Sunday Briefing

Well guys, I have a lot of interesting things to share. Actually I can only think of one...maybe two. The other stuff is more or less fluff and filler to take the edge off my blogging addiction. 


Let's do this in list form, since I am one of those crazy ladies who makes lists of all the other lists, and that's what makes me happy. If you prefer bullet form, you can take it up with me later.


1. I stopped biting my nails. I know this seems like it should fit into the "fluff and filler" category, but if you really know me, you should understand how huge, dare I say monumental, this really is. I have been biting my nails sine they started growing. That's from like pre-birth-in-my-mother's-stomach long time.. Well, 22 and 1/2 and  years later, they are now fingertip length. I have a sudden obsession with painting them. (This is a right of passage I never got to experience!) They are  a different color every day. I'm not sure how you girls handle the chipping, but I pretty much fit 22 years worth of nail breaking emotions into one big meltdown. It's not pretty folks. Though on the up and up, my husband enjoys the back tickles. 

2.  My henenymoes have found a new home (not a new mommy, just a new location) Don't know what heneymoes are? Lame. Read THIS to catch up.  After that one more straw that broke the horses camels back, a great friend of ours offered up her heneymoe palace. They seem happy with the move. Cheyenne was a little more apprehensive, as she got used to working the corners for extra cash um.. looking to score drugs nope, hang on....preach the gospel...erm...be a traffic conductor ahem, escaping for whatever reason. But she is now content with idea of ample amounts of attention and no longer feels the need to wonder the streets of Lyman. As for the boys, they go where the girl goes. Duh.  Trista, you rock! 









3. Brent is sick. He rarely gets sick so he is the "Honey, I think I'm dying, come spend my last moments with me and hold my hand..I'm going towards the light...."......."No babe, that's the  ceiling light...calm down" "....in that case, can I have more juice?" kind of guy. But since he takes such good care of me, I figure I'll bring him a jucie-juice or two.

4. I am getting a job! Well, looking for one. It's a little more difficult than you would think. Who would have thought a valley of 3,000 people wouldn't be able to employ every single one of  us. Get with the times Lyman.

5. The Boys got their nails trimmed last week.  Tank survived. Zip is still in therapy. Again, you're probably thinking "more fluff and freakin' filler" right? Wrong. (I don't know why my major life occurrences are about nails...but it's whatever) This very well might be one of my "one, maybe two interesting things to share". Anyway. Tank handled it like the true inner cowdog he really is, and Zip is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Wuss. No joke, the vet came running in as if the vet-tech accidently cut his whoo-whoo's off instead of his nails. That's how loud my dog was screaming. Screaming. Not just whimpering, whining, or crying, but full on two-year-old-just-got-his-candy-stolen-and-then-eaten-right-in-front-of-him screaming. I didn't think it was possible to get embarrassed because of your dog, but ohhh folks, it is. Very much so.

6.  We are selling some crap really valuable stuff we have that needs gone. Like pronto. My very big laundry room is being taken over. Please buy it. 

• DESK
• TELEVISIONS

7. Wyoming isn't sure what month to categorize February as. We are wearing flip-flops and snow coats all on the same day because here it's Sprinter. Or Wring. Either way, it's not Winter and it's not Spring.  And I'm pretty sure I am not okay with this. I no longer find the desire to dress to impress for Mother Nature, so I'm sticking with the fur coats and thermals until otherwise notified.

8. Update on other random happenings: Stella is still fitting in perfectly. I am working on the ambulance.  My diet is hanging by a thread. annnnnnnd.....I think I am just about fully recovered from sleeping on the floor. That about covers it. 

Bang Bang

We figured this imitation Spring weather wouldn't last too much longer, 

so we took full advantage and headed for the hills.

We spent the day shooting our Black Powder Riffle and playing "don't chase the bullets" with the boys.

Great way to stretch our muscles after sleeping on the floor.

Here is a video of the days events. Watch it and you can just see the frustration in me at the end. 

Who needs a mattress when you have a fort?

