Where Am I?


Can you guess where I am?

Here are some clues:
Clue #1:
I saw this when I walked in the door.
Clue #2:
I found this on my pillow.
Clue #3:
There are a lot of these around.
Clue #4:
There is one old stinky-breathed dog.
Clue #5:
And two ninjas in the living room next to this uber-cute couch.
Have you guessed yet?

I'm at my sister-and-brother-in-law, 
NieNie & Mr. Nielson's, House!
We drove down for this, and this, and we've been having the best of times: watching ninja fights/private choreographed singing recitals before bed/pillow fights/duck-duck-goose games/yoga tricks/tree houses/eating peaches/riding bikes and reading stories; I don't think I'm ever going to leave! 

If you guessed where I was, 
how many clues did it take?

Kookie Karma


Whilst unpacking some things into the new place this fell out of a pair of jeans. My first instinct was to throw it away, but seeing as how accurate my last cookie-karma was, I decided to document it. You know--just in case.

Glad I did, cuz it came today!
I rode my 1965 Orange Schwinn Bicycle down to pick up the mail, as I do on the daily, and I found a package. After a very awkward ride home (unskilled biker/package under the armpit/bumpy backwood road/nervous about a "too-friendly" moose encounter...get the picture?) I ripped open the brown box and found a real wedding treat from Mr. & Mrs. Brimley (aka BusyBeeLauren & Tedward). 


Getting presents when you get married is so fun, but I think I like getting late gifts even better. 
They're just so unexpected!
(one of my "Love Languages" just might be gifts...I know that sounds shallow, but if you read the book, it's totally not! READ IT! I know--it looks cheesy, but, truly, it's a life-saver!)

What's Your Love Language?
1. Physical Touch
2. Quality Time
3. Acts of Service
4. Gifts
5. Words of Affirmation

The Anatomy of Love


My husband is in the Nursing Program here at BYU-I and so I see a lot of medical related things. Many of them that I would probably rather not see. 

I, like many others in my family, am a HEMO*POBE
Hemo meaning blood and phobe referring to phobia or an intense or irrational fear of something. 

Frankly speaking, I pass-out when I see, hear, or even imagine moderate to copious amounts of blood. 
So, when Marcus comes home from his clinical at the hospital and tells me that his patient had an intestinal infection so they cut a hole in his stomach and attached a bag to drain the gelatinous and bloody fluids, it’s not really the best of times for me. But now he sure knows better…

I wanted something in my home that could show support for his educational pursuits, but also wouldn’t make me queasy. So I got out the paints & brushes.

I am giddy with the results:

Attention class...

What are you afraid of?

Minty, Gooey Goodness


Your diet may hate me a little bit for posting about these, but they are just too delicious not to share the love.
Plus, who doesn't love a treat classic treat with a twist? And YOU deserve a reward!
I really like the chocolate/mint combination, but I hate that green-paste that is usually atop mint brownies. 
This idea makes all my dreams come true.

It's so easy
1. Bake one 9x13 pan of chewy brownies
2. Lay one bag of unwrapped Andes Mints in a checkered fashion over still hot brownies
3. Wait for the mints to get all soft
4. Spread the melted goodness in swirls to make it pretty
5. Let cool (I like to cut them after they've cooled a little, but not too much. otherwise the Andes have hardened and then they crack and don't look as nice for serving)
6. Enjoy!

Sunny Sunday.


i can do nothing less than bask in His brightness.
The days are getting shorter and I am realizing that something that I hold very dear to my heart is slipping slyly from my grasp. 

Autumn is just around the corner and the hallway that it leads to is a long, cold winter here in Rexburg. 

But I must not dwell on that fact. I will enjoy the Sun while I have Him at my call.
i live in the forest where fairies were born.
Do you see it?
We call this a "Sunday Sunspot." Marcus is an expert at finding them.
It's his favorite place for Sabbath Day Napping.
if you listen closely, you can hear the Song of a Sunflower.

it's my favorite kind of music.

What do you love about the 
Season of the Sun?

