Just a friendly reminder that I love oreos

My sister showed this to me. Never seen the movie, but love the scene.

Map Animals

I am home for Easter weekend in beautiful warm Vegas City. In our study at my parents house, we have a world map wallpaper plastered up on one side of the room. Don't think that means I know geography very well, but I do know where all the hidden animals are. My brothers and I would sit around looking for all the different types of animals we could see. And now that I am sitting here alone typing away, I really miss those two boys. These animals remind me of them.

Norway, Sweden, Finland, and all those other Northern European countries is a beaver jumping off a rock into Europe.

Italy is a slug.

North and Central America is a jumping kangaroo - Northeast Canada is the head.

There is a upside down dog doing a flip over the Hudson Bay.

Africa is a horses head (it is facing south).

The Obsqaya Guba Bay is a running man without a head.

Iceland is a little guppy fish.

Maybe there are more, but these are just the typical agreed upon map animals in my house. Ask my brother about the diving beaver and he would know what I am talking about. This post goes out to them.

More Poetry for Annasophia

Today in English 7, those kidlets were supposed to write poems using literary devices - simile, metaphor, symbolism, personification, alliteration, hyperbole, onomatopoeia - are the ones they learned. So I decided while they were writing, I would model for them and write under the doc cam. Herez it is:

My sister's smile caught me for a moment;
Just at the park on any other nippy November afternoon,
We'd been tossing our wishes and secrets in the air
like bumbling a beach ball around at the park.
That smile could have lit the whole neighborhood,
the whole city, the whole entire Clark County.
That smile was talking to me:
Saying something as beautiful as the sunset that painters try to paint
or as gentle as the movement when light touches a wet pond.
Her smile said: I am Sophie,
your sister and best friend
for as long as the mountains snow
and the sea waves crash
on the beach we always go to in April.

Runisms

Wet Sports Bra Syndrome: The fact that you will freeze from your sweaty wet sports bra until you finally change. This often occurs when lifting weights or eating immediately after running and before changing into more modest attire.

Track Wind Phenomenon: During track season, no matter which direction you are running around the track, the wind always seems like it is blowing against you - in your face pulling tears out of your eyes.

And we had yet to come up with this one here ------->

This happens when you are so tired on a run, and the grass looks so inviting. You just wish you could lie down and take a nap, but instead, you just keep running, running right along side that grass, just wishing you could lie down. Okay, so did it once. And so has this girly. Too tired to run on, she takes a small rest before dragging her running shoes back home. Ya, so she is posing, but it is actually a real thing. Sometimes running makes you really tired.

Nicknames

Yonder four years ago I was not a big nickname user. Sure, I called my siblings by their nicknames, but I can not think of anyone else who had that privileged. Okay, sometimes, rarely, I called my friend Makayla a little shortened Makay. But I always called my friend Liz, Elizabeth even though more people called her Liz than anything else.

Things have changed. Sarah Edwards is Sare; Sarah Darby, Darbs; and then there is my roommate Sarah whose initials are S.A.Y: so I call her Say - or Say-Say - or even Say-Say-Felipe - sometimes just Felipe. Faith is Faithy. Candace is sometimes Candy-Candy-Candace. Nikki became Nic. Kathryn: Fafryn. And Carolyn turned into Carolyn-a-lyn, or Carolyn-a-lyn-lyn, which is sometimes Lyn-a-lyn, and sometimes Lynie.

Why was I not a nickname user before??? I love it. Nicknames mean so much more than just referring to that person. When you call someone by a nickname you are saying their name and saying you love and care bout them at the same time.

But you have to earn the right to call someone by a nickname. My name is Michaelanne, but my family almost exclusively calls me Mike. But don't you go calling me Mike unless you mean it. My roommates, teammates, and close friends also call me Mike, but if you only just met me on the street, I would not tell you that was what I go by. You have to earn it; you have to mean it; but when people do start calling me Mike, I really love it.

Here's Lynie and me just hanging out on our backpacking trip Freshy year.

