Attempted Murder

You read that title correctly.  I have attempted murder.  Obviously I'm not in prison and my attempt was merely an attempt and not successful...although if it had been successful I would have got off on "crime of passion".

The following is actually a paper I wrote my Senior year in AP Language.  Mrs. Rawlings was a paper writing nazi.  I would think my papers would be so great, flawless, but always came back with red marks all over.  That woman really taught you well...maybe not me.  Don't judge my writing or anything.  Well this paper was autobiographical and I thought my wit and unique experience would get me an A.  I mean she'd been issuing this assignment since my parents went to AF High and had anyone been able to write about their attempted murder?  No. Please! This is Utah County.  I knew she'd love it...just like the scene in The Christmas Story where the A+++++'s just went clear around the room. 
Reality: I don't even think it got a B+.  But don't let that deter from reading it, Mrs. Rawlings had super high standards, and I think her class ruined more than one students' perfect 4.0 record.  And by the way, Mrs. Rawlings was probably one of the best teachers I've ever had.

Every family has one.  You know--the sibling no one gets along with. Whether older or younger, this person fights with everyone.  Every conflict involves this particular sibling.  I was this dreaded member in my family, and make things a lot more exciting. 

Each person in my family is very talented.  I think my older brother's most developed talent is teasing me.  Our personalities created constant bickering.  Most of the time we'd just use words as our weapons, but sometimes I got a little out of control and was forced to go beyond mere language.  You know what I'm suggesting--death.  Murder. Killing!  I was raised in an extremely religious home, so I knew all about Moses and the Ten Commandments.  The rules about lying, stealing, coveting (whatever that means), and all the other things you weren't supposed to do.  I knew it was a sin to kill, and even worse--I knew where sinners go.

It was Sunday afternoon when I decided to become a "sinner".  Not just an ordinary sinner, but a really "wicked sinner," which we'd discussed earlier that day in church.  The family was being herded into the living room for the dreaded Family Home Evening where we'd begin by talking about church and end by fighting.  I was the only one still lingering outside the French doors that afternoon, delaying my entrapment.

Looking across the kitchen, I had a perfect view of the maroon Lazy-boy in the corner in which my nemesis perched.  He was thirteen, six feet tall, broad shouldered and ugly as sin.  His beady, pig eyes squinted at me through that fuzzy hair, which looked like rat fur.  The cold-sore infested lip curled into a smile, revealing a mouth full of shiny metal.  His tongue licked across his braces, and I could tell he was thirsty for torment.

"Hey! We're trying to start.  Get that scrawny body of yours in here." he called.  I glared at him, thinking how much I hated that jerk.  "I don't have to do what you tell me to.  You're not my mom!"  I snipped.  Seeing that the kindling had been lit, James added a few more logs to the fire.

"Mom will make you....even though no one wants you here," he said rocking back and forth in the stained armchair.  I clenched my teeth as the anger surged through me.  The fire was burning steadily now, and James continued his game.

The disgusting zit-covered face turned in my mom's direction, but she was too busy changing the baby's diaper to notice the contention building beyond the French doors.  "Mom...Don't you think the orphanage will take Jessica back now that we don't want her?  She's really skinny and won't take up much room.  They'll just have to replace all their mirrors after her ugly face breaks all of them."

James had thrown gasoline on the fire. I snapped.

At that moment I was so mad the only solution was that James must die. "I hate him so much! The only thing to do is kill him! I don't care if I do go to H-E-doublehockeysticks!" I thought, sprinting across the room and leaping right into Goliath's lap, grabbing his neck with both hands.  "DIE!" I shrieked, squeezing as hard as I could, putting all my strength into it.  The rage gave my 65 pounds power I'd never had before.  The giant was choking for breath! 

A roar of laughter erupted from his throat, which was right beneath my death grip.  He wasn't choking his last breaths; he was laughing!  I gripped harder, digging my thumbnails into the premature Adam's apple.  I began shoving his head violently into the back of the chair--maybe a combination of choking and shoving would at the very least cause some permanent brain damage!  But the laughter just got louder.  "Why...won't...you...die!"  I screamed between head thumps.  Suddenly Goliath hit my shoulder.  The huge hand swatted me off like a fly, tearing me from victory.

As penance for my outburst, I was assigned to say the opening prayer.  I began a short, simple prayer to my God, but I could feel the coals of hatred still glowing within me.  Opening my eyes and squinting from under my bowed head, I saw that jerk smiling at me.  What made it worse was it wasn't a ha-ha-I-got-you-in-trouble smile, but a sincere you-make-life-interesting smile.  Oh how I hated him.

