the Hub...

I spend a lot of time in my kitchen. Yes, I do the obvious things, like cook. This kitchen will forever be in my memory as "the place where I taught myself to make good food." So far even my mistakes have been successful -- like the sweet and tangy meatball sauce I made in the crock pot? Waaaaaay too much chili sauce, but it turned out quite well.

I clean a lot, too. Some friends say I clean so much that it's nigh unto an obsession. You know what, though? I like it clean. After all, since I do spend a lot of time cooking, I want to have a clean place to work. I also am haunted by the memory from when I worked on a custodial team at a middle school, and we were allowed to borrow a bacteria counter thing-a-ma-jig from an inspector. Our toilet seats had less bacteria on them than the school cafeteria tabletops. Oh. My. SICK.

Did I ever tell you that I dance in my kitchen? YouTube and Pandora are my friends. So is Justin Bieber. He hangs out with me a lot. Gives me tips on my moves. Actually, he doesn't, and I'm glad he can't see me dance because he'd probably laugh. I mean, once upon a time I was dancing in my bedroom when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I stopped because I was embarrassed for myself. No mirrors in the kitchen!

Talking on the phone happens a lot here, too. I'm not generally one to sit in normal places, like on a chair or the couch or in bed, while on the phone. I find myself huddled in corners, perched on the banister, sprawled on the bar over the sink, seated on the closed toilet while fixing my nails, under the table -- my favorite place is the subtle nook-ish spot by the dishwasher. Or leaning against the fridge. Don't ask my why all of those places are appealing. It's weird. I know.

Studying, writing, and stalking keeping up with friends through the Internet are frequent occurrences, too (do you ever have words that you just cannot seem to spell correctly ever? occurrences -- took me three times to get it right. rhythm is the other one I can never seem to get right). Facebook, Pinterest, gMail, Blogger...you name it. Except Twitter. Boring. They don't even have a like button.

There are a lot of good talks in my kitchen. Lots of hilarious jokes, stories about people's lives, insights into personalities, confessions, ideas, advice. Shared experiences, usually between myself and one other person. Sometimes we share food, too, but the sharing of laughter, experiences, and trust are even better.

I talk to myself, too. What? Why are you looking me like that's weird? Because if you know me, you also know that I talk to myself. And you also know that I'm weird. But it's cool! We talked about talking to ourselves in my Anthropology language class. It's healthy. Unless, you know. You're actually crazy. I have a lot of good conversations with myself. Working out problems I can't solve silently, walking myself through recipes, making myself laugh (I'm funny). Singing, too. Singing happens here.

Tears fall here, too. Sometimes there's a reason for them. Other times they just fall.

Mary Wixom said that the "kitchen is the hub of the home." It's the heart of the bustle and commotion of life. It's where people meet after their busy days -- coming in from their spokes on the family wheel and settling in the center, the Hub. It's where we talk and share our experiences. It's where we slow down for a little while, taking a few moments to notice that we're not just getting things done and running around crazy. We're living.

still a student...

I've been thinking a lot about the first lesson post I wrote. About worrying less about how my life looks to others and more about how it feels to me.

By no means am I a master of this principle, or any of the others that I have written about. I often find myself thinking and acting in ways that are completely against the things I am trying to learn. Sometimes I stop short and tell myself, HEY! Remember that one time when you thought of that one thing and you were going to work on it and become better? Well...better remember it now and QUIT STOPPING YOURSELF FROM PROGRESSING.

Not all of the voices in my head are particularly kind.

Anyway. For example. I've been spending a lot of time on my own lately in the House. Natalie and I see each other in the evenings for a few minutes, sometimes for an hour, but most of the time we're just two friends sharing living space. We both work a lot, I at my three jobs and Natalie at her job and in her volunteering.

This time alone hasn't been lonely time. I rarely find myself feeling sad or upset. Instead, I have found that I am able to get a lot of things done: keeping up with the housework and making sure things are nice; playing with my dog; adventuring with friends; reading; writing; cooking; thinking; singing; perhaps soon drawing.

While I was in the kitchen today, boiling eggs by myself for the first time ever, I stopped and looked around me. Here I am, I thought, boiling eggs and planning meals for the week, debating on whether or not to make a cake or brownies, brainstorming potential primary lessons, cleaning the kitchen, singing hymns and talking to my dog in my Snow White voice, musing on life and its mysteries, mentally checking to see if my camera is ready for tomorrow morning, and trying to figure out which big chore I'm going to complete on Friday night. I looked around the kitchen again and thought, I LOVE my life!