What 100 dollars can do

The first time I ever cried for happiness was when I gave my aunt a hundred dollars to help her pay for a law suit. I was eight years old, and we were parked in one of those overflow dirt parking lots out in the desert, when I slid on out of my grandmother’s big ‘ol SUV to head into the store. Without thinking, I picked up some money tumbling along in the wind, but when I looked at it, my mind didn’t believe my eyes. It was One Hundred buckaroos.

Now some people think it is stealing to take money off the ground; I didn’t think so, but we turned it in anyway being the good people that we like to think we are. The lady at the desk refused to take it. “You found this blowing out in the desert?” She raised those thin eyebrows. “Honey, no one’s gonna come lookin’ for this.”

My parents said they would keep it safe for me, ya know, until I knew what I wanted to do with it. Somehow, I knew it was special, and I wasn’t about to just give it away to the toy store. A few months later, we had this dinner for my aunt because she was dealing with this law suit and all. Being eight, I didn’t know much of what was going on, except that she wanted custody of my cousin or something like that. I’ll admit that when my mom suggested I give the Benjamin to my aunt to help her out, I wasn’t exactly what you might call thrilled. But I knew it was a nice, maybe even the right thing to do.

I had seen people cry because they were happy before, and I knew that was why she was crying when she opened the card. It was anonymous, but she knew. Her Thank-You folded in between our hug, and suddenly I was crying too. The tears felt different though; they were warm, and my insides were exploding with light.

I knew right then and there, no doll or toy or bike could have made me that happy. It wasn’t even happy, it was pure, untainted joy.

Lovin' me some middle school

Today I wore my black polka-dot skirt: the one that was a Christmas present back in the twilight days of my middle school experience - oh so classy. I put it on, sassed it up with a belt, and was on my way to teach middle school. Just lovin me some middle school I guess. I tried to imagine what my students would say if I told them about my vintage skirt. Do I have a really old skirt? or yes, I am just a really young teacher. Either way, this skirt has made its full circle.

Brown with Black and strips a polka-dots.
This would make my grandma Joanie shiver.

After deciding I wanted to be a teacher, I thought I wanted to teach high school, but for my practicum experience, I was assigned seventh grade. But, lately I have been thinking more and more that maybe I actually want to teach middle school. I always knew I would enjoy it, but honestly, I think I might even prefer it.

1. The kids are so stinkin funny. They do the cutest, strangest, most innocent or spacey things and it just isn't a big deal.

2. I love seeing them rise to the occasion and accomplish some pretty monumental stuff. Hold them to a high standard and they will rise to the occasion.

3. There isn't this huge distinction between class or social status or even coolness. They are all pretty much just sittin their little touches in my classroom, all interacting with each other on the same level - more or less.

4. They are just starting to grow into their unique selves; which is beautiful.

5. They still love to learn. Even those who say they don't love to learn, still love it. I can see it. They can't help but be interested in the lesson. Okay so there are still those who put their head on their desks and fall asleep, or those who throw little pieces of paper across the room all class period, but I can see it in even them, they can't help but learn something. The curiosity hasn't been beaten out of them yet.

So maybe, just maybe, don't hold me to it yet, but maybe middle school is for me. Helpin those sassafras students become life-long learners, or at least doing my best to head them in the right direction.

Nailzz

Way back on December twenty-fifth, I received these sticker nails as a gift. You're all jay-jay-jealous I'm sure; my sister was too. So then around thirty minutes past midnight last night, my angle roommate, Say, let me lie in my bed while she stuck these to each of my fingers and filed away the extra sticker with a pretty flimsy nail file. She loves me. We both got tired and she only finished one hand. Then she fell asleep in my room-roommate's bed because Faithy is out of town. So this morning, I skittled up to church one hand flowered, the other not. nbd - I slide. Why am I even blogging about his? Because I have roses on my nails, that's why; and just like my fat fingers in this awk pic, I am rockin' the sticker nails. And yes, I am twenty-two. Still young enough to get away with it.

Secondly, here is a shy-shout-out to my ward. If you are a YSA student around these parts, you are going to want to move into my ward. Beluga the best ward evs.