We actually became friends in adulthood.  This was our sister's wedding.  I was a Senior, probably around the time I wrote that paper actually.  You can see his acne cleared up... and I put on weight.

We made Christmas gifts for people with iron on letters.  Mine said "sweet sassy molassey" James' said "jump & choke" from a sketch on old school Conan.

So I guess it was probably a good thing my grip strength was pretty meager back then and he survived.

We Voted...

...and the best high school dance scene in a movie is:

A TIE!

GREASE

AND

IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE

I was kind of surprised It's A Wonderful Life had such a strong standing.  I love old movies, so I was glad to see it held it's own.

I mentioned it may be worth the while of voters if they put in their favorite, and so the voting pool was actually a sneaky secret giveaway!

Random.org selected comment 15 to win! Kind of crazy it chose the last number: (1-15)

Comment 15 and winner is:
Sarah!

She wins THIS

VOTE NOW

We've collaborated all the different movies we can think of...I'm sure we missed a few. But remember, you're not voting for which is the best movie...

JUST THE BEST HIGH SCHOOL DANCE SCENE

Grease

Footloose

Better Off Dead

Carrie

Napoleon Dynamite

She's All That

10 Things I Hate About You

Back To the Future

Clueless

To Sir With Love

Can't Buy Me Love

16 Candles

Never Been Kissed

Pretty in Pink

Twilight

It's a Wonderful Life

Swing Kids
Meet Me In St. Louis
500 Days of Summer

leave a comment with your vote...it may end up being worth your while

Lemon Drop Cookies

In case you never made these when I posted about them 2 years ago, here's another reminder.  I made a batch yesterday and I love them!  Here's the link to Katherine's recipe.  The only changes I make when I bake these--I only use 2 eggs, because I buy eggs from Costco and they are x-large.  Also, lately I haven't been crushing the candy in the food processor, just pounding it in the package with a marble rolling pin.  I would always over crush in the food processor, so I'd have lemon drop dust rather than small hunks.  That is what makes these cookies.  The lemon drop chunks melt when they bake, so when you eat them you have little crunchy goodies sprinkled through the soft lemony cookie.
Is your mouth watering yet? GO make them!  May seem like more work than most cookies, but save time by using a cookie scoop rather than rolling them in balls.

One Nation Under God

You can see the video of the artist and his story of this painting HERE.

"The Constitution of this government was written by men who accepted Jesus Christ as the Savior of mankind.  Men and women who live in America, "the land of Zion," have a responsibility greater than that yet borne by any other people.  Theirs is the duty, the obligation to preserve not only the Constitution of the land but also the Christian principles from which sprang the immortal document."
                                   -David O. McKay, former President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints given in 1942 during WWII in a General Conference.  (CR Report Oct. 1942, p 70) 

Prom

Ready for another embarrassing memory from Jessica's teenage years? Oh, and there WAS a limited time soundtrack to this post, but sorry you missed it.

This story is not really as embarrassing as it is sad and pathetic, but hopefully you'll be able to at least get a chuckle at my expense if you choose to read on.

Recently I went with the 12-year-olds from our church that I teach for an activity. They went to a bridal/ dress shop and tried on prom dresses. They LOVED it, and the other adults were talking about their funny 80s prom dresses and I confessed....

I was never asked to prom.

I know I'm not the only girl that never experienced the amazing, glamourous, romantic dance that was so well portrayed on episodes of Full House I watched as a kid. Or all the great teen movies with a great dance scene. But for some reason, it seems like a major rite of passage I didn't experience. So here is the story.

In our highschool, anyone could attend Prom. You just had to pay the $50+ ticket to get in. So a handful of my friends went as sophomores. But Prom is really about being a Jr. The Junior class officers plan it, the Prom royalty are juniors. Basically, it's the year that counts. And even more pathetic, technically I could have attended all three years of high school, but never went. (Freshmen = Jr. High for us)

Well as it got closer, I was realizing I wouldn't be going. In our seminary class at school, they had a whiteboard designated as "Girls Who Haven't Been Asked to Prom". I think it was supposed to be a positive thing, so boys could see all the girls who wanted to go so they could ask them. So the weeks leading up to the dance, each day the list would get smaller as a girl would confidently walk up and erase her name. Mission accomplished: going to prom! Well I wasn't stupid enough to write my name up there because I knew my name would be there right up to the dance, so at least I avoided the Board of Shame.

