Dear Sister Snow,

I know it's been, like, 100 years since you walked on this earth, but can we be friends anyway? I've always wanted to see a ghost angel. And, this is probably the best quote I've heard in years and years. You rock. Even though you are, ahem, dead.


"We want to be ladies in very deed, not according to the term of the word as the world judges, but fit companions of the Gods and holy ones. In an organized capacity, we can assist each other in not only doing good but in refining ourselves, and whether few or many come forward and help prosecute this great work, they will be those that will fill honorable positions in the kingdom of God.
Women should be women and not babies that need petting and correction all the time. I know we like to be appreciated, but if we do not get all the appreciation which we think is our due, what matters? We know that the Lord has laid high responsibility on us, and there is not a wish or desire that the Lord has planted in our hearts in righteousness but will be realized, and the greatest good we can do to ourselves and each other is to refine and cultivate ourselves in everything that is good and ennobling and qualifying for those responsibilities."

I'm pretty sure that if I embroidered (maybe you could teach me?) I'd be embroidering  this on a pillow. Or a blanket, cuz it's kind of long.

Your friend,

Erin

P.S. Sister Beck, you're pretty cool too. Loved your talk. Loved it. And you have  the distinct advantage of being alive, so maybe we could be friends? Think about it and let me know!

An Ode to the Marshmallow

Erin's Top 5 Reasons to Love the Marshmallow
1. Marshmallows are soft and squishy, without having the disgusting slimy texture that so many other soft and squishy foods have (like cooked carrots: soft, squishy, but also slimy. No. Bueno.). Given the soft and squishy nature of the marshmallow, they are also a silent food. You could be very stealthy eating a marshmallow.
2. Marshmallows are sweet without being overpowering. Pixie Stix=sweet, but too sweet. Marshmallows (unless you ate a whole bag)=perfect level of sweet.
3. Marshmallows are versatile. They can be eaten as is, they can be made into new and delightful candies, they can be baked, roasted, fried (never actually tried that, but I am assuming that if you can fry a jelly bean, you can fry a marshmallow). They can be added to puddings, cakes, ice cream, fruit salads. Without marshmallows there would be no easy to prepare cereal treats. Marshmallows come in a variety of flavors. Marshmallows can be big or small. Marshmallows can be found in a jar or a bag. Marshmallows are versatile.
4. Marshmallows are a science experiment and a food. Have you ever microwaved a marshmallow? Try it sometime and you will learn a great deal about the expansion of hot air (put the marshmallows into a container you are not emotionally attached to because marshmallows are also sticky). Excellent teaching tool.
5. Marshmallows are low in calories. Are you trying to follow a soul crushing, no-fun-allowed diet? Well. A marshmallow has only 25 calories. You could eat four and have yourself a perfectly lovely 100 calorie snack that's almost like eating candy. You could space those 4 out over the whole day and have a little treat whenever you wanted. You're welcome.

An Actual Conversation:

Yesterday, I was working with several students who had failed one of their exams and were preparing for their re-take (at my new job, failure isn't an option-you work until you pass. Whether you want to or not. :-) ).
In the course of this work I had the following conversation:

Me: Hi! I'm glad we are able to touch base before you retake the exam. Do you have any specific areas that you feel you need to focus on?
Student: Well, umm, pretty much all of it. I just didn't remember anything when I took the test.
Me: Okay, well then, let's talk about how you can improve your study habits, so you'll remember more of what you read.
Student: Read?
Me: Yes, so that when you read the textbook you'll be able to remember more of what you learn.
Student: Ummmm....what textbook?

I love being a teacher.

Read This.

http://www.good.is/post/african-dynamo/?GT1=48001

Then, watch this:
http://missingpiecesvideo.com/kamkwamba/movingwindmillsFINALsubtitle.mov

Then, go here.
http://williamkamkwamba.typepad.com/

Now. Give Thanks.

Dear President Obama,

In light of the recent and astronomical predictions for the federal deficit, I have someone I'd like you to meet:





Dave meet Barack.
Barack meet Dave.

