You are not my spokeswoman, Khloe Kardashian.

I recently watched part of a panel discussion produced by the Huff Post.  The topic of discussion was the new U by Kotex campaign (the tampon company), which encourages discussion between women about their bodies, as well as the importance of dispelling myths surrounding women's' bodies.  This is an idea I can get behind--I think knowledge is power, and girls (and boys) should ask questions and learn about all things, including their bodies.

The panelists included many female body experts and the spokeswoman for the U by Kotex campaign, Khloe Kardashian.  Though at first surprised by Kotex's choice for this campaign, I honestly approached the panel with an open mind, hoping to find one thing that both Ms. Kardashian and I support.

I was incredibly disappointed with the outcome of the panel, at least the part I saw.

Now, it is important to say that I did not watch the whole thing and thus do not know if Khloe was ever corrected by another panelist or if she ever recanted what she said.  I have searched for the video again, but could not find the whole thing.  I did find this article, which confirmed what I had seen.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/01/31/khloe-kardashian-my-vagin_n_2593571.html

Among other comments, Khloe said that women should be proud of their vaginas, not because being a women is awesome, but instead because "vaginas could get you a lot of places in life", "a good puss could control any man", and "it's the man's downfall" among other things.  (Excuse the language; it's a direct quote.)

Really?  This woman is the spokeswoman for a campaign meant to empower young girls? 

Khloe wasted this perfect opportunity to discuss an important subject by demeaning the sexuality of women, suggesting sex is a weapon to use against men to get what they want.   She also suggested that sex is what helps women progress in life.  She seems to think that women can't excel based on the work they do or their achievements.  She reinforced in my mind that there is something quite wrong with a world that concerns itself with the doings of people who make a living by producing dysfunction and false empowerment.

There is a plethora of other things wrong with what she said; feel free to list any you think of in the comments.

I hope to instill in my sons and daughters that their bodies are beautiful and that sex is a wonderful bond between husband and wife and definitely nothing to be ashamed of.  It should also never be used as a means of power over another person.

Kotex should kick Khloe Kardashian to the curb.

And Now For Something Really Important . . .

How often do you wash your hair?

I am a sweater. 


Allow me to clarify.

Not a---



(though I wish it were in my closet in case Florida ever has a real winter.  Here's hoping it doesn't.)

But a--








A sweat-er.  One who sweats.

I love Florida!  It is in the 70s or 80s everyday.  I do NOT like cold weather, so this is the perfect place for me.  However, I do sweat pretty much everyday.

So my deep question of the day is--do you sweat?  And how do you cope with said sweatiness?  Do you wash your hair everyday?  Do you use baby powder or dry shampoo to soak up the grease?  Does your hair cover it up well?

I realize that this is a weird question for January--most people are cold.  But think to summer and let me know.

Leave a thought if you would like.  I'm always interested in the tips of others.

Finding My Niche

I go through a phase every few months where I research all different types of graduate programs and try to figure out what I want to do with my life.

I know I definitely want to be a mom (which is great because there has been a baby wandering around here lately), but I also recognize the need to have marketable skills.  Also, constantly learning is incredibly worthwhile.  I miss school a lot!  I always loved it.  Always is a stretch.  I hated biology and social dance.  What is the connection there?  Mating rituals?  Social dance was talked up so much at BYU as Da Best Class Evah.  And then I absolutely hated the whole experience. 

My problem is that I don't have my thing.  You know, that thing everyone else seems to have and that they obsess over and are passionate about.

I once went on a date with a guy who was over the moon about being a paramedic.  All of his stories had to do with calls he had taken that day or driving the ambulance through red lights.  He even had the paramedic symbol tattooed on his arm.  It's a good thing he was a paramedic.  That's really one of the only symbols that can be pulled off as a tattoo.  What if he had been an accountant?  Or a grocery store manager?  I can't imagine a calculator or check stand appearing quite as fierce.

I have often wondered since, if I were the tattooing type, which I'm not, what would I have tattooed on my arm?  What is my passion?

You might say music, and that is true.  I do love music.  And it is one of my talents.  But I most likely wouldn't get into a grad program for music.  And besides what would my fierce-looking tattoo be?  A  a snake-laden musical staff?  A piano engulfed in flames?

