I'm like this, only less attractive...

and I want to die.

I am officially old.

Simon Le Bon of Duran Duran turned 50 today.

This is the end of my youth as I've known it. You see, Duran Duran were THE band of my youth. They epitomized the 1980's: big hair, make-up, synthesized music, and image, image, image. These boys made MTV what it was and MTV made them. They had elaborate and expensive videos and they looked gooooooood.



So many of my childhood memories are set to Duran Duran's music, "Girls on Film", "Hungry Like the Wolf" (a song outlawed in the Lowe household due to suggestive moaning and grunting)"The Reflex", "Rio". . . I could go on and on.

So, although I have always been (and remain to this day) a John Taylor girl:



I have a big soft spot in my heart for Mr. Le Bon...even if he is old.

Happy Birthday Simon!!

A dream is a wish your heart makes??

If Walt Disney is to be believed, I think I'm in trouble.

You see, Wednesday night I dreamed that I made out with this guy:




Tony Dovolani, from Dancing with the Stars. This is confusing to me, as I've never found him particularly attractive during my waking hours. But, he came walking right into my dream shirtless, and for some reason, soaking wet. Anyway, we kissed and kissed and kissed, and then for some reason I walked away and met this guy:



Maksim Chmerkovskiy also from Dancing With the Stars. Again, while Maks is a super hottie, I can't say that I'm particularly attracted to him. Anyway, I then immediately started making out with Maks and then Tony caught us and there were distraught tears and pleading (from the guys. I don't beg.).

I woke up and wondered to myself, "Why these two guys?" I mean, I'm totally in fake love with my boyfriend Toby



and I've never made out with him in a dream. Or any of these guys:






These guys, I'd understand. But PROFESSIONAL BALL ROOM DANCERS? What's wrong with me? Again. Don't answer. Because if Disney's right, I'm a cheeZy slut.

The *Poopy Clause

First of all, I'd like to say that I try not to swear on a day to day basis. I do pretty well with this (unless I'm hanging out with Jill on a regular basis. I'm not blaming Jill, we're bad influences on each other.)for the most part, but occasionally I slip.

I don't think that it's ok to use profanity when the mood hits, and I really try to find other ways of expressing myself.

There are, however, times when the only way to truly express your feelings is to use one particular profane word, and in those situations, no other word will do.

So, I'd like to codeify what I'm calling The *Poopy Clause. This clause states that you can say *poopy without any guilt feelings or judgy comments from the non-potty mouths.

Here are the types of conditions under which The Poopy Clause could be enacted:

1. You wake up at the time when you are supposed to be at work. You must run around your house throwing on clothes and trying to accomplish some semblance of your normal appearance and then attempt to break all land speed records in an attempt to make it to work as soon as possible.

2. You realize that you have forgotten a job interview/meeting/class/birthday party/family gathering that you HAVE to attend. The meeting is in 10 minutes and you are 20 minutes away.

3. You respond to an email from a co-worker/friend/partner in crime about a third co-worker/idiot/hell hound. After sending your response in which you refer to said third party as a friend of Dorothy/disco dancing drag queen you realize you sent the email to said disco dancing hell hound rather than your friend. Upon closer inspection you realize said d.d.h.h. has opened and read the email, thus embroiling not only yourself, but also your friend in scandal.

According to The *Poopy Clause you would have the right to repeat the word *poopy in tones ranging from the under-the-breath mutter to the outright scream of terror as many times as you'd like with no judging by yourself or others.

Whattaya think?

I'm sold on the idea, and I enacted the clause this morning at 6:40.

(incidentally, if Austen could vocalize actual words he'd have enacted the clause at approximately 6:45 a.m.)

*Oh, come on, we all know I don't say poopy. I can't write what I really say, my nieces and nephews read this blog. Plus, I'm G rated.

Hello Darkness my old friend...

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by
One after one; the sound of rain, and bees
Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas,
Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky -
I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie
Sleepless...
~William Wordsworth, "To Sleep"



This past Saturday I stayed up until after midnight completing my Master's Culminating Experience Portfolio. This is the project that replaces a traditional thesis, and required me to compile examples of papers, tests, lesson plans, reflections, etc. that I had completed as apart of my coursework or as a result of my coursework and then reflect in writing about each artifact. The entire portfolio fills a 3" three ring binder, and if I do say so myself, turned out quite nicely.

Anyway, after finishing this vast undertaking I was EXHAUSTED and headed to bed thinking, "Thank goodness tomorrow is Stake Conference and I can sleep an extra hour." HA!

Instead I tossed and turned, first too hot, then too cold, then my bed was too soft, then it was too hard, and this Goldilocks didn't ever find "Just Right". I took a bendryl at 2:30am and it made me even more tired and dopey, yet I still didn't sleep. At 3:30 I finally felt the beginnings of real sleep and the last time I saw on the clock before sleep took me was 3:50. I woke up at 8 am to the sounds of Austen and my brother's two dogs (I was babysitting. More on that later) crying to go outside and pee. We did so with them pulling my arms nearly out of the sockets and with me in a benadryl haze. We came back in and I fed them and went back to bed until 9 am when I got up and got ready for church.

I considered going back to bed and skipping Stake conference, but am so glad I didn't. It was the best meeting (other than General conference) I've attended in a long time and I was really touched and motivated to make some changes in my life.

When I came home I was determined to take a good long nap, but when I lay down in bed I just couldn't sleep. I was exhausted, my entire body ached from fatigue (where does insomnia hurt? EVERYWHERE.) and yet I couldn't sleep.

My sister Christy (who is one of those disgusting people who falls asleep the minute her head hits the pillow and doesn't wake up three to four times a night having to pee) called and I told her how I only got 4 hours the night before and couldn't even manage to take a nap. Because she's never had a problem sleeping she's always incredulous to hear that I can't, even though I'm so tired I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and hibernate for several months. She asked me a few questions about it and then concluded, "Something's wrong with you."

Finally. Someone other than myself had the nerve to tell me what I've known for a long time. There IS something wrong with me. Maybe some THING (singular) isn't the issue. Maybe it's more like MANY THINGS are wrong with me. What do you think? Never mind. Don't answer that question. I don't want to know.


Oh, and then there's this:



I may never sleep again. Or eat yogurt. Wouldn't want to risk it.

Ahhhhh Mr. Rochester

My kids and I just finished Jane Eyre. Oh. My. Goodness. I just love that book. We had a really wonderful discussion today and it made my heart swell three sizes too big to hear the really wonderful analysis of these characters from my students. I had a couple students stay after class a minute just so that we could finish talking about some topics.

What hits me every single time I read this book is the beautiful message of redemption it shares. The message that no matter how sinful and horrible and unworthy we might be, we can always come back. I love that it is only when both Jane and Rochester humble themselves and ask for help that they can find their way back to one another.

I love how strong, noble, honorable, and spiritual Jane is, while still being imperfect enough for me to be able to love her and relate to her at the same time.

And, even though he's the baddest bad boy of all time, I love Mr. Rochester. Mmmmm Hmmmmm. He does some really horrible things, but because of the way he loves Jane, I just can't do anything but love him.

I love the fact that the love story between Jane and Rochester is a true love story. about two imperfect people who really know each other, soul deep, and love one another for who they really are. I want the same kind of relationship in my own life, which might be why I'm still single.





(And it doesn't hurt that my boyfriend Toby plays him in this adaptation)

Literally two of the best videos ever.

See more funny videos at Funny or Die

Literally.