I also recently read that you, Mr. President, have a "summer reading list". May I suggest an addition to that list?



Budget crisis? Solved.

We're Molting

Yes, molting. From the tops of our heads down to our shoulders Isaac and I are shedding more skin than snakes. It is, to put it mildly, disgusting.

Obviously, we are suffering the after effects of rather severe and unpleasant sunburns. And, because you, dear reader, are likely gifted with the ability to make logical deductions, you are probably assuming that, once again, Arizona has tried to kill us. In this case, you would be wrong.

Yes, we are suffering the after effects of sunburn, but it is not Arizona that is to blame, it is...California!

Last weekend we snuck out of blazing hot AZ and spent a couple days in San Diego for our anniversary and it was fantastic. Except for the whole sunburn situation.
Now, you (again with those powers of deduction!) might assume that we are sunburned because we neglected to make use of sun-protection technology. Again, you would be wrong. This, friends, is a case of an epic failure of the sunscreen. Turns out, if you are outside in the sun all day,(let's say you decided to go sailing off the coast of San Diego on a replica 19th century schooner. If that sounds delightful, it's because it is!)SPF 70 (yes, SEVENTY) just isn't going to cut it. I suggest SPF 700, a hat, long sleeves and an umbrella. That should just about do the trick. Take my word for it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go exfoliate. Again.

Arizona is Trying To Kill Me: Chapter 2

Yesterday started out as a mostly normal Monday. It was "mostly normal" because a normal-normal Monday would include Isaac, but he's in San Diego for work/lots of fun and therefore this Monday was only a "mostly normal" Monday. Anyway, moving on.
I went to work. I worked. I began the drive home. No more "mostly normal."

Approximately 4 miles from my home, whilst whizzing along down the freeway I heard an ominous "POP". I was fairly certain, based on the fact that my car immediately began to shake, I had run over something unpleasant and that my tire was going flat. Lucky for me, I was a mere 1/2 mile from the Walmart/Discount Tire exit and so planned to (slowly) make my way to Discount Tire, from whence the injured tire came. Alas, this was not to be.

As I changed lanes to exit, I heard a insanely loud grinding noise and smelled horrible burning rubber. Clearly, the tire was not simply flat or flattening as I had previously thought (hoped). Clearly, I had bigger problems. Not wanting to destroy the only car Isaac and I have, I pulled off to the side of the exit ramp, quickly prayed that one of the crazy Arizona drivers barreling down the ramp at 100 mph would not hit me as I exited my car and walked around to inspect the tire. The tire was not flat. Instead, the tire was COMPLETELY shredded, falling off the rim and had OBVIOUSLY EXPLODED. There was a HUGE HOLE where the rubber had BLASTED OUT like it had been shot from the inside. NOT. GOOD. This car was not going to make it the .5 miles to Walmart or Discount Tire. It was not going to make it anywhere without a spare. Have I mentioned yet that it was 115 degrees yesterday? Oh, I haven't? Well. It was 115 degrees yesterday. That is not an exageration. 100+15=115.

So. I reviewed my options. It's 115 degrees. The tire is hopeless. I do not want to change the tire by myself. Husband is in San Diego. I don't know a single person in Arizona I could call to request help with the tire situation. As I dug through my purse, I discovered it wouldn't have mattered if I had 1000 people I could call because, I, like an idiot, had left my phone at home! Great.

So. It's all me. Super. I moved all the crap out of our trunk (Note to Self: remove extraneous crap from the trunk) into the back seat and took out the trunk floor boards, only to discover that the jack was not there. Yes, folks. NO JACK. I had a lug wrench, but no jack. HAPPY MONDAY.

