Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Birthdays.


Today is a wonderful day. It is my birthday. I probably like birthdays more than anyone I know. They are a very big deal in my book. So you can only imagine how excited I get for my own.


Birthdays are a lot more than just getting one year older. Birthdays are a celebration of a person's life. It is the one special day out of the year when that person should get to do whatever they want and have no worries. I know way too many people that just act like their birthday is another normal day. It should not be a normal day. It should be a party in every way. I also think a portion of everyone's birthday should be spent with their mother. Since the mother and the baby are the ones that have to go through the pain of birth.


We are in the process of changing some of my birthday plans because of all this snow. Snow is very pretty but I feel like it's trying to pick on me today. Boo! I know it will still be a great day because I am going to make it that way. You only turn 20 once.


I have to go celebrate now.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Feeling Torn. Like a Page From a Book.

So as of late I have been playing with the thought of getting a kindle. I love reading, and it would be convenient to have all my books stored on one little thing I could carry around anywhere. The weight of books does indeed add up. Plus, buying books on the kindle is cheaper. Of course the kindle itself does cost a little over 100 dollars, but still.

I started playing with this thought after I purchased my mom a kindle for Christmas. Of course I purchased it with a wad of cash my dad handed me one day after he said, "Buy your mom some Christmas presents." I was intrigued with the whole idea of the kindle though. It was such a genius idea. I started thinking I wanted one too.

Yesterday, my siblings and I went shopping with our Christmas money. I did not buy a kindle. I bought an actual book though. I bought the Hunger Games. I haven't read them yet so I figure I better start. I only bought the first one because it's the only one so far in paperback.
I think I might be the cheapest person I will ever meet.

I think I have decided that I do not want a kindle. Many people have told me to get one and that I'll love it, but I'm not so sure if I really will love it. I think I would miss picking up a book.

I know I am going to sound like a total nerd, but I love getting a new book to add to my bookshelf. I love picking out the perfect copy and running my fingers across the cover. I love opening it up and have the aroma of fresh paper reach my nostrils. Plus, I feel like each of my books has character. My copy of "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" has a stain on the side of some pages, probably from when I was too caught up in the story to set it down while eating my breakfast. My copy of "The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe" with the colorful map of Narnia on the inside cover that I once examined as a kid, wondering if that world could perhaps be a real place inside our world. My copy of "To Kill a Mockingbird" with a partly torn cover and yellowed pages, I loved this book until it was worn out. Most importantly, my grandma's handwriting on the first page telling me what a wonderful book it was and that she loves me. What a fond memory that will be when I am an old lady, to examine the words in my book left behind by my grandma.




When I was a little girl, I often watched Disney's Beauty and the Beast. It always thrilled me when the Beast introduced Belle to his library. How amazing would it be to enter a room filled to the ceiling with books? I want that one day. I doubt my one day library will be that grand, but it will be all mine and that is all that matters. It will be my little library, my escape from the world, with a little nook by a window with a huge, cozy chair.
I know I would get run out of town by tree huggers reading this post. I realize that books kill a lot of trees, but let's get real, most environmentalists are a bunch of hypocrites any ways. Like vegetarians who eat fish. How come fish get to die but cows don't? Do you think cows are somehow superior to fish? That is pretty rude.

I also got thinking about my Lord of the Rings books sitting on my shelf. There is a space between my copy of "The Hobbit" and "The Two Towers" where "The Fellowship of the Ring" should be sitting. Someone stole it when I was in middle school. While I was waiting for the bus and playing a pick-up game of basketball, someone swiped it from my binder. At least I have the rest of the series though. With a kindle, if someone gets their grimy, little hands on it, your whole collection of books is gone. It is much more difficult to steal fifty hard copy books.


Then I got thinking, what if there is an evil plot behind the kindle? What if eventually, books go extinct and then kindles shut down? We will have no more books, which means no more furthering education, which means ignorance. It could happen.


Okay, probably not. . .but I am still suspicious.

Friday, December 24, 2010

The Children Were Nestled All Snug in Their Beds. .


Here I am, curled up beneath the sheets. Staring at the yellow walls that surround me. I have fallen asleep hundreds of times while growing up inside this very room. Many other Christmas Eves were spent trying to sleep in this room actually.


It is another Christmas Eve and yet again, I cannot sleep. What is my deal? I am going to be 20 in four more days. Are 20 year olds still allowed to be excited about Santa coming? Because I am excited. So excited that I can't welcome sleep.

Children are never nestled all snug in their beds on Christmas Eve. Such a lie. They roll around and rip the covers off the mattress. They can hardly hold still. Except when they think they hear a rustling noise from the living room that could be St. Nick. Then they hold very still. They freeze and practically quit breathing. They don't budge a muscle. And they wonder, "Could it be him?" I know all this because I remember doing it myself. And quite honestly, I remember because it wasn't too long ago that I was still doing it. I get mocked quite regularly over the fact that I did not know the truth about Santa Claus until I was in 7th grade. Yep, it's the truth. I never stopped believing. I even tried to argue with my mom when she broke the news to me.


The truth came about due to the loss of my very last baby tooth. The last one had stayed in my mouth a while so when it finally came out, I was quite excited. I felt it was a right of passage, I was a bit more of an adult now. I guess my mom decided I was too, because she just couldn't play tooth fairy for one more tooth.

It was just one more blasted tooth.

I showed her the blood-stained tooth in the palm of my hand and announced I was going to set it under my pillow. My mom stopped me before I ran off to my room.

"Why don't you just give me the tooth, Kelsey?"
"Huh. . ."

"Kelsey, I'm really tired. Just give me the tooth now and I'll give you the money."


"But Mom, what about the tooth . . ."


"I am the tooth fairy, Kelsey."


The first stage of loss started setting in for me, which is denial.


"No you are not, Mom."


My mom let out a sigh, "Yes, I am."

"So if she's not real, what about Santa? Are you going to start telling me he's not real either?"


Mom sighed again. "Kelsey, I think it's about time I told you. Your dad and I are Santa Claus as well."


I think it was about this time that I took off for my room in tears.


It was all very dramatic. I flung myself onto my bed, sobbing into my pillow. My heart was broken. I had been such a believer, only to find it was all lies. My mom came in minutes later to comfort me. She sat on the bed and began rubbing my back. I calmed down a bit and began questioning her, still hoping I could discover Santa might be an actual real being.


"Who eats all the cookies and drinks the milk?"

"Dad does."

"I always give Santa lots of cookies, Mom."

"Well. . .sometimes he throws some in the garbage."

"What about the carrots for the reindeer?"


"Dad takes care of those too."


I was searching for something to hold on to. Racking my brain.


"What about that year Jace got that tool box with his name carved into it? You couldn't make that. Santa would have had to make it for him."


"I ordered it and payed to have the name put on."


