High Standards.

We had 4 missionaries (all young men ages 19-21) over for dinner tonight. It was a nice evening, but I have to admit there was something they said that I found rather odd. They mentioned that one of the things they usually find out right away about their new companions was which Disney princess they liked the best. Seriously? Now you see that I wasn't kidding when I said it was odd.

Although, I do remember when "The Little Mermaid" first came out, at least half the guys at college were in love with Ariel. Also, strange. (I'm sure it didn't have anything to do with the shells she was wearing.)

Anyway, being curious I asked one of them which princess they liked. He said he liked the "Swan Princess." Instantly there was a loud uproar. I guess the Swan Princess isn't a Disney movie. So technically that means she isn't elgible to be a "Disney" princess. This was sounding a little too complicated.

Since the first princess went over so well, I decided to ask another missionary. He liked Meg. Again, another round of comments. "Meg married Hercules who was a god, so she isn't a princess." Wouldn't you agree that goddess trumps princess? I mean we are talking about cartoon characters.

That night, as I lay in bed trying to sleep, the more I thought about the whole conversation, the more disgusted I became. I mean, it's bad enough that girls have to live up to Hollywood's expectations of what they should look like. But now they have to compete with Disney Princesses? Geesh. Give me a break.

Unless of course we get to wear costumes. If that's the case, I call dibs on the sea shells.

Argh!

My friend and I took her kids to get something to eat the other day. As we sat down with our food, a man with an eye patch entered the restaurant. Her son had a look of awe on his face as he stood up on his chair and yelled as loud as he could, "Look everyone, it's a pirate!"

Interestingly enough the subject of eye patches just came up again. My son and I were just talking about them yesterday. On the back of his learner's permit it has "2 corrective lenses." I explained that "2" was the code for corrective lenses, not the number of corrective lenses. "Do you think there is a code for eye patches?" he had asked.

Had I been thinking, I would have used my previous opportunity at the restaurant and asked the pirate if I could see his driver's license. Now we may never know the answer to his question.

INXS is not for the faint-hearted.

I haven't been running since right before I got sick. Since it's been a while, today I decided I'd do a short run in my neighborhood. I was approaching an older couple when all of a sudden, the man grabbed his wife and pulled her off to the side of the road. They looked quite scared so I turned around to see if a car was coming. There wasn't. They kept looking at me, though.

Did I smell? I guess it was possible...it was 11:00 and really too late for me to be running. It was already hot outside. But I couldn't smell that bad, could I? Then I realized that I was singing out loud. It was an INXS song and the words I had been singing were: "Devil inside, devil inside, every single one of us, the devil inside..."

I guess I had to admit that a sweaty, heavy breathing person, singing about the devil would make anyone a little nervous...As I continued running I tried to figure out what I could do when I saw them again at the other side of the circle. Apologizing would only remind them that I was creepy. I decided I'd just smile and pretend I was normal. But the closer I got to them, I realized that I probably did stink.

I ran past them and tried not to cringe as the man grabbed his wife's arm as a precaution. I knew there was a reason I usually try to run early in the morning. And scaring old people is an all-time new low for me.

Happy Happy Birthday!

Today is Nicholas' 15th birthday. He plans on taking the test this week to get his learner's permit. It's hard to believe he'll be able to drive soon. The other day when I reminded him he needed to start reading the manual, he remarked that he should because it's been way too long since he's driven. I just had to stare at him for a while. I told him that it's been a long time since he's driven because HE DOESN'T HAVE HIS LICENSE AND HE DOESN'T DRIVE! I think he's referring to all the times he used to "borrow" the car keys after church and drive around the parking lot.

Heather made a birthday cake after we got home from church today. She was mixing it when Nick came up and asked her what she was doing. "I'm knitting a sweater," she replied. After the cake was done they noticed that someone had eaten a small piece. For some reason everyone automatically assumed it was me---but hey, I was just trying the sweater on...

I'm now officially too old for the teeny boppers to understand.

It's been raining or looked like it was going to rain all week. Every day I ask myself or my husband, "Should I have Nick mow?" And then I can't help it. I just start laughing and laughing and laughing.

My kids have stopped trying to figure out why I find this funny. Which makes it even funnier to me. They don't even know what a NICMO is! That is how old I am.

I tried to explain it to them after the first time I accidentally commented that it was good that Nick had mowed. (See, even just writing it makes me smile.) But my kids got that expression on their faces. The one that they save just for me. The, that's-the-stupidest-thing-you've-ever-said-in-your-life, "I don't know what you're talking about" look. For some reason, I know the look very well.

Or maybe they are just mortified to hear their mother speaking of such things. Perhaps their system just shuts down as soon as I start speaking about it. Which of course, only makes me laugh more. When probably it isn't even that funny. To anyone else, of course. Because to me, it is hilarious.

NICMO: An alternate spelling for NCMO--which is short for No Commitment Make Out. Two people mutually agree to not get into a relationship--but just enjoy making out.

But now NICMO is whenever my son mows the lawn. See? Funny.

Harry, Bella and all our other good friends.

On Monday we went to see the new Harry Potter movie. It was fun to go with the whole family. Brian had read the books out loud to the kids when they were little, so Harry Potter has always felt like one of the family to me. Before the movie, Brian pulled out a handful of plastic colored bracelets and passed them out to everyone. They each had the name of one of the four Hogwarts houses on them. Mine said Hufflepuff. I guess he and Sarah got them while waiting in line for the last book to come out and he has kept them all this time. So with matching bracelets, we all sat together and watched the movie.

