Well...for Better or for Worse...

It's over. I just completed the online final for my online class. Yesterday, I took the final exam for my anatomy class, and on Monday was the final exam for my Language Science class. It's over, and I honestly don't know I feel about it. I mean, I'm glad to be done, and able to enjoy the two and a half weeks' break for Christmas and New Year's. That will definitely be a nice break for me, the chiddlers, my mom, and my poor neglected husband. Let's face it, that man gets ignored like crazy when I'm studying for exams. I'm up and running around with the chiddlers during the day, and once they go to bed at night--that's when I have to study. It's the only time I can do it.

But it's also the only time of the day that Ty and I have to be together.

It's the only time of day when we can watch our shows and make sarcastic comments about the actors/actresses and be snarky about the commercials without chiddler-related interruptions. But when I've got an exam coming up, I can only gather up my notes and textbooks, kiss Ty goodbye and head upstairs to our room where I proceed to lock myself inside, surround myself with study materials and study obsessively. On a side note, I hope no one EVER has to watch me when I'm frantically studying. It ain't pretty. Flipping through notes, books, and charts, muttering aloud to myself. Then I start quizzing myself, testing my memory/retention. I draw little diagrams in midair...trying to picture everything and organize it all in my brain. Not. Pretty. I've never made any secret about the fact that I'm a huge nerd, and certifiably insane. But there's a big difference between TELLING people and SHOWING people. *Shuuuuddddeeerrrrr*

Anyway, I went through this ritual for my Anatomy final--but due to the HORRIBLE scheduling this semester, I only had about 2 1/2 days to do it. I usually take about 4 nights to study properly, but I just couldn't do it this time. Anyway, I studied in my usual obsessive manner and beat my brains to a pulp trying to get all of that information in there where it belongs. Then I sit down and start taking the exam and it started off really well. I was just flying along like I usually do--no problems at all--until the Fill-in-the-Blank questions. Then I started to get REALLY scared. There were several of those questions where I just had to make a wild guess and move on. NOTHING was coming to me!!! I don't even remember talking about some of this stuff in class or seeing it in the notes or book. Some of it I DO remember studying, but it's as though my brain has seized up and I JUST. CAN'T. REMEMBER. IT. I finished things off as best I could, but I'll tell you what, I felt sick about it. All semester I had had NO problems with this class. I'm not bragging, but I'm quite certain that I was one of the top students in the class. Then this exam came crashing through and shattered me.

I went and picked AJ up from Mom's house, and found out that her preschool class had had a Christmas program for the parents that day. There was no way I could have made it even if I had known it was happening, but I still felt horrible about it. AJ didn't have ANYONE there to see her singing with her class, because we either didn't know about it, or just couldn't be there. She noticed. She kept asking me why I wasn't there to see her program, she just couldn't understand why I wasn't there. Add that crushing guilt to the way I was already feeling, and you're looking at a pretty volatile combination. It was only a matter of time...

Anyway, since I still had about 20 minutes to spare, I ran home to drop off some stuff before picking CT up from school. I left AJ buckled into her car seat with the door open, ran inside, and then as I started setting my stuff down it was as though a dam broke somewhere. I started SOBBING. I mean seriously, I was alone when this happened, and I was embarrassed by myself, but I just couldn't stop. I was hysterical. It was as though all of the anxiety that I had been feeling all semester and all of the "mom guilt" that I always feel when I'm in classes, and the guilt that I always feel knowing that I'm inconveniencing my mother by asking her to watch my kids twice a week, and the fact that I always let the house go to hell during the semester, making my family live in a truly heinous situation for at least 80% of that time, AND the problems with the exam that day, AND the new Mom guilt that I was feeling having missed my daughter's program...EVERYTHING just came crashing down on me and I couldn't take it anymore. I lost it. I have no idea how many minutes passed before the water works finally slowed down enough for me to grab my keys and head over to the school. But it was at least another 10 minutes before they stopped for good. I think I traumatized my daughter, poor girl.

When I got home, I texted Ty and told him about the day I'd had (omitting the complete mental and emotional breakdown), and he--in his usual masterful way--talked me down off of my emotional cliff and told me to pick a place to go to dinner that night. Feeling better, I proceeded to clean the Master Bathroom. It was in desperate need of attention, trust me.

When Ty came home from work, I was calmer, but still upset. I told him what I was worried about, and he used his best weapon--that ever-elusive beast "logic"--to dispel my worries. He's really good at that, which is very helpful since logic is NOT always my strong point. I'm more on the intuitive side of things...but that's a conversation for another day.

Anyhoo, tonight I went online and took my FINAL final. I have no idea how I'm going to do in this class, I've kind of hated the whole thing, so I didn't put in the same level of effort as I did with my other classes. I'm really hoping for a B. Fingers crossed, eh?

Oh, and one more thing to be excited, happy, and proud about: TY GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE!!! Yea Verily! His dad and I had to twist his arm to get him to put on that cap and gown and walk for his diploma, but he did it and the chiddlers got to watch it happen. They might not have fully understood the importance of what they were watching, but I know that they will never forget it. And I also know that they were proud of their Dad.

As the guys were reading through the names of each graduate, AJ kept calling out her dad's full name, first and last, waiting to hear it announced over the speakers so she could clap and cheer for him. Very cute. I'm so stinking proud of Ty. He's worked so hard, and he's done 95% of the work over the last 4 years, while holding down a full-time job and being a husband and the father of two kids. He's done a fantastic job and I'm totally using the internet to brag about him, because I can! Way to go, Ty! You're my hero!

(PS: Don't ask me how I ended up in the foreground in this picture. My dad was taking it, and Ty just kind of told me to jump in. Oh well.)

Two HUGE Hurdles Have Been Overcome...

Yes, that's right. First, I finished that huge paper, AND yesterday I turned in the big Language Sample Project for my Language Science class. For this project I had to record about a half hour of speech from a child and analyze it. Lucky for me, I happened to have a child at hand who was right within the age range needed for the project. That's right. AJ was my subject. I got the project done, and now all I have to do is worry about whether or not I did everything right until my professor grades the thing and gives it back to me. 

Two weeks from Monday is my first final. On the following Wednesday is my final final of the semester, and then I can do a happy dance. Oh yes indeed. It will be frightening, because I am a horrible dancer, but it will be awesome.

Christmas is coming up fast, and I'll be honest, I really can't help getting super excited about it every year. Here's hoping I'll never get over it. When I was a kid I was excited about opening my presents. Now that I am a mother, I get far more excited for my kids' sake. It is SO much fun seeing their joy and excitement on Christmas morning as they look under the tree and see all of their presents laying there. It's also super fun to see how happy they are when they look at Santa's cookie plate and see the cookie crumbs and empty milk glass...

I know that a lot of people out there don't think it's a good idea to basically lie to their kids about Santa until the kids get too old to believe anymore. I can understand this perspective on the issue, but I am of my mother's opinion. You have such a narrow window to allow these kids to enjoy the magical feeling that comes from believing in something like Santa Claus. They can become jaded so quickly, it's important to let them be kids for as long as possible. Let them believe in magic. Encourage it. It's such a vital part of growing up--using the imagination.

My parents never disillusioned us. We eventually reached that age where we decided for ourselves that we didn't believe in Santa anymore, and that was the end of it. I remember when my youngest sister, Nel, was old enough to really start thinking about this, and finally asked my mom if Santa was real. My mom, being the person that she is, simply said: "What do you believe?" Nel hesitated for a moment, and then said: "I don't think he's real." My mom just nodded and said: "Alright then." And that was it. 