Ever have those momentary relapses where you resort back to a childlike state of mind? Sometimes it can result in horrible emotional outbursts in public having your own husband question your sanity, but other times you find your inner 12 year old to be quite fun and amusing.  Like Friday afternoon, for instance. Brent and I decided it would be an excellent idea to turn our basement living room into a fort. Yes, ladies and gents, a full fledged blankets-and-sheets-held-up-by-chairs fort.  It slightly resembled a circus tent. And by slightly I mean it literally looked like the circus set up tent in our very own living room- minus the elephant poop. thankgoodness. Ahem. 


After our fledgling spirits flew back to the past to reunite with our childhood bodies, we realized why God gave us the gift of maturity...and back pains.  I can remember when sleeping on the floor was like, so cool, cause beds we way over rated apparently. Had a sleepover with friends? Why, we can sleep on the floor! Our young bodies never new the difference between your uncool comfy Serta mattress and the tile flooring in your TV room. whodathunk. So there we were, fort well under construction, pillows stocked up, and circus tickets purchased ready for our camp-out. We we totally prepared to sleep on the bare carpet, because, um, hello...that's what you do in a fort. Alas, we both woke up on numerous occasions, in excruciating pain and wondering what the h-e-double-hockey-sticks we were thinking in the first place, but neither of us wanting to do anything about it because it would "ruin the experience." Duh. Even Tank (who normally sleeps on the bed, under the covers) was like "wow, ya, this was a bad idea...stop moving your legs so I can get comfy again". Zip on the other hand was all "Welcome to my life...ya jerks. Quite your whining and deal". (I like to think my dogs have a good sense of humor, Tank is very literal and realistic and Zip seems to be more dry and sarcastic...anyway....)


All in all it was totally worth it. So  if anyone in your mid twenties is interested in experiencing oldie body issues, come talk to me. I'll send you the details...and the blueprints to our fort. 

Chili Cheese Dogs, these babies screwed my diet for weeks...but do I care? Absolutely not.

PS. We spent the morning singing opera. The both of us. Full out opera. Vibrato and all. At the top of our lungs. For like, 3 hours. Inspired by this amazing, AMAZING movie.


You can only be so lucky to be my neighbor. 


Some other good show tunes to sing along with, now that you have opera/musicals on your mind:


My all time go-to audition song: On my own
Brent's personal favorite: I Dreamed a Dream.
and our Duet of choice, sung ever so elegantly by Brent and I; Time to Say Goodbye. We sound just like them...if not better.


You can thank me later.






Enjoy your little hearts out.

ANYONE But the Steelers.

I think it's a pretty well know fact that I live for football season. My heart belongs to the Florida Gators. Even though they are good enough to play in the NFL Superbowl, alas, they aren't a recognized  pansy "professional" (and I use that term loosely) team. Brent has a unhealthy obsession with the Dallas Cowboys, but since they blew it and crushed our dreams gave it their best shot, they still didn't make it to the Superbowl. And since you can't watch the game without having a team to root for, we have decided to go with the Packers. So, for the next eight hours, the Clark household has devoted itself to being die hard cheese heads.  

Let me explain our reasoning to you.  It's not that we have followed the Packers or are proud life long fans, because let's be honest...we didn't love Favre. Out with the old and in with the new... and we think Aaron Rodgers is a stud. 

 Our biggest deciding factor: ANYONE but the Steelers. 

In a school just outside Pittsburgh, a first grade teacher Explained to her class that she is a Steelers Fan. She asked her students to raise their hands if they are Steelers fans too.

Not really knowing what a Steelers fan is, but wanting to be liked by their teacher, their hands all fly into the air with one exception. 

A little boy named Timmy has not gone along with the crowd. The teacher asks him why he has decided to be different. "Because I am not a Steelers fan." says Timmy. The teacher asks "Then what are you?" 

Timmy says "I am a proud Green Bay Packers fan!" The teacher is a little perturbed now, her face slightly red. She asks Timmy why he is a Green Bay fan. 

"Well, my Mom and Dad are Packers fans so I'm a Packers fan, too." Timmy responds. 

The teacher is now angry. "That's no reason," she says loudly. "What if your Mom was a moron and your dad was an idiot? Then what would you be?"

Timmy smiled and said, "Then I'd be a Steelers fan."

Happy SUPERBOWL everyone! :)

Eighty One.

