We caught Jerry!!!

Just the other night, at a hometown football game, my wife and I... woooohaaaaa!

Sorry bout that sisters and brothers! I'm just jammin to the love of my life- Garth. You might know him, but then again, for all you youngsters (who am I kidding! ignoramuses don't read this blog... only the cool people do:)), you might not. If that is your sad reality, google the man.

Back to the reason why I'm typing!

Just the other night, maybe it was two nights ago now, my roomies and I caught Jerry!

Tom and Jerry - the children's cartoon about grumpy ole' Tom cat trying to catch the cute, yet mischievous, Jerry mouse? Ring a bell folks?

I loved this cartoon like something fierce. Oh man! Wooz could not peal me away from the television set when Tom and Jerry were on, even if her lovely life depended on it. I can recall many a time when she would actually show respect for this love affair and instead of giving me a spank (this is back in the day when you were considered a good parent if you spanked- now, you can be incarcerated for child abuse! Love this country) she would nestle her hinny in the lay-z-boy chair and watch with me. What a cool mom huh!

Anyway, Jerry was my hero. Somehow, he always escaped the tricky kitty. Jerry mouse was cunning, clever, and fast. He was a survivor. That's respectable in a world of gutless men and fake, needy, women .

Well, as mentioned about, Jerry was too quick for just Rayray and Yes- but not for the 3 of us:)

Yeah man! This is a true recollection. Trust.

Jerry was oh-so brave to climb under Yessy's door and prevent her from leaving her own room. I think the odds were in Yes' favor if the two had to duel, but her fright froze her stiff! With, of course, the exception when she called Rachel and told her that a mouse ran under her door.

If she had called me, I would have stayed in bed and laughed. Ray, on the other hand, is so nice, that she woke ME to come participate in catching the little bugger.

After countless hours (totally not exaggerating), a few phone calls to family members who had to deal with these furry creatures on their mission, and several sweat drops later, we caught him!

That little devil Jerry looked so gosh darn cute in the garbage can. Pathetically enough, as I gazed on him with compassion in my heart, I could only think how grateful I am for my height. Heavenly Father just knew that I could never survive as a short specimen.

Luckily, it was an unheavenly hour when we left the house to take Jerry to his new home in the field nearby because I was bra-less, and booty shortin it in a cotton shirt with Uggs. Talk about exposed!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I learned a few things:
1. Never let girls scream together
2. Clean crap out from under your bed; you never know when a mouse will make camp
3. Start a ropes course asap; it helps with agility and speed
4. Appreciate the tender mercies God gives- they can come in very weird ways
5. Keep an air soft gun in the closet, just in case Jerry comes back!

Tuna Laundry?

Imagine this-

Sarah standing in the hallway folding a towel as white as snow and Downy soft to the touch.

Rachel sitting at Sarah's desk playing with her compy.

Sarah takes the towel to her nose. She inhales the scent.

S: Why does my laundry smell like Tuna?

With a gusto of a laugh, Rachel busts and leans over to grab her abdomen as she tries to catch her breath.

R: Sarah! Jessica is making Tuna!

Sarah grins and replaces the baffled look.

S: Oh! I was wondering what happened!

Story of my LIFE.

Should I give up or should I just keep on chasing pavements; even if it leads nowhere?

The words of Adele put the most difficult question so beautifully; is he/she the right one? Am I wasting my time? Is this lust or love?

We’ve all thought about it at one time or another in our life… especially those of the LDS faith- the knowledge of eternal marriage and families has a lot to do with wanting to make the right decision.

I assure you, I am in no way ready to leap to the marriage-talk lily pad at the moment. No one in my life. But, that doesn’t mean there won’t ever be someone who makes my thoughts incoherent, someone who can calm my nerves and arouse them all at the same time, someone who I think I love.

I have had crushes. Crushes are the most wonderful thing in the whole, wide world. If you tire of getting the largest grin your face muscles permit as you see that special someone, then go see a therapist. Trust me on this one.

It amazes me that for as long as literature has been around, a crush seems as natural and essential to the human soul as breathing is for the body. We can’t live without it.

Why would we want to?

Adele tells us why. When your crush doesn’t like you back, you feel emotions that you thought were purely fictional. Sad, but true.

Somehow, your beauty melts away like the Wicked Witch of the west, and you have this sticker permanently plastered on your forehead that reads, ‘ I’m a desperate loser, stay away!’ Your hair never looks good enough and you smell like you just got out of the hot puts up Rock Canyon.

This might be an exaggeration, just a wee bit, but you know what I mean- it just plain stinks.

So what’s the moral of the story? I find it interesting that a crush is the most wonderful thing when the dude/gal likes you back, but it also can evoke pain- that emotion we all strive to suppress like a plague.

Like everything good in life, crushes are a double-edged sword. Do not be affair to get hurt. Nothing will happen if you don’t take the first step. This I can testify of.

Here is the deal friends

For the past few weeks I’ve been noticing the mannerisms of people- the male gender to be more specific.