Anyway, my best friend was prom royalty, and since we all knew I most likely wouldn't be attending, I asked my Mom if she would make Mysha's dress, which was really fun. She picked everything out and if I remember right she kind of designed what she wanted. My mom always enjoys making a formal gown. So that was fun.

So Saturday night. Prom night. Up to this point I felt like I kept a good perspective on everything. First of all, I wasn't surprised I wasn't going. No boys were interested in me. No one asked me to date any other time, so I realized no one would pop out when prom rolled around. So I realized that the only opportunity to go to prom would be a poor sucker who's mom was forcing him to give me a pity date. I KNEW I didn't want that. Plus, it was really expensive date and I always feel guilty when people spend money on me, especially teenage boys with no job. So I felt I'd accepted the situation and mature about the fact I was content to be at home that night.
I guess I'd better admit at this point, that although I had intellectually explained my lack of prom to be what would be best, I totally day dreamt about it. Kind of lame, but I designed a red dress in my mind--obviously so if they played "Lady In Red" I would take some kid's breath away....But it wouldn't just be any kid. My crush. I imagined he'd also had a crush on me all this time, but was too shy to act on it, but out of no where asked me to the dance. Basically I was too nerdy and we weren't in the same group of friends..Ok basically the plot of Say Anything... without the smut. But definitely with the boombox over head outside my window. On and on, and I can tell you my imaginary prom experience kicked the socks off anything you saw on Full House. It was amazing. I was amazing. My date was amazing.

But back to reality. Saturday afternoon, we're in Mysha's bedroom. I am helping with her hair as she is doing her makeup. I remember she borrowed some Mary Kay cream to powder silver eyeshadow. Gorgeous. Well I can't remember if I was just slow, or her date came early, but I barely finished her hair in time. We shot this quick photo, and I was on my way out of there. I was in her room gathering our "prom prep" gear, when her date came, who was our good buddy.

Her room was right by their living room, where they were all excitedly taking pictures, introducing the other friends in the group, etc. I was trapped! I couldn't get out of her room without passing the prom group just outside her door. It was bad enough to be the girl that no one wanted to take, but to go out and hang out in your grubbies with all your friends wearing their formals was too embarrassing for me to tackle.
I backed up against her closet and sat down, listening to the group, looking down at my shabby skirt and hoodie. And all the sudden I felt so EMBARRASSED, LAME, PATHETIC, UGLY, and the list goes on. My mom had always talked about making our prom dresses, and her staircase in our house that would be perfect to walk down when your date picks you up for prom. "What a loser I am!! All this time my mom wanted to make me a prom dress, and she instead had to make my friend's because I'm so lame!" or "I don't even have a loser party to go to right now because all my friends are at the prom and I'm the only loser!"
So I kind of sat in Mysha's room, half in her closet, having my own "Prom Pity Party", fighting back the tears. The group finished their pictures and left. I looked out the window and saw them get in their cars in a blur of satin and chiffon and drive away. I could finally leave, but I was such an emotional wreck, I didn't want to encounter any chat with her family on my exit, so I peaked out her door until the coast was clear and bolted out of there.

I got in my car and quickly turned the radio off before I turned on the engine. I didn't want to have a love song come on or anything (have you seen the scene in Better Off Dead with the break-up songs...I had). So I drove home, trying to act nonchalant about everything. My mom was in the kitchen and asked how Mysha looked in her dress. "Beautiful."

I went up stairs. The same stairs my mom practically designed for her daughter's prom if they weren't such ugly trolls and could get a date! At that point I hustled to my room and shut the door. I cried. Over something stupid. Prom. Being unappealing to my male peers. Spinster.

Later my mom came up to console the troll, and I can't remember anything my mom said in particular, other than reminding me about how much she hated her Junior Prom when she started her period in a white dress and the whole night was a nightmare expedition trying to get feminine hygiene with zero success. At the end of the night back in 1977 she ran in the house, shut the door behind her, leaned on it, and just yelled: "MOTHER!" The family ran thinking vengeance needed to be taken out on her date, when she just turned around and they saw her blood soaked bum area of the white dress as she started sobbing.

So ya. When she reminded me of her prom, I was glad that night to be watching TV with my little brother Herschel as he ate "Macho Nachos" = half bag of Doritos with 1/2 pound of cheese melted on top, and his shiny, bare, chubby, 11 year old chest where he'd wiped all the grease.

