Pick a random thought out of my head and let's see what we can come up with.

Last week was a little bit on the rocky side with all of the mind-numbing and no thoughts and such. Luckily this weekend I found some time to center myself and get a grip back on my life. I am feeling much better and am more aware of the world around me. I see more humor in everyday things, my children are more adorable and amusing, and I feel motivated and efficient and happy. (Oh, and my husband is hott, but this is nothing out of the ordinary.) Odd--this is exactly the time of the month when I should be feeling the exact opposite of these things. Truth be told, I almost have too many thoughts running through my head--all very entertaining and amusing and deep--but they won't sit still long enough for me to grab ahold and blog about them.


Hm, except for "Ovaltine", that thought won't go away. I picked up some Ovaltine at the store a couple weeks ago for a Chilean Independence party (totally another story--you'll probably never hear about it), and now I'm hooked. It's chocolately malted deliciousness with the promise of nutrition. And you are encouraged to heat it up and drink it just like hot chocolate. Also, everytime I say the word "Ovaltine", I hear it in my mind just how Frau Blucher pronounces it in her Transylvanian accent in "Young Frankenstein". Here's the how the conversation goes:

Frau Blucher: "Would the doctor care for a brandy before retiring?"

Dr. Frankenstein: "No. Thank you."

FB: "Some varm milk... . perhaps?"

DF: "No... . thank you very much. No thanks."

FB: "Ovaltine?"

DF: "NOTHING! Thank you! I'm a little - tired!"

FB: "Then I vill say... . goodnight."

DF: "Goodnight."

I'm already laughing hysterically. But for your viewing pleasure, you can see it yourself here. Ah, now I am in the mind to go out and rent (or maybe even *gasp* buy) the entire movie--to get myself in the mood for Halloween. That is my kind of scary show. Something you can giggle all the way through, use it for good quotes later, and nothing to be taken too seriously. (I don't do well with horror.)

Huh, now there you go. I hadn't planned on blogging about anything except that my "nothingness phase" was gone. And now you have been blessed with Ovaltine happiness. Use it wisely--or just go get some.

No thoughts. Nothing.

I have reached that place again. I have no thoughts. Nothing entertaining, nothing fun, nothing deep. I find myself starring off into space wondering what to do with myself. I don't even feel like reading--odd. I need something to boost myself, to get the wheels in my mind turning. I can't let myself get lost any deeper in this fog.

Good thing there are a few girly parties planned for this weekend. And also inspiration straight from heaven for women around the world...

That is all.

Clothing from the GAP is totally appropriate for senior citizens... within reason

So last night Charming was reading the Ensign right before we went to bed. We really were very tired, so he was attempting the casual-flip-through version of reading--which usually results (at least in my case) in only looking through the articles with a lot of pictures. An article entitled A Time of Harvest, was almost entirely made up of different artist's depictions of the harvest and people doing harvesty things. I was reading my own book, but my interest was peaked when I heard Alex go "Awe... look Meg, it's us!"

I was a little confused. Here's why: It was a painting of a cute old couple sitting at their table praying over their food. Now I have nothing against blessing the food--we do it everyday, and yes, I would venture to say that often Charming and I are cute. But we are not "old". I looked up for an explanation and the conversation continued something like this:

"No it's not... we're not that old."

"But we will be old someday!"

"Obviously I know this, but I would never wear that outfit."

"Well, you wouldn't wear that now, but you will when you're old."

"No, I absolutely refuse to wear silky shirts with large butterflies or bunnies or perfume bottles or whatever printed on them, no matter what my age."

"When you're older you'll change your mind."

"Why should I change my mind? Like my sense of style is just going to disintegrate as I age?!"

"Well I was just saying..."

"I'm not gonna turn sixty, chop off all my hair and get a perm!"

He gave up after that. But seriously, I can't see myself wearing crocheted vests and turtlenecks just because they seem to fit more with my age group. There must be a way to age gracefully, without losing who you are. Obviously it is not appropriate to continue dressing like a teenager; your style should evolve over the decades to suite your age--but I don't feel that the underlying theme should change at all.

I don't know, I can see myself wearing a lot of Eddie Bauer as I reach middle age and... old, age. Really, we have no idea how the elderly will look and behave in fifty years, because those people are now in their twenties, and how they are now experiencing life will affect who they will become as senior citizens. I'm sure our grandparent's grandparent's dressed and possibly acted much differently than they do now. Hmm, maybe grandma buns will be the new hairdo of the rising generation of the future elderly.

I know, super random post. What will you wear when you are "elderly"?

Just because I'm a mother doesn't mean I can't rock out to Justin Timberlake.

Tonight in an attempt to entertain the children (and distract them from trying to eat Charming's late evening dinner themselves), I told the girlies we'd have a "dancing party". I flipped through my cd album, thinking to find some generic kiddie music (you know, the kind with Barney type drums, trumpets, and whistles in the background while some nasal voice sings about all the colors of the rainbow etc.), when my eyes paused on a cd I have long ago stopped listening to. Almost immediately my heart rate accelerated as memories flashed through my mind of the distant past and I contemplated the possibilities of the immediate future. I dropped the cd in and pushed play.

And I totally rocked out to N'sync.

I'm not talking about doing the twist or skipping through Ring Around the Rosie with my children. I'm talking about some serious booty-shaking, body-waving, come hither moves that have been sleeping dormant for years. Well tonight my "moves" sat right up out of bed, stretched and yawned, and headed out the door to get a PhD in..... nevermind.

