oh, wonderful easter.

Yay for Easter! Natalia is dying eggs.

Did you know the egg symbolizes rebirth or a renewal of life?

(Yup. I know random facts. I am a nerd.)

Holly is helping Natalia dye eggs. I just take the pictures.

Oh, the glorified eggs! Strangely enough, in spite of Natalia's
excellent dye job, those specks just appeared!

In lieu (fancy word!) of Easter, I decided to try my hand at baking
a double-layered cake. Here I am smiling sheepishly at the camera.
My first attempt? Let's just say Chef Ramsey would be yelling at me.

See all the crumbling and the horrible frost job?

Luckily, Holly is fabulous, and she came up with the

idea of putting strawberries on top. This hid some of

the destruction. Thank you, Holly!

And here is Gavin, going gangsta with his hoodie.

(Aren't his blue eyes just amazing!)

a day in payson.

During Spring Break, we went to Payson for a day of fun.

Tyson was happy to BBQ. He likes fire.

Gavin was happy to play in the park, and eat a football.

Natalia plays a mean game of soccer.

Holly, Gavin, and Natalia enjoy a moment before lunch.

Across the street from the park is a pond full of crazy ducks.

You would be crazy, too, living in water this dirty.

Gavin agrees.

But it is fun to fish here! Natalia loves to fish with her Daddy.

So serious!

Woohoo! Behold the insanley huge fish!

Such a big day leaves us all tired!

So, Natalia zonked out.

life is like a broken ankle.

We leave the late-night showing of, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, giggling like teenage girls over the hotness of John Corbet.

I know. Wipe that look off your face.

Anyway, we leave the theatre well after midnight. I saunter behind Cal and Sid, coveting over a vintage skirt glaring out at me from a store window. Such is my coveting, I don't pay attention to the sidewalk - - like, you know, the fact that it comes to a very abrupt end. Suddenly, my left ankle impersonates Rice Crispies: snap, crackle, and pop!

“GAAAH! HOLY SHIII - - IP WRECK!” I shout, hopping like a mad woman to the nearest bench.

Cal and Sid quickly come to my aid. “Ew. Gross. It looks like you just stuffed a bunch of marshmallows in your ankle!”

I glare.

“Maybe we should get you to the car,” suggests Cal, who graciously - - being the perpetual wonder woman she is - - totes me the five minute walk to the parking garage on her back.

Being not-so-brilliant, we decide to have me sit up front, and place my ankle on the dashboard. This would help with the swelling. Never mind the safety level, or how uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry. We’ll hurry home,” Sid says, but Cal hesitates to pull out of the garage.

“What?” Sid asks.

“Err. I’m not sure where we are.”

“What? How do you not know where we are? Turn left.”

“Huh? No, it’s right.”

“No. Left.”

“Right?”

“Maybe straight?”

I don’t remember what the decision is: right, left, straight. I just remember it's a wrong decision. We end up on a road with a gazillion potholes. Not just any potholes, either. These potholes are designed by nuclear physicists. Every time we hit one, my foot bounces up and smacks the window.

“I’m sorry!” Cal cries. “Maybe I should turn around?”

“Maybe you should,” I suggest, biting my tongue as we hit another pothole.

“Probably not,” Sid leans over the seats, pointing over Cal’s steering wheel, “You’re outta gas.”

So, to the nearest gas station we go. It just so happens to be in a really foreboding sort of neighborhood. The kind where it can’t hurt to compliment a guy on his spray-painting skills, or ask the lady under the streetlamp where'd she get those hot stilettos, ‘cause you totally need a pair, and - -oh, Mr. Store-Cleark-Man - - is that, um, a shotgun behind the counter? Yeah. That kind of neighborhood.

“Listen,” Callie says, after filling up the tank, “I will run inside and get some ice for your foot.”

“I’m coming, too!” Sid declares, already jumping out of the car.

“What? Wait! You guys can’t leave me alone out here!” I whine, being (at the time) a completely naïve girl.