I was running out of ideas.
"The letters! What about the letters we wrote to Santa Claus? He sent letters back. I still have it somewhere."
"Kelsey. . .the mail man wrote those."
"The mail man?"
"Yes. I thought it was very nice of him."
Yeah, real nice. Thanks for being an impostor, mail man.


I dug into my pillow with my fingernails and wailed into the pillow. After the wave of sadness passed, I decided I wanted to be really angry.


"How could you? You have lied to me my whole life! You and Dad are just liars!"


She didn't say anything.


"Why would adults do that to their children? Would you like to tell me the truth about any more lies you've told me? Is my whole life just a big, giant lie!?!"


I am sure I said more horrible and mean things, but I can't remember. But I am sure that is the meanest I have ever been to my mom and I didn't even get in trouble. She didn't say much. She just stayed in my room and kept rubbing my back. And I cried. Probably for hours. She rubbed my back until I calmed down and had cried myself tired. There I lay, a puffy eyed pre-teen that now knew the truth about Santa Claus. All the kids at school had been right. I had been the fool. Or had I?

I wish Santa were real. But the magic of Santa is still real for me. Obviously, or I would be sleeping right now. I love that children are so good at believing. They have such giant imaginations and great hope. I am actually very happy that I stayed a child for so long. I know some kids that found the truth about Santa when they were five or six. That to me is very sad.


I can stand the mockery for believing until I was about 12. I'll take it. Because that means I had that many more magical Christmases. I love little kids for believing. It is a trait I want.




Believe


JOY to the World

My mom loves the word joy. If I had to guess her favorite word, I'd guess joy. She told me once around Christmas time, that joy is an acronym. Each letter represents something that can help a person develop joy within their lives. Three basic things to have a life full of joy. These three things are

Jesus


Others


and


You

JOY

I am feeling much joy on this evening, because I am feeling each letter of joy being present in my life.

My thoughts are on the birth of my savior. He has done so much for me. His life intrigues me.


I am surrounded by others whom I love. And I believe they love me too. Life is so much more meaningful when it is filled with meaningful relationships.
I also like myself. Most of the time. And I am trying every day to work on being better.

Today, I met up with my four best friends from high school. It has been a while since the five of us have all been together. You never would have guessed though. We had a ball. I love them. Whoever said you don't stay in touch with your friends from high school was crazy. It does take some work though. It takes work to keep any relationship going. I am determined to have gatherings like this still when we are all in our fifties.


Now I get to spend the rest of my Christmas Eve with these wonderful people. .

May your Christmas be filled with JOY. Happy Holidays!

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

I'll Be the Girl Doll, You Be the Boy

I have been reading my brand new book like the bookworm I am, and there was a sentence that really hit me on the very first page. This simple sentence was only nine words long, yet it has been running over and over through my mind all day.



It is never the same and always the same.


So weird to think about yet so true.
In high school, I would step onto the court in a basketball game always wearing the same jersey. Same teammates. Same coach. Same plays. Same game. With the same purpose in mind every time: to win. Yet what took place in all those games I played was never the same. Each game was actually very unique. Different events within the game always occurred. Different amount of points scored. Different amount of fouls. Different scores. Different cat fights between different girls (a reason I sometimes struggled with girls' basketball).
Same with volleyball. Same with track. I got into the blocks the same way as always for the same race, with the same thoughts in mind. Although, every race was different.


Or the movie Grease, for instance. I remember watching that movie when I was little, like eight maybe. I remember my mom worrying about me watching it. I had no idea why. I didn't think there was anything bad about it. Of course she skipped over the little make-out scene, but still. I loved the music and the dancing. I thought it was great. Years later, I watch Grease once again as a high school student. At an older age, I picked up on all the little jokes that my naive eight year old brain didn't seem to acknowledge. It is the exact same movie. Every time I watch it, it will be the same. Yet the morals are now so different.


What about people? Are they never the same and always the same?


I can run into someone I have not seen in a while and I can tell they have changed in some way. Yet at the same time, they are just the same old friend from who knows when. And even though we all progress, we all still mess up too. We all still give into temptations. Sometimes the same ones, sometimes we find a new thing to tempt us. It's weird. Very weird, I think.




What about every day life? Is it never the same and always the same?


We do a lot of the same things from day to day. We wake up, eat breakfast, go to work or school, come home, eat, laugh, have a shower, go to bed. Then maybe we do it all over the next day. We fall in love. Fall out of love. Fight. Yell. Cry. Apologize. Forgive. Laugh. Play. Pray. Hope.


We are born. We die.


Yet as much as our routines might sometimes always be the same, every day is also somehow very unique. Very different. Events happen within today that aren't going to happen tomorrow. Or yesterday.


I don't know where I am going with this. But I feel a bit like a doll that my cousin, Megan, forced me to play with when I was a little tomboy. I usually had to be the boy and she was the pretty girl. Every time we played, the boy and girl fell in love. It was always in a different way though, and I always found a different way for my boy Barbie to be a jerk to the girl Barbie. Then Megan would tell me I wasn't suppose to act like that and I had to make the boy give Barbie a kiss. I usually refused. I was a little snot. Yep, I was. And I feel like being a little snot now.


I don't want to be a doll.

Monday, December 20, 2010

10 Must Sees

I wanted to post something a little "brainless" because I don't feel like writing about anything deep right now. So I decided to post a list of 10 movies I love. Just so if you want to pop in a movie, you can take my recommendations.




1. Hidalgo


Any movie that involves a horse and is based on a true story is obviously a must-see. This movie is the definition of the word amazing and one of my very favorites. It is a little long, but totally action packed and you will probably tear up a bit too. Plus, Viggo Mortensen is the man.



2. Up


I don't think it is possible for me to say enough positive things about this movie. I could watch it over and over, and I rarely watch movies more than once so that's saying a lot. I can try my very hardest not to cry the first ten minutes of the movie, but I still always do. Plus, it is pretty hilarious too. Probably one of the most random movies ever made. Just try explaining the plot to someone who hasn't seen it. I have tried, and I got weird looks. . . "It's about an old man that ties balloons to his house and floats away. There is a bird named Kevin. A dog named Doug. The dogs talk. An annoying but cute boy scout is there too."



3. The Dark Knight



I am fairly sure everyone knows about this movie, but I couldn't leave it off the list. This is another movie I could watch over and over. How many people get killed in this movie exactly? I don't know, but lots. And does the good guy win? Kinda, but he can't even be happy about winning. Plus, I love Heath Ledger, and I believe this is the movie that killed him.





4. P.S. I Love You


I am not a big "chick flick" fan, but this is not your average chick flick. I have heard multiple guys give this movie a thumbs up. It is deep and it doesn't portray a false image of love like other movies. It's the real deal. And Gerard Butler is basically the best thing ever.



5. Premonition


I thought this movie was awesome. I was on the edge of my seat trying to figure out everything the whole time. I still do actually, and I've seen it multiple times.




