I Think Ron Grew Up to be Cuter Than Harry

This looks pretty good. (Does my nonchalance belie the profound sadness and extreme excitement I feel?) I already know how this ends. It's not pretty. The death count is brutal. That Voldemort--he's formidable.

My 20 Year High School Reunion

I went to my 20 year high school reunion last night. It was fun. I seem to have acquired (fostered?) a bit of a misanthropic reputation among my friends but the truth of it is that while I might be incredibly choosy about how I spend my discretionary time, I love people in terms of depth more than breadth and it actually pains me to be unable to know a person well. Small talk bores me. I want to pry. I am nosy and interested. Pat answers annoy me. It's not that I don't care; I care too much, which is funny to say in conjunction with a discussion of my high school reunion because after we got home Christian wondered out loud if maybe he really didn't care about anyone at all except himself and his family and I privately acknowledged that I question whether I am capable of truly loving unconditionally. We're quite  pair. Anyhoo.

I loved seeing people I went to high school with and I wish I could have talked to everyone at length in order to find out what their deal is. I wish I would have spent more of high school doing just that because people are interesting. It doesn't make sense, but for some reason members of a graduating class imprint on each other in a weird way. (It's not unlike a werewolf and a fetus--or however that went down.) It must have something to do with your age and the amount of time you spend together every day at school.  I was as angsty and troubled as anyone but mostly because I thought no boys liked me. I actually felt happy most of the time. And I had good friends and did fun things. Though I wasn't much of a joiner and felt completely anonymous growing up, as it turns out everyone knew who I was just like I knew who everyone else was. I listened incredulously while people told me they were "insecure" and "had no friends" in high school and that is when I decided that no one remembers high school accurately. I think maybe it is impossible to remember it accurately. So that was interesting. Another interesting thing I noticed is that a lot of women's voices seem to have gotten higher over the last 20 years. Is that a thing? Does everyone know that except me? Because I thought my voice was getting lower, but now I'm not sure.

I was happy to find out that people from high school read my blog but also sad because I've probably written some incredibly narcissistic and rude things about people and events which could have hurt someone's feelings. I mean, I've been blogging for 6 years and I'm not really very nice. You do the math. But mostly I just loved talking about blogging. Even when people said they can't blog because they are "too busy raising their families" because--wow--what an efficient way to insult the way I choose to spend my discretionary time. Zing! And, touche. A final word about blogging: Let's all just thank the Lord right now that I didn't have one in high school.

I think that having my own kids approaching the age I was when I met most of the people I saw at the reunion has changed my perception of everyone. This happened when I was teaching college, too. I always tried to be pretty hardcore with my students but after I had a baby I viewed them differently. I started to think of them as people's children trying to get through college instead of thinking of them as my enemies who were trying to extract undeserved As from me. I talked to lots of people at the reunion last night. Some were people I never knew and some I knew very, very well. With each person I felt like that grumpy grandma in A Good Man is Hard to Find by Flannery O'Connor. She says to The Misfit, "Why, you're one of my babies. You're one of my own children!" right before he shoots her.

Free Stuff But Only For Megan

Congratulations to Megan of Mmmboppin'. You won 6 months of free Deals to Meals! Free stuff is so great--I know. But not for all the people who don't win. It's really quite depressing for everyone else.Well, there you have it.

Good News--Something Free

Does anyone want a free 6 month membership to Deals to Meals? I have their button on my side bar because I think it's a good service. A bunch of people asked me about it so I explained it here.  Check out their site to make sure they are available in your state (mostly Western states) and leave a comment and whoever writes the most persuasive comment will get the free membership. Just kidding. I'll give the free membership to the person I like best. Just kidding. It's random.

Last year I realized the fat I had gained over the years in my face was making me look less animated when I smiled. I have more cheek now so I decided to smile harder to get the effect of a genuinely happy smile. I also noticed that my eyes always look lethargic and disinterested so I decided to make them look more excited. The result was that I just looked crazy:

But I don't look disinterested, do I. Maybe you feel shy commenting about Deals to Meals. If that's the case, you can comment about this picture of me and you'll still have a chance to get a free 6 month membership (until Friday). Good luck. PS I always wear a coat.