Having previously determined that I had no other options but to fix this mess myself, I decided to walk to Walmart to buy a jack. It didn't seem very far, and, what other option did I have? Whilst walking, I noticed that I could save myself about 5 minutes of walking in the 115 degree heat if I scaled a low-ish brick wall. It was an easy choice: when weighing the indignity of climbing a fence in work clothes against a slow and painful death of heat stroke, I will choose indignity every time. So. I scaled the wall. I bought the jack. I also bought water. The very nice man in the Tire Lube Express provided 'helpful' hints on using the jack. I went back over the wall and walked back to my car. It looked so sad there on the side of the exit ramp, blinking its little hazard lights. Moving on.

As I got everything set up to actually remove the tire, no fewer than 4 women in mini-vans/SUV's rolled down their windows to ask if I needed help. I was sorely tempted to say "Why yes, yes I do", but figured that asking a woman with 4 kids in her car to stop, in 115 degree heat, to help me change a tire was probably not the best plan. So, I politely declined.

This whole "Erin changes her tire herself plan" hit a small snafu when I tried to remove the hubcap so I could unscrew the lug nuts. The exploded tire had twisted wrapped around the front of the hubcap and was, like a rubberband, holding the hubcap in place. Tiny. Problem. Whilst digging in the crap from my trunk, trying to find something that would pry the hubcap off, despite the tire's death grip, a car pulled over in front of my car. A young man in a SUIT and TIE got out of his car and, without asking, came over to help. I told him he was GOING TO RUIN HIS SUIT AND TO GET BACK IN HIS CAR. He ignored me. He also might have laughed at me a little bit. I was beyond laughter at this point and had no inclination to argue. Plus, I really needed another person to hold the tire out of the way so one of us could get the stupid hub cap off. So, I let him stay.

He(Scott)helped pry the hubcap off and also removed the old tire. I put on the spare and put the old tire in the trunk. By the way, I discovered when it's 115 degrees outside, a tire will be about 300 degrees after it has been driving down the freeway for 20 minutes. Moral of the tangent: I should have waited a few minutes to pick up the shredded tire to put in the trunk. I burned my hand. (Cue the violins...). 10 minutes after Suited Scott's arrival the tire was changed. And Suited Scott did not, in fact, ruin his suit. Sidenote: Whilst chatting briefly and cleaning up as best we could with paper towels from my car, we discovered we are in the same stake. Small world.

Anywho: I drove the car to Discount Tire and the little tire man, upon seeing my exploded tire, exclaimed, "That's not supposed to happen!". Ummmmm. Yeah. YOU THINK? OF COURSE TIRES AREN'T SUPPOSED TO EXPLODE!

It only happened because Arizona is trying to kill me.

If you ever...

get a lovely Scentsy candle warmer from your Mother-in-Law for Christmas along with cinnamon scented Scentsy wax from your mother and Mother-in-Law and you decide to put the warmer in the wall socket behind your table, because no one ever walks back there, so it won't be bumped and you realize that you need to change the wax in the warmer because it stopped smelling like lovely cinnamon several weeks ago and now simply smells like hot wax and you walk behind your kitchen table to get the warmer and forget that the warmer is on and try to pull the warmer out of the wall socket while it is A) on and B) full of hot wax be prepared bump your elbow on the table and spray hot wax everywhere and then, be sure to plan on spending a great deal of time cleaning red-orange wax off your hands, shoes, jeans and, most importantly, the white carpet in your rented apartment. You'll want to make sure you can spend at least 1 hour brushing the, now dried, wax out of the carpet and then fruitlessly scrubbing the carpet in an (unsuccessfull) attempt to eradicate the orange-red stain. Trust me. I know.

This post is NOT about Easter.

Everyone is posting their Easter pictures and this makes me happy because:
1. I like seeing pictures everyone and their cute kids
2. I didn't do a darn thing for Easter and this way, I can live vicariously through all of you.

I guess this post was about Easter after all. Sort of.

That is all.

Did you pay attention in history class?

"In order for Crusoe to obtain eight fish in half the time, he must spend all of his time collecting _______."


a.fish
b.bananas
c.coconuts
d.an alternative product

The answer? Drum Roll Please.......



c. coconuts

That's right. Don't try to understand it, just accept it. At least, that's what I told the teacher whose students were asked this question on one their HISTORY tests. Apparently, the teacher didn't think this question was relevant. She couldn't figure out why it would be on the history test. She wanted me to change it. I couldn't do it. Change a gem like this? I would be doing every history student taking the course a disservice if I changed the question.