I have also considered linguistics.  Programs require intense study of a second language, which I have.  Besides, my second language is the ever-obscure Romanian, so no one would even know how unskilled I am at it.

So I am still trying to find my niche.  Maybe I should start with---how does one pronounce niche?  Is it "neesh" or "neetch" or "nitch"?

Thank you and good night.

All I Really Need to Know I Learned from AOGG. And Latimer's American Heritage.

 

I have the type of husband who loves making his family happy.  I am the type of person who loves making me happy.  So my birthday is always great.  This past birthday (two months ago . . . dang gina, it's about time I got my write on), my husband asked what I wanted.  I told him that this year I wasn't asking for anything material but instead wanted him to watch the entire Anne of Green Gables movie series (9 hours) with me.  Every few years I get the itch to watch Anne.  I think it mostly hits when I think the world is going kaput (2012 election anyone?), and I want to escape it by visiting  simple Avonlea with its one-room schoolhouse and where the biggest concern is passing the entrance exam for Queen's or dealing with the snubberies of Josie Pye.

So we watched Anne of Green Gables and fell in love with Anne all over again.  Then we watched Anne of Avonlea and yelled mean things as Anne rejected Gilbert (what the whaaaa girlfriend?  He's perfect!), developed feelings for Captain Morgan Harris (ew! so old!) and finally realized her true love for Gilbert as he lay in his bed, dying of scarlet fever (man that close-up of his sick, washed-up face is baaaaaad.)  Then we watched Anne of Green Gables: The Continuing Story and wanted to chuck it out the window.  That whole movie makes me mad, not only because it is based on nothing LMM ever wrote but the characters don't even resemble themselves inside or out. 

Daniel was a good sport.  He's more of a romantic than I, so even though he groaned at the length of the movies and rolled his eyes at many of Anne's shenanigans, he was also happy to see that Anne and Gilbert end up together.

The whole thing made me crave to read the books again, and I ran through AOGG in four seconds flat.  I became a part of myself that I left behind long ago--reading every spare second, late into the night, and getting fully wrapped up in a book.  I honestly haven't felt that way in years, and it made me realize how important reading is to me and my health.  It made me realize how fake and awful television and internet-surfing can be.  A poor man's literature.  A counterfeit copy of true entertainment. 

Reading the book was so enjoyable to me that I here I leave you with some gems from AOGG.  Drum roll, please.

"I thought nothing could be worse than red hair.  But green is ten times worse."  I have often thought about this storyline this past year when I battled pink eye (read: no contacts, no make-up) for three weeks and accidentally colored my hair orange which then I had repaired to platinum (read: major hair breakage).

About Rachel Lynde:  "I sometimes think she'd have more of an influence for good if she didn't keep nagging people to do right." 

"How do you vote, Matthew?"
"I'm a conservative."
"Then I'm a conservative too."

"That is one consolation when you are poor--there are so many more things you can imagine about."

Please leave your fave Anne line or scene in the comments.

Resolutions.

For me:
1.  Work out 5 times a week.
2.  Half Marathon.  This is the year!
3.  Scripture Study 30 minutes a day.
4.  Blog at least one time a month (trying to be super realistic).


For the Fam:
1.  FHE every week.
2.  Every night--one minute of as many crunches as we can do!  And one minute of as many push ups as we can do!
3.  Do some sort of race together.

The goals are simple this year.  My theme is "Back to the Basics."  As much as I wish I were doing bigger and better and more exciting things, I am working to improve my basic spiritual/physical/emotional health this year. 

Last Night

Last night was one of those nights. 

You know, one of those nights where you go to pick your husband up from work at 5, and you don't feel like driving home because you are tired and have been suffering from PPE (Permanent Pink Eye, the scientific name for any bout of pink eye that lasts much longer than "5-7 days."), so you ask your husband to drive.  He obliges, and your little family scores a distance of 2 feet before he turns to you and says, "How long have you been driving on a flat tire?" 

"What?" you reply back, doubting his suggestion.  "I have not been driving on a flat tire.  I would have felt it."

But alas, he was right.  The rear tire on the passenger side is ridiculously flat.  Feeling perfectly lobotomized, you start to wonder how you did not notice something like that and how long other drivers have been staring at you like you are nutsy.  You wonder, how could I have not felt something like that?