I think that's one of the best things about my mom. She encouraged us to do the right thing, to do our best and keep moving forward, but she never forced us. She always allowed us to make our own decisions about our lives. Yes, at times when we screwed up she made sure that there were consequences for our bad choices, but she wasn't domineering. She only gave her opinion if we asked for it. Even then, she gave it in such a way that basically said: "This is what I think, but the choice is yours." I don't know about you, but I think that makes for one pretty amazing parent. 

Anyway, it's time to stop rambling. For now. I will surely find more to ramble about soon enough.

DECEMBER ALREADY?!?!? WHAT THE FREAKING CRAP...?!?!?

Alright, so I'm not gonna lie, this whole year has kind of freaked me out a bit with how horribly FAST it's flown by. My daughter just turned four years old! When did this happen? As usual, the celebration kind of stretched out over three days, due to crazy schedules and everyone wanting to give her presents and say "Happy Birthday!"

This year, her birthday actually fell ON Thanksgiving day, so we celebrated with my family on Thanksgiving. She got presents and cake. Then, yesterday, we took the chiddlers to a matinee and saw "Frozen". (LOVED it, by the way. New favorite Disney movie!) Then we went home and gave her her last two presents, the doll versions of the two sisters that the movie's story line revolves around. She loved them. After a brief, 20 minute break, we drove north to go to a children's museum and visit with the chiddlers' OTHER grandparents, (Mickey and Allie, Ty's parents), and AJ got more presents. After a couple of fabulous hours at the museum, Ty's parents took us out to dinner, and then we headed home. Awesome day. A LONG day, but an awesome one.

Today, AJ opened the last of her birthday gifts, from Ty's Aunt Jitter in Chicago. The biggest present Aunt Jitter sent was a frilly pink princess dress, complete with scepter and tiara. AJ, being the princess she is, insisted on wearing this frilly pink princess dress and crown all day long, and carrying around her scepter, ruling the land with stubbornness, adorableness, and charm.

Later in the afternoon, my family got together to carry out one of our most cherished Holiday traditions. One or two days after Thanksgiving, we go bowling. All of us. My parents, all of my siblings, any in-laws that have been lucky enough to marry into our family, (there are three, so far), the chiddlers, everyone.

There's a very important rule to being a part of this tradition, though. When entering our names into the scoreboard, everyone has to take on the name of a character from a Christmas movie. We each usually spend days thinking about what our chosen bowling alias will be, and then we bowl and eat bowling alley French fries. And THAT is how we kick off the Christmas season every year. Oh yes. Awesomeness.

Today was no different from any other year. I was "Arctic Puffin" from the movie "Elf", Ty chose to be "Buddy the Elf", CT was "Rudolph", and AJ picked "Princess Leia". (Don't ask me how Leia is involved with Christmas, but hey--when a four-year-old is rocking a frilly princess dress AND bowling shoes, what can you do other than let her pick whatever freaking princess name she wants? Ty was over the moon about it, I'll tell you that!) My younger brother, Kurt, was Buzz--the bully of a big brother from "Home Alone", and I lost track of who was who on the other two lanes. (We took up three.)

Anyway, things were going swimmingly as they have every year. I got lots of spares, and even two strikes in a row. (Oh yes, applause please!) I'd just finished up another impressive spare when I turned around and saw Ty holding AJ, who was screaming, tears streaming down her face. One thing I know as her mother, that particular cry meant she was hurt, pretty badly.

As soon as I walked over, she reached for me and I carried her over to one of the couches and sat with her as she cried and I tried to figure out what had happened. Apparently, AJ REALLY wanted to play with the pretty purple bowling ball. Unfortunately, the pretty purple bowling ball weighed 11 pounds, and I don't think she was quite ready to support that kind of weight in her hands. She dropped the ball, ONTO HER OWN FINGER, crushing it between the ball and the hard linoleum floor. The finger is quite swollen, and completely black and blue now, she'll probably lose the fingernail eventually. Even if it's not broken, it is very deeply bruised. On the bright side, the injured finger is her right middle finger. So for at least the first hour after the incident, she was flipping off everyone who walked by, and she couldn't get into trouble for it at all.

When AJ's turn came up again, I asked her if she was ready to bowl. She wiped away her tears and nodded, then said: "Can I still have the purple ball?" Well how could I say no, when she had sacrificed her own finger just to get that purple ball? I went over and got it, and since she was just using one of those kiddie ramps and the bumpers, she could just use her uninjured hand to push the ball down the lane.

After the bowling game was over, the kids went to play in the arcade. AJ played for a while, and seemed to be okay. Then we went out to dinner with my sister and her family before going to my parents' house for pie. While we were there, the kids were all playing together in the basement while the grown-ups stayed on the main level and chatted about random stuff. A while later, my sister's three-year-old son, Mac, came running up the stairs, crying his eyes out. Apparently, the kids all decided to jump off of the couch downstairs onto the huge Love Sac (a big soft bean-bag-like pillow thing). Mac over-shot his jump, and landed on the floor. On his face. After crying into his mother's shoulder for a few moments, he suddenly popped up and said: "I'm okay, Mommy. I'm gonna go do it again!" And promptly ran back toward the basement before his mom could stop him. Yeah. My nephews are pretty hard core. Needless to say, all of us were laughing our heads off--except for Mac's mom, of course. Luckily, his dad came into the room and intercepted him before he could go and destroy himself.

After a little while longer, we packed up our two chiddlers and came home. They are now sleeping in their beds and I am writing a blog post. My first in a freaking MONTH!!! Sorry about that! But hey, the good news is, I finished my 15-page paper for my stupid online class that I hate with the fiery heat of a thousand suns. Ugh. I haven't learned a single thing from this class, but I still have to do at least an hour of busy work for it every single week. It SUCKS. And it's not even for my program, it's a stupid general education requirement. Stupid piece of crap class of stupidity and stupidness. Blech. I just hope my crazy professor decides he likes my 15-page paper and gives me a decent grade for it. Goodness knows I've worked my butt off!

And now I'm about to immerse myself in my Language Science class, a Speech Sample Project. This class actually is for my program, so it matters a LOT more. I can't screw this up! After that project is finished, I get to start studying for my finals. Three of them, taking place just a few days apart from each other. I probably won't be writing much more before the semester is over. Whether or not that totally ruins your week, I can't say. But don't you fret. I'll surely be back with more ramblings soon enough.

A Memory...

Well, Halloween is officially over, and just last night it struck me that it has been 13 years since Ty and I started dating. That line of thought reminded me of the first time I ever met my (now) father-in-law, "Mickey".

Ty and I met at college, the campus for which was about an hour and a half's drive from his parents' house. One night, maybe a week or so before Halloween, while we were just driving around our little college town, talking about our families, Ty said: "You know what, I want you to meet my parents." I nodded, "Sure, I'd like that." Of course, I was thinking he meant in a couple of weeks or something like that. So imagine my surprise when he headed for the highway and drove us the hour and a half to his parents' house! 

Now, I may have said this before, but just for the sake of clarity I'll say it again: I am VERY nervous when it comes to meeting new people. I am the awkward girl standing alone in the corner at parties--too overwhelmed by the crowd to even try and socialize. In smaller groups, until I am more comfortable with the people that I'm with, I will be VERY quiet and appear to be VERY aloof. 

