From the Chronicles of My Life's Most Embarrassing Moments

I've decided to share with you some of those times in my life when my face turned red. I don't know what is possessing me to do this, but go ahead and enjoy my discomfort. Here's the first installment:

The year was 1994 and I was a junior in college. It was summertime. (I loved going to BYU so much that I stayed and went to summer school instead of going home. Is that normal?). Going to school in the summer was intense but I managed to squeeze in quite a bit of fun. And a serious crush.

We'll call him Chuck (because that's his name). Chuck and I did a lot of group activities with our friends: went to the drive-in, jumped off bridges into water of questionable cleanliness, had giant wrestling matches on mattresses in my living room, drove to Manti for the pageant--all kinds of fun stuff. And through it all Chuck and I would flirt endlessly. I liked him, but, of course, was sure he didn't like me.

As smitten girls are wont to do, I started thinking about him during my classes and hoping I'd go home to find a message of his on my answering machine. I doodled his name intermittently in my class notes. I doodled my name with his last name. *Cringe* I think I even named our children and wrote their names in my notebook. I was head-over-heels.

It started to seem like maybe Chuck liked me, too. Although he didn't ask me out on a "real date," Chuck would frequently come over and visit when I got home from working my custodial job on campus (9 pm). We could and would spend hours chatting about anything and everything (exept slavery--we quickly discovered that was a topic not to be touched; Chuck was from the South and had a completely different take on the Civil War than this Yankee). But I digress.

So, Chuck was over one night and we were studying/talking/flirting. At one point, he reached over and grabbed my notebook to see what kinds of things I was studying. I thought nothing of it. Until he started leafing through it's pages and stopped on a page of doodles. And by that, I mean my doodles of names. I was horrified. I grabbed notebook, snapped it shut and clutched it to my chest.

Chuck choked on a laugh, "What was that?" he asked. I remember thinking, How can I get out of this? and then realizing that there was no way I could get out of it. The boy I had a terrible crush on had actually seen my "Mendy Simpson" doodles in my English notes! I wanted to die. Instead, I sat in petrified silence and then opted to confess.

It turned out to be fine. I'm pretty sure he already knew I liked him and he didn't immediately run screaming from the room (in fact, he kept coming back); I think he liked me, too. But for a moment there, I dreamed of a natural disaster hitting my apartment and making it possible that I'd never have to look at Chuck again.
And boy, was my face red!

How Many Have You Done?

I found this on Jenny's blog and thought it might be fun!
The things on the list that are red are the things I have done.

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a Praying Mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo's’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in movie
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Talked your way out of a ticket

That's 58 for me. I was close to some others--like, I've been to Venice, but was too cheap to pay for a gondola ride. And I've been to the Great Salt Lake many times, but there is no way I am going to let that water touch my nearly-naked body. Yuck!

Anyway, it was fun. Who says a woman has to give up everything to be a homemaker? I've done lots of exciting things!

Which ones have you done?

Flashback Friday!

I believe you know that I am a Mormon girl, dear friend and devoted reader. And I think you know that once upon a time, I was one of those Mormon missionaries. You know that I went to Romania and lived there as a missionary for sixteen months.

But did you know that I never even considered that I would go to Romania? It's true.

When you decide to go on a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, you don't choose where you'll go. God does. You fill out some extensive paperwork which includes notes from your ecclesiastical leaders, results from your doctor's/dentist's physical examinations, and some basic get-to-know-you stuff.

Certainly, the forms have a section where you are supposed to list any foreign languages you've studied. I noted my French minor in the provided space.

I knew that having previous exposure to a language didn't guarantee being sent to a country where that language was spoken. And I wanted to be thrilled with wherever I was sent. I used to sing myself the "Fifty Nifty United States" song and stop to think of something good about each state. I wanted to have a positive association with wherever I was going to go. I tried to think of all the francophone places in the world and do the same thing. Then, I thought about all the Spanish-speaking places in the world. Then, Portuguese. And so on. I really thought of everywhere possible (or so I thought).