Thoughts From Dolls

The fact that it snowed yesterday has nothing to do with this blog post. And neither do the Nilla Wafers I ate last night that remind me of my grandma and being a kid at her house. But last night as I was eating these nilla things, I watched some Pixar short films while snuggling up in bed (with Salami). Most were cute, but this one was creeeppy.

Growing up I had two shelves atop half of my bedroom, lining the wall. I loved, like really loved, dolls, so I filled the shelves with all different sorts of them. I loved dolls from other ethnicity and dolls with lots of accessories. Just to prove my point, I am going to admit that I had an American Girl doll house that my dad made out of wood. Often, when I would have my little friends over for sleep overs, especially my couz Paige, they would say how creepy it was that I had these dolls staring down on me all night. That one with the cloak? No matter where I go, she is still looking at me - they would say. Okay, they were not creepy; what is so scary about a sweet little doll? Except when one randomly fell off the shelf - now that did make me jump - but I liked to pose some of them standing up which sometimes made them a bit wobbly.

 I think maybe I wasn't sketched out by them because they were my own dolls. I knew each of them: their personalities, likes and dislikes, temperaments; because I had created them; they existed truly in my head. What an interesting idea. For two reasons:

1. Whenever we create something it does exist first in our head. This Pixar short first had to be created in someone's head. And why did they create it? What does it mean to them? When I watch it, I also use my eyes and noggin to create meaning. What does it mean to me? What does it mean to you? Blowz my mind. (EMD*)

2. On a more spiritual side of things. God knows us each perfectly, and he created us. Maybe that is why he can see us not as we are now, but as we can become. He sees our divine potential and worth. Perry cool stuff. To find out more about the LDS (or Mormon) church, go here.

*EMD refers to English Major's Disease and often happens when English teachers think everyone is going to love literature as much as they do, among other symptoms. Coined by Dr. Chris Crowe.

Flan

It is hard to think of something to write when you are sick and already have to remember all the other little things that have to be done. So I took Tani's advice: I googled writing prompts.

Write a list of things you would do to entertain yourself if you didn't see a soul for seven days.

1. read
2. write
3. make up songs and sing them really loudly
4. sleep
5. study French
6. run
7. climb trees
8. go on walks
9. research random topics
10. write letters

Alright, so my life would be beluga boring without other people. Sometimes I think all that matters in life is relationships, but then sometimes I cite myself for caring too much. if possible. But really, even the best activities turn flat when done solo for too long. So I guess I gotta live with people; I wouldn't have it any other way.

Young Coconut

I am craving this right now. What I wouldn't give for some dried young coconut. If you have never tried this, I would suggest quickly buying some. Ser.i.ous.ly. so. good.

on shaving

It's the weirdest. I heard the French don't do it. Is that true? 'cause hippy-horrah, I am going to France. The strangest part of it occurs not more than 700 meters from my front door - the BYU testing center. That is, if you are a boy. I have heard about people being turned away because of that afternoon stubble even though they shaved that morning. so ridic. k but here comes the outlandish part: the BYU testing center sells razors. s-e-l-l-s-r-a-z-o-r-s. For just one dollar you can jiffy on over to the restroom and tidy up your face. Strange, but whatevs. Ya know, I think I am going to get me one of those testing center razors, for keepsakes or maybe as a white elephant gift, or maybe I just want one okay? I don't know why since I hate shaving, but, I mean, I still gotta do it, so why not season it up with my very own testing center razzzor. #yesigotobyu #yesitisthestrangest #yesiloveit #bestcollegeever #gocougars #arehashtagesevergoingtogetold

On a absolutely and completely random note. Here are two of my favorite people who don't have to shave. I love them.

Sore Throats

I can stomp on sore throats like a boss, and it all started when I was sick in January and got a sudden desire to heat up water and add lemon and honey. I used to have hot lemon water with a little bit of sugar, but honey, I once heard, is actually a food medicine. I mean, I promise, I did think up this honey-lemon tea thing myself, but turns out a lot of other people did too, just google honey and lemon tea. But do a lot of other people have giraffe mugs like this? Not a chance.