Then another not-so-kind voice (which sounded remarkably like one of the people who works in the same building that I do) said, Yep. You're a total Molly Mormon. You just keep on proving it. You are doing nothing important with your life except cleaning the house, cooking the food, and thinking about the Gospel. Oh my gosh, LOOK AT YOU! You are so NOT awesome. DO SOMETHING with your life, okay? Jeez.

And for a minute, I started to be ashamed. I remembered all of those things that person told me a few weeks ago, telling me that (and I quote/paraphrase) "your life is so boring -- don't you do anything worthwhile at all?" and "wow, you are such a Molly Mormon -- you like teaching primary. And cake pops, seriously?" and  "next time you make a decision you should think for yourself, instead of relying on the misguided examples of other people."

Remembering those things she said brought me spiraling downwards. I hated myself. Even though I had been angry when she'd said all of those things to me, I believed her words for a second. I AM boring, I thought. I am everything she said I am --  I SHOULDN'T like these things. I should be more adventurous and daring, maybe try something new. I probably shouldn't even like Disney movies.

But as I looked at my reflection in the Kitchen Aid that I was putting back in place, I thought of what I'd proclaimed to have learned. WHO CARES if that person thinks I'm a Molly Mormon? WHO CARES if my life appears boring to her? It isn't boring to me! I like my life. I like teaching primary and making cake pops. I like doing dishes (sometimes) and singing and boiling eggs and cleaning and playing with my dog. I like the way I am. Besides, that person has no idea where I've come from and what kinds of decisions I've made.

You know what? This is my life to live. It isn't hers.

We are all students of life. The person who said those things is learning about life, just as I am. We're both in different places and taking different roads. What I need to remember and continue to practice thinking is that though others may tell me that the life I live is boring and housewife-ish, it doesn't matter. What they think doesn't matter. I feel comfortable this way. I feel happy this way. All of these things bring me joy, and to me they are worthwhile.

I don't plan to change the world. I plan to change myself. That is what is most important.

reminders...

To Do:
1. Print off list of books and materials needed for next semester
2. Print off schedule with building and room numbers
3. Go to BYU and

purchase books/materials

pay remaning tuition

provide proof of insurance (first figure out what that means)

purchase parking pass

find buildings and classrooms

4. Scrub kitchen
5. Make cake bites and freeze for next week
6. Clean front room
7. Put up Christmas tree/decorations
8. Re-memorize lines for tonight's Scera Home for the Holidays concert
9. Re-memorize lines for Christmas show tomorrow since I messed them up last night
10. Christmas cards/LDC gifts
11. Make gifts for Primary students

I have time to do this. I have money, too. I have motivation...ha. No, not really.

two weeks on my own...

Today is my last day living on my own. Tomorrow I will go back to my own house, with my own room and my own family. And you know something? I kind of don't want to...

Living on my own has been amazing. I make my own food, do my own dishes, clean the house, and it STAYS clean. Except when my sisters are here. Anyway--I go to work, I come back, do chores, take care of things, all of the things I would normally do. But I'm on my own. It's really fascinating.

Now I know that I can live on my own. I have the skills to do it and to take care of myself. The only things missing are the means to move out, like paying for rent, food, and a form of transportation. I don't have that, and I don't see myself being able to have that for a long time. It's really discouraging.

I'm happy on my own. I don't get down as easily, and I don't stay down for long. I sleep better, which isn't much but it's better than how it normally is. I'm even able to eat and not feel guilty (or as guilty) for it. There's motivation in my life every day, there's happiness every day, and the best part is that everything is CLEAN, and it stays that way. That is amazing. At my house, things don't stay clean. It's impossible for one or two people to keep up with a house inhabited by five people. It just can't be done. Every project or job you do gets undone the moment you turn your back, because not everyone is interested in helping out. That has happened here a little bit. I got really angry yesterday because of it. I shouldn't have. I got so frustrated--here, where it's not even our house, and my sisters still don't treat it nicely.

Like at home. How hard is it to clean two dishes, or put clothes away instead of throwing them on the floor, or put shoes away, or help make lunch? It's not like they're three years old. They're teenagers. It's so disheartening and discouraging. Which leads to lack of motivation and giving up, which leads to feeling down, which leads to nothing good.