Well, my mission call (the letter saying where/when you will leave on your mission) came one day at the end of my junior year of college. My little brother, Jared, lived in the same apartment complex I did and I wanted to wait for him to open it with me. I also had to go to work, so I stashed it under my mattress and ran out the door.

When I got home, I walked into a huge party in my honor. My best friend, Melissa, had called together many of our friends, decorated our apartment--complete with a "Mendy the Missionary" banner-- and baked a cake in honor of my big night. She also made a huge map of the world upon which everyone had to write their guesses as to where I'd be going. After all the guesses were written, it was time for the big reveal.

When I went to retrieve my letter from under my mattress, I discovered that it was gone. Jared knew me too well and he had confiscated it! No worries, he hadn't opened it or allowed anyone else to have a peek.

Once I had the envelope in my hand, I opened it. I remember looking and seeing the word, "Romania," and thinking Oh my goodness, that is so cool! I never even thought of Romania. I felt shock, joy, and excitement all at once. Quickly, another thought entered my mind, What language do they speak in Romania? Further down the letter, the answer was revealed: Romanian. Oh, duh.


I don't know who took this first photo, but it is my reaction the moment I read my call. Even though it is a really goofy photo of me, I quite love it. I am so excited in it and you can see how happy Melissa is for me.

The next photo is a group shot I took of my friends who came to help me celebrate that night. I may not have kept in touch with all of them, but I am sure glad they were there to help make the night I opened my mission call a memorable one.

Back on the Wagon...Baby Steps

I know, I know. I've been remiss again. Part of it's busyness with life, part of it is the fact that I left my camera in PA last time I was at my parents', but neither is a great excuse. I'm sorry.

In an effort to get me to post on my blog, my friend Angela tagged me. Here goes:

This is the 4th picture in the 4th file located in "Pictures."


This photo was taken in 2007 at the US Dept. of Agriculture's Field Day. My family loves loves loves this day and we make it a point to go every year (except that one year when they decided not to do it--sad).

On their grounds, the Dept. of Agriculture sets out all this big farm equipment and big tents. The kids can climb on the giant tractors, push all the buttons and pull all the levers. Inside the tents, there are educational stations set up for kids and adults to enjoy. In this photo, Maia is doing some kind of hands-on science thing while her little sisters look on.

It's important to note that the things my kids associate most with the Field Day are the snacks. One year, we all ate chocolate-covered crickets and another year, Michael and the kids all ate chocolate-covered cicadas!

How Old Do I Look? --Wait, don't answer that!

I had a birthday. Well, technically, I've had thirty-five of them now. That's a more recent development, that thirty-fifth birthday.


My Michael and the kids made me this cake in my new Bundt pan. I also got the power sander I've been wanting!

I spent the day with my little family. In the morning, I took Teensy to a birthday party. It was at the roller rink. Did you know those are still around? I figured it out and I think the last time I went skating was when I was 20 years old! Even though my dear friend gave me this advice/warning when she heard how I was spending my morning: "Don't break something! You're not as young as you once were!" I still felt young and spry out there on my skates.

On the floor, I skated forward and backward (those were the only tricks I had ever known), so I was pleased with that. And while I giggled with my five year-old whist doing the chicken dance on roller skates, I had this thought: You haven't lived until you've chicken danced on roller skates with a five year-old. It was a genuinely enjoyable morning.

With just one small dark mark upon it. During eat-the-cake time, I was talking to another mother and mentioned that it was also my birthday. Her immediate response was, "Oh, are you forty?"

Excuse me? Who says that? I think that even if I were forty I would have been caught off-guard.

I was a little surprised and said, "No, no I'm not. I'm just barely 35. Today." I wasn't offended. Just surprised. I don't think that is a typical response to someone saying that it's her birthday. I think the typical response is, "Oh, it is? Happy Birthday!" but maybe that's just me.

The Accidental Shoplifters

Last week, I ran to a certain department store to return a couple of items. While I was there sans children, I thought I'd take a gander at their jewelry department and look at the necklaces. I put my giant purse on the floor between my feet and began to rifle through the accessories.