{For Fashion's Sake} Saturday: Week One


Here are a few of my favorite things:
Good eyesight is one of my most treasured blessings,
but sometimes glasses make the outfit.
My mother was a hairdresser in the 50s.
Can you tell?
I feel like I can let my personality show with funky details.
Not only do they add modesty, but color and texture variation.
They are a MUST in my closet!
I feel so feminine when I have a skirt on--
 Double feminine when it hits right at the small of the waist.
I'm sort of obsessed with waist-cinchers.
They help add shape to formless clothes.

If..., then...

When he does things like this:
Then I do things like this:

And when I do things like that, he does things like this:
And when he does things like that, then I am happy:

Then he is happy:
So, we do things like this:
And that's how it is around here.

Oh, Deer!


Today I was supposed to be reading two very extensive chapters about Technology, Science & Society and then writing an insightful and opinionated discussion post on whether technology affects/controls how our society progresses or society controls how technology affects us. Gripping, I know. Instead I did this:
Isn't my bedspread darling?
I'm sure the discussion board would have been truly stimulating and yet, I'm almost positive I enjoyed listening to Whitney Houston (The Guardian Soundtrack) and painting kindly creatures found in my backyard even more.

In other news, my dad's surgery went "perfectly." He is very sore, but doing well.

May your day be glorious and your weekend even better. Go do something creative--it feels good!

Some Things Happen In 3's


This is what I wear when I drive into town in order to prevent dreadlocks from developing.
Well, well, well. This week has really been one. An adventure that is. It all started Saturday afternoon. I am a planner, a list maker, a schedule keeper. Yesterday Marcus said he is quite sure that no one on earth makes more lists than me.

I did not argue.

So, Saturday I was doing what I do best, making a meal plan and trying to figure out how we could best afford to stay alive. My plans were pleasantly interrupted by a moose appearance. After we took a few picture and squealed some enthusiastic squeals, the moose made his way back into the forest.

I was on cloud nine about this moose interaction. All day Sunday, while I should have been thinking about spiritual things, I daydreamed about that humongous moose and wondered where he was now. In an effort to give my mind some rest I decided to write a note:
Dear Moose Inourbackyard,
Yesterday I was in the middle of a very important conversation with my husband, Marcus, about finances and budgets, and what I was making for dinner. When I looked up from my carefully calculated spread sheet at Marcus’s awestricken face, I was concerned that he was not listening to anything I had to say. My concerns were affirmed when the next words from his mouth were, “OH Kaaay!* There’s a moose in our backyard!” It was true! I was a second witness. You were in fact, taking a drink from our creek. We ran outside to take pictures of you and bask in your gigantic splendor. We were so ticked to have you visit, but here’s the thing, and please do not take offense, but I think we got you from your bad side and if I know moose like I think I do**, this is not how you want the Blogging World to know you. So, kindly come back sometime before it snows and I will offer you a complimentary photo shoot and I’ll even throw in tea and crumpets if you’re nice. But please, try to come at a time when I’m not discussing matters of importance.

I'll Be Expecting You,
*Marcus says “okay” like the Phoenix Suns Head Coach, Alvin Gentry--because it makes me laugh every time.
*I do not know moose at all, for this is the first time I’ve ever seen one, but the phrase “If I know <insert perons/thing you‘re trying to persuade here> like I think I do” always seems to be very convincing within human interactions, so I decided to give it a shot on the moose population.

Well, he got my note and you know what else? He decided to make it a family photo. When we pulled up to our house on Tuesday we not only saw Mr. Moose Inourbackyard, but also Mrs. Inourbackyard and Teenage Moosey all drinking from our creek! Like husbands sometimes do, Mr. Moose forgot to tell the family that I had offered them tea, so they’re coming back next week when their bellies aren‘t so full.

There I was happy as a lark, (unlike the lark that flew into our closed window this morning--but he lived, so don’t cry) when I get a call from my mother. We chit-chat about Halloween costumes and sewing machines and then she tells me that dad is in the hospital because he’s been having chest pain.
Later that night I get an email from my brother telling the family that he has Aggressive Heart Disease, is in great danger of having a heart attack, and will be getting open heart surgery within the next two days.
That really put a damper on things. So I cried into my cinnamon bread dough and I think it did something to the yeast, because the center was all sunk in.