Getting Old and Toy Story 3 is So Good

So yesterday was my birthday and I turned 38. I know that is old to some of you because the blogosphere slants young. But thanks to the Desperate Housewives and Demi Moore I'm still totally in the game. I don't care about aging. Sure, I'm fatter and less supple. What am I going to do? The night before my birthday I said to each of my kids, "Just imagine 38 years ago tonight I was still in Grandma's stomach, waiting to come out." They almost threw up. Oh yeah, they LOVE to hear about the night THEY were born but switch to an old lady gestating another old lady and suddenly they have to stifle their gags.

We went to see Toy Story 3 for my birthday. It's probably the best movie I've seen all year--and I don't like cartoons or enjoy things like Ice Age. It's very well done, clever, and moving. My oldest son was just little when Toy  Story came out and he was SUPER into it. It was the first thing Sam was really into (except for Blues Clues, I guess.) He had Buzz and Woody and even a Zurg room guard. Now he mows lawns for money so he can ride his bike to Chucka Rama with his friends and eat all he can eat. He still has toys but it's not the same. Watching Andy go off to college is a KILLER, folks.

Because parenting is a killer. You have a baby and it hurts really bad and they eat and don't sleep so it's hard and physically taxing but you are thrilled because you love it and it's what you want. It's crazy. And then they throw fits and make messes that you literally don't know how to clean up (sour milk in the crack between the seats in you your car? Desitin and Baby powder inside shoes? Swiffer? Whaaaaa?), and they do that thing where they throw back their head and hit you in the nose and it hurts and makes you mad and older well-meaning people tell you to just enjoy it because it goes by fast. It's a killer because you feel guilty for not enjoying cleaning smeared poop off the fridge and then they go to Jr. High School orientation and tell you, "It's OK, Mom. You don't have to stay. See ya." and you think oh crap. Maybe I should have enjoyed it?

But enjoying cleaning up poop is insane and I don't think it makes anything better in the long run so I refuse to be happy about it. Kids should just make fewer messes and throw fewer fits. I'm just saying I could imagine how Andy's mom feels about him going to college. Of course you are proud because you want your kids to grow up and go to college. It's just that parenting is not, I think, a winning proposition. Even if your kids turn out great they're off and running on their own. Bittersweet--I think is what they call it?

As a parent, I obviously relate to Woody and Buzz--which makes this movie so, so charming. My kids won't need me at some point just like they don't need their toys. What is virtuous in Andy as a kid--that he loves and takes care of his toys--will translate into virtue in Andy as an adult maybe as loyalty, thoughtfulness, and imagination. But the objects (the toys) really aren't important in the same way. You get that. The toys get that (to varying degrees--I mean, the dinosaur is pretty dopey so he doesn't get it. Woody gets it). And growing up means getting that. It's like when we saw Where the Wild Things Are and my little kids just thought it was weird and didn't like it but Sam understood that it was very sad, which is sad. But also cool because, what a great kid! It's also cool to see him serve in the church, talk to teachers by himself, and fix quesadillas for the whole family. Does the sheer joy of raising kids outweigh the bittersweet and just plain sad? I don't know, man.

I guess I'm getting ahead of myself. Sam spent the last bit of his mowing-money on a Toy Story Nintendo DS case which he will probably take with him to college some day. (If he goes to college.) (Which is a whole other agonizing contingency--Rejection letters. Failing. Having enough money. Etc.) So anyway. Toy Story 3 is great. In addition to alluding to the weighty matters of parenting and putting away your childish things, it's delightfully funny.  Plus, Woody reminded me a little bit of Jack Shepherd.

Gratitude Journal: My Subcutaneous Layer of Fat

I used to write gratitude journals here all the time. Go ahead. Check my archives. But lately I just look around and think, "Sheez. What have I got to be thankful for?" So I haven't written one for a while. But a few weeks ago when I was watching Kate deliver Claire's baby I saw something quite hideous. Well. I don't know.  I'm not a guy! Maybe it's not so hideous to a guy. But to me as a human being I found this quite alarming--gross even. And it shared the screen with a woman having a baby. I mean, talk about gross. And I know because I've had four--unmedicated! (And by unmedicated I mean so medicated that I actually hallucinated myself in a birthing tub delivering naturally.) People, my body does a lot of unattractive things. But it doesn't ever do this:

Thank you subcutaneous layer of fat.