Now THESE people were my boyfriend's parents! I was well aware that neither one of them wanted their son/stepson to even think about seriously dating anyone until he'd graduated from college, and then along came Candice. (Hey! I can't help it if I'm irresistible...) This knowledge of their pre-disapproval was hardly encouraging for me.

Anyway, here we were, making a surprise appearance at their doorstep, and I was kind of a nervous wreck. I did my best to hide it, of course, since I knew I'd have to meet Mickey and Allie at some point anyway. So I just gritted my teeth, gripped Ty's hand, and walked in the door. 

Mickey and Allie were sitting on their couch, watching television. Mickey had an open beer and a small glass that was filled with vodka (as I found out later). As soon as I walked in, I could see that Mickey was...well...drunk. I also noticed that he was rather intimidating, at least at first glance. Allie was pretty quiet, but she did greet me in a cordial--if somewhat inhibited--manner. Mickey greeted me briefly, then started talking to Ty. 

The conversation centered around a recent fender bender that Ty had gotten into a week or so previously. He'd since had the bumper replaced, and his dad wanted to make sure that the repair shop had done a good enough job. He interrogated his son about the people who had done the job, and about the quality of the work, and then in mid-sentence, he stood up and headed for the door. He wanted to see the new bumper for himself.

Ty and I followed him outside, and as he talked, Mickey kept shooting glances in my direction. Surprisingly--to me, anyway--he wasn't hostile at all. He just kept talking to Ty about how the bumper work should have been done, and then he started to inspect the car. He pressed down on it, making sure it was sturdy, and then Mickey turned and talked directly to me: "Hey, kick that bumper." 

I stood there, stunned for a moment. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. But he insisted: "Go on, go on." So I kicked the bumper. Mickey shook his head, "No, you can do better than that. I mean really kick it, as hard as you can." I glanced at Ty, who seemed to be suppressing laughter. He nodded at me, and I kicked the crap out of the bumper (which, I might add, retained my shoe print until the end of its days.) 

Apparently satisfied, Mickey said: "Okay son, I want you to drive the car now, so I can see how it runs." He led the way to the end of the driveway, and Ty walked next to him. Not wanting to interfere (and being my usual timid self), I hung back and let them talk. Suddenly, Mickey turned to me and beckoned: "Catch up, catch up!" And then, turning to Ty, he said: "You need to feed her more iron." 

I caught up to them, just as Mickey was gesturing broadly, "I want you to drive to that stop sign over there, to that stop sign over there, and then come back." 

As he was gesturing, Ty noticed some search lights shining across the sky somewhere in town. He pointed at them and said: "Dad, what are those searchlights for? Is that a haunted house?" 

Waving his hand dismissively, Mickey said: "Nah, that's Halloween shit." And then kept right on instructing Ty on how he wanted him to drive the car. 

By the time Ty had finished driving around to Mickey's satisfaction, it was getting late. So we went back inside and had a brief conversation with both Mickey and Allie. It was fine, still a little awkward, but overall I now had a pretty good idea of what Ty's parents were like. I won't lie--I found myself liking Mickey. 

Now, thirteen years and two kids later, Mickey and Allie are much more familiar to me. They are good, generous people, and the chiddlers love to visit them. Even better, they both grew to like me very quickly. 

I remember one night when we had been visiting their house, Mickey walked out to the car with us. As Ty was buckling CT (then less than a year old) into his car seat, Mickey leaned in and said: "I am very glad that you're married to my son. I think you're the best thing that's ever happened to him." Needless to say, I started tearing up, and barely choked out a "Thank you." Mickey isn't normally a very emotional or expressive person, but when he is the things he says are very genuine and sincere. And I really appreciated it.

And just think, it all started with kicking bumpers and "Halloween shit." :)

Oh, here's an added bonus: Pictures of Ty and me in our Halloween costumes for this year! (Interesting fact: I wore my costume to my classes yesterday, and NO ONE noticed that it was a costume! I got a TON of compliments on my hair, my leggings, etc. One girl just looked at me and said: "I just can't believe how good you look today! You look so great!" Apparently, when a conservative 31-year-old mother of two shows up to class one day dressed up like a punk rocker, it means that she's suddenly decided to be fashionable. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with it being Halloween...)

Oh! And Happy November 1st, Everybody! :)

A Rather Strange Occurrence...

So...it's a tradition in our little family to finish all of our Christmas shopping before Halloween. It's all due to Ty. He's the guy that's always on top of things around here. He thinks ahead. He plans stuff, and he's super organized. I am SOOO very grateful for this, because although I do have many fabulous qualities, being a super-organized planner is not really my thing. But if you want to know THE RIGHT WAY to load my dishwasher, or THE ONLY WAY to organize my silverware drawer, I'm your girl.

Anyway, this year being like most others (despite the fact that my classes are keeping me crazy busy with massive amounts of studying), we went...well...Christmas shopping. (Shocking, right?)

We went to Salt Lake, to the Gateway, in fact. There, I hoped to find all of the things that I was looking for at the time: A gift for my mom (failed--I ended up finding something elsewhere), a gift for my sister (failed--didn't have what we wanted, had to get it online), and certain elements for my chosen Halloween costume for this year (found about half of what I needed--had to go to two other stores to find the rest). I also wanted to make my traditional homage to my favorite store: Lucky Brand. I'm incredibly obsessed with their fabulous, high quality, leather handbags. In the end, I actually ended up getting a new one. It's so pretty. So very, very pretty...

Ahem...er...moving on...

Anyhoo, in our time at the Gateway, I noticed a pattern. A very unusual pattern.

I'm used to seeing a bunch of faces at malls and other such shopping centers, you expect such things, right? But this time...well...about 75% of the faces I saw were...Asian. I mean, authentic, from Asia, don't speak English Asian. Groups and groups of them. It was very unusual--and that's not even the strangest part of the day.

While we were waiting outside a shop for Ty to finish up a purchase and join us, the chiddlers and I were just sitting on a bench. Well, to be more accurate, CT was sitting on the bench, and AJ was climbing all over it while I stood there and worried that she would fall off and crack her head open. You know, the usual.

Then...about three Asian women stopped and one of them started rummaging around in her bag. She pulled out a cell phone and started fiddling with it. She handed it to one of her friends, and then looked at me and gestured toward AJ. Her meaning was clear: "May I take a picture with her?" I nodded, and the girl sat by my daughter, had her friend take a couple of pictures, and then nodded to me and put the phone back in her bag. All of the women fawned over AJ for a couple of seconds, one of them just touched her chin with her finger tips and smiled at her. Then they all walked away just as Ty was joining us.

I mean, I know my kids are adorable. Irresistibly so, actually. But strangers wanting photos with one of them was rather unexpected. Especially since they pretty much ignored my son throughout the whole incident. I considered the idea that she was wearing an Angry Birds t-shirt...but I can't be sure that that was the reason. At least, that's the theory I presented to CT as an explanation.

Oh well. Now I have an interesting story to tell, I guess.

Oh, and here's a picture I took in Barnes and Noble of what has to be THE best book title I've EVER seen. (I burst out laughing aloud. A lady was passing by and gave me the old "I'm totally judging you right now" look. Screw her. It's not my fault she has no sense of humor!)

PS: We did drive past the big arena in town, and saw that there was some huge Nuskin/electronics-type convention in town. Ty saw most of the Asian visitors at the mall wearing badges for it, so that's more than likely the reason they were all in Salt Lake that weekend. Just in case you were wondering.