Later that night Marcus was driving home from work around 11:30pm and he “failed to come to a complete stop at the 4-way” just as a cop was approaching. So you guessed it, he got a ticket. (Good thing he worked this week.)He was not very happy when he got home.
The next day we walked back to the car after studying and the driver-side window was down. We looked at each other and simultaneously asked, “Did we roll down the window?” After coming to a consensus that we most certainly did not leave the window down, we turned on the car and attempted to roll it up. It gurgled at us, but stayed in its downward position. Great. 

Apparently this happens, because after venting about it on Facebook, my good friend Busy Bee Lauren shared this story:

“Oh my gosh! Okay, funny story. When I first bought my car the next week the window collapsed. I was ticked. I think it cost like $200 dollars to fix the motor on that particular window. Over the past two years, one by one, the windows have collapsed. This week my 4th and final one collapsed. And we had a rainstorm. In Arizona. Okay…so it’s not a funny story.”

While I felt compassion for Lar, I laughed and it suddenly made our window situation not so bad. At least it hasn’t started snowing yet. And at least we have a car, right? And just imagine how much time we’ll save if we ever want to go threw the drive-thru. Plus, doctors know so much about the heart, that I’m sure everything with my daddy will go just swimmingly. Also, if bad things really do happen in threes then looky looky, I’m done. And for goodness sakes--there was a family of moose in my backyard! Therefore, I am happy. And I bet my week’s only going to get better.

Felis Obituary.


Oh Cat Onthesideoftheroad,

I am sorry for you. I will admit that I am not a big fan of your genus, but still, that is no way for any creature to go.
If it is any consolation, you did not go unnoticed, and you even looked kind of peaceful there--unlike some the other felines I have seen with similar fates. 

R.I.P. Kitty. May Your 9th Death Be Something More Glamorous,


Girl, Interrupted.


Abra Cadabra Constoputeō

Right now I am sitting in the library with somebody who is inadvertently causing my senses great offense.

The putrescent smell of soggy feet fills the air and I? Well, I cannot study.

Is it cruel of me to be writing publicly about this human? I wouldn’t tell you their name, even if I did have some way of distinguishing the perpetrator. For you see, there are more than 30 people around me and it could be any one of these studious creatures…from the stench of things, perhaps it is all 30!

For all I know, it’s “Donate-Your-Socks-to-Charity-and-then-Go-for-a-Run-in-Behalf-of-the-Less-Fortunate-But-Don’t-Forget-to-Study-When-You’re-Done Day” and here I am ranting about people’s poor hygiene choices. That would make a terrible person.

But in the case that it is not “Donate-Your-Socks-to-Charity…Day” and You, Mr. Stinky Feet Man, are reading the BLOG of a sensy-sensitive girl in Rexburg’s, then 

I have two things to say to you:

1) Odor Eater. $4.94 @ your friendly-neighborhood Wal-mart.

2) How did you happen upon my Blog today?? (I've got to know, because that is just ironic.)

Lots of Hope for You in the Future,


I knew it.


Good fortune befalls us at Fong's

Indian Stars + Indian Summers


Star of India/San Diego Harbor
Turns out, I'm like way in love with my husband.
That's good, right?

For our one month anniversary we took at trip back to the place we sealed the deal, San Diego. My sweet sister-in-law, (SIL as she likes to refer to it)
Liz, let us nest in their guest bedroom while we dined and shopped and got our pictures taken by the acclaimed Mr. Wes Johnson, a long time friend (and by long time, i mean he's known me since I was 4 years old!).

I saw the Star of India on someones Facebook profile years ago and dreamed of taking pictures there one day, what better occasion than a in a wedding dress, no?

So, some fancy footwork by the photographer and a few telephone calls later, we were set.

Golly, for someone who takes innumerable amounts of pictures, I was more than nervous to get my picture taken by someone else. For you see the only past experiences I've had like that were school pictures (YIKES not the best memories) and of course Marcus, but he knows better than to not let me erase any nasties. I felt like I might pass out and was tempted to call the whole thing off, but seeing as Wes had driven down from L.A. for the shoot, I put on my game face and went to work.

In the end I'm pretty excited about the results, what do you think?

Oh, The Magic of Brylcreem


Forty-Four years ago my parents were married in the 
My mom loves to tell this story; I finally got it written down earlier this year
So without further adieu, my parents:
Grandpa & Grandma Ray, Elaine & Errol, Gran & Grandad Bagley
Could they be any more charming?