I laugh about it now. Rhett always says: It's too bad you didn't grow up in Delta, because we made sure every junior girl went to that dance. And ours was amazing....Titanic theme: My heart will go on '98. Everyone even got to take home a mug.
Apparently there are bad proms (mom), but there are amazing proms, which must have been Rhett's experience because he was really mad when I had found the cool prom mug and used it so much all the purple lettering is gone, ruining his Prom '98 memorabilia. He said the mug was a big deal because he'd helped plan the dance, but I think he did have a great time too. Because prom can be kind of a big deal I guess.

But now I'm an adult, I look back and think that for me and my personality, the many nights at home when my girl friends were out with boy friends or whatever, really did shape who I am I think. I was kind of a prideful brat in many ways, and those experiences did humble me greatly. I didn't feel any confidence in how I looked, so it really forced me to find my self worth in areas beyond the way I looked or what other people thought about me. So what seemed like a teenage catastrophe, in the end was something that greatly benefited me in discovering who I am. So I'm grateful things turned out for the best, although I still wonder if my "John Cusack" crush was considering asking me afterall. Probably not. I actually don't think he knew my name.

So let's have a little contest since you made it through my pathetic prom story. I want to know

the best high school movie--dance scene of all time.

So leave me a comment with all the ones I've forgotten so I can compile a list, and then we'll vote. If it's a high school movie and has a scene at a school dance, give it to us! So my movie buff friends: Lacey G., Rebecca S. get thinking!

The ones that come to my mind:
Grease

Footloose

Better Off Dead

Carrie

Napoleon Dynamite

She's All That

10 Things I Hate About You

Back To the Future

Clueless

To Sir With Love

Is there a dance scene in Say Anything? or just the senior party?

What Kind of Bird is Pork?

A family joke comes from one occasion my sister, I'm not saying which sister, asked our oldest brother: "Now what kind of bird is pork again?" (she was an adult) James said: "what?" and doodled a pig with wings and said--"this is the pork bird." Kind of funny.

So this is a dish I've been making quite often lately. Pork tenerloin is a less expensive cut of meat, so I've been trying different recipes. Plus I love pork. Lately I buy a big loin from Costco, and it ends up making this dinner three times. I obviously freeze the other two hunks for later. I think I've mentioned on here that as we live with my parents, and they both work full time, I make dinner for all of us. After each meal my dad gives it a rating between 1 & 10. He loves this dish and I think it's the only meal that is my original recipe that's ever recieved a 10 vote. He calls it "Country Club Pork". So I guess that is what it is:

COUNTRY CLUB PORK

ingredients:

1 1/2 to 2 lb pork tenderloin, cut in 1/2 - 1" medallions

1/2 lb mushrooms, sliced

1 red pepper, diced

1 carrot, peeled and grated

2 T butter

2 T olive oil

2 T flour

1 T parsley

1 T basil

1 1/2 tsp beef boulion granules

1/4 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

1/2 to 2/3 c. sherry cooking wine

3/4 c. cream, half-n-half, or milk

1/2 to 1 tsp garlic granules

directions:

This dish takes more time than most of my usual recipes, so I usually prep everything in the morning to save time in the evening:

-Pork: trim off fat from pork tenderloin, cut along between 1/2" and 1", making round medallions

-Veggies: peel & grate carrot, dice red pepper, and plop in large non-stick skillet that has a lid. Drizzle the 2 T olive oil and add one of the 2 tablespoons butter

-Mushrooms: rinse off mushrooms, slice, place in small skillet with the other 1 T butter, and the garlic--you can add more later to suit your preference **my husband hates mushrooms, so I cook them on the side since quite a few people are anti-fungi

-Measure out the flour, salt, pepper, beef granules, basil, & parsley

TIME FOR DINNER, GET COOKING!
1. Mushrooms. If you like them and are using them, start the mushrooms sauteing on medium heat. They have quite a bit of moisture, so they eventually boil. Once they come to a boil, turn the heat down to med-low and let them simmer down and get soft. I like them where they're just beginning to brown up. But the mushrooms are on the side and I just let them cook the whole time, so we'll get back to them when you eat the whole thing
2. Saute the carrot, red pepper until carrots are tender, take them out and set aside until the very end.
3. Plop your pork medallions in the saute pan, and add a little more oil if the carrot/pepper didn't leave enough in the pan. Cook the pork on medium until cooked through, flipping half way, about 8 minutes or so.
4. Once pork is cooked through, turn up heat to high. Brown both sides, giving it a little bit of crispy goodness. Take out the meat and set aside.
5. Pour your cooking sherry in the empty, hot skillet to pull off all the crisp meat flavor from the pan--that is called "deglazing" right? Who cares what it's called, doesn't matter, just makes the sauce taste good.