Why I Suppress Generous Thoughts

Camilla Kimball says that we should never suppress a generous thought and I think this is wonderful advice which I have been trying to follow lately. But I can't. I had the "generous" thought during church to go and hold this lady's baby in my ward during the sacrament because she was holding two babies. I thought, "I should never suppress a generous thought. This is generous. I will do it." So I went over and took the baby from the lady who actually wasn't really struggling at all even with two babies on her lap. But still--"This will be nice," I thought. About half way through the sacrament (which lasts about 20 minutes total) my daughter fell off her chair and started screaming. So Maggie took her out. I stayed holding the baby. "Surely I can make it for 10 more minutes," I thought. Yeah. That's what you'd think. Ellen has this new adorable habit of screaming bloody murder. She doesn't have a pacifier anymore so this is how she self-soothes. She cry/screams and cry/screams, gaining momentum and volume until she falls asleep (sobbing and sighing in her sleep) or wets her pants. It can last for an hour or more (we found this out at Legoland) and we haven't discovered how to stop it.

Many people saw Maggie taking Ellen out and felt sorry for them. Ellen's grandpa went out and offered to go home and get her a sucker. Another man went out and offered help. And a lady with a bag of giant marshmallows bought a momentary reprieve from the screams.  But you see, Ellen has been building up to this tantrum for over a week of too much sun, too little sleep, and a couple of 12 hour drives. She's been honing this technique several times a day in crowded theme parks,  hotel rooms, and convenience store bathrooms. It's loud. And the real miracle of our vacation is not that we actually had a pretty good time in spite of Ellen's "episodes," but that we were never questioned by Child Protective Services of San Diego. Like, seriously. I'm grateful that we weren't. Because it seemed like some serious abuse was going on. And there were times when I wanted to seriously abuse her. Bless her heart!

So--what was I saying? Oh yes. I'm so nice! I held someone's baby at church while my own child required at least three people to miss the sacrament entirely. I like to help wherever I go! Kind of like when I went over to help organize NieNie's new house and I got stuck in the snow and Mr. Nielsen had to get me out of  a snowbank. WHATEVER! I think it's funny that I would ever think I've got it together enough to help someone else. Kind of like how I'm so nice and I foster dogs even though my own dog won't come when I call her. You see what I'm saying? If it weren't embarrassing it would only be funny.

American Idol

This was the first year I watched American Idol. It's fun because my kids are into it. What I learned from watching American Idol is that winning is dorky.

I'm Vacationing in San Diego

Found a head on the beach.

 Found another head on the beach.

Yesterday I stared at some kids making out on the beach in front of me. I'm not against public displays of affection in theory but in practice I think it's gross. Plus I could tell the girl was less into it. I wanted to give her an out in case her boyfriend was coming on too strong by making them feel uncomfortable. 

Making people feel uncomfortable when they are being bad is the only kind of civic action I'm involved in. For example, this woman at church kept coming in and out of the chapel and propping open the door. Someone told her they wanted to keep the door shut and then she turned around and mimicked that person by making the "blah blah blah" action with her hand and by opening and closing her mouth really fast while rolling her eyes. I was staring at her and when she noticed I didn't look away because I thought that if she was going to do something so overtly immature and rude she should know that I was watching her. It's kind of ineffectual, I know. In fact, I saw her about two weeks later at TJ Maxx browsing Petites while I was over in in Womens. Yeah. Who's laughing now. I get it.

So I stared at these kids and then for a second I looked at my kids who were behind them and waved at them to come in. Then I commenced staring at the making outers. The girl chuckled and told the boy that she thought "that lady" was looking at her but really "she was looking at her kids." and then she gestured at my kids. I wanted to say, "No, I'm totally staring at you and I heard what you just said about being relieved that I'm not staring at you but I am and I hope you don't go all the way with that boy because he's too pushy." But I didn't. They left pretty soon after that. 

I also stared at a woman in a golden bikini while she played Frisbee with a man in the waves. He kept "teaching" her about catching and he threw the Frisbee into the waves so she would have to jump and swim. When she threw it "badly" to him he told her to go get it herself. And she did.These people were over 30. Why were they even together? Why did gold bikini lady have to fit into and look good in the golden bikini and also frolic in the waves and also be proficient at Frisbee? Her boyfriend was a jerk. I hope when I'm over 30 and wear golden bikinis I refuse to suffer jerks.

Wish you were here.