Tough Love for a Friend...

Okay, I've got a friend. (I know! Shocking, right?)

I've known her since Junior High School, but we didn't really know each other or become friends until the end of our Sophomore year of High School. From then on, she's been my best friend--my only close friend, really. I have a lot of people that I consider friends, but none of them have really reached the inner sanctum of my trust. That is not an easy thing to do with me. There are very few people who I trust implicitly: My parents, my husband, and my friend, "Callie". 

We have one of those friendships where we can go months at a time without actually seeing each other, but when we get together and hang out, it's like no time has passed at all. Callie is really funny and sweet. She's smart, too...in all things but one: Her dating choices. 

For years I've wondered why my fabulous friend hasn't been in a really serious relationship with anyone. She dates, a lot, but every single one of these guys has "douche bag" stamped plainly on his forehead. She'll show me pictures that these guys have posted on their Facebook walls, and I just can't help but shake my head and say: "Seriously? This guy has 'Asshat' written all over him!" Whenever I ask Callie why she even goes out with these people, she says "But he's so pretty!" While she's only half kidding when she says this, I know she's not that shallow. She wouldn't date a guy based solely on his looks. However, I do have to wonder what does keep her coming back to this same old routine over and over again, especially when she's been burned so many times in the past. 

She came over to my house last night, and we hung out for a while, and we had a brief conversation about this. And then Callie looked at me and said: "I just can't help being attracted to these guys, and I really can't figure out why. Why do I do it?" It wasn't a rhetorical question, she really wanted an answer. At the time, I didn't have a good answer. But having thought about things a bit more, I think I've figured it out. I just don't think she's going to like hearing it very much. 

Callie is a wonderful person, (she wouldn't be my close friend if she wasn't.) But she is very hard on herself, seeing all of the mistakes she's made in her life, and sometimes she feels like she won't really be able to live them down. Because of this, I truly believe that Callie is attracted to these guys, not only because they're physically attractive to her, but because she knows they're douche bags. She knows they're only going to use her, try to sleep with her, and then disappear when she says "No"--randomly reappearing when they need something from her, or want to have another go at getting her into bed. 

I, as her friend who loves her to pieces, honestly think that Callie seeks out these guys because she knows that they'll make her feel good for a little while and then walk away--and she honestly believes that that is the best she deserves. So she puts up walls, and so she won't have to get really close to any of these guys, she deliberately chooses the ones that she knows aren't going to care. She doesn't think any of the good guys will be interested in her once they find out about all of her past mistakes, so she's mentally "taken them off the list" of people she's able to date--thus avoiding the pain of giving her heart to someone, and being rejected.

And guess what! Because of this attitude, these shallow, douche-y guys seem to be able to sense it like some sort of radar, and swoop right in so they can waste her time for a few days. She pretends she doesn't care, but she can't hide from me. I can spot fake from a mile away, especially when it's coming from her, and I can tell you, this pattern is affecting her much more deeply than she's letting on. 

Anyway, this rambling is just the kind of crap that randomly pops into my head from time to time as I mull things over. Don't worry, I will definitely be talking to Callie about this stuff in person. However, I wanted to clear my head a bit, and get my thoughts into some concrete form, so I can express them more clearly. 

Thanks for bearing with me, Internet. Good night. 

True Confessions of a Truck Racist...

I hate semi trucks. They're huge, menacing, and make me ridiculously nervous whenever I have to drive behind or next to them. I live in constant fear that a freak gust of wind will come blowing over the freeway one day and push one of those monsters over onto me and my poor little minivan. Irrational? Maybe.

But then I actually have to drive next to one and then I think NO! Absolutely not! That thing is going to kill me!

I know that those huge trucks serve a good, useful, even vital purpose. I know that they're used to cart vital supplies cross country, there and back again, as the Hobbits would say. But can't they drive on their own roads? Or during a time of day that's NOT when I'm on the road? Maybe it's my natural paranoia kicking in, but I just can't trust them! It's not the drivers--mostly. I know a few things about what most of those drivers are like. I just don't trust that crazy, ginormous machine barreling down the freeway at 70 miles an hour.

I am not entirely ignorant of this work field. No, I've never actually driven one of those hulking beasts, but I worked in a call center for Flying J's in-house gas card company, TCH (before the company went bankrupt). I took inbound calls from truck stop cashiers, the truck drivers themselves, AND from their bosses--known as carriers. I took care of various customer service calls. Authorizing gas purchases, verifying card numbers, and fixing any bugs or problems that came up. Most of the carriers were really pleasant to deal with--mainly because I was very good at not screwing up and fixed their problems the first time every time. The cashiers were mostly polite. We had a few grouches calling in, and there were one or two who were so nice they could make my day when they called in.

However, the truck drivers were their own spectrum of humanity. We had the quiet ones, who just called in and got their authorization numbers and that was all I ever heard from them. We had the lonely ones, those who spent WAY too much time in those trucks and were in desperate need of another human to talk to for as long as they could keep me on the phone. Then there were the ones that were genuinely kind and friendly, but didn't overstep any boundaries of appropriate conversation.

Then there were the select few who seriously creeped all of us customer service girls out. There was one who always made sure he got one specific girl on the phone every time he called. Her name was Anne. I was on a training call for one of these incidents, so I was able to hear everything this guy said--though he couldn't hear me. This was a good thing, since I was seriously freaking out. This guy had figured out the general location of the main office where we worked, and kept inviting Anne out for dinner. He said: "I'm going to be in your area this week, do you like The Olive Garden? You should meet me there..." This was not his first attempt to get Anne to meet up with him, and this call was the last straw for her. She was terrified, but didn't know what to do. Finally our supervisor, who knew about the situation, saw what was going on and took the phone from her. He spoke: "This is Kyle, can I help you?" And the guy hung up. After that, Kyle convinced Anne to go to the person who took care of such situations, as as far as I know, she took care of it from there.

I had a guy who decided that he needed to creep me out too, for a while. Since we always answered with our name: "TCH, this is Candice, how can I help you?" This guy said: "Candice, what I nice name. You know there's a song with your name in it." The first time he said this, I just said something neutral but friendly, like: "Oh really? That's interesting." And then turned the conversation back to the customer service call. But the more he called in, the more he would bring up this song, he even called once just to play that song for me over the phone. I didn't recognize it, but then he came back on the phone and said: "Yeah, I'll just put that song on in my truck and play it over and over again and think about you."

This was the final straw for me. I reported him to the appropriate people and apparently he was a multiple offender, so apparently he got fired. I didn't even feel bad about it.

Anyway, this has gone off on a bit of a tangent. The point here is, I can't help but be completely distrustful of those 18-wheeled trucks. Maybe that makes me a jerk, but I'm pretty sure I'm not the only person who's a jerk about this. Those things are scary! The end.

I'm Looking Over a Three-Leafed Clover That I Overlooked Be-Three...

If you aren't familiar with Bugs Bunny, you won't get the title of this post. For that I'm very sorry. Very, very sorry.

Well, I had my first test of the semester today. Woo Hoo! Fun stuff. I'm pretty sure I didn't bomb it, so that's good. We'll just have to see what comes of it, right?

Can I just tell you all about the strange day I had driving to class the other day? No? Well, buckle in and listen up anyway.