It's happened folks. The world is freezing over. I thought Hell was supposed to go first, but apparently we skipped in line.  My thermometer is reading  negative 23 degrees with the wind chill. And we all know how much Wyoming likes its wind. The hard thing to understand here is once it hits anything below zero, it all feels the same. But on the flip side, I'm living in coastal paradise compared to Brent. He is working in negative 40..yes. negative four-zero degrees.  The main word of that sentence is "working". Meaning he is outside in that crap. Poor kid. 

Bear and Katrina nestled in their home ice cube.

 My brother and sister are living in New Jersey. So if anyone watches the news (or Live with Regis and Kelly like I do) you already know that they are literally living in a block of ice. My mom and pop are chilling in -17 degrees in Utah, and Hillary is at -18 all the way in Colorado. Then, I start to think of Sadie who is merely three states away in Washington,  complaining of 37 degrees. That's 37 in the positive.  Anyone care to know the temperature of my hometown in Florida? Eighty-freakin'-one degrees. I'm moving.  You're more than welcome to join me.




While half the nation sits inside our cozy little homes (because our door hinges are frozen), I start to think of things to keep myself busy.  I have checked out every craft-blog, only to determine I am not going into town to get the materials. My house is clean, because that was done on day #1 of being frozen in. Katrina mentioned running up and down the stairs for release of canine energy. Done. What's left? Well, here are some of the best ideas I have found here and there to stay entertained while inside. 

• Curl up on the couch, with a hot beverage and watch a movie you haven't made time for yet.
• Catch up on the book you have abandoned pages ago.
• Scrapbook. Because everyone has time for pictures, but not a minute to spare for doing something with them.
• Organize your closet. 
• Try some baking recipes, then share them with your neighbors.
• Blog. (really, who does that?)
• Spend time on a really cute crafting project. Here are some awesome craft blogs you should check out:
• Craftaholic Anonymous  and Kittycats and Airplanes 
• Try out some of the latest dace moves. Because no one really is watching, unless you have some nosy neighbors... like I do.

Influencing the Funk and Maintaining the Sophistication.

We sat in silence. One consumed with the unknowing and abandonment of all familiarity. The other; though secure in her surroundings, was disillusioned  with a false sense of normalcy. Their two worlds were rapidly changing and colliding into a polar attraction...all forces became unstoppable.  Still we sat, but words began to move.  All because the meanboy missed his target and hit the wrong girl in the head with a pencil.  She became my barrier. Little did I know, it wasn't just her physical self that would shield me from years of life lessons and tolerance.  I have always wanted to thank meanboy for his act of idiocracy and destiny. But an explanation wouldn't be necessary. He knew.  From that day, the words never stopped.


Distinction between two bodies began to blur into one orb of girly gibber-gabber  as we danced down the school corridors.  Unstoppable.  Each of us offered more to the table than could fit.  I brought the untamed spirit full of words and adventure, while she introduced contemplation, sincerity, and devotion to the mix. We began to blend.  Friends of all types surrounded us. Pulling and tugging in so many directions, it was hard to tell which way was up. No matter what, we stayed unified. If they wanted to join us, they could come along. But "herandher" became one word instead of two. It was taxing. Just which identity was I? Who was she? Were we on the same path of our intended destination? Oh yes. Our insecurities became minute details. Struggles were dealt with  her grace and tolerance and my spitfire words and attitude. Together, we got the job done. Football games of stollen boyfriends, parking lot fights, and dramatized realizations of desperate girls.  We conquered embarrassing home-videos, oboe lessons, and unforgettable nicknames. Together, we survived four years of orange tanning lotion, gigantic earrings, and poor eye-shadow choices. 


We moved in silence. In distance and in relation.  Miles separated us and so did experiences. High School was done. It was time for a world outside of our square brick building and The Posse.  We learned our individual identities through process of elimination. Maybe we weren't who we were supposed to be. Maybe we were. Who knows. I took more of her with me than I took of myself, and I know she did the same. But I can't help but feel guilty for abandoning that loud, insecure, fiery girl behind. We switched for awhile. Learning what we could in our short time of adolescence, because we were about to grow up.  I'm glad for our time apart. Mostly for her sake. We were never more than a phone call away, but there times that I didn't want her anywhere near me. Fear, rejection, disappointment, whatever. ...and I know she felt the same.  We would swap stories of boys and their kissing techniques, only for her to reject them from her memory days later.  While I stayed caught up in the idea of stability.  We moved again..no longer silent. But loud, loud, loud. And the noise has yet to cease.