6. The cooking sherry will boil quickly, let it boil a minute or so, turning down the heat to medium. Then whisk in your flour/herb/salt/pepper/beef stuff until smooth. At this point add your cream/ half-n-half or milk. **I've tried all three, all taste good, but you already know cream tastes the best.

7. Bring sauce to boil. Turn heat down to low, and add the pork back into the sauce, coating both sides. Cover skillet with lid and let meat simmer in the sauce 30 min to 1 hour. One night no one came home on time and it ended up simmering for 1 1/2 hours. If you keep the lid on, it won't dry out, and the meat just has more time to get tender.

At this point everything is done until you're ready to eat.

To serve, I put the pork down, then mushrooms for those that like them, then the carrot/peppers, topped with a spoonful of sauce. I didn't put the sauce on top for the photo.

I've thought about trying this in a crock pot. One night I didn't have mushrooms and sauted onions in its place. I am a sloppy cook, so I rarely measure, so feel free to just grab a glob of butter rather than measuring 1 T, and drizzle oil until it looks good rather than measure 2 T.

So out of the four adults that have been eating this quite frequently lately, we all like it. Tonight Rhett said: "I do have to admit this is one of the better things you cook." So sorry if you spend the time to make it and it is gross to you. We all like it.

Sewing Classes On Saturdays!

If you live in the Utah County area, my little sister, Lynette is offering sewing classes at her business in downtown Provo.

Each class is $20.00 and she provides the fabric. So you show up with your sewing machine, design your clutch, tote, or whatever class you signed up for, and she teaches her sewing secrets.

Great way to learn how to make items for yourself, gifts, etc. Plus you leave with a clutch, so think of buying a clutch, but also getting bonus instruction so you can make more on your own.

Sign up or questions here: ladydanburry@hotmail.com

Jan 16: clutch
Jan 23: tote (as shown above)
Jan 30: Basic alteration--hem and taper pants/jeans **This one would be totally worth while for anyone

AVATAR

Rhett and I went to see Avatar in 3D. He had already seen it in Delta. We were sitting there waiting for the movie to start, and he said: "I think you'll like this Jess. It's about an alien that falls in love with a short guy. Well, she's huge compared to him."

Me: "I'm pretty huge so I will probably like this."

Rhett: "Well she's just like 8 feet tall and super strong--I didn't mean you are huge, she does have long legs though, and the guy actually has these little scrawny legs, and in a wheel chair, so maybe this isn't like us at all."

Me: "Ya. You have ham-hock legs. Definitely not like us at all."

I'd heard it was Dances With Wolves alien version, or Ferngully on steroids. I could see either working, but I really liked it. I'd never seen a movie in 3D and that was cool. I also like action movies, nerdy movies, alien movies. So I would recommend it. It was fun, although describing it as Ferngully on steroids makes it sound lame.

Also, totally off subject, but I think it's humorous that Ryan Howard is experimenting being a hipster lately on The Office. I also thought this Hipster through the decade diagram was funny too (from friend Erin). I've had a lot of different people try to explain what a hipster is, or I've also heard them called "scene kids", and I don't really know what this social stereotype is, but I gather you rebel against trendy, and in so doing become trendy with the other hipsters. Lots of deep v neck shirts on guys and Rambo style feather headbands on girls is what I think of when I hear the word: Hipster. I don't know if Hipsters identify themselves as such, or it's a stereotype they belong to--but would never admit to belonging to. I think someone explained this "self loathing" aspect of the stereotype: it has a lot to do with being unique, so how could you be unique and belong to a stereotype and be just another hipster, so I am definitely NOT a hipster, and I get all confused at who is actually a hipster, so who knows. I guess who cares, really. So sorry about my Hipster rant, I'm still trying to figure them out. What is a hipster to you?

What the crap is True Love Anyway?

This is my favorite photo of Rhett and me.
It was taken 6 years ago, almost to the day. It was one of our first dates. We had been friends for months, but at a magical night a few days prior, Rhett had crossed the intimidating and fatal "friendship boundary", testing fate by holding my hand in Denny's. That was a magical night. Lame if I told you, but magical if you'd been us.