Now, on the regularly-priced hooks, the necklaces were all neatly displayed, about four or five to a metal prong, but in the clearance area, the necklaces were shoved about twenty to a prong. Every time I touched a necklace two others fell onto the floor. I kept bending over, picking them up, and putting them back.

Eventually, I went up to the register and paid for my new purchases and then skedaddled home. A few days passed. For some reason, I needed something from my purse and dug my hand clear to the bottom in an effort to find it. I felt something strange, unfamiliar.

I pulled the foreign object out of my purse and low and behold, it was a necklace with a clearance sticker on it from that store I had visited a few days previously. I had inadvertently stolen a piece of jewelry! (And a hideous one at that! It was a giant hot pink circle medallion on a long gold chain.)

I had a little chuckle and made a mental note to take it back to the store. Lucky for me, my dear friend Tracy frequents said store and mentioned that she was headed there. I suckered her into taking the necklace back for me. She was a great sport about it and only requested that if I got a phone call from her from jail, that I post her bail. I mean, that is only fair since I am the one that stole the necklace in the first place.

Now, that is a cute little story, isn't it? Oh, how funny. Mendy stole a necklace by accident. Then, she gave it back. No harm, no foul. Right? I mean, it was totally innocent. Who couldn't see that?

Well, dear friend and devoted reader, I have another tale to tell. This one is not my own. It's my sister-in-law's. I'll try to tell it as briefly as possible.

Upon returning to the USA after living abroad for 6 months, my sister-in-law needed to go to the grocery store to restock her house with essentials. She was jet-lagged from her journey halfway around the world, but bellies were a growlin' at her house, so she set out to do some major shopping.

She felt herself dragging down the aisles at the neighborhood grocery store where she's shopped for the past ten years. Her eyes saw a Red Bull. She pulled it off the shelf, popped the top, and began to drink while she shopped. (Who among us hasn't done something similar?) She piled her groceries high and eventually checked out, paying the cashier $400 in cash for all that she had purchased.

While walking to her car, she was stopped by a policeman and asked, "Excuse me, but do you have a receipt for those groceries?"

"Absolutely," she replied as she handed him her long receipt.

"Did you, by chance, pay for a Red Bull?" he queried.

Suddenly, it hit her. Her Red Bull. She didn't remember paying for it. But it wasn't in her hand anymore. "No. I don't think I did. I'll pay for it now. I don't know what happened to it."

Basically, she had set it down somewhere in the store while she was shopping and had forgotten all about it. She was denied the option of paying the $1.67 on the spot and issued a citation for shoplifting right then and there.

Since, she has gone to court where a judge accused her of thinking that she is above the law because she actually had the ability to pay for what she stole. She has been fingerprinted. She got her mug-shot taken and was bodily searched for her mistake.

And it's not over. She has to go back to court again to try to plead her case to a different judge. Is this not crazy? Yes, she stole a drink, but she didn't realize it. When she did realize it, she tried to pay for it, but the store wouldn't let her. It was just an honest mistake.

Like the one I made last week at that department store. Only, I got lucky and didn't get caught. (And it's no accident I'm not typing the name of that store. I don't need any charges filed against me!)

Rules for a Rockin' New Year's Eve

Consider this your personal invitation to join my family next New Year's Eve chez mes parents, in the basement, where we have our Annual New Year's Eve Karaoke Extravaganza. Sometimes when people ask what my plans are for New Year's Eve, I am a little embarrassed to tell them that I am going to my parents' house to karaoke. But, hand on heart, it is a wonderfully good time.

Seriously, you are welcome to join our soiree this year. But there are probably some things about our New Year's celebration that you should know. Particularly if you are a girl (we don't so much make the boys do all of these things). There are some rules you'll need to follow.

Rule #1: You must surrender all vanity and allow a sister to give you a make-over of her pleasing. This past year, we commandeered Marlee's fresh-from-Santa make-up kit and spread hot pink tar-like lip gloss on everyone's lips. We also liberally smeared body glitter on each other's faces. Amber apparently took "liberally smear" to new heights when she did my face because when my sister-in-law saw me she asked if I was the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. (Although, looking at this photo, I can't help but think that it couldn't have helped that I was wearing metallic sequins.)