We sit together. Still miles apart, learning more from each other than all prior experiences combined.  We sit at the table, as I sip my morning coffee, and she dresses her beautiful daughter. We babble over a bowl of cereal with our morning hair out of control. We sit, usually in our pajamas. We are miles away, though there is only a computer screen between us. It's as if we were side by side. We laugh and giggle as always, talking of life's silly and incomprehensible moments. It's no longer woe's of missed homework or boy troubles. It's a life of deplenished bank accounts, marriage struggles, or terrible two's.  Still, the giggles will never stop.  


I want absolute fulfillment for my best friend.  I want her dreams and reality to be indistinguishable. I want my niece to know how awesome of a mom she has. And I want her husband to realize he couldn't have gotten a better partner in life. I have learned a great deal of who I was, am, and hope to be from her. Little did our husbands know that our high school boyfriend philosophy of "you date one of us, you get the both of us" held strong through marriage. It's a good thing they love us both. I hope everyone has their own Sadie. 


Love you Sadar.

And our Rachie. We most definitely love our Rachie.

The Latest and Greatest!

Why else might this be a big week? Well amongst the birthday planning and whatnot, I was preparing for my EMT final! My plate was full, and it was about to be emptied in one serving. Party Sunday. Test Monday. 

At 1:30 the torture testing began. I didn't walk in my front door until 10:15 that night. It was a long day fill with "what if's" but it was well worth it in the end. Our class did an amazing job, and we all had lot of fun for the most part. 

I have made a lot of friends, learned a lot from them, and can’t wait to see them out in the field. You guys are an amazing bunch. I couldn’t imagine going through this with better people. Congrats everyone! Now let’s put on our capes and go save some lives! (Or try to anyway)

PS. Can I just say should you ever find yourself in need of some medical assistance, you better hope Cal Davis and I are nearby, cause we kicked some serious butt in our practicals. 

Now the real learning begins! 

Different Sides of the Decade

This has been a big week guys. A BIG one. That cute roommate of mine turned 26. Old man, eh? I like to tell him we are now on different halves of a decade. I am just beginning my 20's and he's on the downward slide of his. Ha! But in my attempts to be an ubber cool wife, I tried to plan him a surprise birthday party. Had everything ready, set and go. But in the last days he just couldn't resist temptation and logged on my Facebook (aka party planning central) and "accidentally" read the message titled "Surprise party for Brent". That man. I will say, it lifted a huge load, I mean monumental load, off my shoulders. I no longer had to kick him out of the house with a really lame excuse, decorate and prepare food in under an hour, and hide 10+ cars in a cul-de-sac. Though once in his lifetime I will accomplish a surprise something or other.

Every holiday, the only thing Brent asks for are the Mini Football Helmets. The theme of the party was everything football. From the cake (which I DON'T have pictures of...) the table clothes, all decor was football! It was great! Everyone pitched in and almost finished out his helmet collection.  He LOVED it!

.

Lots of friends and family came, watched the playoffs (which was the intended theme of the party) and ate lots of yummy food. Complete success...with that one little exception. Not many pictures, as the memory card was MIA for a bit. Oh well. He was happy, I was happy. It's all good!  

Feline Frenzy

Round one: 

E: "I think we should get a cat"

B: "Alright."

Enter Frankie

Round two:

E: "Frankie needs a friend."

B: "Absolutely NOT!"

Enter Booger anyway.

Round Three:

E: "Frankie needs another friend since Booger died."

B: " Let's talk about this."

...meet Stella!

     Like all of our cats, we rescued Stella from the local Animal Shelter.  She is the cutest ugly thing you'll ever see. Guaranteed. After Booger went "missing", Frankie went into a state of deep depression. I'm developing a cure for feline PTSD as we speak. Anywho, after a sincere grown-up discussion (and a little bribing) we, as a couple (okay, so it was mostly me), decided to adopt Stella.