6. The Princess and the Frog



This movie has me convinced that I MUST visit New Orleans before I die. The music in this is great too. I double love it.





7. The Guardian


Another long one but it is worth the watch. An amazing movie. In every single way.







8. Horton Hears a Who


Ha ha, I can't even explain to you how amusing I find this movie. The characters are great and there is some funny stuff. We are talking the voices of Jim Carey AND Steve Carell. How could you go wrong?



9. The Phantom of the Opera




I am a sucker for anything Phantom. Including the movie. It gives me chills. Every single time. And seriously, is there anything Gerard Butler can't do?!? Secret confession: In high school when my hair was curly, I wanted it to look just like Christine's.





10. Taken

That is one mad dad. This movie kept me on the edge of my seat the whole time. So intense. But the daughter does really bother me. She is a brat who acts like a little girl. And she runs funny.

Bonus: I also love Coach Carter and Grease. Wish I could add them. There are plenty more I hold dear to my heart too.

If you couldn't tell, I really love action movies and cartoons. Weird combo, I know. Well, what are you waiting for? Go pop some popcorn already.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Wake Up in the Morning Feeling Like P-Diddy

This is possibly the most overused statement ever. And I have really grown to hate Kesha's song. Or I mean Ke$ha. My bad. Actually, I'm just not a big fan of her. She looks like she needs a bath and she doesn't even sing. What she does is talk-whining. She just talks lyrics in an obnoxious voice. However, this statement was true for me this morning. Well. . .kinda true. I woke up and became a wrapper. Not a rapper. That'd be cool though. A wrapper with a "W".


See for yourself:


Yep, I ripped out the tape and ribbon and got busy. I believe I am finally finished with my Christmas shopping.
In the process of all the shopping, I may or may not have bought myself a couple things too.
Sue me.


I deserved it. I've had a stressful week. So I bought myself a book. And I can't control that all of Al's Nike brand stuff was 50% off. I also can't control that there were Nike spandex in neon colors. How could I resist?

Tis the season of giving. Can't I give to myself a bit?

Herd. Pack. Flock. Whatever.

After work tonight, I was driving back through the wonderful falling snow when I came upon a deer standing in the road. I slowed down and watched as it pranced off the road. I looked around closely, still proceeding with care. Anyone that knows anything about deer knows that if there is one, there are probably more. Which there were plenty more in this situation. I watched the deer climb the hill a bit to meet up with its friends. It was a whole herd of 'em. Then I got thinking on the rest of the drive home, how animals are more like us than we think. Animals need someone too. They don't like being alone. Everyone wants a friend. Someone to depend on. Even animals. Whether it be a herd of deer, a pack of wolves, or a flock of geese.



So my question is what exactly is a group of humans called?





Well, I'm not sure what you call it, but all I know is I sure do like it.





I don't ever want to be the lone wolf. Or the buck deer that ends up getting shot at by one of those hunting obsessed Idaho boys. I like having people in my life. I need them. And, I hope, sometimes they need me too.





I might barely pass Math 1010. I am not afraid to admit that. Math is just not my strong point. Go ahead, judge me. If you do, I'll judge you for your spelling. I'll hate you every time you use the wrong your/you're or its/it's. However, I might have died this week if it weren't for my wolf pack. . .or whatever exactly they are called.





Oh yeah, my friends.





The day before my math final, I started getting sick. It was depressing. However, after I got home from studying that day, I found a note on my bedroom door from Shay. I love her. She went home but told me good luck on my math final and that I could do it. She also said if I needed ANYTHING to text her.





Later that night I studied more with BWell. I about had a nervous breakdown that night. Not a joke. Brian really helped me out that night. I finally got calmed down and went to sleep.





I woke up at 6 am the next morning since the cursed final started at 7:30. Not long after that, I found Brian Weller at my door. With breakfast. For me. Then he gave me a ride to campus in his nice, new truck. Complete with a seat warmer to keep my bottom cozy. When I got back hours later, I found this on my bed. . . .




This is totally off subject, but it totally bugs that Nabisco makes the packs say "Double Stuf" with only one f. Who does that? This is going to cause grade school kids everywhere to spell "stuff" incorrectly. So if you ever find yourself in the grocery store, and see that someone has added an extra f to all the packs of oreos with a marker. . .just know it was most likely me.


The oreos were from Brian though. The note basically said to relax, don't think about math anymore, and eat some oreos. It brightened my whole day.


I just wanted to brag for a moment about how I get to be surrounded by such cool people all the time. I guess it doesn't matter if I am horrible at math. Even though I can't factor and solve story problems, people still love me any ways. Is that neat or what?


I also can't wait to see the rest of my flock of family and friends over the break.


Humans rock. And so do animals.

Friday, December 17, 2010

A Delicious Homemade Mess

Patience. A thing I sometimes lack.


Example:




Recently, Brian and I were bored at my apartment. Shayla was not around so we couldn't annoy her. She had gone home for a wedding. I probably would have gone home, however, I had worked that afternoon so I just decided to stay put in Logan. Brian and I decided we wanted to make a treat. So we created
HOMEMADE OREOS!




Fact: These are not our oreos.


Another fact: Ours actually looked way better than these ones. Plus we made the frosting red. That is right, they were Christmas oreos!


The recipe we used was fairly easy. I will leave it at the end of the post for all you people with a sugar tooth problem. Don't be ashamed. I have that problem too. The only difficult part of making them was the mixing part.


The cookie mix is mostly cake mix and butter. Then there are some eggs. The eggs are the only bit of moisture involved in the recipe. Try mixing things together without much moisture. It is hard. Especially if you don't have an electric mixer. We have beaters, but no mixer. Shayla and I came to the conclusion that it got lost in the move after summer. Since both of us are cheap and do not want to purchase a new one, we are left with two beaters that sit in the drawer and do absolutely nothing. So there I was, mixing with a weak sauce spatula, my little arm wanting to fall off. I felt like I was getting no where. This is where the patience comes in. Or the lack there of. I threw the spatula in the sink and reached my hands right into the bowl (I washed my hands, they were germ free). I started massaging the ingredients together, feeling the chocolate gush between my fingers.


It. Felt. AWESOME.


Brian turned around and laughed at me. I kept massaging, mixing, and pounding until it was all stirred together. Then I realized my hands were covered with chocolate batter.


I told Brian to get it off but he refused. So I tried to rub it on his face. He dodged, grabbed my arm, and caused me to smear it across the kitchen cupboards. Oops. Don't fret, I wiped it up all sparkly clean.


I finally got the mixture off my hands, only to realize I had to put my hands back in the bowl to make the mix into little balls. On the bright side, there were two sticks of butter in the mixture, so my hands that were beat up from the winter cold got deeply moisturized. Woo hoo!


........................................................................................................................................................................


Homemade Oreos


2 chocolate cake mixes


4 eggs


2 sticks of softened margarine


Mix all. Place 2 inch balls on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 8 minutes at 350. Cool completely and sandwich 2 cookies with spread.