“We’ll lock the doors!”

“YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME OUT HERE!”

“Seriously, you’ll be fine!” Callie reassures me, and throws something on my lap, adding, “But there’s that, just in case.”

I lift the small tube from my lap. “Callie. This. Is. Chapstick.”

“Well, they wouldn’t know that! You can say that it’s maize.”

So, here I am, left alone in the car: an invalid with Cherry-flavored Chapstick as her one line of defense.

Of course, everything works out. I get ice for my foot, and an hour later, I even make it back home! The reason I tell this silly story is to point out this: life can be a lot like a broken ankle. One moment you’re walking and skipping along, and the next moment you’re not.

Sometimes you have people to help you out of the rut, and sometimes you are left with only a tube of Cherry-flavored Chapstick, and sometimes you don’t even have that.

But sooner or later - - after all the directionless moments, the potholes, and the unexpected stops - - you make your destination, and after a while, the ankle heals.

introducing my new fabulous phone.

That’s right. I did it. After three years of my hellacious relationship with the razr, I finally got a new phone. What brought me to this, you ask? Well, the old phone wasn’t going to last another day. In fact, the salesman who helped me wouldn’t even recycle it for charity. No. Really. He wouldn’t. His exact words were, “No homeless person would want this phone.” (I didn't point out that a homeless person probably wouldn't want a phone bill, anyway.)


Anywho...He introduced me to the lovely phone above. As you see, it's in a swank cover, which he provided for free. The color beneath is maroon. And it's a fabulous phone. It takes great pictures, holds plenty of music, and even tap dances.

You flip open the cover, and here you see a wonderful keyboard, which is handy for texting and internet and all that jazz. The look on my face is one of pure guilt. I let the salesman totally con me into this buy. Lucky for me, I adore the phone, and I'll use every feature.

it's been a while, so tell your mom i said hi.

Wow. I have been terrible at updating. The thing is - - I am busy with my other blog, so greatest apologies! I have resolved to be more faithful, and will try to update more regularly.

In lieu of Valentine’s Day, I present you with my very own Prince Charming! That’s right, folks! My roommate Jayme brought home, Charming in a Box. Why get a real guy, when you can just grow one and attach him to your keychain? In reference to Shawn Spencer, it’s one part plastic, and two parts awesome!

just so you know.

I do a lot of rambling lately, and think, What's the point?

Typically, I don't have one, and probably should invest.

welcome to the asylum.

So, we went to the Grand Hotel, which is located in Jerome. Not only is this a grand hotel (as indicated in it's name), but many years back it was an insane asylum. Yup.

Laci, Kevin, and I were pretty stoked abouted visiting the Grand Hotel. Though, to be honest, it creeps me out that people will stay the night in a place where crazy people once stayed - - and died.


This is the entrance way to the lobby. The stairs, railing, and windows are still very much like hospital windows. All of the artwork is based on insanity.

This is one of the main hallways. Take away the carpet, the paintings, the plush couch, table, and lamps, and what do you get? You get the old, icky asylum that used to be here. All that's missing are the crazy people.

Maybe not. Here they are! Lisa, me, and Laci are standing in the old elevator. Really, really, really, really, really old elevator.

I would like you to meet my friend Jane. She's a little shy.

We decided to eat at the Grand Hotel.

The waitress was kind enough to take our picture. (My face looks incredibly fat in this photo. I don't know what the deal is? I blame my insanity.)

For "therapy" guests are allowed to draw on the tables. Lisa and I had a lot of fun.

After the Grand Hotel, we went back to the library where Kevin parked his truck. Laci and I read the message on this box, which was sitting outside the library door, and (because we're so mature) she and I found it ridiculously funny.

Something I learned during our day-roadtrip, is that we have absolutely no care for signs like the ones posted above.

So. Here you see Kevin has jumped the rail to the old jail.

Laci is actually sitting inside the jail.

While I? Freak out behind bars.