I dropped AJ off at a neighbor's house--where she plays with her friend until my sister gets home from school and takes her to my mom's house. As I drove away, I saw that my van was low on gas, so I figured I could just swing by my favorite gas station and make my way to the freeway from there. I got to the gas station--oh no. Wait. No I didn't, because THE GAS STATION WASN'T THERE ANYMORE!!! It had been leveled to the ground, pumps and all. It looks like they're going to be building a bigger and better gas station and convenience store, but that didn't exactly help me out at that moment, did it? I was annoyed, but figured: "Eh, I've got enough gas to get there, I'll just get some gas on my way home." And I headed for the nearest on-ramp to the freeway.

Oh WAIT!!! No I didn't! Instead, I came up behind a nice, long line of cars that were being told to "go slow" by a man in a day-glow orange vest and a hard hat. Oh yes. UDOT has struck again! They had lined my favorite on-ramp with orange cones and redirected every car that came in that direction to Kingdom Come and beyond. I didn't know what the hell was going on, so I decided to take an alternate route. This alternate route--thanks to the construction and all of the extra traffic that it created--took me a good fifteen extra minutes. By the time I finally got on the freeway, I felt a stab of rage at the mere sight of a construction cone. I am SO sick of looking at those things!

Do you want to know what Utah's state tree is? That's right, the traffic cone! Do you want to know what the state motto is? "Construction Ahead, Expect Delays." Screw you, UDOT!!! Can't you do that stuff at 10 PM when there's less people on the road? Ugh. Seriously.

Okay, rage subsiding...and....we're good.

**IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT:**

I need help from my fellow bloggers. I have to write a research paper for my online class (a whole other story of pain and irritation). It's about a cultural experience that I have personally experienced. I've decided to write about the culture of the blogosphere. I need 12 academic sources, and one of the sources that I've decided to use is first person interviews with bloggers! I need about ten to get a representative sample, but I'll gladly take more if you know anyone that can help me out.

Anyway, the interviews will pretty much just be conducted via e-mail, so you can do it on your own time. PLEASE let me know if you, your friends, and/or your friends' friends can help me out here! I would greatly appreciate it! They can e-mail me at thoughtsbycandice@gmail.com

Thank you in advance!

Okay, I'm done for now. Apparently my mind and body have decided that they are done for the night, so dagnabbit, I'm going to bed!

Aaaannnnd Here We Go Again...

So the school year is now well under way. CT is settled into his new class with his new teacher and enjoys it, so that's good. AJ starts preschool on Monday, and I'm still not sure how I feel about that. I mean, I know it will be a great experience for her, and she's going to be taught by a good friend of my mother's whom I've known for at least two-thirds of my life. She's amazing, and she already knows and loves AJ. However, being selfish, I'm going to miss my little girl for those few hours! She's my little friend, and my biggest fan (though I know I don't deserve it).

She's the one who dances to every little song that comes on, no matter where she is, and insists that I dance with her. She's the one who grabs me by the hand and leads me to her little tea parties that she's set up on the floor or on the stairs for us. She's the one who comes up to me with book after book, happy to read with me for as long as the books last. She's the one who will simply look me in the eyes and say: "Sing me a pretty song, Mommy." Sometimes she even pulls out my guitar and tells me to play and sing for her so she can dance and sing along. She's the one who can approach me when I'm in a bad mood and say: "Are you happy, Mommy?" Instantly, I'll start to calm down, because in her own innocent little way, she's reminded me that I should stop sweating the small things and find a way to be happy.

She's my girl, my sweet little friend, and she's just growing up SO FAST! I look at pictures of her from a year ago and I just can't handle how quickly the time is passing by!

Okay, I'm getting teary-eyed now. Time to change the subject...

I love my classes thus far. I'm taking Speech Anatomy, Language Science, and an online Intercultural Communication class. Fascinating stuff, but I'm WAAAYYY behind on the readings for these classes. I finally opened my anatomy book today, and the neuroanatomy chapter we're currently working on is...wait for it....106 PAGES LONG!!! ONE. FREAKING. CHAPTER. Ugh. Luckily we'll be working on it for two weeks, but it's still insane.

Oh, and random awesomeness of the day: I was driving to class, and as I was heading up one of the main streets on my way to campus, I happened to glance to my right. What I saw there gave me pause. I saw none other than Wonder Woman, standing on a street corner, talking on her cell phone and waiting for the light to change so she could cross the street.

This confused me a bit, but later on I was reminded of the fact that Comic Con is currently in our fair capitol city. I apparently caught the merest of glimpses at what was walking around Salt Lake today. Awesome.

Have a great weekend, Comic Con people! Hope you get all of the action figures, autographs, and geek-tastic moments you could possibly desire. Live long and prosper, May the Force Be With You, and Avengers Assemble!!!

Here's a Question for You...

Have you ever had one of those days where church is over, you get into your van to go home, turn on the ignition, pull the handle to release the parking brake, and said handle comes right off in your hand? 

Me too!!! 

I had to walk home with AJ and help Ty grab some tools so we could go back to the church to try and figure out what was going, release the brake and get the van home. He tried several different things, but in the end the approach that actually worked was taking a hammer to the parking brake pedal, banging on it until the thing popped up. Not exactly the most sophisticated method, but I call it a win.

Anyway...that was the really fun part of my day today. Now my biggest problem will be fighting against the deeply ingrained muscle memory that tells me to step down on that parking brake every time I turn off the van. At least until we can get the thing fixed. Ugh. Just add it to the list. Along with the door that I kicked a few weeks ago, ripping the screws right out of the wall and leaving gaping holes in the door frame...but that's another story...

I've been reading the "Divergent" series. It's pretty good, but I'm only halfway through the second book, with the third coming out in October (when I can't read it because I'll be in school, that one will have to wait until Christmas break). I've also been learning a new song on the guitar. It's an old Welsh tune, and it's very beautiful, but it's taking me some time to really get down the chord progression--it's a bit unusual. I've recently become more curious about Welsh culture and music since I found out that I my family has Welsh roots on my Dad's side. Interesting how learning more about where we come from can shape the way we view ourselves and shift our focus regarding the world around us. 

The chiddlers are doing well, but I think they're getting restless. They're more listless and definitely more irritable, so I think it's pretty safe to say they're ready for a change-up, so I'm really very glad that school will be starting up again soon. One week from tomorrow, to be precise. And then AJ starts preschool a week after that. That's going to be weird, but very, very good I think. Summer's nice, but I'm looking forward to getting into a new routine. 

Confession: I need to clean the house. The situation's getting scary. I've tried to keep up with the mess, but it's like fighting off a hurricane with a hand puppet. Oh well. Tomorrow is the day that I shall reclaim the house. I can at least clean the bathrooms, right? Maybe the kitchen? Wish me luck. Who knows what could be hiding under all these piles of clutter? I'll wear a hockey mask and wield a croquet mallet, just in case anything tries to attack me.

Alright, as you might have guessed, I really have nothing particularly profound, poignant, or powerful to say. (But you have to be impressed by my alliteration skills, right?) Therefore, I shall cease with this rambling and allow you to get back to your regularly scheduled programming. Or something like that...

The Epic Tale of a LOT of Sh** Hitting the Fan All at Once...

Alright. So you're all caught up on the happenings during our fabulous vacation. Now it is time for me to fill you in on what's happened since we came home...