I have never been ashamed to admit that I was an avid N'sync fan back in the day. My zeal for the group and all things teeny-bopper stretched as far as I was physically and legally aloud to go considering my financial situation, teenage status, and moral upbringing. (Just the sheer hottness of Taylor Hanson (from, you know--Hanson), prompted me to break up with a boyfriend because he just didn't "do it for me" the same way Taylor did....) It's hard to believe, but I probably listened to the same eight cd's during a five year period, and nothing else. I wanted nothing more and I was blissfully happy.

I believe deep down in every girl's soul there is a part of her that wants to break free and dance to The Backstreet Boys, or N'sync, or New Kids on the Block, or Donny Osmond--or whatever. Every generation has their celebrity boy toys. Nowadays girls freak out when Zac Efron busts out a note (who wouldn't with that constant, intense stare?), and my mom will break out "the swim", or worse--"the pony" when she hears the Osmonds. For years she has embarrassed me with her unabashed dance moves in her attempt to remember her youth and feel a little crazy and free again. My sisters and I would always cry with dismay to "Oh my gosh stop Mom, what are you DOING?!?!".

It was like a slap in the face tonight when I experienced the exact same thing. I thought I was young enough to still pass as cool when I danced--but to my children I am their mother, despite the fact that I am only twenty-five, and apparently they would like me to retain that title with dignity. Buttercup didn't like it. She said, "No Mama, don't do THAT!" (I think even Alex was a bit chagrined--I noticed how he tried to slyly close all the blinds so that the neighbors wouldn't see...) It was in that moment that I remembered my own mother dancing her heart out, kicking her feet around the room at odd angles to "The Pony", and I felt a stronger kinship with her that ever before. Yes, I still shudder a little when I picture her dancing away in the kitchen (sorry, Mom), but I know now where she's coming from, that she was young once--and still is in a lot of ways.

So bring on the music!!! HRH and Jaction, I know you'd be up for a good dance fest. Call all the girls and we'll move out all the furniture (like we did in college) and invite everyone in the building to stomp it out to Michael Jackson. If that can't be arranged, I'd settle for just my four sisters, in the kitchen and bottling tomatoes as we rock out to High School Musical or whatever. Just make sure it's a hott guy singing. (Or in Michael Jackson's case, a former hott guy.)

And I read on...

I love the feeling of cracking open a new book. I don't necessarily mean a shiny book, fresh from the store, one that hasn't ever been touched before (other than the shelfer's fingers). The kind of experience I am referring to is the opening of a book I have never before read, but I can feel the excitement shiver through my fingers as I begin reading the first lines.

The grand moment surfaces when what first began as curious glancing suddenly becomes voracious pouring as my eyes slide back and forth across the pages. I plunge myself headfirst into a world outside of my own, ready to think and feel and see the thoughts of a newly introduced character--ready to discover the story that lies at my waiting fingertips, itching to turn the pages.

I usually don't surface for hours. I come out of the world of fiction long enough for the necessities--most of them involving children--but mostly my head is in the story, and I have not deserted it for long. If a book of a few hundred pages or less takes more than two, maybe three, days to finish, it is definitely not a book worth reading because it has not made me desperate enough to want to know the ending. This is saying something.

If I could picture any perfect moment for my life--visualize what my heart truly desires from my existence--I would see myself in a pretty little room curled up on a large overstuffed chair (white and pale blue), looking lovely and blissful and serene, reading a book by an open window (probably shaded by a big tree with tweeting birds).

I believe this would be my heaven, my reason now for living my life the best way I know how. I do dishes and laundry and play with my children and make meals and keep up my house and love my life--all culminating in the breathless moment when I can fling myself into a chair and read. It is a luxury many in my place have denied themselves, saying it is too frivolous and time-consuming a pursuit. I agree. And yet I happily read on.....

Naughty naughty

This morning I was doing my best to wake up my girls cheerily by singing songs. I sang the second verse of In the Leafy Tree-Tops:

"In the pretty garden the flowers are nodding..."

Buttercup looked at me with a crinkled nose and furrowed eyebrows. "The flowers are naughty?" I had to laugh. The thought of naughty flowers in the garden and how Buttercup must picture them was pretty hilarious!

Only two things...

I woke up this morning with the determination to awe and inspire the online world with a new post on something deep or witty or at the very least entertaining. Unfortunately for me there are only two subjects in my head that I can think coherently about at the moment:

1--My children won't stop screaming at each other. Despite the plethora of toys located within the immediate vicinity, they seem to always want what the other one has. Lou Lou has an ear-piercing screech that occurs approximately every 1.8 minutes that could wake the dead. Buttercup especially likes the word "NO!", and occasionally will hit her sister. I am trying to remain calm for the good of the overall atmosphere in the home, but "losing it" seems imminent.

2--I'm so sad about Midnight Sun. Please don't mock me, I really might cry. Ever since I heard about Stephenie Meyer's misfortune to have her Midnight Sun manuscript posted all over the internet, I have felt quite blue. I have already admitted how big a fan of the Twilight series I am, and I know that it's silly to let something like this affect me--but yet it does. I seriously debated about reading the legal draft Stephenie Meyer posted on her site--it felt wrong to read it this way, but then again Meyer had stated that she was "putting the book on hold indefinitely". I finally decided to read the manuscript in case this was all that was ever written of Midnight Sun. I finished it yesterday--delighted with the added dimension to the story I love (almost as if I was reading Twilight again for the first time)--and devasted that this was all that there was. I've considered going back and reading the original series again just to appease my refound hunger, but the truth is that after seeing things through Edward's eyes, Bella's point of view just isn't good enough. So what to do now? I know how the story ends..... I'm thinking I'd better stop here before I get too far into my feelings and am teased/mocked etc. again.

Please give me something else to ponder on before I go mad.