(Now for my favorite part. . .the spread)



For the cream cheese center spread:


1/4 cup margarine


2/3 (8 oz) pkg cream cheese


1/2 tsp vanilla


1 cup powdered sugar


First beat cream cheese smooth with egg beater then combine the rest.


Told ya. Easy.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

The Christmas Mouse

The Reeder Family Christmas Party is something I look forward to every year in the month of December. Even more so the past few years. I swear every time we get together, there are more little cousins of mine running about. There are so many of us in the "wolf pack" that Grandpa Steve has now assigned us all numbers. Myself being Wolf Pup #1 since I am the oldest grandchild. The family is getting pretty big and we are all busy, but we still manage to get together quite often. The Reeder side loves parties and getting together. As a little girl, I remember most Sunday afternoons being spent at Grandma's with all the family there.



I had told Brian of this Christmas party about a month in advance, and I think he was actually pretty excited to come with me. So last Saturday, the two of us ventured North for the festivities. The siblings take turns hosting the party, and this year it was my mommy's turn. She is so creative. She rented a Victorian style home to have a Christmas slumber party in. Brian and I went early to help her decorate the house to give it a Christmas feel.



When evening fell, people began showing up for the party. It was great visiting, chasing children, and eating until I wanted to tip over. Santa came too, and he gave me a bop-it. Thanks Santa. . .or should I say Grandma? We stayed up late laughing and watching Christmas movies. I even busted out my Christmas onesie pajamas. Everyone made fun of me and my pajamas, but I did not mind too much. They are great pajamas. Except they get pretty warm, and I have to make sure I use the bathroom before I put them on. If I have to go pee, it is a pain to have to undo a million buttons and take the whole suit off. Any ways. . .



I could go on forever about the party, but I will just give you my two top highlights.



First off, who doesn't love white elephant gifts? The adults and the four oldest grandkids always give white elephant gifts. It is a blast and always hilarious. My brother by far gave the best gift. What was it? Well, it was a live mouse. He found a furry, round mouse creature in our window well. After he caught it, he put it in a jar, put holes in the top, and wrapped it up carefully. He then wrote with marker things like "FRAGILE" and "This side up" to avoid any shaking up of the creature.



Obviously it was one of the first gifts picked out of the pile. Everyone was curious. Except for those of us who knew what it was. We were just thrilled. I wish I would have recorded it or at least taken a picture, but just know it couldn't have been more perfect. Angie carefully opened it, asking Jace the whole time what it was (she was nervous). Then she slowly pulled the jar out. The mouse was standing on its hind legs, waving its head around, going crazy. Everyone screamed and roared with laughter. Later my aunt Amy (one of the loudest screamers) told us, "I wasn't scared. I just screamed to make it more fun."

Yeah right, Amy.



The gift I ended up with were these two odd cat sculptures. I am still not sure what they are exactly. Amy claimed it was a netty pot, but my grandma argued it was not. My grandma thought one was a tea pot and the other a sugar pot. I don't know what they are, but I found use for them. Here is a picture:



The other highlight would be the more spiritual side of the party. Each family chose something they wanted to do, whether it was donating money to a certain hospital, or helping a family, or gathering books for kids without them, then everyone talked about their experiences. After that, my grandpa read the Christmas story out of the bible. My grandma and dad also said some heartfelt things. By this time I was already choking up, and I was suppose to sing. Brian and I had prepared two songs. He played the guitar and we sang together. Music is so powerful. Especially when you are the one singing, bringing the words to life. I felt so much love for my family at that moment. When we finished, the kids all sang some of their favorite Christmas carols along to the guitar. It was a great time.

Christmas is wonderful. I can't say it enough. There is a song about Christmas that says, "Just for one day, we all came together. We showed the whole world that we know how to love." Everyone gets a little kinder around Christmas. So here is to Christmas and to love. Let's try to act a little more like it's the Christmas season always.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

A Free Laugh

All of us are probably experiencing one stressful thing or another. My stressful thing is that I have finals this week. So I want to post a wonderful treasure of a picture, so we can all look at it and laugh if we start feeling stressed or down.


I hope this is half as funny as I actually think it is. . .because I find it hilarious.

Everyone, meet Chloe Ann Keller. My baby sister. As you can see, I am gonna have so much dirt on this child when she begins dating boys. Not only am I providing you all comic relief, but I am making a child's Christmas wish come true.

You see, my brother, Jace, told me an amusing story tonight.

Apparently, Chloe was making a Christmas wish list recently. She was working hard on this list, writing her deepest desires on that piece of paper. When she had finished, Jace was curious, so he took a peek at the list. He told me on the list were typical things an 8 year old girl would ask Santa for. However, something on her list had been scribbled out. Like any curious person would be, Jace wanted to decipher what Chloe had scribbled out. The reason unknown. Jace could still see pretty clearly what Chloe had written down. Chloe's scribbled out request for Santa was

. . . ."to be the funniest person in the world."

You got it Chlo-Jo. I'm letting everyone know that you are the funniest person out there.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Remembering

For December, it sure feels like March. I am not a fan of this spring weather right before Christmas. I have been searching for any sign of hope that it may snow. Whenever I see a cloud, no matter how small, I think, "Some snow may come out of that cloud." It's possible. I cannot give up hope.


Without the snow, and with the stress of finals (THIS WEEK, but I choose to not think about it), it has been a bit challenging for me to find the Christmas spirit in my life. Believe me, I try hard. I am a huge fan of Christmas. I have been blasting the Christmas tunes since Thanksgiving, making treats, shopping, watching Christmas movies. Even though it has been fun doing all these festive things, I still had not felt anything special.


This weekend changed that. It was special. Saturday night was my Reeder Family Christmas Party (Mom's side). My mom was in charge this year, and she is basically the party queen. I will create a post soon telling all about the wonderful party, but for now, just know it was wonderful. Then last night, Brian and I watched the "Nativity Story" while studying. I had seen it, but he had not. I love this movie. I highly suggest it to everyone.


The reason I love this movie so much is because it makes the characters from the Bible story seem like real people, not just characters. And they were real people. Just like me. I admire Joseph and Mary so much. There is a scene in the movie when they are traveling together, and they stop to camp for the night. They had not been married long and in the movie, it kind of shows how the journey may have brought them together and allowed them to fall in love. Any ways, they are resting when Mary asks Joseph about raising the Savior,

"Are you afraid?"

He smiles and replies very firmly,

"Yes. Are you?"

Mary laughs gently and says,

"Yes."

Then she goes on to ask,

"When do you think we'll know? That he is more than just a child? Will it be something he says?"

Joseph looks down and admits to Mary,

"I worry I won't even be able to teach him anything."


I think it is a moving conversation. To think of how frightening it would be to know you are going to raise the Savior of the world. I think all the time about how scared I am to one day be a mom. I have so much respect for Mary. A girl, younger than me, carrying Jesus Christ inside of her.