About 4 days after we returned home, the laundry was done, the house was still pretty tidy, Ty was back at work, and things seemed to be settling down nicely. One morning, however, I noticed that our house was feeling rather warmer than usual. Once I noticed the warmness, I also noticed that the fan that blows air through all the vents hadn't stopped once since I'd woken up several hours earlier.

I put on some shoes and went out to the side of the house and was met with...silence. Oh yes. Every Utahn's Summertime nightmare: The Air Conditioner was dead.

All I could think was: "Really? The hottest day of the year, and our air conditioner totally craps out on us!"

I called Ty, told him what was going on, and tried just about everything either or both of us could think of to get the system to start up again. Nothing whatsoever was helping. Ty had to get off the phone and work, but promised he'd call back once he got in touch with a repair company.

About an hour later, Ty called back and said he'd made an appointment with a repair man for later that same afternoon. I called my mom and asked if the chiddlers and I could take refuge at her house until the system was fixed. She happily agreed, being the awesome person that she is, and we went and spent the rest of the day there in sweet, blessed, air-conditioned pleasantness.

Late that afternoon, I got the call that the repair guy was at our house. I rushed home, and the repair man fixed the problem. He was a really nice guy. He even did the cleaning that he normally charges $130 for, free of charge. The problem was fixed, and I figured we could just move on and that things would settle down again nicely.

BAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I'm hilarious, I know. Of course things are never THAT simple, are they?

Three days after the A/C was fixed, our dryer broke. Before we could even afford to get that fixed, the big light in our kitchen broke--the wiring, not the bulbs. Then our ceiling fan in the family room broke. AND THEN, Ty accidentally backed into a FedEx truck--putting a nice deep hole in the back of our van. Luckily, the FedEx truck was unharmed, no one was hurt, and the damage to our van was nothing that interferes with its overall functionality. (In other words, the gash stays.)

But wait! There's more!

While all of this stuff was still broken, either unable to be fixed, or--as in the case of our dryer--waiting on the appropriate parts to be ordered, the back window in Ty's car came off its track and now it won't stay up no matter what he does.

And at last, the real kicker: Just a few days after all this had already happened, Ty was down in the basement checking on something when he happened to look and see that THE WATER HEATER WAS LEAKING!!!! It's all rusted, in fact it's a freaking miracle that it hasn't failed completely and flooded our basement.

So, in order to contain the problem until we can replace the unit entirely, we decided to turn off the hot water in our house. We only turn it on when we want to shower or run the dishwasher. But as soon as we're done, we run down to the basement and turn off the hot water again.

Our house is currently in its 19th year since it was built, and everything in it (aside from a few appliances) is original to the house. Guess what usually happens right around 19 or 20 years of a house being built?

Everything falls apart. All. At. Once.

Nevertheless, Ty and I can't help but be completely terrified by the idea of EVER going on vacation again. Apparently our house resented being left behind for ten days and has been staging a very expensive protest.

Sigh...all I can say is: Thank goodness my mom only lives half a mile away and is willing to let us use her dryer, and hopefully we can get this whole mess resolved before school starts up again next month.

But just in case, everyone cross your fingers, toes, and eyes. Then pray to whatever deity you pray to that we'll get a nice LONG break from The Great House Revolt of the 21st Century.

Well, Here I Am...

Soooo...it's been a while. And a lot has happened, so brace yourselves. I'm about to open up a huge can of INFORMATION OVERLOAD all over you!

First: Our Family Vacation.

We went to San Diego. Oh yes we did. We drove all the way there. However, we're not insane, so we made sure we had hotel reservations in Las Vegas for the trip to California, and for the trip home. We stayed at the Excalibur, which was pretty nice. I've never actually stayed there before. 

On the first night we were there, we took the chiddlers to "The Tournament of Kings" for dinner and the show. It was a lot of fun, though we had a pretty lame crowd that night. I could tell all the performers were a bit disappointed by the general lack of enthusiasm. I mean, I did the best I could to be loud and raucous, but there's only so much that one little mom from Utah can do in a big crowd like that! Either way, it was still fun--especially for the chiddlers. AJ sat on my lap for the entire show and she was absolutely riveted!

We arrived in San Diego the next day, and stayed there for eight days altogether. While we were there, we proceeded to make an admirable attempt to kill ourselves as we used those days to go just about everywhere we could manage to go.

Our first big adventure was at Sea World. Oh yes. And it was awesome. The chiddlers really loved watching all the shows. The whales, sea lions and otters, and of course the dolphins. Not to mention the penguin exhibit. I even took CT on one of the roller coasters--Manta, I think it was called. 

The next day, we took ourselves off to the San Diego Safari Park and HOLY CRAP THAT PLACE IS HUGE!!! Even with signs, maps, and asking directions we still took a few wrong turns and ended up having to backtrack. However, we did manage to find the tram ride that took us to see all the highlights of the park. After that, we just walked to a few other choice spots and called it good. Heck, the longest amount of time we spent in one spot at that park was in the gift shop. That's what happens when you take two kids into a place like that and say: "Okay, you can each pick one thing." You can probably imagine how things unfolded after that.

Once we left the park, we went to Ty's favorite beach (he grew up in California). Once we'd walked the beach for a while, we drove around to find some fun shopping. We ended up in a wonderful place called Carlsbad. We had a late lunch, and then walked around to some of the shops there. I just fell in love with that place! The next time we're in the area, I'd very much like to visit Carlsbad again. 

The next day was Father's Day. We went with Ty's older brother and his family to see and tour some ships that were docked in San Diego. We saw the ship that was used in both "Pirates of the Caribbean" and "Master and Commander". We also toured an old Russian submarine, and an old merchant ship that I can't remember the name of. We went to lunch at a nearby restaurant, and then we had a sort of parting of the ways. The boys wanted to tour this enormous aircraft carrier, and the girls wanted to shop instead. So...we split up. The girls all went to this fun little shopping area, and I found myself a ring that I just fell in love with. It was my birthday gift from my parents. (They gave me some cash before we left town, so I could find something I wanted.) 

Monday was the Main Event. The Big One. The Grand PooBah Event of every child's lifetime. Disneyland! Oh yes indeed. We went in the afternoon, for various reasons. So when we got there, they were quite busy. Just as we walked in the gate, Ty pointed out that Ariel was just in front of us. 

Now, we had been promising our little 3 1/2 year old daughter for over a week that she would be able to see princesses when we went to Disneyland, and she was soooo excited. So naturally I took her over to where Ariel was meeting with kids and waited for the kid that was already talking to her to finish up. When they walked away, I sent AJ over, and prepared to do my motherly duty and take a picture of this first magical moment. 

As I watched my daughter interact with her first Disney princess, Ty walked past on his way to the stroller rental place and said to me in an undertone: "Candice, did you cut in line?" As he walked away, I turned to my right, and saw--to my horror--that I had indeed cut in front of a line of at least 15 families!!! Well, what could I do? AJ was already in prime picture-taking position. So I snapped a picture, ran up and grabbed my daughter and high-tailed it out of there! I didn't make any eye contact with the people I had cut in front of, because I was afraid they would burn me with their furious glares. 

The worst part of it was not only that I had made such a huge mistake right out of the gate, but that it happened while we were at the park with Ty and his brother, the masters of teasing and sarcastic comments. Trust me, I was catching jibes about that incident ALL DAY LONG!!! I will never live it down, you can bet on that! Someone would comment on how long the wait would be for a ride, and Ty's brother would say: "Yeah, but that's no big deal for Candice, is it?" Yeah, I know. I'm a winner.