Does it maybe have something to do with the fact that you and your husband have encountered a flat tire approximately TEN times since knowing each other 3 years ago?  It's practically routine around here.  You know, get up, get showered, eat cookie dough, change flat tire, etc.  Very typical.  It's actually how you and your husband met when he changed a flat tire for you, but the frequent reminder of that fateful event has ceased to be romantic ever since the funds used to pay for it will probably prevent your children from receiving higher education.

So your husband starts to change the tire while you sit inside his office with the baby.  Have you ever noticed how changing a tire attracts men from all over to come and watch?  Soon, your husband has several spectators watching him wrestle one stubborn lug nut until it finally comes off.  Then you have a spare on, and you are ready to go get a new tire.

One of the spectators suggests "Tire King" down the street, so off you go to get a new tire and resume your busy evening full of previously scheduled activities, when you can never find "Tire King."  You drive according to instructions, and you don't find it.  You enter it into the GPS on your phone, and you are led to an empty field.  Presumably where you will die.

You finally decide to just start going home and find a place on the way.  But there is this baby screaming in the back, who insists on being fed according to schedule although nothing else is going according to schedule.

So you stop at a gas station.  Your husband goes in to buy a water bottle to mix with the formula for the baby and comes back with an announcement.

"They have Boar's Head in there!" 

"WHAT!?!?!?  Where are we?  Gross!" is your initial reaction until you learn that Boar's Head is a sub sandwich place.  You must have grown up in the boonies to never eat at a fine establishment called Boar's Head.

Your husband convinces you to have dinner at the aforenamed place (you can only type it out so many times without writhing), even though you are convinced it will just be gross, but you go in to pick the sandwiches while he feeds the baby. 

You give your order to a toothless woman named Margie but give your money to another worker because Margie informs you that she isn't allowed to handle the money.  You wait a good 20 minutes for the sandwiches, all the while staking out all of the other goods (Ben & Jerry's!) offered at the gas station in case this is your new home.  Margie seems like a nice enough roommate.

You finally go to the car with the goods and attempt to eat the mess while also feeding your husband his sandwich whilst he is driving.  You wonder to yourself why you ever attempt this as you are pretty sure it is the messiest, most inefficient way of eating. 

You realize that your sandwich is really amazingly good, but your poor husband is eating a sandwich full of mustard and pickles because, being lobotomized, you forgot that he hates those things.  Poor husband.

You also realize that you didn't grab napkins, and you are using diapers to catch the mess on your laps.  (2 points for being clean diapers.)

You finally arrive at a tire place and sit in the waiting room with other people that you can't stop yourself from talking to, even though your husband thinks you are crazy, because by this time it is late evening, and the giddiness is setting in.  You laugh at everything they say and even more at everything you say.  Because let's face it--You are so funny at nighttime. 

You talk to a 13-year old girl who is trying to buy tickets to a Meet and Greet with Justin Bieber.  You debate with her about the merits of Katy Perry (obviously none).  You ask her about if she has any siblings, and she informs you that she has a half brother who is "like 27 . . . almost 30!"

You hastily remind her that 27 is almost 28, not 30.

You need to change your baby, and being lobotomized, you don't have your changing pad with you.  The worker at the tire place overhears you and brings new, clean t-shirts that a tree trimming company had dropped off earlier that day, and you change your baby on them.  Naturally.

The other partiers (fellow patrons of the tire place) get their cars fixed, and it's just your family left.  A smile creeps up on your face.

For you now have control of the remote and Dr. Quinn is on.

You finally get home after 9.  Getting out of the car, you hit your own face and give yourself a fat lip.  PPE and a fat lip to boot. 

You survived with hardly a picture to help the long winded blog post you are going to write about the night.

So you know, it was one of those nights.