Disclaimer: I love men. What would I do without them? I, quite literally, would not exist without the XY chromosome. Need I profess my undying love more?

Why do white men think that they can act black??????

This is not politically correct. Do not harass me for my thoughts. I can’t stand that either.

Let me step up on my soap box for a moment. (Wait… there we go. I just did a twenty minute butt burning workout on the stair climber. I’m moving a little slow. )

Whilst watching the BYU vs. ? game, this white dude totally started acting like a brotha. I have a cousin that they call ‘black Kyle’ so as to distinguish him from his previous roommate, Kyle. He acts black. Somehow he can pull it off. I not sure if it is the Raider gear, or his demeanor. K- Mo has it going on.

Dude watching football is doing it all wrong. He has his cap tilted to the side. The cap is not slanted downward, hence it looks like he got a little close to the wall and forgot it was there when he turned.

Let’s move onto his slang. I can only think of one movie to describe the scene: Rush Hour. YES! You know when Jackie Chan tries to act like a Chris Tucker? Yeah, well, you’d think that a white guy could mimic a brotha a bit better than an Asian man, whose first language is Chinese. The unfortunate truth is a big, fat, juicy no. He stinks, to put it politely.

Some men try and some men fail. The ones who accept their failures, promise never to do a repeat, and ask forgiveness from friends are keepers. We shall see if ‘Dude’ is a keeper.

This is such a stupid blog. I understand, but I don’t care.

I’m giggling and smiling. Pass it on!

Blogs have always been one of the most intimidating things to me. The dreaded first entry has been weighing on my mind the moment one of my professors assigned this activity.

What can you say in a first entry to convince the world that you’re high on life and not feeling down in the dumps? Overly emotional people drive me crazy! For this very reason I’ve avoided the keyboard. I’m feeling like an emotional woman- not a very fond feeling if I do say so myself.

This past week I’ve be re-acclimating to a place that I’ve called home for the past two years. Most college students never refer to their school housing, whether it is an apartment or house, as ‘home’. Seriously! I’m convinced it’s taboo to say, “I’m just going home to get a few things.” People automatically think you’re from Provo or Orem if you let such a phrase slip.

Let the record be set straight- I AM FROM CALIFORNIA- not Utah, not Texas, and definitely not Canada. For pete sakes people! I’m a born and raised US citizen…and I like it that way.

‘Home’ is a word that has more meaning to me than it does for most of the twenty year old population. I had my home taken from me when I was 18. My home was one of contention. It was one where you could still find refuge after a stressful day at school and always count on freshly baked cookie. Part of the reason I bake so gosh darn much is due to that longing for a home that no longer exists.

I can hear my mother’s heart break every time we get on this subject. My new home is good; far better than adequate in fact, but memories can’t be made at the drop of a hat and my stash lies buried within the foundation of Bennett Valley.

My ‘home’ history is disclosed purely because I want you all to know that you can find another home. Who says you can’t have more than one? As one door closes, another opens and MAN, the most amazing family opened their San Diego door to me for the past two months.

The Moores

I wish every one on the planet could conceive and partake of the amount of pure joy this family possess. When I think of a Utopian society, I think of every family being like the Moores. If it were so, world hunger would be solved because of the open pantry rule. No one would feel like a bench warmer in life because, as stated in the family motto, which is recited once a week, every week, they are a team. They are a bunch of seemingly common people that have obtained uncommon goals because of each others support and love.

The Moore patriarch, Pat, has become a surrogate father for me. Whether he likes to admit it or not, the man is freaking awesome. As a child, I considered him a rather intimidating figure. Unlike my father, he is slow to anger in a heated situation, and never likes to be the center of attention. Uncle Pat’s style is very chill. He is unnervingly calm in almost every setting. The only time I can recall him being even remotely fired up, if that is what we must call it, in the two months I lived there was when he was watching Genn Beck on TV, or when he talks about the Book of Mormon. His passion for this country and the principles it was built on surpasses none, but his testimony of the Book of Mormon is so firm that I can honestly say he has a sure knowledge. Uncle Pat is a supreme example of a husband, father, and servant of the Lord.

Lady D (Dyanna) is a mother. I would never use such a powerful title to describe a women unless she deserves it. Walks with Dy were too therapeutic. I die softly everyone morning I wake to find that I don’t have the hour or so with a most loving, caring, and powerful woman. It was in those not-so-quiet moments of huffing and puffing (yes… we would get our walk on, and we would do it right!) that I felt closer to her and in an odd way, to my own mother.

Dy has reminded me that thinking of others is an attribute that belongs to a superior woman, a daughter of God, and consequently allows bliss on earth. She opens up her home to all who need the healing power it provides. She opened up her home to me! That fact alone promotes her to sainthood in the life after- I am convinced.

For lack of time, I can’t adequately describe my feelings for Beer, Ky, Brinda, and Sawanna, so I won’t. That will have to be a later entry. Rest assured, their entries will reflect the amount of joy they brought into my life.

I love this family. I love what they have done for me. I love what they do for others. And, I especially love that they are all each other has and they act that way.

4ever Moore friends…4ever Moore