It's a darn good thing I was hired to rewrite the history courses 6 months ago and have, instead, spent the last 6 months doing everything under the sun except rewrite the history courses. If I'd actually been able to rewrite the history course, like I was hired to do, I might never have seen this question. And then where would I be? Where would we all be?

To Blog or Not to Blog...

So, with my attention span equal to (or less than) that of a gnat, I am kind of over the whole blogging thing...we'll see what happens.
In the meantime, feel free to call! :-)

So sad...

So, there's this quilt design software. It's AWESOME. It's also really, really expensive. Despite it's rather skyhigh price tag, I coveted the software. Last week, I had finally, FINALLY saved enough to buy the software. We ordered the software. It came yesterday. I was so excited. Really. I know it's nerdy and I don't care. I was like a little kid. When it finally came, Isaac installed it on the computer. And...

It didn't work. It installed just fine, but it won't open. Everytime I try, I get the same error message. Apparently, there is some sort of conflict between Windows Vista(I am sending "I hate Microsoft" vibes out into the universe) and the software. It's supposed to work with Vista, but mine doesn't. And, because it's the weekend, the little tech support people aren't there to answer my, somewhat desperate, phone call. I don't know what to do. So. Sad.

Some People's Children...

All this week at work, we have been blessed (cough, cough) with the presence of our major investors. This is a good thing (investors=money for the company, etc...) and a bad thing (everyone is in a craptacular mood from trying so hard to impress them). I have to say, I was not impressed by them. You would think wealthy, successful business people would have some class. You would be wrong. Today, whilst sitting at my desk, minding my own business, I was blessed to overhear a lengthy, loud and rather detailed discussion of favorite STRIP CLUBS in Canada. That's right. A group of men decided that the WORK PLACE was a great place to discuss their strip club prediliction. Sigh.
My cube mate and I were torn. Do we say something ("Ummm, Mr. Investor men, I know that you basically ensure I have a job and all that, but you are so disgusting. Could you move that conversation elsewhere? Like to Siberia?") or not? In the end we opted for passive aggression: I turned up my radio. It was playing piano arrangements of hymns. Take THAT investor men!
Not too much later, they moved on. I like to think my subtle hint did the trick...

Most Embarrassing Moment...

Before I share this story, I must preface it with this fact: I have NEVER been more tired than I have been this week. Today especially. I was literally falling asleep while standing up today. Now that you know that...be kind. Don't judge too harshly! And now...our feature presentation:

ERIN'S MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT. EVER.

Today, when the alarm went off, I thought "Why did Isaac set the alarm for 1 in the morning? Did he think that would be funny?!" Then I looked at the clock. It was not 1 in the morning, it was 6:00. Time to get up. Already? It felt like I had not slept at all. I stumbled towards the closet and rummaged through my clothes. I barely remembered that I was meant to film on the green screen today and so I grabbed my grey sweater. Apparently, floating heads frighten the clients, so I had to wear something that wasn't green. Sigh. Why do things have to be so complicated?!
I put the sweater on, and because I was still cold I covered it with a giant hoodie. Picture Erin looking very much like a refugee, stumbling around her house wearing Isaac's giant hoodie. Now, fast forward to Erin's arrival at work.
Upon arrival, despite still feeling very groggy and cold, I removed the giant hoodie and sat at my desk. For some reason (divine intervention) I looked down at my sweater. My brain, working at about 1/8th of it's usual speed, eventually registered that something was wrong with the sweater. Something is wrong, but what? As my brain struggled to figure out what the problem was I decided to take my lunch to the kitchen to put it in the fridge. As I rose from my desk, it hit me. MY SWEATER WAS INSIDE OUT. That's right. I had arrived at work with my SWEATER INSIDE OUT.Not only that, but it's this argyle sweater/shirt combo; so there are seams everywhere. The backs of buttons and button holes are showing. You can bet your bippy I put that hoodie right back on and hightailed it to bathroom to correct the problem. I have no idea how many people saw me before I trucked it to the bathroom. It was early. No one saw. Right? RIGHT?