The story is perfect. So perfect. That is all I have been able to think about since I woke up this morning. A baby born in a manger, to two amazing but humble parents. A star that shone so bright. That little baby, so innocent and perfect, grew up to die for me. He has made it possible for me to become a better person than I was yesterday. For that, I am so grateful.


Watch the movie. You will not regret it. Thanks for listening to my rambling and thoughts. And Merry Christmas. . .in less than two weeks :)

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Pizza Love.


The past couple of weeks, I have had the opportunity to work with one of my amazing friends at a certain pizza place in Logan (this gives nothing away since Logan has about as many pizza places as it does people). I go for a couple hours, Monday-Friday, and we put coupons on all the pizza boxes. It is a job I do not mind doing at all, but it sometimes gets old fast. Doing the same thing over and over again. Coupon after coupon. Box after box. So to pass time and keep myself entertained, I do what I usually do in such a situation. I observe the pizza workers and listen to their conversations.


Perhaps that is a bit creepy, so fine, I will admit to being a creeper. I like people. They intrigue me. It amazes me how completely different every individual person is.


The workers at the pizza place are pretty fun and entertaining people. I like them. So as the classic rock music blasts throughout the kitchen, I observe these people as they make greasy pizzas for hungry people. By the way, working at a pizza place would be a rough job. Making pizzas is not easy. Flattening all that dough, slicing up bread sticks, sprinkling on cheese, placing on the right amount of pepperoni.


The other day, I encountered something very exciting in my people observations. A girl came through the kitchen, slightly dishevelled, a few minutes late for work. She looked about my same age. I could see the end of a tattoo on her neck, which I guessed continued on down her back. As she came through with a NOS energy drink in hand and bag of pretzels, I noticed something interesting.


There is a boy that works almost every day. He is probably just a couple years older than me. He is a very friendly guy, but he behaved slightly different with tattoo girl. He had an air about him as if he was trying to be cool for the girl. After she hung her coat up and set her food down, she came over next to the boy, and began putting dough through the dough machine. She smiled at him. It was somewhat of a flirty smile. They began chatting away and flirting with one another. She would lean over toward him too. I am sure she would have touched his cheese covered hands if it were not policy for her to wash her hands after.


The boy began talking about his skiing adventures. Apparently he spends a lot of time on the slopes. Then he casually said to tattoo girl,


"You know, you should come with me this Saturday."


"I have to work," she said with a crinkle of her nose. "Maybe I could switch someone. I will try."


She smiled again at him.


Then they began challenging each other to guess songs on the radio.


"Smoking in the Boy's Room. Motley Crue. My point," exclaimed tattoo girl.


"Separate Ways. Journey. My point," skiing boy said.


"Talk Dirty to Me. Poison. My point," squealed tattoo girl.


The manager seemed to notice the pair's friendly ways. He called the boy up to the front to run the register. The boy let out a disappointed sigh and smiled in the girl's direction. She laughed and looked over her shoulder at him. She then continued to make pizzas as she sang along to all the classic songs I am use to playing on all the best versions of Guitar Hero.


I don't know a lot about making pizzas. But I am smart enough to figure that there is more being created in that kitchen than just pizzas. There is a love affair taking place.

Blog Challenge. Day 30.

The day has come. It is over.

Day 30: Who are you?

I am Kelsey Marie Keller.

I am a girl who is growing up and learning every passing day.

I am a free spirit.

People have made claim that I am a hippie.

I am pleased by simple things.

I am a daughter. An oldest daughter.

I am a friend.

I am an athlete.

I am a student.

I am an American.

I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

I am a writer.

I look like a troll after I sleep on my hair wet.

I am a selfish person sometimes.

I am impatient.

I am eccentric.

I am an animal lover

I can be a loud, life-of-the-party type person.

I can be a shy recluse that wants to read a book in my bed.

I am an optimist.

I am a seeker of adventure.

I am a discoverer of happiness.

I am bold.

I am a believer.

I am a dreamer.

I am also a doer.


That is who I am. Well, a taste.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Blog Challenge. Day 29.

Day 29: In the last month, what have you learned?

I have learned


How to nurture love and let it grow. How valuable time is. Whether my day is

good or bad is up to me. Homemade oreos are easy to make. My Savior is always

watching out for me. Sleep is necessary. I have wonderful people in my

life that love me very much. Challenges are only as hard as I make them. It is

perfectly fine to relax and do homework on weekends once in a while. People change. Life is much less stressful

when I do not procrastinate. How to knit, a little, and I will learn more over Christmas break. Leg

warmers under boots do wonders. I miss the ducks at First Dam.


Life rarely goes as planned. What others think is really not important.

Communicating is key. Materialistic things do not determine my

happiness one bit. Lotion is important in the winter.


Life goes on. Life is good.


I love the life which is mine.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Please Forgive Me, Harry.

The robes. The long lines to go to opening night movies. The crazed fans. These are a few of the things that made me stop loving Harry Potter.


I liked the Harry Potter books before it was the cool thing to do. I remember when the first book came out and my mom bought it for me. A girl in my class told me to read it since I loved to read.


"What's it about?"

"Well, this boy lives under the staircase and his uncle is really mean to him. Then he finds out he is a wizard, I think," the girl had tried to explain to me.

So I gave the book a shot and began to fall in love with the story about the nerdy wizard boy. I remember kids saying,

"Kelsey, you are reading that weird book?"

Yep. I read it. Then I read the next one. And the next one. And the next one. As years passed by, my brother and I started a system where we would pre-order the next book coming out, then switch off day by day on who got to read the book.

I also remember when the sick epidemic hit. When all the people who needed something to be a part of, decided to jump aboard the "Harry Potter" bandwagon. This irritated me. People that never read in their lives began saying how cool Harry Potter was. The book that was once laughed at was now the 'cool' thing to be reading.

Jace and I, again, pre-ordered the sixth book. I remember the happy excitement bursting from me when we got the book in the mail, but I did not tell anyone about that happy excitement. I kept it to myself. Because as much as I loved the Harry Potter books, I was getting dang sick of Harry Potter and all his fans. I read the story, finished it, and that was that. By the time the seventh book came out, Jace and I didn't even bother. I was done. I wanted to forget all about Harry Potter. I quit paying attention to the movies being released, and did not even know that they had made a fourth, fifth, and sixth movie until last summer (I must have done a great job at blocking out all things Harry Potter). And come on, JK Rowling!! Dumbledore is gay? I remember when that news was all over the media, I just laughed in disgust. She only said that for some more attention since her blessed series was over. Thanks for caring more about your popularity instead of Dumbledore's reputation. I had always hoped maybe he and Professor McGonagall would hook up. Oh well.

Over the summer, Dallin and Brian talked me into watching the movies that I hadn't known existed. We watched all three of them one night. I started to remember how much I had loved the Harry Potter books as I watched them. I tried fighting it off, but it was a hard feeling to make go away.