Rule #2: You have to get your hair coiffed in a fun, new way. Sometimes we go legit with hairdo's, but sometimes we go a little crazy. My SIL Kim had a hard time doing anything too crazy this year. She actually wanted to look genuinely good. I forgive her; it was her first karaoke with us. We'll break her down slowly but surely.


Rule #3: You must have a mole. And not one God gave you. You have to let someone put a make-up mole somewhere on your face. You can choose a Cindy Crawford placement above the lip, one under the corner of your eye...the sky is the limit. Be a good sport about it. If 90 year-old Grandma can wear a fake mole without complaining, you can, too. (Clearly, Grandma went for the under-the-eye mole.)


Rule #4: You must accessorize. Usually, my sorioara (little sister) Whitney's earring collection is enough to satisfy our New Year's needs, but this year we also had Kim's haul of necklaces and bracelets from her past six months in the Philippines to add to our collection. We share a lot. If you don't like to share, you might not want to join us.


Rule #5: Your wardrobe choice should have some shine, fuzz or other texture. In 2007, Amber introduced her silver sequined mini-dress. It's shiny and indecently short and does the job beautifully. Amber's specialty is Broadway and this little number is a show-stopper, to be sure! For 2008, we pulled from various wardrobes to give everyone something with that little dazzle that says, "It's New Year's Eve."


Rule #6: You can't take yourself too seriously. This is, after all, karaoke. In my parents' basement. In rural, southern Pennsylvania. No one is going to see you except family. Until it gets posted on the Internet. hee hee

Please note my dad's fauxhawk here, people. My dad. Fauxhawk.

Rule #7: You gotta eat guac. For some reason, nothing says New Year's to us like some yummy guacamole. And bruschetta. And artichoke dip. And left-over fudge. And...well, you get the idea. Just don't show up with a full stomach, okay?


Rule #8: At midnight, you drink the good stuff. We go for variety when we purchase our sparking ciders: white grape, red grape, apple, wild berry, peach, if we can find it. There's just no non-alcoholic beverage we won't buy. That's how wild we are!


This past year, my sister, Amy (who has never in her life stayed up until midnight) graced us with her presence for the first time. We even got her to stay until 10:30. Wahoo! Whitney straightened her hair and my mom didn't even recognize her! She sang one number; we were so pleased with our new convert.


But I must give the award for Best Newcomers to my brother, Joel, and his wife, Kim. I didn't know Joel had it in him, but he was quite the karaoke maniac. Kim was great, don't get me wrong, but I knew she had it in her! They did several duets and were just darling. And who will ever forget Kim's "Pour Some Sugar on Me?"


Just click on it! It's only 20 seconds, but, boy, do they sound good!

Adam and his Laura have been rocking the house with their vocal instruments for years, but I never tire of his Neil Diamond or her anything. The girl was in a rock band in college. She's seriously good.


My Michael, ever averse to following Rule #6, spent another year sitting in the back corner, refusing to sing a note. In all fairness, about three years ago, I got him to do a duet with me--"The Ketchup Song"--that was something. But that's it. One year. One song.

One of my favorite things about our little party (aside from the fact that all the grandchildren are sleeping peacefully two flights up while Amber belts out, "New York, New York") is that my Grandma loves to come. As a long-time recipiant of Amber's make-overs and my hair-do's, Grandma knows exactly what she is getting into when she comes over. And she came prepared in 2008, let me tell you. She had a little bag with her and wouldn't let us peek until it was time. Then, she proudly put a "Happy New Year" headband on her head and a plastic lei around her neck and pronounced herself ready for the party. When she sang "That's Amore" with my dad, she let him wear her headband and switched to the other headpiece in her bag, a sun hat. She's as nutty as the rest of us, I tell you.


This video is only a ten-second taste of my family's talent.

And so, if you'd like to come, you're invited. We do it every year. Same time, same place. And many times, the same songs. It's just good, clean (family) fun.