Six years ago I thought I was so in love with him (I still am by the way). Rhett seemed like the most amazing man in the world, and I was shocked he somehow thought I was the most amazing girl in the world. Which is kind of funny how that works when you think about it. I read on blogs all the time where wives will list a whole blog entry of all the amazing qualities their husbands possess, "greatest dad in the world", "most amazing husband", etc. blah blah. We all know these entries. So how can we all have the most amazing husband in the world? I'm sure we all have friends, but gag on her husband, and wonder what she sees in him. And I guess that's my whole point. All of us normal people, see another average normal person as the most amazing person in the world, and they hopefully see us the same way.

Or I'm also reminded of a painting my little sister Lynette once did entitled "Even Ugly People Fall In Love" and it was a really ugly guy, kissing an even uglier girl, in a really awkward kiss position. I think maybe my Uncle Dean loved it and has it because he thought it was so hilarious, it was a pretty awesome painting. But it's true I think. That ugly dude in the painting saw the troll chick as a beautiful, amazing, woman. So is true love blind? All of us average people that think our average spouses are so amazing are blind to reality? I don't think so.

I don't broadcast this often, but Rhett was my first everything. I was 19 years old and had never had a relationship. That magical hand-hold at Denny's was the first time any boy had held my monster, witchy fingered hand. Rhett gave me my first kiss--which I totally botched. He was so in love with me, it made me kind of question his in intelligence, because no one had ever wanted to take me on a second date, let alone think I was a goddess or something. But after critical analysis, I concluded he was a smart individual, and just felt lucky that he found me. He was my first love, so also my one and only. So I've only romantically loved one person, one time, so I don't have a broad range of love experience, but this is what I've concluded from my experience loving my husband, being loved in return, and all the other forms of love we can receive/feel from parents, siblings, friends, etc.

To truly love someone is to see and understand their potential.

I think this is applicable to any relationship, not just the romantic love. We don't love each other for who we are, but more for what be can become. My mom could tell you a lot about that, as she still loved me during my years of being utterly wretched to her. You see, I can be pretty rotten...Rhett could also attest to the truth of that statement. But people still love me anyway. No one knows the depth of our rottenness better than us. But what is amazing to me, and what makes true love the miracle it is to me, that the people who know best how wretched I am, love me the most.

My parents have a pretty good idea of my rotten side, my husband knows even more, and God knows everything.

So that to me is what it all comes down to. How could these people know how worthless I am sometimes, but love me so much? Somehow, they take the effort or are given a gift to see my potential and help me get closer to it. Faith in who I can be, not who I am.

So I think when we all brag about how amazing our spouses and kids are, we're not out of touch with reality. I don't even think we are bias. I just think we are in the position and have the opportunity to see who these average, balding, overweight twenty/thirty-something dudes and messy, stinky, little kids can be. And everyone has the potential to be completely, incredibly, amazing--of course if they chose to be their best self.

That's what I think happened to poor Rhett when he fell in love with me. God allowed Rhett to see some lurpy, awkward, annoying lame chick as He sees her, and Rhett was swept off his feet, just as the lame chick was with him. The best advice I ever received on choosing a husband was to make sure that person made me want to be my best self. I think that synergistic compatibility is essential to succeeding in marriage. Because I think most of us, when honest, could say some days our spouse can be just another person who adds to the dishes and laundry, and I'm sure Rhett comes home and I'm just a haggard looking housekeeper sometimes. We need the eternal perspective of each other to appreciate what you have during the day in day out routine, and have the motivation from that person to be better than the bitter, haggard housekeeper you feel like that day. And of course, some days it's harder to remember their potential than others.

So love is amazing, a miracle, and I'm sure none of this is news to anyone. Hope we all have someone to love, and even better, someone who loves us back when they know just how rotten we can be.

if you read this and think I'm crazy for marrying my first boyfriend at 19 and would like further explanation, I will tell you. I like talking about it, but what a bore if you're not interested. the whole thing makes sense in my mind.

Sweet Toddler

DON'T FORGET TO VOTE ON THE SIDE BAR IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY

RJ was supposed to taking a nap, Rhett went to check on him and peeked in to see he had somehow reached the box of Kleenex and taken every tissue out and shoved it down his shirt. One would fall out the bottom, and he would pick it up and shove it down his shirt, causing more to fall out the bottom. He was just shoving tissue down his shirt over and over.

Somehow he found this decor antique bike for dolls. Kind of hard to ride, let alone on the quilt I was trying to baste together.