Then the first half of the seventh movie came to theaters. I refused to rush to the theater like all the fans I despised. Instead, I waited a couple weeks and then went. I went last night, actually. It was wonderful. There were only about twenty people in the theater, and I remembered the days I was the only girl who carried a copy of "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone".


I also just want to tell everyone who my favorite Harry Potter character is.


Luna Lovegood is my very favorite. Sirius Black was once my favorite, but since he died, I decided I better find a new favorite. And at that same time I was looking, Luna came into the picture. I love her because she is fearless. She also is just her very own person. She does not care about what is in, she just does as she pleases and lives in her own happy world. She is polite and smart. She is often overlooked because she is a weird, eccentric witch, but I will never overlook her.

So Harry Potter, please forgive me. I am sorry I denied you for many years, but I could not stand all the fake fans any longer. I hope you will understand. Plus, I have came back, and that's really all that matters. I will finish the rest of the 7th book soon. I promise.

Blog Challenge. Day 28.

Day 28: A picture of you last year and now, how have you changed since then?






I have seriously changed so much in the past year. I believe it is a change for the better. I can honestly say, I am more in tune with myself and happy than ever before.

When I was in high school, I was happy. But I was sheltered, and a little arrogant at times. I will admit that I was very selfish. I was immature. I think I have grown up since then. Last year actually taught me how to grow up in many ways.

I came to Utah State University, thinking classes would be a breeze and that I would go out on all kinds of dates with cute, older men. I was on the track team, thinking it would be fun and I would love it. Well, what I thought would happen did not happen. I came to school and realized that I was just one girl out of thousands of other girls. I felt pretty pathetic. I came from Weston, ID thinking I was all that and a bag of chips, to a place where no one knew me or cared. Track was not fun. It was hard. I loved working out, but it was hard realizing I was not the athlete I thought I was. It was also hard being around people that did not always have the same standards as me.

I found myself drowning in hours of school work and track practice. I began to not care about myself as much as I had in the past. I quit getting ready. I always wore gym clothes. I was not outgoing. I ate hot pockets for dinner just about every night. I put on twenty pounds. Not of fat. . .I think most of it was muscle. For some reason, I bulked up a lot. I guess when you get in 40 hours of working out a week, that happens. Plus, I started eating double of what I use to. . .and I have always ate a lot. My cute pants did not fit over my legs anymore, so I mostly stuck to sweats. I felt sad.

I went home every single weekend. Not that home is bad. But I think it is unhealthy for a kid trying to get out on their own to run back home whenever they feel afraid or lonely. The weekends flew by, and I always dreaded going back to school on Monday, though I never told anyone that.

As time passed on, I wanted more and more to find myself. I just did not know how. I felt trapped. I found some boys to distract me, but that is all they were. . .distractions.

When indoor track season started in January, I was scared to death. I had never been scared when competing in a sport. Never. I found myself going to Boise almost every weekend for meets. I now hate that drive with a passion, by the way. I false started in a hurdle race. The first and only time I ever false started. It was the absolute worst feeling ever. I have never felt so awful. I would rather come in last place by two seconds than not get to run and wonder "what if". I walked off the track, my eyes burning. I rushed into the bathroom, locked myself in a stall, and sobbed as quietly as I could. After false starting, I went back to track practice, determined to prove myself. I pushed myself in practice, doing better than many of the other girls. But no one seemed to notice or care. I didn't have a scholarship. I was a walk-on. A no one. I was so tired of being a no one. Later that month, at a meet in Boise, I called my mom up from my hotel room. I was in the room alone. I just wanted to hear my mom's voice. I told her I hated track. She tried to comfort me and I got mad. I always get mad right before I know I am going to cry. I tried choking the tears back, but they still came.

At the end of January, Brian happened. I found out he thought I was cute, so I figured maybe he could be another distraction. He was more than that though. We really connected. He planned fun dates. He spent money on me. Boys spent money on me in high school, but after coming to college, the only thing a boy had purchased for me was a dollar taco. I had been worth a lousy dollar taco. Brian acted like I was worth a lot more though. Weeks passed by and finally we had our first kiss. It was. . .awesome. The next night, I kissed one of my distraction boys, and I knew I was being an idiot. I told distraction boy I didn't want him anymore. From there on out, it was all Brian Weller.

I started doing things with friends more. I started getting dressed in the mornings. I started caring about other people, and I started caring about myself. I started taking risks. I walked into 'Dollar Cuts' one Saturday and chopped all my hair off, and it was so liberating. I finished track season, and made a firm decision that I was done with track for good. I began to notice all the simple, wonderful things in life.

Now it is a new year. I am almost twenty years old. Goodbye teenage years. Last year, I was a girl and now, I am a woman. I plan fun things with friends, I go places, I do things. I am excited to wake up in the morning and live the day, whereas I use to dread waking up. I know what I want in life; last year I was clueless. Oh, and my cute pants that didn't fit last year. . . .they are a bit baggy now.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Blog Challenge. Day 27.

Day 27: Why are you doing this "30 Day Blog Challenge"?


Initially, I wanted to do the blog challenge just for fun. It was one of those, "everyone else is doing it why can't I" type of things. Plus, the blog challenge is much safer than smoking. I may get carpel tunnel from typing so much. . .but that was bound to happen any way, right?


I am beginning to get sick of the blog challenge though. Some of the days are a little lame. Like today is a little lame, no offense Day 27. I can think up plenty of things to write about on my own. However, the challenge has gotten me into the habit of writing on my blog often. I have found that it is a very nice break from the rest of the day. To sit down and type my thoughts, and share them with anyone that will take the time to read.


Writing is my medicine.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Blog Challenge. Day 26.

Day 26: What you think of your friends.




I am sure we have all heard the saying,



"Diamonds are a girl's best friend."




Well, my best friends are very similar to diamonds.




No, I do not drape my friends around my neck. That would be slightly sick and wrong. But my friends do, however, have many characteristics similar to the ever famous diamond.




I am not very good at making friends. I will openly admit that. I can be around people and be friendly all day, but when it comes to building friendships with people, I do not just do that with any person I run into on the street. Believe me, I have tried, but I do not know how to open up to just anyone and bond with them. I have really struggled sometimes. I have gotten serious anxiety about it before, and maybe even shed a few tears. It is a frustrating thing when you try to build a friendship but you cannot manage to make yourself open up.




However, although I am not the best at making friends, I am fantastic at keeping them. When I do get to the point where I am open with someone and I have built a friendship, that friendship is built to last. So perhaps I do not have millions of friends, but the friends I do have, I cherish as if they were precious, rare diamonds.



I remember back in my middle school days when we learned all about rocks, diamonds being one of them. I do not remember a lot from that class. That same class, I asked the teacher if I could go to the bathroom every day and he for some reason let me go every time. Well, except for the one time I actually NEEDED to go to the bathroom. However, I do remember him saying that the diamond was the hardest natural material known to mankind. He told us that diamonds will cut glass. I took note at that moment that when the day came that a man proposed to me, I would rub the ring against some glass before he received an answer.




