchen. I guess she doesn't like things flying at her. I checked the cabinet it was coming from and didn't find anything. I moved the fridge and didn't find anything, except a bunch of dust. So I got out the broom and started sweeping up. My broom swept under the cabinet and caught on a spider trap. I knelt down to see what else was down there, and I saw another sticky trap. With a mouse!
Squeak.
Ugh.
Alive.
Alive and crying for his life.
In the basement there are glue traps, and they are filled with spiders. I figured that is what these contraptions are: spider catchers. Spiders don't cry as they starve and won't smell after death.
Mice do.
What was I going to do?
Squeak.
Ugh, this is horrible.
I decided I would report to Nelly.
She informed me that these traps are intended to catch mice.
What? Seriously? This is a thing? It is horrible! It is horrible for the mouse, it is horrible for me, and it is horrible for the person I am going to call to exterminate. Where is Jesse Katsopolis the First Season when I need him?
Squeak.
Oh, Jesse.
I have a home teacher named Jesse. Maybe he is available to help me out.
Squeaaaaaaal.
I called him immediately.
Squeak.
Jesse answered but he wasn't able to come over for 2 hours.
Squeal!!
I told him I looked forward to his coming.
I got off the phone, reported to Nelly, and then we heard the mouse squealing, squeaking, and crying.
My stomach dropped.
We couldn't wait two hours. There was no way I could sit there and listen to the painful and slow death of that mouse.
Ugh, so gross.
Then I remembered Matt! He lives around the corner, and most importantly he is online.
I picked up my computer:
After about 45 minutes I decided it was time for some food, so I scrounged around in the fridge and found my left overs from last night's Kuma's Corner. So good. Just as I was about to put it in the microwave, Nelly comes out of her room and says, "Do you hear that?" I look at her and ask, "Um, the microwave? Cause I hear that."
"No," she says, "the chirping."
I was quiet for a second. Then I moved my foot and the floor squeaked. I looked at her questioningly. She shook her head.
Then I heard it. A chirp. And again. And again. What was that? After some ridiculous brainstorming and a bit of fun, we decided that maybe we had a bird in the house? I told Nelly that I was going to look for it. Good thing I had my head lamp.
After I told Nelly to close all the doors to the kitchen, she made sure to close herself out of the kitchen. I guess she doesn't like things flying at her. I checked the cabinet it was coming from and didn't find anything. I moved the fridge and didn't find anything, except a bunch of dust. So I got out the broom and started sweeping up. My broom swept under the cabinet and caught on a spider trap. I knelt down to see what else was down there, and I saw another sticky trap. With a mouse!
Squeak.
Ugh.
Alive.
Alive and crying for his life.
In the basement there are glue traps, and they are filled with spiders. I figured that is what these contraptions are: spider catchers. Spiders don't cry as they starve and won't smell after death.
Mice do.
What was I going to do?
Squeak.
Ugh, this is horrible.
I decided I would report to Nelly.
She informed me that these traps are intended to catch mice.
What? Seriously? This is a thing? It is horrible! It is horrible for the mouse, it is horrible for me, and it is horrible for the person I am going to call to exterminate. Where is Jesse Katsopolis the First Season when I need him?
Squeak.
Oh, Jesse.
I have a home teacher named Jesse. Maybe he is available to help me out.
Squeaaaaaaal.
I called him immediately.
Squeak.
Jesse answered but he wasn't able to come over for 2 hours.
Squeal!!
I told him I looked forward to his coming.
I got off the phone, reported to Nelly, and then we heard the mouse squealing, squeaking, and crying.
My stomach dropped.
We couldn't wait two hours. There was no way I could sit there and listen to the painful and slow death of that mouse.
Ugh, so gross.
Then I remembered Matt! He lives around the corner, and most importantly he is online.
I picked up my computer:
3:17 PM me: Matt!
Matt: Myriah!
me: are you at home? do you have a minute to come over here and save me from the mouse we found on the spider sticky trp thing in our kitchen????
3:18 PM Matt: haha the mouse stuck in the trap? So you just need the mouse thrown out/
?
3:19 PM me: yes, but the mouse is alive. and squeaking. but he can't move
cause he's stuck and wining
and i can't handle it
3:21 PM Matt: ok im on my way
me: bless your heart
and i'm googling processes
3:22 PM Matt: im thinking shoe
3:24 PM wait
bat!
Please note the pause when Matt realized he is going to have to kill a mouse. I like to think that he is just asking his wife if he can come over, and not just pausing because he doesn't actually want to kill a mouse.
Please also note that I can't manage to format this after I cut and copied the chat.
Nelly and I waited in suspense for about 8 minutes, 2 of which were spent googling processes, and let me tell you: DO NOT DO THAT. It is a horrible part of the internet that nobody needs to see.
Matt shows up, bat in hand, and I lead him to the area of death. I inform him there are also some bricks if he needs them. We open all the doors to the back yard, I give him a plastic bag, and then, brave soul, he grabs the mouse, takes it to the back yard, and I went to the living room to pray.
He came back, and handed us less horrible mouse traps. "Here," he said, "use these next time."
Will do, Matt, will do. And also, thank you for saving us.
Please note the pause when Matt realized he is going to have to kill a mouse. I like to think that he is just asking his wife if he can come over, and not just pausing because he doesn't actually want to kill a mouse.
Please also note that I can't manage to format this after I cut and copied the chat.
Nelly and I waited in suspense for about 8 minutes, 2 of which were spent googling processes, and let me tell you: DO NOT DO THAT. It is a horrible part of the internet that nobody needs to see.
Matt shows up, bat in hand, and I lead him to the area of death. I inform him there are also some bricks if he needs them. We open all the doors to the back yard, I give him a plastic bag, and then, brave soul, he grabs the mouse, takes it to the back yard, and I went to the living room to pray.
He came back, and handed us less horrible mouse traps. "Here," he said, "use these next time."
Will do, Matt, will do. And also, thank you for saving us.
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