Best Christmas Present Ever

So, my loving, generous and thoughtful husband gave me a Christmas gift a little early this year. It was cheap(free,really), only something he could give and will likely last for a long time. I am sure you are just itching to know (so you can immediately go tell your husbands to get on the ball). He gave me....
A DEMON COLD FROM HADES.
That's right. He gets this little cold. He stays home from work 1 day and is peachy keen. In the meantime, his disgusting little cold germs decide they like my lungs and sinuses better and take up (seemingly permanent) residence in my nose and chest. Best. Christmas. Present. Ever. Or, maybe not.
Why is it that when he gets sick (doesn't matter with what), it is the most mild form of sickness ever, but when I get sick it's like every germ in the country found it's way to me?
There is no justice in this world. None, I tell you.

Wanted: Personal Shopper

Anyone who knows me at all knows that clothes shopping+Erin=disaster of epic proportions. I really,really dislike shopping for clothes. Several of you, dear readers, have probably been shopping with me and have discovered that I turn into Ogre Erin when I am forced to shop for clothes. So, I just don't do it. Which means I rely on others to shop for me. I'll wear pretty much anything that fits, so gifts of clothes have basically made up my wardrobe for years. Tragically, clothes wear out, and so, occassionally, I am forced to suck it up and shop. When this dreaded event happens, it follows a very clear pattern:
1. Enter store
2. Search out a display of solid color, button down shirts
3. Select 2 or 3 in the appropriate size, but different colors
4. Purchase

If I need something other than a shirt, I am basically paralyzed. Really. Example: I have 2 pairs of pants, one was a gift from my mother and one I've had for 5 years. I don't know what I'll do if one is ruined. I've tried to buy more pants, but about 5 minutes into the experience I give up. I don't even know where to start.

So, you can see why I have been in the market for a professional shopper for most of my adult life. Tragically, I have found that personal shoppers are EXPENSIVE and I don't have any money. So, the personal shopper dream had to go on the shelf, along with being a size 6 and 5'11'. Until today. Today the dream came true.

As, I have mentioned before, I work with the nicest people in the world. Funny and nice. One, the same one who thought I was a polygamist, noticed my 'uniform' of solid shirt and jeans the other day. Being something of a fashionista, she just couldn't understand my aversion to shopping. She is convinced that she can teach me how to shop and, this is the kicker, ACTUALLY ENJOY IT. She is going to take me shopping; my warnings about Ogre Erin have not swayed her. Not even in the slightest. Here are the rules for our shopping expedition, as set by Co-worker/Personal Shopper:

1. I have to actually try stuff on.
2. I am not allowed to complain.
3. I must believe Co-worker/Personal Shopper friend when she says something looks good.
4 I am not allowed to complain.
5. I must buy 1 outfit.

I tried to convince her to just go to the store and buy the clothes; I'd pay her for them and a give her cookies for her time. She launched into some, "If you give a man a fish..." shpeal.

And, so, I am about to get my very own What Not to Wear experience. I hope we can still be friends afterward...