So diamonds are strong. They will cut through other elements.




My friends are strong. They have stuck with me through thick and thin. Sometimes they have even taken on some pain by helping me or defending me.




Diamonds can hardly ever be contaminated. They are pure.




I have rarely had a friendship that has become 'contaminated'. I have been in some fights with friends before, but never have they lasted long. We have always worked out our differences and been there for each other.





The natural diamond is rare. The growth of a diamond occurs over a period of 1 billion to 3.3 billion years! They are also created under very extreme conditions.





It does not take me quite 1 billion years to make a friend, but all the same it takes time to build something as reliable as a true friend.




"Diamonds are only chunks of coal, that stuck to their jobs, you see."



~Minnie Richard Smith








I have such amazing people for friends. I am grateful they stuck with me, and now they will never be able to get rid of me, ha ha. I value them more than a bag full of diamonds any day.





Aren't they just gems?















Blog Challenge. Day 25.

Day 25: What I would find in your bag.


In high school, I took an interpersonal communication class for college credit. I loved that class. I found it to be very interesting, and I feel like I learned a lot about myself and other people. One thing we put a lot of focus on was the different temperaments.




They are: Choleric, Sanguine, Melancholy, Phlegmatic




We took different tests to find out what are temperaments were. I was very dominantly a Sanguine. Second was Melancholy. I hardly had any of the other two in me. When I was younger I think I had a lot of Choleric in me. Choleric sounds like a disease, and it sort of is. Cholerics are always stressed out and trying to be in charge of everything. Okay, Cholerics are good. They have a lot of energy and ambition, and they make great leaders. But all the same, I stressed myself trying to be perfect at everything when I was little, so the Sanguine in me just killed the Choleric off. Phlegmatics are sarcastic, laid back, and a little lazy. Melancholy, which makes up a portion of my personality, are artistic and dramatic. Then the sanguine. Here is a little definition of the sanguine for you from blessed Wikipedia:


Sanguine


"The Sanguine temperament personality is fairly extroverted. People of a sanguine
temperament tend to enjoy social gatherings, making new friends and tend to be
quite loud. They are usually quite creative and often daydream. However, some
alone time is crucial for those of this temperament. Sanguine can also mean very
sensitive, compassionate and thoughtful. Sanguine personalities generally
struggle with following tasks all the way through, are chronically late, and
tend to be forgetful and sometimes a little sarcastic. Often, when pursuing a
new hobby, interest is lost quickly when it ceases to be engaging or fun. They
are very much people persons. They are talkative and not shy. For some people,
these are the ones you want to be friends with and usually they become life long
friends."


Yep, that's basically me. Sanguines are also the easiest to make fun of out of all the temperaments. This brings me to what I am suppose to be talking about. You are probably wondering, "What do these temperaments have to do with what is in Kelsey's bag?"


Well, in class we listened to a clip about the temperaments and it said you can spot out a female sanguine by looking at their purse. If they have a HUGE bag, with plenty of odds and ends in it, you can count on them being a Sanguine. I prefer big purses, and they are usually full of pointless things.
As far as I know, there isn't a ferret creature living in my bag. . .yet!

Actually, when I get bored somewhere, I will play the game of looking through my purse to see what is in it. I will play that now, and let you know what I discover as I look.



  • My wallet is of course present. It is dark brown with a heart lock on it. It is also bulging with things.

  • My camera. I can't go anywhere without it. I also have my camera charger. . .just in case.

  • A deck of cards. I have to practice my gambling; a little over a year until I am 21.

  • One of my headbands I made. I should take that out before it breaks.

  • Black raspberry vanilla lotion. It smells incredible. I give all my thanks to Aubrie Waldron for giving it to me.

  • Countless copies of receipts.

  • A list of phone numbers from work.

  • My ticket to Lagoon from the summer time.

  • Headphones.

  • Chopstick holders. They help me cheat at using chopsticks since I can't do it on my own.

  • My Big Blue coupon book. Thanks Utah State University.

  • A coupon for Aeropostale that has expired. Darn it.

  • My car keys. Which have a million key chains on them since I lose them all the time (another Sanguine trait).

  • Toothpaste. Don't ask me why, because there isn't a toothbrush in here.

  • Lip glosses. A girl's best friend. The two in here are both almost gone though.

  • Batteries. I think they are dead though.

  • A tampon. Let's get real, I am a girl and I have to be prepared for those horrible girly happenings.

  • A string and a button

  • An old grocery list

  • Tylenol

  • My worry rock. It is a super smooth, perfect rock I found in the river bed by Brian's house. Whenever I start getting worried or stressed, I hold this rock and rub it with my thumb. It is the same sort of idea as those stress balls that you are suppose to squeeze. Imagine a kid with asthma that has to pull their inhaler out quite often. That's how me and my worry rock are. I have in fact, took it to class with me on days of tests and rubbed it while I do the test.

I think that about ends the adventure through my bag today.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Blog Challenge. Day 24.


I have been a slacker on the blog challenge. So give me a break, it was a holiday. If I don't have to go to school or work, I don't think I should be required to blog either. But I'm back now. Oh joy.


Day 24: A letter to your parents.


I am just going to start out by saying that I love my parents.


I am also proud to say that I did not wait until I moved away to realize that I loved them. Of course, when I moved away I understood more of just how much my parents did for me, which made me reach a new level of love for them. However, in high school, I liked my parents. Sometimes on weekends, I would choose to stay home and watch a movie with my dad and make crafts with my mom. My friends made fun of me sometimes, but honestly, my mom and dad were my friends too. They were just the really bossy kinds of friends that tell you what you have to do and when you have to come home. Just kidding. But in all seriousness, I was very blessed to be born to a mother and father that love me and would do anything for me. They are really the best people I know. So here it goes. . . .two letters. One for Ronnie Brooks. One for Mille.


Dear Dad,


I don't know quite where to begin. You have always been the man. I remember trusting you completely as a little girl, and I still do. I remember all the nights I waited for you to get home. I would play outside and wait for the truck to turn into the driveway. Then I would always run and greet you with a big hug and kiss. Sorry as I got older I didn't wait for you as faithfully. But I still was always pretty good about coming and saying, "Hey Dad!" and giving you a kiss.

Thank you for being such a great provider. You are by far the hardest worker I know. You never complain either. I know there are lots of times you probably feel tired and hurt, but you always keep it to yourself. I look up to you so much. You have always put our family's needs before your own. Actually, you always put others before yourself. I love that about you. I love that you act like you are such a bad guy when in reality, you are one of the most Christ-like people I know. You just like to act like a tough guy. In reality, you have a huge heart. I have always admired your acts of service for me and for other people. The way you do it so quietly, not expecting anything in return. It isn't surprising that everyone likes you so much and enjoys being around you. You are accepting of everyone, and you always come to the rescue.

