Random Hilarity, Episode I

One day during the summer, Boy17 and I went to the Bountiful LDS temple together. I can't remember if we were just walking around the grounds or if we actually went inside, but the trip was fun, and afterwords we came back to my house an joined up with the rest of the Five. Brother5 (then Brother4) adored Boy17, and thus bombarded him with questions and random stories the minute we walked in the door. After bugging him for about an eternity, Boy4 turned his attention to me.

Boy4: Where wo you guys?
Me: Well buddy, we went to the temple today!
Boy4's eyes lit up, and he gasped and said excitedly, "Did you get MAWWIED?!"
Me without so much as a giggle: Yep!
Boy4 let that roll around in his little brain before looking at Boy17 for verification. Boy17 stifled a laugh and nodded solemnly.

Boy4 eventually figured out we were joking, but it was fun while it lasted. We still laughed about it many temple trips later.

Girl3 Fills Her Bucket

Monday night is family night in Chez Five. Tonight, Mom was telling us one of my favorite stories about Christ - when He found a group of men accusing and threatening to stone an adulterous woman. He challenged them, saying that whichever man among them had never sinned could throw the first stone at the woman. Mom wrapped up the story and tried to make her point by asking all of us, "...but is anybody without sin? Are any of US perfect?"

Girl3 sprang to her feet, offering an enthusiastic, "I'm po-fect!! I'm po-fect!"

Everyone laughed, and I stashed that treasure in my memory bank. But Princess Perfect has a point. Maya is innocent and unaccountable. She doesn't have a full knowledge of who she is yet, but she has the faith to simply not question her own worth. Without hesitation, she will stand and declare that she is amazing and beautiful and pure. If someone were to disagree with her, she probably wouldn't remember her Accuser after an hour, and even if she did, she'd forgive them in an even shorter amount of time.
I wish we could all have that faith. I wish we could all remember exactly who we are, and I wish we all had the confidence to stand up and declare it whenever the opportunity arises.

Christmas Snippets

I'm in the housewares aisle at Wal-Mart, shopping for Mama. I pass an array of kitchen knives, and I am followed by a man and his sister, shopping for his wife. I desperately hope my future husband can shop for me without constant help from his sisters.

Man: She likes cooking, so I guess she'd want something to use in the kitchen...
Sister: (pointing to knives) Well, what about one of these? This is a good one...
Man: What?! No! I'm not gonna get her something she can kill me with!

From what I could tell, he was serious. It is a dark day when the deciding factor when selecting gifts for your cherished companion is the degree of injury she could inflict upon you with the object.
Merry Christmas Honey! Here's a cotton ball...

Deck the halls and walls and floor and cars and dog and driveway and lawn!

Christmas is a beautiful time. It's a time of giving, of peace, of laughter. It's a time for families to come together. It's a time to sing out our gratitude for what we've been given. Christmas is a time for warm fires, soft lights, and friendly company. It's a time for reflection and sweet contemplation. Christmas is a time of love.

Christmas is also a manic time. It's a time for shopping ravenously until your feet throb, and coming home from these shopping trips with only one more person crossed off your list.
It's a time of spiteful laughter as YOU snatch the LAST Panasonic S-700 BluRay player off the shelves at Wal-Mart, and the loser behind you has nothing to do but TRY AGAIN somewhere else!! Haha!
Christmas is a time for shaking snow out of your ears and eye sockets and waterproof boots (manufacturer's guarantee?! I think not!) when you come in from a difficult trek to the mailbox. It's a time for sitting down with miles of wrapping paper, tape and a permanent marker, only to realize that the present you just sat down to wrap is in the car! And when you finally have tackled the first step of wrapping, your finger is in position and you're ready to tape it down, your tape has dissappeared! So you look around you and, realizing you probably sat on it, get up awkwardly whilst keeping your finger diligently placed on the paper. This is when you realize that you DID NOT, in actuality, sit on your tape, but when you find it, you see that no matter what angle you try, the tape is inches out of your reach. So you are forced to let go, the edges of the paper gently float to the floor, exactly where they started, and you get to start over.

Someone once told me that if you use more than three (3!) small pieces of Scotch tape to wrap a present, you are doing it wrong.
Well! What if I'm just nervous and want to make my gift-wrap extremely secure?! What if my relative/friend has an affinity for gifts that are impossible to open?! What if I just want to see how far that little roll really can go?! What if I just happen to be wrapping an oddly shaped package of Brie cheese or an enormous jar of pickles?! Ever think about that, Fiend of Stepford?!
Didn't think so.

Now, I'm no Grinch. I absolutely love Christmas. I love the sounds, the smells, the lights, and the family time. I do, however, think that we have taken this commercial thing too far. I remember being 7 or 8, and still blissfully unaware of the real identity of Santa Claus. I remember almost bursting with anticipation when I went to sleep on Christmas eve. That anticipation stayed around even after I figured it out. I still made my Christmas lists in the first week of November, and I even decorated my room once with the leftover decorations my mom wasn't using.
Now, that childlike attitude toward Christmas has faded, and I don't see it in anyone over 10. This is very sad. I wish we could all come back to that, and instead of exhausting ourselves to get everything done, just relish in the feeling of Christmas. This year, let's all sit back and breathe in the warm, delicious smells of the season. Let's giggle when we see mistletoe on a doorway and yell "RUDOLPH!!" if we happen to see a helicopter's light on Christmas eve...even if there are no kids around. Let's hug our families and wish strangers a Merry Christmas and wear Santa hats to work and admire the way the sun makes the snow sparkle. Merry Christmas, all.
Girl16.

Forgotten Chores.