In Which Erin's Faith In Humanity is Restored

As a teacher, I have long been dismayed by the rudeness of today's youth. For reasons I do not understand, kids are just rude! They are rude to each other, they are rude to their parents and teachers, they are even rude to complete strangers. I don't understand. I know many children who are not rude or disrespectful;but I have observed that many more little people than can possibly be healthy for society are rude. So, I have had much fear for the future of humanity. If kids are growing up in a world that permits that kind of rudeness, what is the world going to be like when they are in charge!? Shudder. BUT, this week, my faith in the future of the human race was (at least temporarily) restored. One tiny person, with very large ears, outside an Arizona convenience store, restored hope for the future.
I was at the convenience store purchasing a very large, caffeinated drink-it's how I survive my job. As I got my very large, caffeinated drink, I noticed a very small boy, with very large ears, following his mother around the store. He touched nothing. He did not demand candy. He did not throw a fit of any kind (in contrast to the several other children also in the store). He did remind his mother that school started at 8:00. Too cute. Anyway, I got my drink. I paid for my drink and I found myself following this boy and his mother out the door. Unfortunately, the door was of the swinging variety and the very small boy did not hold it open and it swung back and nearly decapitated me. I heard small boy's mother say "Honey, you need to make sure you hold the door for people!" (Points to mom!) As I came out the door and walked to my car, small boy with large ears came running over and said:
"I'm thorry! My mom thaid I thould have held the door!" (he had a lisp! So. Cute.).As he skipped back to mom, I asked, "Can I keep you?"
Okay, I didn't really say that, but I wanted too. What a sweetheart. It made my day!

Exercise? Who needs Exercise?

Today, I did something I swore I would never do. Of course, I only swore I wouldn't do it because I knew I would be unhappy when I did and why would I want to torture myself? I, as a general rule, try to avoid activites I know will make me unhappy. And, generally speaking, it's a good rule. So, why did I cave this time? I don't know. Why did I ignore the voice in my head that said "Erin, you really don't want to do this"? I don't know. All I know is that I never, ever should have given in to the impulse. I never, ever should have stepped on that scale.
BAD IDEA! WHAT WAS I THINKING?
I'll tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking craziness, that's what. I was thinking, "It's okay that you work at a job that requires you to sit on your rear end all day, immobile. It's okay that you live in HADES and, therefore, do not go outside to do anything even remotely active. It's okay that the 'gym' at your apartment complex is usually inhabited by very scary, large men who "socialize" by grunting numbers at one another as they lift impossibly heavy objects. It's okay that, because you are home by yourself all the time, you eat constantly. It's okay that your clothes all make you look like a sausage. It can't possibly be that bad." And, I, like an idiot, actually gave in to my crazy self-talk and got on the scale. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't bad. It was worse than bad. It was, "I might actually weigh more than a baby cow" bad.
Now, I don't know which is worse: Knowing the awful truth, or knowing that I probably won't do a darn thing about it.

Confession

Fear not-nothing salacious or gossip worthy is found in this post. I just feel led to confess...I HATE television. That's right. HATE it. Which, I realize, is very strong language, but I can't think of any other word to describe how I feel about it.
I haven't always been a television hater. Growing up, I watched what my family watched (usually reading a book at the same time), and I know I enjoyed many of the shows we watched. And,as an adult (and therefore in control of the remote) there have been a few shows I have enjoyed for a time, but, inevitably, each and every one of them became increasingly idiotic the longer it was on TV (I have decided that stupidity is directly proportional to years on the air). And now, I can't stand virtually everything on television. I will admit-I make an exception for PBS because, as many of you know, I very much like Antiques Roadshow. But, that is pretty much it. Really. I could never again turn on the television and still be perfectly happy. In fact, if I have to watch one more inane commercial, one more formulaic "cop" drama or one more disgusting "comedy", I just might go postal and I have only one guarantee: the television will not survive the carnage.

If I....

lived in Alaska, or was independently wealthy and therefore had the means to travel at will, I would be in Palmer (Alaska, of course!) tonight. Why? Because tonight is the first ever, (and probably last) Palmer Potato Pageant! That's right. A pageant for potatoes! But, not just any potato can be in this pageant. No, this pageant's for the ugliest potatos you can find! Your average, round, grocery store potato need not apply!

Apparently, 2008 is 'The Year of the Potato' (I wish I knew who decides things like that-I have a couple of suggestions, like "The Year of Giving Erin $1,000,000" or "The Year of Traveling for Free!") and Bill Campbell (an agronomist in Palmer) is celebrating by organizing the Palmer Potato Pageant. I wish I had a really ugly potato and the means to enter it in this pageant, because I really feel that this is one pageant I would really rock.