I also look up to the way you go about making others always feel special. You have a gift at that. All of my friends have always loved you because you genuinely care about what they are doing, and you never failed to tell them how wonderful and pretty they are. I always have to smile too, at the way you make the little, old ladies at church feel. Those little widows love you. They probably feel lonely a lot, having their husbands gone, and you know just how to brighten their day. The way their faces light up when you give them a big kiss on the cheek. They blush like they are little school girls again. I seriously think GG had a crush on you, because you made her feel special and pretty. Don't ever forget to make mom feel extra special. . .because she is.

I will always be your angel. Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for teaching me how to play basketball. Thank you for teasing me and rough housing me as a kid, it has made me a tough one. Thank you for always zipping my dress up for church when I was little when my short arms couldn't quite reach. I love you.



Dear Mom,


Boy, I have so much I could write to you! You are my best friend. Thanks for always being there for me. I am convinced that you are Super Mom. I have never seen a more supportive and helpful mother, nor will I.

Thank you for coming to all my things when I was younger. You were at every sporting event, cheering me on, even when you didn't know quite what was going on. You knew the score and if I was doing well or bad, and that's all that really matters. Thank you for always pushing me to reach my full potential, even when I felt afraid and didn't want to. I owe most of my achievements to you. Since you were right there helping me, cheering me on, and letting me cry on your shoulder when needed. You were basically my own personal secretary when I was in high school, which I feel quite guilty for now. I am sorry for all the times I didn't treat you like gold. I am sorry for the times I was mean and impatient. I am sorry for the times I took my failures and bad days out on you. I hope you know through all of that, I still loved you more than anyone.

You have always been a person I can talk to. Whenever I have problems or need advice, I come to you. Because you know me better than anyone else. After all, you did give birth to me. Thank you for always taking care of me. Thanks for letting me be your first. I think you did a pretty good job. In all honesty, I am super intimidated of having children because I know I can never be as good a mom as you. But I guess I'll try.

I also just want to let you know, you are such an amazing woman. I don't think there is anything you can't do. I have realized more in the past year just how talented you are. You know how to do lots of things, which I think is neat. You know how to quilt, cook, crochet, write, paint, make crafts, garden, play music. You are so well-rounded. I am glad that whenever I have wanted to learn something, my mom can also be my teacher.

I am sorry for all the tantrums I threw as a child. From what I hear, they were pretty rotten. I am sure I will have a kid that throws them just like I did though. Karma. And I'll be calling you when she is rolling around on the mall floor, screaming, asking you what I should do. I love you, and let's be friends forever.











Friday, November 26, 2010

Blog Challenge. Day 23.

Day 23: Something you crave for a lot.


I often have cravings for several things. I crave Simply Orange orange juice, I crave chocolate, I crave Coca-Cola, I crave exercising, I crave ice cream. But the thing I crave most often when I have a major craving is


oreos and milk.




A lot of people like oreos, but I know many people do not understand why I love oreos so much. Many times I would prefer oreo cookies and a big glass of cold milk over homemade cookies. I realize that the oreo is not that incredible. Two chocolate cookies with fattening cream in the middle. But I love oreos for more than just their taste. They almost represent my childhood in a way. They are nostalgic for me.




When I was just a little girl and we went to visit Grandpa and Grandma Keller, I always had oreos. When you went to their house, you had your heart's desire when it came to candy. My grandpa did and still does have his infamous candy drawer. The freezer was and still is always full of ice cream. On the counter always sat and still sits the welcoming m&m jar, filled to the rim with the colorful, chocolate candies. But the thing I was most fond of was the oreo tin.




My grandpa was always the candy man, but when it came to the oreo tin. . .now that was my grandma's. She knew how much I loved it too, because every time we visited, without fail, she would pull me into the kitchen and reach up for the high cupboard. And without fail, whenever she reached for that high cupboard, my heart skipped a beat. She would pull out the old tin and set it on the counter in front of me. Sadly, I can't even remember what was on the tin. I think it may have been a little boy in pajamas eating oreos, but I am not for sure. I am fairly sure the tin was green though. While I peered excitedly at the tin, my grandma got a glass out and poured it full of milk for me. She would then pull off the lid to the tin, which was always full of oreos. Never ever did I eat an oreo out of the oreo bag at her house. It always came from the oreo tin.


I remember exploring the ways to eat the oreo as well. My grandma always dipped them in the milk, so that is what I started out doing. Then I remember when my dad introduced me to the way I eat them to this day. My dad and I grab a couple oreos, drop them in the milk, let them soak a while, and then scoop them out with a spoon.


Oreos are more than just a good cookie for me to eat. They represent my childhood. They make me remember bonding with family as we ate them together. They make me think of simple days of having no worries, back when I could eat as many oreos as I wanted and not stop to think about all the calories I was eating.


Maybe that is why I often have a craving for oroes when I am feeling stressed. If I have had a bad day, or have a big test, I turn to a bag of oreos, a glass of milk, and a spoon. Then, as I eat them, life feels a little less complicated. I think I will always have my grandma Keller in mind when I eat an oreo, and that wonderful tin she kept her cookies hidden in. I wonder what ever happened to that tin.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Blog Challenge. Day 22.

Day 22: What makes you different from everyone else?







Where do I begin?



When I was a little girl, I remember my grandma Reeder always telling me something that has stuck with me my whole life.



"Weird is wonderful."







I guarantee you I will someday have a sign hanging in my house that will say this. I will even put her name on it so I will be quoting her.







I am not sure if she constantly told me this to make me feel better about my weird self or if she really meant it. Maybe a little of both, but I am quite sure she really meant it. She would always tell me growing up, that anyone can be normal. Normal people are boring. It is the weird people that are interesting. They are the ones you want to be around. I took this to heart. I began embracing everything that was different about me.







When I got to be in middle school, I felt a little insecure at times about my weird, wonderful self. Because truth is, I am a little different. I realize I am a little goofy compared to most people. I like being goofy, but sometimes I feel like I have a hard time relating with people. I have never had a hard time being social, but I have a hard time really opening up to people and letting them be my friend. I figure that maybe people wouldn't understand some things about me and would judge me.







I have never once stopped from being myself though. So I guess what makes me the most different from other people, is that I like being different. I don't try to fit in. I want to stand out. I am not afraid to walk to the beat of my own drum, even if I am walking alone sometimes. . .and getting weird looks from everyone else. I will do outrageous things to my hair, I will wear things that other people don't wear, I will say things I think are funny that make no sense to anyone else. I try to step back and look at the world in my own unique way. I have made my own self-discovery that weird really is wonderful. Honestly, I think everyone is a little weird. Most people just fight off their weirdness. They try to hide it with a bunch of fake normality. So take my grandma's word, and my word too:





Weird is wonderful. :)