I opened the dishwasher to find it in a state slightly different from the way I'd left it. I'd left it empty - a wiry cavern, hollow and dejected while the sink sat bulging and creaking under the weight of the dishes. If it could feel pain, the appliance would have wept. My empty dishwasher....a portrait of neglect.
When I opened it this time, a few dishes and utensils sat nestled in the stakes jutting up from the wire frame. A spoon, a wire whisk, a Tupperware dish, a plate. These dishes, though their position in the dishwasher meant less work for me, were an omen. I pictured the manner in which they had come to be where I should have put them. I envisioned my mother, huffing and growling under her breath as she threw them in, beginning to pick up the chore I was supposed to complete. With each item she transferred, her forehead became more creased and my punishment became more severe. I shook my head, trying to throw out the image like water that escapes a bucket that's sloshed around enough.
Perhaps she began loading the dishwasher to give the illusion that she as trying to help, while still leaving enough empty space to further prove her point. Her point, however, could not have been stated more clearly.
The vast majority of the dirty dishes were now stacked and piled precariously on my bed.

Would you like to hear our specials?

I had a mini-epiphany at work today.
I was given the job of answering the phones, which is usually not very difficult and is usually the job given to the person nobody wants to deal with that day. The phone usually rings quite a bit for half an hour around 6, and then quiets, staying content for the rest of the night, apart from the occasional speed bump (these happen when somebody decides they want pizza at 8:30 pm. Who are these guys?!). Today was different though. I really do think that everyone within 20 miles of the store decided to order over the phone. At the same time. I'd hang up, and it would ring. Then the second line rang. Then the shift leader shouted at me to answer them. Then he shouted at someone else. It sounded like this for about 3 hours: "RRRRRRIING.....rrriiing.....rinnngDANI!ThankyouforcallingRIIIIIIIIIIIIING....RIIIINGDANI!I know, I'm getting i-RRRRING!Thankyouforcall-RRRIIIIINGugh, thankyouforcalling..."
It was all a very noisy mess.

In the very few seconds in between callers that I claimed for myself to regain my rationality (Ok, it's okay, it's quiet now. Inhale....exhale. IlovemyjobIlovemyjob. I love my RRRRRRIIIIIIING!) I decided that food merchandising is the best place on earth to learn humility. I'm learning to recognize what people are thinking about me based on the condescending looks on their faces. I'm The Labor. Not an actual person. Thus, I am the only thing that connects The Person to The Food. Perhaps that means that I should be the one who is all-powerful in that situation, but it could never be so. Why? Because I am also the only thing separating The Person and The Food. This means that everything is my fault. If something goes wrong and I was the person speaking to the customer, regardless of whether or not I ever handled their food, I become the face to throw darts at. Just the way it is, I guess, but I quietly wish that people might consider that I am an actual human, not just someone who takes their money and gives them food.

Here's what I've learned in my 9 months of employment:
1. You DO NOT mess with Americans and their food. Thunder will crash and heads will roll if Ted does not get his pizza with HALF the cheese, 1/4 the pineapple, pepperonis only on half, and a big smiley face made out of artichokes in the middle. Also, if Jane calls in at 5:36 pm and you promise her that her order will be ready in ten minutes, you'd better be ready to cut off your pinky toe if her triple-decker salami and olive pizza is not in her hands at 5:46 pm on the dot.
2. Your place of employment owns your soul. Your place of employment owns your soul. Your place of employment owns your soul. Your place of employment owns your soul.
3. Food customers, beware: You have no idea what goes on in the back of those stores. I spent an hour today washing dishes, which hold your food, which you put into your body, and I was very VERY lazy about it. The people touching your food really just want to go home. So be picky.
4. Shake it off. I deal with people all the time who act like I just wiped my nose on their shirt sleeve and fingerpainted on their Lambourghini (Lambergeenee?). I've mastered the art of smiling at them and saying "Okay, I'll take care of that." I find it satisfying because it strips them of their power. I'm like Ned Flanders and they are abso-diddly-fiddly-outly frustrated.

I have not yet learned how to make the floor less hard and painful on my poor little feet.
Throbbing,
Girl 16.

Beauty Tips with Girls 3 and 16

Maya loves makeup. She loves makeup, hair curlers, hairspray, nail polish, sparkly scrunchies, and anything else that will make her look fancy or beautiful. Recently she's taken to digging in our coat closet for anything she can find with pink, bows, sparkles, or sparkly pink bows.


Oddly enough, she loves watching ME do those things, even if it's the 10-minute process of putting on my makeup. She'll usually hover around me in the bathroom for awhile, occasionally asking what I'm doing now, what does that do, where did you get dat, etc.
Today, however, she was extra interested. From the commencement of my routine until the very last final touches, she stayed in the bathroom, perpetually curious. Thus ensued an adventure of toddler-sized proportions, and an educational experience for the future beauty queen.

Maya: What makeup are you doing now?
Me: This is foundation. This one always goes on first.
Maya: Oh. Is dat founda..founday-ssshhin?
Me: Yes.
Maya: Oh. What's dat called?
Me: Cover-up.
Maya: What does da cover-up do?
Me: It covers up our zits.
Maya: But where are your zits?
Me: I covered them up!
A minute later, she dug around in my bag some more until she found some mascara. She's learned about mascara before, so I tested her previous knowledge.
Me:What's that? Do you remember?
Maya: Ummm...yeah.
Me: What is it?
Maya: It'sss....eyelasher.

Well. She'll remember one day. For now, she's got a good start, always combing her hair and putting something in it. Sometimes it's a flower, sometimes it's dad's hair gel, and I think we're all just holding our breath for the day when she gets her hands on the toothpaste. She's a pretty cool chick.