He's 20 months old and has been so fun and sweet. Starting to talk, and imagination growing. This was such a fun stage I wish I could freeze for a little longer, because now he is diving back into stinker-butt-stubborn-terrible-two stage. But I still think he's cute, even in that stage.

New Year...New Resolutions

FIRST OFF, PLEASE VOTE ON OUR POLL ON THE TOP OF THE SIDEBAR. I'M TRYING TO ANSWER A QUESTION FROM A FAMILY MEMBER WITH IT. EACH OPTION IS A REASON I'VE HAD TO READ PARTICULAR BLOGS, SO BE HONEST PLEASE...DON'T SPARE FEELINGS, AND YOU CAN HAVE MORE THAN ONE REASONS PER VOTE.

It's a fresh year. One that I've been looking forward to for half a decade. Rhett is in the class of '10, so I've been thinking how great it would be when 2010 rolls around and he'll graduate and we'll no longer be in the student situation...not to admit being a student does have advantages we'll miss--like a week long Christmas break with no work for either of us.

I've made some goals for this year. But they're the things I'm always trying to improve and still haven't mastered, and I doubt you care to know what they are.

I don't know if it's due to watching some high school movies lately with nieces and nephews, or some "insanely intense girl-talk" (their description when I arrived of the top priority for our weekend agenda) with my 12 year old nieces this past weekend all about their crushes and middle school drama, but rather than thinking about the future resolutions, I've been reflecting on the past.

IF I HAD TO REPEAT HIGH SCHOOL, WHAT WOULD I DO DIFFERENT?

I don't really have that many things I regret doing--it's all the little things I didn't do. Didn't get out of the house much I guess. Plenty of embarrassing moments, but it gives me something to laugh about now so I may just endure them a second time around knowing I'd appreciate them later...maybe not. Some were really embarrassing.

The things I regret probably wouldn't really made that big of a difference in how I turned out or where I ended up for the most part, but I realize I could have maybe made a positive influence on someone, and definitely enjoyed the experience more if I had. Looking back all of these things weren't accomplished because I didn't have the courage or confidence I guess, and all have to with the fact I wish I was basically a better person:

-Given the compliments I thought: I am so bad at giving compliments, and even worse at receiving them. Stupid. Especially giving compliments. Everyone loves a compliment, so I don't know why I don't say them when I think them. I guess I'm socially inept like Michael Scott.

(talking about Pam) Michael Scott: "I would never say this to her face, but she is a wonderful person and a gifted artist.
Oscar: What? Why wouldn't you say that to her face?

Most people probably consider giving/ receiving compliments a natural element of being a human being, but to me it is a skill I'm still trying to learn. So I'm sure anyone who is reading this probably has a compliment about you I've thought but never said, and don't anyone dare compliment me because you make me awkward. And the few that have received a compliment, I really meant it.

But I really regret this in high school because there were so many friends that were good examples to me, or had characteristics I admired that I failed to let them know. What a trash bucket friend I was.

-Been myself earlier. For those that know me well, I'm pretty loud, silly, enjoy having fun. But for large portions of my life I'm sure some of my peers wondered if I was mute or just the physical embodiment of the words: boring or lame.

In 5th grade I switched schools, and jumped right in being silly, loud, and annoying. That is who I am. But a lot of kids started to call me "weirdo". Kids are mean, but I understood what made me weird was my overwhelming personality, so when we moved the next year, I was determined to keep my gaping mouth shut so the new school wouldn't find out I am a weirdo.

So I was still the same weirdo, hiding in a husk of lame, shy, mute, insecurity through jr. high and the majority of high school. This resulted in having very few, but very close friends. I liked Weirdo better than Mutey. But Mutey was safe. And I think those that really took the painful energy to work past Mutey, preferred Weirdo also. I think the key to get to know me all those years were sleepovers. I would go crazy to the point of one parent (Bishop Graham) threatening to take me home if I couldn't be quiet. I was 15 years old at that point too, and was keeping everyone awake impersonating Steve Erwin--Croc Hunter, whether they wanted to hear it or not. I think at sleepovers, all my energy holding Weirdo in the lame-cage erupted, and like a wild animal racing around trying to enjoy the few moments of freedom, I was out of control.

the two extremes

Since then, a few people have had whiffs of my potential mania, which is why a
co-worker named Jeff once told me a few years ago, "out of anyone, you are the
person I would most love to watch if you ever got drunk". I'm still trying to figure out if that is complimentary or derogatory. To posess a high level of potential drunk entertainment??? I guess it's a good thing I've never ingested alcohol.