Let me tell you why my favorite animal is a giraffe.

1. They are very gentle creatures. I fed them once, so I would know.
2. They are beautiful. How many animals have patterned coats? Well, a few, but not as cool as the giraffe.
3. They are graceful; it is beautiful to watch them run.
4. They have purple tongues. Okay so maybe that isn't that weird, but it was when I was ten.
5. Rumor has it that people can ride giraffes. Fine, I have never seen or heard of such a thing first hand, but there is evidence on the internet aka the source of all knowledge.


But if you aren't cool enough to have a dad that stuffed your Christmas stocking with a giraffe mug, then any ol' mug will do when you are brewing honey and lemon tea.

And yes, that is a little mini giraffe bathing in my tea.

World Running

I am trying to run all the way around the world. Yes, the 24901.55 miles around the world. I started in Utah, and in 2009 I was in Boston (Hiiii Zander!); by the 18th of July, 2011, I was in Rome (always wanted to go there); I made it to Afghanistan on the 16th of August 2012, and to Nepal on the 2nd of December of that same year. So then, I stopped competing for BYU and training with the team. I spent two months just sitting in Nepal, wriggeling my toes around in the grass and lookin' up at Mt. Everest. Then I started running again; I mean, I still had 15571.55 miles to go #notevenhalfway #theworldissobig #run4lyfe

But, here is the catch, since I have started running again, I haven't logged any of my miles. I mean it was oh-way-to-easy to just have my coach keep track, but now, well, it is hard. Out on a run, oh what is that? Well why don't I just hop-skip off the route and see...feel like doing hills over and over again? want to race that random, unassuming person on the other side of the street? want to run around the block ten times? down the street and back? as far as I can see? without a watch? without a plan? Oh, let me tell ya, oh so tempting! and why not? Welp, I am trying to run around the world, that's why.

Check out this up front and personal page of my journal. Sorry it is backwards, I took the picture with the front camera on a tablet, just for kicks, giggles, and ring pops. I drew this map and have been mapping my progress until it halted in 2013. I need a new record keeper to log my miles. Any takers? Anyone?

Also, here is my beautiful team at the beach after a race. They will be my team forever.

The Braid

So I am a pen snob, pen connoisseur, pen snob. When I have a Pilot G-2 sweeping beneath my fingers, uhm-hm, I am figure skating on paper. They are très expensive, but they are worth it. I am worth it. My handwriting is worth it. The 05 sized tip rocks this world with its precise little curvy y's.

Speaking of Y's, why do I keep eating this store bought, homemade oreos? Sarah brought home a huge bag left over from her work. Faith and I took one bite and she threw her's away. But, guess what, the more gross cookies you eat, the better they start to taste. You can count on that statement right there. Or maybe they have drugs in them or poison. Do you ever feel like you are being poisoned? Me neither.

Back to pens, a trusty G-2 just ended it's career in my many notebooks. Respectable career, I would say; unlike those pens that only work half the time you touch them to paper. Today in one of my meetings, a guy I know made a pretty chill analogy about that. We don't want to be like those lazy pens that only work when they feel like it. We are depending on them to write when we need them. Like so, God is depending on us to be ready and willing when He wants to use us to be instruments in his hand. If we are not ready or able, He can easily just use another pen, another person, but we will miss out. Let me just tell ya, I want to be a G-2. That pen you can always rely on to get the job done and do it well.

Also, speaking of the Gospel, I found this great scripture that reminds me of being an ambassador of Christ, always standing as a witness for Him, not just in what we say, but also in what we do and how we live. From the Book of Mormon: Alma 17:11

I know I never related this gross cookies. Eating them does remind me of a story my grandma once told me. She once, as a little girl, refused to try chocolate. Yes, let's take a moment to get past how cray-cray this is. She was afraid she wouldn't like it because well, it was just a strange brown blob. Of course, she now realizes her foolishness. Likewise, I have really been enjoying these cookies that I once didn't love, but now I see their greatness.