      Boog was one cool cat, and in my book, completely irreplaceable. He was neat-o. But  Stella herself is pretty stellar. Yes, I came up with that one all by myself. Thankyouverymuch. She is everything and more.  As I fear this blog is long enough about a dumb cat, I will leave you with this Stella Factoid: She suckles on Brent's ear...non stop. I could see how it's somewhat nipple like. Minus the milk. 

See?!??

And the boys just wanted to say Hi..

They were feeling a little left out.

The Next Michael Phelps

For the first time, I have taken myself seriously and held strong to my New Years resolution.  I'm bound and determined to loose my baby weight...that I have just happen to have been carrying around for the last 22 years.

Okay, so fine. I'm not like hard-core dieting nor am I running 10 miles a day (hey, you try running against this Wyoming wind). But I AM eating right, lessening my portions and cutting out soda completely (except the occasional Slurpee). How many of you have tried extensive exercising and it's just not your thing? K, put your hands down... cause I know the feeling sister. You give it your all for a good week and then your running shoes just seem to mysteriously disappear, and you have no motivation to look for them (probably because you are the one that hid them...or you fed them to your dog). That's about where I was at.  I'm not a runner. I can power-walk the heck out of any sidewalk or treadmill, but running is not my style. I'll lift weights with the best of them...but the best of them just ain't around to lift with. See my problem? So technically it's not my fault I'm still fat. 

Ahem.

Aside from my berry and flax seed smoothies (thanks Bear), salad with light dressing, and my daily dosage of vitamins, I have found my outlet. Swimming. I can handle this. I figure if I paddle myself into complete exhaustion, I at least have some Brad Pitt look-a-like to save me from the depths of a 12 foot swimming pool as I demand I need mouth to mouth resuscitation. That's a lie. I am completely devoted and a happily married woman, so I would probably just drown. That's a lie too (the drowning thing)...they are all little high school Life Guards...dang the bad luck. Anyway, last night little Miss Sophia and I headed to the indoor pool. Mind you she is a Nazi on the Swim team, which inevitably equaled my death. I've always been a good swimmer, so I was able to keep up with her size 2 body and trained lungs. But good heck, I was huffing and puffing. 2,000 yards is the average work out for a well-trained swim team. And that's what we did. twothousandfreakinyards. 

And I get to do it all again tomorrow. 

Wanna race?

Monday Morning

Another Monday has come. 

This week will be filled with studying for my EMT Final...

...and that's pretty much it.

Plus One

Tonight is this guys last night as our only kittychild.

Tonight is this girls last night as the only female in the house.

tonight is this gals last night alone in the pound.

tomorrow

sister kittychild comes.

The Kings Throne

My husbands birthday is quickly approaching (the 20th actually). This man has everything he needs, and then some. He is the hardest person to shop for because either A. he already has it. or B. he doesn't want it.  

Little fun fact about Brent. He loves toys. All kinds. Any gadget that will make life a little more interesting, he is totally interested. Hence the remote control helicopter for Christmas (thanks Dad).  

This year, I didn't need a "wish list", because he has found his one true desier. He will never need another thing as long as he has this piece or crap. (no pun intended)

Please enlighten yourself by clicking the link and researching a little bit for yourself.

Now, let's examen together:

I would also like to point out it comes with a remote control. In case you forgot to flush, you can do it from your kitchen.

And the self cleaning wand?! ohmygosh. I need one of those for my house.

The Princess and the Three Naughty Horses

So once upon a time there were three naughty horses.

 And they lived in a beautiful field filled with all the hay, grain and love they could ever want. And for some dang reason they just weren't happy (greedy buggers).  So they decided to leave… day or night, or at one o’clock in the freaking morning.  It didn't matter to them, they were breaking out no matter what the rules where. The beautiful Princess begged and begged them to obey the rules and stay, but they kept insisting on exploring the streets of the "Land of Lyman".  And this made the princess very mad. She did not like waking up to the Royal Dispatch calling her at all hours to inform her of the misfits rebellions. She did not like getting dressed to go out in -20 degree weather to go find them. No, she did not like chasing them all over town in her snow boots and tiara. Indeed she did not.  So, she made a fence so high and so strong that no one could get in or out ever again. 

THE END. 

The Culprits 

Before: Their former Palace

After: Home Sweet Home