“I saw the doors open, the sun at the just the right place in the sky to at first make them only silhouettes. I usually would have looked away and resume my dancing, but this time I was transfixed with curiosity. The doors came to a close, my eyes adjusted, and ’BAM!’ I literally felt like someone had knocked the wind right out of my lungs. Three handsome boys filled the space by the door, but I only saw Errol. His dark, thick hair was oiled back with Brylcreem,"
“Bryl-creem, a little dab'll do ya,
Use more, only if you dare,
But watch out,
The gals will all pursue ya,--
They'll love to put their fingers through your hair…” chimed Errol.

“…he was tan from bailing hay on the farm in Wyoming all summer, and his arms were proof of his story. Immediately I began to pray that I would be assigned his dance partners. I may not have been the cutest girl there that night, but I did know one thing: I was the best dancer in town. So I knew that if I could just dance with him, he would like me--and of course with faith like mine, I got what I prayed for.“

“I was so awkward with girls, so I was glad to have someone like Elaine to lead the way. And she was one of the cutest girls there that night.”

“So we danced all night, and yes, he was awkward, but for some reason I liked him anyway. It took me twenty years to really ‘fall in love’ with him, but I knew that night that he was the one I was going to marry.”

Something Stanks.


Earlier this week I got a text from Marcus. He was at school and forgot to pack a lunch. We are newly married, and thus, newly poor. I felt sorry for my hungry hubby so I decided to uncover myself from books and papers, crawl out of my study den and go downstairs to make him something yummy to eat when he got home.

I opened our cupboards with high hopes of something gourmet, but alas, on our tight budget we did not have much to work with. It was time to bust out the crock-pot (my first time!)and make a stew. I chopped up brown potatoes and red potatoes (if you recall we do live in Idaho) carrots, chicken broth, and cream of mushroom soup…and then I saw it--the onion Marcus had requested to go in the crock-pot stew. When I consented to the purchase I figured he would be here to chop it up. You see, I do not cut onions.

I have a smell problem. My sister-in-law, Becky, who I love and trust very much, once diagnosed me a ‘Super-taster.’ I can taste and smell things to the extreme and for days to come. It is a curse to say the least. I LOVE garlic bread, breadsticks, artichoke dip, etc. but I do not eat them because I only enjoy them for the few minutes they are in my mouth and then for up to 3 days later I can taste them in my throat and smell in on my hands, others tell me I am imagining it, but I know it’s real. As sure as I am typing this post, it‘s there.
The choice was before me, would I please my hungry husband by adding the onions he loves so much, or plea ignorance when he inquires on the matter…

My choice was made.

I am now crying, chew as I may, the gum trick is not working on this onion virgin. I chopped as awkwardly and as quickly as one could, I did not wish Mr. Onion develop any sort of fondness for me, as I certainly wanted this to be the last time I ever touched him.

Into the pot the choppings went and I thought I had survived. There were few enough of them that it only added a nice flavor without getting stuck on my breath.
That night I brushed my teeth and with a full belly I lay down content. What a kind choice I had made, a choice with no ill-consequences.

But wait, could it be? Was that onions I smelled? I looked for the culprit. It was not in my throat, nor in that of my dears.

Then I found it.

My hands. They were malodorous beyond compare! I jumped out of bed and ran for the sink. Scrub, scrub, scrub to no avail. I lathered sweet lotion all over, but it was still there. Rubbing alcohol, but no, nothing could relinquish it, only slightly did it fade.

I would have to move on with life, faintly crippled by the smell only I could distinguish.
Two days went by and though dimmed, still present.
I could not sleep, so I went in the bathroom and found the clippers. My mind needed to purge something. Some part of my hand must suffer for the agony I was facing. I clipped my nails as short as I could get them and crawled back in bed with little hope that anything had changed.
And then, peace spread upon me. I was not sure why but I felt more relaxed than I had for days. With some apprehension I raised my hand up to my nose. Nothing. I was cured. The onion juices had seeped their hideous odor into my nail and my body knew how to annihilate its ugliness. I followed my instincts and they served me well.

I slept with a smile on my face that night, and bought a food chopper next morn.

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