Anyway...As the day wore on, I was not seeing any more princesses anywhere! We went on several rides, and they were fun, but I had promised my daughter princesses, and dang it I was going to deliver! Finally, I turned to Ty and said: "Hey, I'm going to take AJ to find some princesses. You guys go ahead and find a ride and I'll meet up with you later." Ty said: "Okay, but I think we got here too late." 

I couldn't deny this. We had completely missed seeing Tinkerbell (another thing AJ had been looking forward to), and Merida (AJ's favorite princess). But I couldn't rest until I'd made a real effort to keep my promise somehow! So off I went. I asked multiple employees, and all of them said: "Just head over to the Royal Hall, they'll be there until 7:00." Well, I had no idea where the Royal Hall was, and a quick look at the time on my cell phone told me it was already 6:40. I hauled some serious @$$ across the park--with my daughter in tow--to Fantasyland, and finally found the Royal Hall. I got in line and we waited. And waited. And waited. 

Finally, after about 40 minutes, we got our turn. Three princesses awaited AJ and to me it was well worth the wait. In the Royal Hall, the princesses are actually standing in their own little areas and take the children aside one at a time. They talk to them for a few minutes, and then take pictures and give lots of hugs and smiles. You don't feel so rushed as you do when you meet the characters out in the park. AJ could not have been happier. She got to see Cinderella, Ariel (not the same actress as we saw during the line-jumping incident, don't worry), and Aurora. Once we got those pictures and walked out of that building, I felt myself relax completely. I had kept my promise. 

We spent the rest of the night going on rides. Ty took AJ to see Fantasmic while the rest of us went on Splash Mountain. Then we all went to dinner at the Blue Bayou. The final event of the night was a lovely jaunt on the Indiana Jones ride. By that time, it was very nearly midnight and the kids (and adults) were ready to be done. It was a very long drive back to San Diego, but Ty got us there. The chiddlers were completely asleep--virtually unwake-able. We all crashed.

Every one of us slept in late the next morning. Luckily, we had already decided that this would be our "rest day". We all got up, got ready, and headed for the beach. A different beach from the one we'd already visited. But this time, we were ready to get in the water. It was a lot of fun for the chiddlers. CT got knocked over by a few huge waves, laughing the whole time. Of course, I was extremely nervous about it--being a ridiculous worry wart. But as I said, the kids had fun, and so did the parents. The water was cold, of course, but not unbearable. Then we walked along the boardwalk, people-watching and looking in the cheap little tourist shops. We walked past a hostel for "young adults" as it said on the sign, and I caught a whiff of what I can only describe as the most disgusting mixture of body odor, weed, and feet. It nearly knocked me over. But luckily I wasn't downwind for long. On our way back to the van, we stopped at a little ice cream shop, sat on the little brick wall outside, and enjoyed the ocean breeze. It was a nice, slow, relaxing day. I enjoyed it very much. We all needed it. 

Our final big activity in California was the next day--at the San Diego Zoo. We all got up, had some breakfast, and then headed out the door. Ty had the GPS on his phone going--just the map, not the vocal directions. It had worked just fine for him during the whole trip. But this time was destined to present some problems. While trying to find the correct direction to go at a fork in the road (separated by a little curbed island), Ty started heading the wrong direction, caught it at the last minute, and tried to correct the mistake. Unfortunately, he didn't quite make it. He rammed into the curb at a very high speed and popped the left front tire. He pulled up onto the island and got out to change the tire. While he was doing that, I took out my trusty internet phone  and found a tire place a mere five minutes away from where we were. We got there, and an hour later, were back on the road. 

The zoo was RIDICULOUSLY crowded!!! But we made our plan, and started off on our expedition. So. Much. Walking. This place was enormous!!! So many paths, twists, and turns. So many times we took a wrong turn and had to retrace our steps. Uphill, downhill, around and around. It was crazy! But it really was a fun day regardless. The kids had so much fun seeing all those animals. I was a particularly big fan of the giant pandas. So. Cute. I just wish I could have taken the baby panda home with me...but I foresaw a few problems there...

The next morning, we were back on the road. To Las Vegas. We stayed at the Excalibur again, had some dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe, went shopping at the M&M store (mainly for the kids) and the Coca-Cola store (for me). We made it back to the hotel, and we all crashed again. The next morning was actually my birthday, and we drove all the way back home. I wasn't upset though. We'd already celebrated our birthdays during our trip, and the greatest gift to me that night was the chance to sleep in my very own bed. 

I could not believe how much happier and more relaxed the chiddlers were once we were home again. Especially AJ. I mean, they had a lot of fun on the trip--but dang it, there really is no place like home. 

Anyway, here we are, almost a month later. Some crazy things have happened since our glorious return. However...this post has gone on long enough. So I'll spare you for now. Until next time then...

Thank Heaven for Bedtime...

Today was just one of those days where--to put it simply--I'm really glad it's over.

No, nothing particularly horrible happened. It was just the fact that my daughter picked today to be absolutely impossible! She did everything that I specifically asked her NOT to do, and when I tried to stop her, correct her behavior, or scold her--she just laughed, or smiled, or blatantly ignored me. You can imagine how I reacted to this.

I just kept getting more and more frustrated with every little act of defiance. And as I became more frustrated, she became more defiant. It was as though we were feeding off each other--back and forth, all day long--until I was about ready to scream with pure exasperation and--I--just---

GAAAAHHHH!!! HOW THE BLOODY HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO REASON WITH A THREE AND A HALF YEAR OLD GIRL?!?!?

All I do know is that I really have to try and focus on the fact that I love her to pieces. She's a wonderful little girl, but today will have to be wiped from the emotional memory banks. I REALLY need to calm down.

Since classes ended for the Summer, I feel as though I've been less and less patient with AJ, and I know that that is not fair to her at all. And really, the more I think about it, the more I know that most of my frustration is not her fault in the least. It's my own attitude that's been affecting my parenting skills, in turn affecting her behavior toward me. What a vicious cycle!

I really don't know what's wrong with me. I have always loved being a mom. Sure, I have the occasional setbacks and frustrations, but overall it's been wonderful for me. I adore my chiddlers, and I love spending time with them, caring for them, and just being there for them. So why is it that now that I'm staring down the barrel of 3 1/2 months with them, I'm suddenly turning in to the Wicked Witch? I always look forward to this nice, long break to be a full-time Mom, so why is it different this time around? I just can't figure it out. Any ideas? I'm all ears, people!

Ick. I'm making myself cringe with all this whining. Time to shut up and walk away. The End.

My Favorite Children's Author...

I love to read. I have loved to read since I COULD read.

No matter where I go, anywhere in the world, I will be taking my books with me. Don't you dare try and make me get rid of a single one of them. I will b%#ch slap you into next week.

I love so many books, for so very many reasons. However, the books that have stuck with me from childhood and are still some of my favorites were written by one Roald Dahl. I still remember reading "The BFG" as a child and laughing my head off every time the title character went off speaking in his own silly way. I remember reading about Willie Wonka's Chocolate Factory and wondering if--just maybe--I could someday find a golden ticket to take me inside of such an extraordinary place.