It wasn't until I was a senior that I really started to feel like I could let my hair down [literally, my hair was slicked back in a bun for years] and acted like myself at school. When I allowed Weirdo out of the cage on a regular basis, she was a lot more in control and appropriate. It was a lot of fun my senior year, but I wish I'd allowed people to get to know the real me all along. I may or may not have had more friends, I KNOW I would have annoyed more kids than I have, but I know I would have been happier being myself as the real Jessica, rather than a weirdo pretending not to be. I guess I eventually gained confidence where I could embrace Weirdo and was happy to be her.

-Thanking People: I think this problem is a cousin cancer of the complimenting issue. I think God is very conscious of putting people in your life to touch it in small, at the time seemingly insignificantly, ways. But all these small brushes with other people can really impact you. For some reason, I have a really good memory with experiences. I can remember stupid details like what we were wearing, what we ate, where everyone was sitting, and a good portion of what was said. So I remember really small things people did that were kind to me, and I guess I can also remember all the mean things too so look out if you ever get in a fight, I can pull crap up from decades prior. I try not to though.

My nephew Cole always teases me about having a "VIVID MEMORY" which was my ammunition in an argument Rhett and I had a while ago on one of our excursions with all the kids. I'll say something in my defence now like: "Trust me. I remember!" Cole will ask: Is it a vivid memory?

In any case, there were many little things people did that meant a lot in high school that I never thanked them for. There's probably a different reason for each person in the end, but overall I feel like I received a lot from other people without ever letting them know. In reality, there may not be room, time, or opportunity to really let every life that touches ours for good know about it.

But in this area I've actually been trying to be better, or at least try to make up for it. As lame as it is, thanks to Facebook. I hope the years late "thanks for being nice to the loser in high school notes" are more welcome and less creepy, but are probably some of both. It could be worse though, at least I don't have a long list of people to apologize to so they can scratch me off their "PEOPLE TO KILL" list like Billy Madison. I definitely did have people to apologize too, and it was embarrassing, humbling, and I feel like I have cleared most of those up if I could. Maybe not. If I was cruel to anyone and just forgot, please email me so we can work it out before you kill me. jessica.crapo@gmail.com. I'm not joking about that actually.

-Making effort to spend time with other people: I am a hermit. Home-body. I prefer to stay at home rather than go do anything. I just feel like there were so many great people I had the chance to interact with and get to know but didn't take the chance. I think having very few but very close friends suits my personality, but there were amazing kids around in high school that I didn't take advantage of learning from or enjoying. I guess this last one is a selfish regret.

-Slower to judge: for good or bad, never very accurate, judging people is a bad habit I am victim of. I hate feeling like a victim to my own choice. Anyway, wish I'd done less assuming and more searching for people's potential.

-Appearance: Less important, but I wish I'd had a little more help with choosing clothes back then. Or knowing how to do my hair {mysha did help telling me to get a diffuser}. I guess I never had the desire, so what you saw is what you got. My appearance has never been an area of any conscious thought to me...which is maybe why it is so drab. I get up and put on what is comfortable. Crap. I'd like help with this now.

I think I'll stop there. As I've been thinking about this, I was kind of surprised most of my greatest regrets deal with my relationships with other people. I think this may be the same when we die, and reflect back on our lives in general. Things we'd most wish to change were smaller decisions that involve our relationships with other people.

Also more revealing, every single thing I've listed are the same regrets of each stage of my life. High school. College. Kirksville. Now. I guess I am one of those people who receive a lot but doesn't give much to those around me. I have improved some. Need to be better. Hopefully I'll eventually be better at these regrets and in 50 years you'll see one granny that is really great at complimenting, thanking, and giving...but she'll probably still be wearing the lame outfits.

I mean really, if I showed up and had an entire, cute, trendy, matching outfit--would it really be me? Friends let me know. Because I have a gift card and I almost got these boots. Getting ideas of my clothes I could wear with them, I kept thinking, this isn't me. It would seem like wearing a costume. But then I like them, so why can't it be me? You see? This is why I hate wasting time on fashion. You're right--who the crap cares.

But then I don't care, and that is why I look the way I do.

Maybe leave a comment of what one should wear with the boots to help me out...just in case I do end up using the gift card to get them afterall. Or give it to me straight and tell me they are 80s style and will be out before I know it and to spend the money on future shoes for my kid like a practical, self sacrificing mom should.