I want it to be like this always, orderly and nice and clean and happy, like a home should be. My goal for going home is to at least try to keep the rooms I go into clean. My bedroom, the bathroom I use, the family room next to my bedroom. Those, and at least some jobs in the kitchen. I can do that. And that way, at least some places will be like it has been these past two weeks. Maybe it will work. What's there to lose, anyway?

day 42...

a picture of my dream house...

Actually, I've got a lot of dream houses. The problem is, though, that I don't have any pictures of them so...this is kind of a place holder. If you want to know about my real dream house, ask. :)

day 41...

a picture of my pet...
In real life, I have one pet. She lives at my house with me, and I totally adore her. In pretend life (which has been the past week and a half and will last until Thursday [most likely], I have 5 pets and a tank full of fish. Pretend life is me playing house while my friends are on vacation. So all total, I have 6 pets and a fish tank. But that's only pretend life.


First is Misty. She is my sweet little Maltese-Pomeranian-Shi Tzu mutt, or Malteraniantzu, as we call her sometimes. She's the cutest little dog evah. You've heard a bit about her already. While I'm out playing house, she stays home, because a couple of the other pets I have might eat her. Not really, but she's tiny and some of them are rather large.


Second, Meg. She is my pretend life cat (or one of them). Brindled and petite, watch out. She looks innocent, but she's kind of not, especially when one walks past the pantry. Meg is into grabbing ankles and holding on for the fun of it. She's quite the little prankster, but is always ready to show and receive affection.

Third is the ever illusive Crissy, which is why there is no picture of her. She's white most of the time, but she has a habit of rolling in the dirt outside in the garden and so is usually half gray. This cat kind of has issues, aka she often times seems to be in a constant state of PMS. Tread carefully!



Fourth: the always silly, always lovable, juicy-dog Jade the boxer. Juicy because she loves to give kisses. It wouldn't be too bad, if it weren't for the fact that her tongue is the size of the Great Lakes (and just as wet). This dog is slightly dumb, and I'm not joking. She makes up for her ditziness with her fun loving personality, always ready to play or cuddle. Jason is her man, and don't you forget it!


Fifth: Tootsie, the chocolate Labrador with a rather round physique and patient, sweet temperament. All of these qualities hearken back to the Tootsie roll candy, her namesake. Her light brown eyes rimmed in gold and black give her a somewhat wild appearance (especially late at night when she has random spazz attacks of joy and wildness), but she's truly a sweetheart. Don't mess with her kids, though--you've never met a better babysitter.


The sixth member of this strange band is Chessie, Kyle's bird. All I'm going to say is this: I swear this bird hates me.


Last but not least is the fish tank. Complete with eel, little tetras, some kind of flowy black and white fish, a couple of other small fish, and a 23 year old algae eater (the fish is older than Jason), it is quite the hodge podge of scaled water dwellers. The algae eater is the crown jewel: it's huge!! It's circled in red in the picture, and that's only half of it. The rest is behind the rock. Huge. Old. Fish. Yep.

So this is who I spend my time with of late, while I play house and act like a grown up. It's quite fun, actually. I rather enjoy this, me and my motley crew of animals, birds, fish, and the occasional spider (although they are not invited and are eliminated on sight...last night there was a HUGE one and it was terrifying).

day 33...

a picture of the house I grew up in...


There's a saying that goes can't see the forest for the trees. Well. In this case, you can't see the house for the trees. Literally.

Seeing as I live inside my house, I don't generally stand across the street in the neighbor's yard to look at my own house. When I went out to take a picture, I was actually very surprised to see that I couldn't see my house. At all. Unless I squinted very hard and ducked down to almost kneel on the cement. Then I could see it. A little. But not much.

When my family moved into this house, I was 5 and a half years old. The two trees gave our house its name, Twin Pines. They stood much shorter and less full than they do now, and were more twin-like in nature. Now they look different because one of them got struck by lightning and the top got snapped. I remember that night well. There was a crack outside my window so loud and a rumble through the ground so large that I thought the earth had split open. Terrified me.


Anyway. I've lived in this house for 14 years. It houses all of my stuff, and the majority of my memories. I like this house. I like it very much.

lovelies...