In the parking lot that same day, we saw a car with the license plate "Bella 13." I rolled my eyes and said how pathetic it was that 12 other people had the license plate "Bella". Brian surprised us all by informing us that it was "Bella 13" because Bella's birthday is on the 13th of September. Huh? We've all read the Twilight books several times but have never picked up that fun fact. I looked at Brian, who after realizing that he was the ONLY ONE who knew this, seemed a little embarrassed. As he should be.

My husband has teased us endlessly for reading and rereading the Twilight books---even refusing to refer to the last book by any other title than "Breaking Wind." I was shocked when this summer he read all of the books while we were away on vacation in Utah. He is now re-reading them. Huh.

Talking about the books over the phone one night while I was in Utah, he apologized that he would never be Edward. Although sweet, this was actually a relief---he did know Edward was a vampire, right? I'll whisper this next part, so listen closely: Vampires aren't real. Besides, if Brian really knew me, he would know that I would never, ever want him to be like Edward.

Everyone knows I'm a Jacob fan.

We're all together again, we're here, we're here.

We drove to Wheeling yesterday to pick up Heather from Governor's School. She was gone for three weeks and made me think that if this was what next year would be like---taking kids to college---I am soooo not ready. Three weeks was just too long.

The drive home was full of deep discussions. Like just what do you call the place behind your knee? I call it your knee pit. We counted dead raccoons on the side of the road and filled Heather in on everything she had missed over the past several weeks. I told her that we must have hovered a little too close when the guys came to install the new washing machine. "You look very anxious to start washing clothes," one of the guys mentioned. I didn't think we were being THAT obvious---maybe other people don't stand next to them and peer over their shoulders as they work. "We're out of clean underwear," I had blurted. Heather decided she was glad she missed that particular moment....

We read scriptures last night and in the midst of Anna's turn reading, some phrase must have caught Heather's attention because she suddenly burst out in song. It's good to have Heather home.

Random is as random does.

I was checking out my books when the librarian asked me if we were finally finished with our vacation. I was surprised anyone had noticed we'd been gone. "You're here almost every day," she exclaimed. "You're practically family!" Next time, perhaps I'll bring my vacation pictures and set up a slide show for her. Yesterday I wore my pajamas to the library so maybe I do feel a little too comfortable there...

I think living with 3 sisters has finally taken its toll on my son. I'll hear him yell through the house, "Has anyone seen my lipstick?" The problem is that it amuses me so much, I usually don't correct him and tell him that it's really his CHAPSTICK he is looking for...

My washing machine is broken and without the steadying flow of laundry in my life, I feel out of whack. The new white washing machine arrives on Friday. I voted for either the orange or wild cherry flavored machine. Even though, if I am honest with myself, if I did have a red washing machine, I think every time I did a load of whites I'd worry they would all come out some shade of pink...

So, here's to Friday. A day of laundry. A day where everything will be right again in the world---as long as I remember to check pockets for chapstick before doing the laundry.

Watermelon: $1.98; Help from a stranger: Priceless

I figured I'd head over to Walmart first thing this morning and get it over with. It was surprisingly empty and quiet. I walked through the produce section and saw an older man over by the watermelons. I don't usually buy watermelons because Brian doesn't like them. But it's my birthday today and Nick's band is coming over this afternoon. And besides, it's my birthday.

The man was still looking through the watermelons when I approached and I felt awkward just picking up a random watermelon to put in my cart. I mean, he'd been selecting his for several minutes now. I decided to act like I knew what I was doing. I picked up a few watermelons and smelled them. The produce guy actually laughed at me, so I decided smelling them wasn't quite right. I remembered that my sister had knocked on the one we'd bought in Utah.

At this point I got carried away. I started knocking on every watermelon, putting them in piles according to what sound they made. I just couldn't remember if a hollow sound was good or not. After watching me for several minutes, the man next to me finally intervened. "You don't know what you're doing!" he announced, pointing to a watermelon. "Take that one." So I did.

I thanked him and started walking away when his wife came over to him. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "You don't know the first thing about watermelons!" I turned to look at the man. "I know," he mumbled. Then he looked up and saw me staring at him. "But I know more than SHE does." It was true. At least now I have a watermelon.

It's what's on the inside that counts.

I finished taping up the box and headed to my car. I was aware that the box wasn't ideal, but there was nothing I could do about it. I hadn't been able to find packing tape and needed to get to the post office first thing. I waited and got several looks from the people standing in line next to me. But, to be honest, some people make a big deal when I go to Walmart in my pajamas, so I've long since given up on trying to figure out why people are rolling their eyes at me.

I put my package on the counter and the post office lady shook her head and groaned. "Only in West Virginia." What's the big deal? The box was completely covered in duct tape, so what. Everyone does that, right? From her reaction, I guess not. Well, it's mailed and chances are it will stay taped together...By the way, I did end up finding the packing tape on my way home from the post office. It was in the car. Who keeps packing tape in the car?

A little warning next time, please.

I was minding my own business, when Anna came from nowhere and grabbed my behind. "You have a squishy butt," she commented as she turned and walked out of the room.

Okay, that is not fair. She should have at least given me some kind of warning first. I yelled for her to come back. I was ready for her this time. "Go ahead, do it again," I told her. She laughed and gave me another pat. "Say it," I threatened, but she just laughed again.

Putting her in a head lock, I told her to say it again. "Fine," she finally conceded. "Mom, you have buns of steel." That was all I needed to hear, she could leave now.

I know, a little childish...But hey, I have buns of steel, so it's okay.