The Republican Convention and Uncle Markie and Baths and Books and Junesie

Uncle Roger and Aunt Ana came to town for the Republican Convention a couple of weeks ago.  Ana is an elected delegate from Texas and invited me to be her guest for the day.  What a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!  That being said, as excited as I was to go, finding something to wear weighed heavily on my mind.  Isn't it funny how a HUGE important event like hearing the FUTURE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES speak is denied the proper brain time allotment when I have to think about what to wear?  It's not like I'm a fashionista like my sister, Heidi, but I hate not looking the part of whatever I'm supposed to be doing.  Plus, I'm a plan ahead sort of gal, and I like to know all of the details upfront.  I think that every event should come with an outline of what is appropriate dress.  But alas, I had no idea what to wear to this event.  I asked around and got several different answers; however, most were along the lines of "business casual."  Don't even get me started on the phrase "business casual".  It is much too vague.  Men hear the words "business casual" and they know exactly what to wear, but women?  Not quite.  As the great philosopher Dave Barry says, (and I am paraphrasing) "Men can wear the same clothes to work, play golf, attend a funeral, and graduate from college."  The ol' button up shirt with slacks.

Women do not have this luxury.  Women seem to have the requirement of never wearing the exact same thing twice, which takes a lot of work, and yet each newly created look should appear "effortless."  Like somehow a woman is supposed to look like, "oh this old thing?  I didn't even pick it out.  The chirping birds who wake me every morning brought it to me as we all sang about being excited for a new glorious day and opportunity to show the world some love" instead of "I woke up late because my baby was awake from 1 to 3 AM, I haven't washed my hair in four days, the gym is a word that carries a distant and fond memory somewhere in the back of my brain, and this outfit was the only thing that didn't carry a stench."

So I spent a great deal of time wondering what I would want to be wearing if the big television camera passed over my face, thereby getting discovered by an agent and starting my modeling career, ended up never deciding and then was terribly late the next day in an outfit that was all wrong and needed to be ironed.

But I digress.  Anyway, friends, it did not matter.  What a spectacular experience.  I enjoyed many of the speakers, but my favorites were the small business owners who talked about how a more conservative approach to government would be the boost their company needs to expand and grow.  Growing companies hire more people and grows our economy.  I loved hearing these men and women talk about their dreams and the hard work that went into them in order for their goals to be realized.  Inspired me to be a harder worker and bigger risk taker.

It was fun to travel around with the Texas delegates.  Texans know how to have a good time.  We wore big hats and big hair and talked big ideas.  We talked to one man for quite awhile who has been drug free for 26 years and now runs a halfway house to help other addicts get clean too.  We saw Dan Rather and Rick Santorum walked right by us.  I wittily pointed and said, "Rick...Santorum!"  I am sure he was impressed because he might not know his name.

The ride home was killer.  It took 4 hours to get home, and 3 AM is a time I probably haven't seen since Merilee Peterson's 7th grade birthday party.  I wasn't any fun then either.

Pics from the Convention:

Uncle Markie came to visit that same week.  He has been working his tail end off in Manhattan for the past year, and this was the first vacation he has had.  We went to the beach and a Rays game, and he got to see just how fun and limiting it is to have a baby everywhere you go.  We decided to get a babysitter in order to go to the beach, but had a tough time finding one since it was a last minute decision.  Finally, we heard back from a sweet girl in the ward who agreed to watch June, and Mark said, "This beach trip just got a whole lot better."  Haha.  I agree!  I love having June around, but there is nothing quite like trying to constantly shield a very fair baby from the son while feeding her a bottle covered with sand and changing a poopy swimmer diaper on your very own lap to make you realize that maybe everyone would have a better time if baby stayed home.  It was my first time getting a sitter and I was all crazy nervous, but we had a great time.  We all got too much sun and paid for it later, but it was fun anyhow.

 Look how dark Daniel has gotten!

The Rays game was really fun and we beat those darn Yankees, although there were so many Yankees fans there, it was hard to know who the home team was.

Thanks for coming Uncle Mark!

And now, a word about books.  I used to be the hugest reader of all time, but I have not read a book for pleasure in years.  My sister recommended a book, These Is My Words, and I just finished it and highly highly recommend it.  You will laugh and cry and want to be better friends with your husband.

And then the Junemeister.  Bath time has become a favorite time of day in our house.  June loves taking a bath!  She likes to swim around and remember womb time with Mommy.  These is for the grandmas!  (Change the last word and name the movie.)

P.S.  I have been thinking about 9/11 a lot today and can't believe I didn't include a thought in my post about it.  I am truly so grateful for all of those who worked so hard to help others that day and many, many days afterward.  I am grateful for our military that fights for our freedoms and for the freedoms of others.  My thoughts today are with the families who have lost someone either on that day or later because of what happened that day.