Every single one of Dahl's stories has an element of the twisted, even the macabre. "The BFG" is centered around bloodthirsty giants who snatch children and adults out of their beds at night and eat them like popcorn. "The Witches" focuses on wicked women whose entire purpose in life is destroy every child on the planet. "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" sees children half drowning in chocolate rivers, carried off by super-intelligent squirrels, turned into blueberries and then juiced, and shrunk to tiny sizes and then stretched out again. As odd as it may seem, this element of twistedness is one of the reasons I LOVE Dahl's stories. He trusted his young readers. He believed that children could handle these slightly disturbing story elements, and he was right. Not only could children "handle" such things, they wanted to be a part of the story.

They wanted to accidentally end up locked in a room with every single witch in the country.

They wanted to be snatched out of their window in the witching hour by a BFG.

They wanted to be there, because in every single Dahl children's book, the child is the hero. Always. In "James and the Giant Peach", the title character is a seven-year-old boy. During his incredible journey on a giant peach with a bunch of giant insects HE'S the one calling the shots. They all look to him as their leader, their captain. And he leads them all successfully through danger and difficulty to a new life filled with opportunity. In "Matilda" (probably my very favorite of Dahl's stories) the title character is a six-year-old girl with beyond-genius-level intelligence. Not only that, but she's clever enough and brave enough to find ways to punish the wicked adults in her life, outsmarting and outmaneuvering them all. Eventually it is this tiny girl who saves her beloved teacher, Miss Honey, from the evil clutches of the Trunchbull.

Do you see now why I love Dahl's work so much? These stories are fun. They are creative. With every book, a whole new world is created, and every one of those worlds has an element of magic and wonder, and yet it's just believable enough to--just maybe--be real. And in these magical worlds, ordinary children are led by extraordinary means to do incredible things.

Roald Dahl never underestimated children. He saw their abilities, their potential. I firmly believe that adults look at kids and overlook all of the things that they are truly capable of far too often. Dahl never did. He knew they could handle little kernels of the dark and twisted. He believed in magic, and helped them to believe in it too. He made kids the heroes and heroines of his books, because he believed in them. What a vote of confidence to give his young audience. That, I believe, is why his stories are so well loved by so many.

I, for one, fully intend to raise my kids with these stories. I want them to believe in themselves. I want them to believe in magic. I can think of no better way to encourage these beliefs than to make sure that they are familiar with the worlds created by Roald Dahl.

Crazy Hacking Cough, and a Pretty Rough Morning...

I've got a cough right now. It's driving me (and probably the rest of my family) completely bonkers. It's one of those that comes from somewhere around the sternum, and when you have a coughing attack, it racks your entire body and leaves you sore, dizzy, exhausted, and a bit nauseated with a pounding headache. And you're pretty much coughing on and off for weeks afterward. Ugh. I'm pretty sure I've already lost one lung, and I can only hope I'll be able to hold on to the other.

Anyway, enough about that. 

This morning, our daughter AJ woke up at around 1:30, went downstairs to look for us, and--seeing no one around--proceeded to curl up in my recliner chair and start crying her little heart out. When Ty and I ran down to see what was wrong with her, it was clear that she was utterly terrified. Her eyes were wide, the pupils hugely dilated--despite the fact that she'd been sitting in bright light. When I picked her up she buried her tear-streaked face into my shoulder and held onto me as tightly as possible, then looked up at her daddy for extra reassurances. We both comforted her as much as we could, then I took her back to her bed, wiping away her tears as I tucked her in. She reached up, and grabbed at my hands, holding them fast as she tried to stop crying and be brave. I stayed by her side until her breathing slowed, her body relaxed, and she finally fell back to sleep. 

As for me, I went back to bed, and after a ridiculous amount of coughing and tossing and turning...I got to sleep as well.

Then, at around 6 AM, in that strange place between waking and sleeping, I heard a vaguely familiar beeping sound. As I continued to wake up, I realized what it was I was listening to: Our security alarm had been tripped. I ran downstairs and cancelled the alarm--but too late. The signal had already gone through. 

Why did I just up and cancel the alarm with no further investigation? Because I knew exactly who'd tripped it. After punching in the code, and while waiting for the inevitable call from the security company, I ran out to the garage to retrieve my daughter. 

Oh yes. Apparently AJ had woken up, come downstairs to look for me, and then started worrying that I was out in the garage. I brought her back inside, and set her up on the couch with a blanket, watching Curious George on Netflix. Her big brother had woken up at the sound of the alarm going off, so he sat with her while I went back to bed for another hour before I had to get up to get CT to school. Sigh. 

Needless to say, poor AJ had a pretty rough night. Here's hoping tonight will be better for everyone. Before she went to sleep, I made sure she remembered that when she wakes up she should check in at Mom and Dad's bedroom before going downstairs. Hopefully, that will prevent any further occurrences. 

Either way, between coughing my effing guts out all day long for the past 2 days, and only getting a few hours of broken sleep last night, I feel pretty tired right now. Kind of zombie-ish, really. Yet, I felt the need to log on and write a rambling blog post. Oh yes. You didn't realize you'd be enjoying the pure craziness that is my writing while I'm really freaking exhausted, did you? Well, now you've seen it, and I only hope the internet will forgive me. 

Well...There it is...

Spring semester is over. I took my last final on Monday afternoon. As I drove home from campus, I was still mulling over my test, wondering what I got wrong, and hoping I interpreted the audiogram at the very end of the exam correctly. When I got to my mom's house to pick up my daughter, Mom wasn't home--she'd taken AJ with her to run some errands. I called her, told her she could drop AJ off at our house when she was done, and started putting my things away.

"It" still hadn't hit me yet.

AJ came home about 15 minutes later, ran through the front door and gave me a big hug, thrilled that I was home early. I picked her up, and kissed her sweet little face. I sat down with her, and looked over at the place where my backpack was sitting, realized that I didn't need it anymore and THEN "It" hit me. I'M FREE UNTIL AUGUST!!! No classes, no homework, no studying, nothing but enjoying the awesomeness of my chiddlers.

Oh, and reading. I plan to acquire a nice big stack of books and consume them one by one during any and all of my spare time over the summer. Any suggestions? (Note: I don't like horror/slasher stories. Seriously, they freak me out. I can't go there. Oh, and nothing sad or depressing. I can't handle that either. I get depressed for weeks. I'm still traumatized by the time I read "Jude the Obscure," and that was almost nine years ago. Yes, I realize that I get far too emotionally involved in the fictional world of books, and I'm okay with it. But I'm open to most other options.)

Anyway, this feeling of pure, unadulterated freedom gave me a high that was reminiscent of my high school years. All that was missing this time around was yearbook day. I was practically skipping for the rest of the day--I still get a bit giddy when I think about it.

Now I have to stare down the hideous, fully loaded barrel of my neglected house. Now that my mind is no longer occupied with (obsessing over) the reading and interpretation of audiograms, the anatomy of the ear, and finding formants on a spectrogram, I'm starting to really notice just how bad things are around here. The bathrooms need cleaning (Seriously, scientists could find all kinds of intelligent life in there). Dusting and vacuuming needs to be done (Don't breathe too deeply around here, you'll probably get asthma). I've washed laundry this week, but I haven't folded it yet (It never ends! There will ALWAYS be more dirty laundry!!! Make it stop!) Don't even get me started on the kitchen--(I'm pretty sure a family of trolls has moved into at least one of the cupboards. I can't get one of my saucepans without having to solve a riddle.)

Sigh...Does anyone have a house elf I can borrow? (If you don't get that reference, read Harry Potter immediately. Trust me, it will up your awesomeness by about 1000%. You're welcome.)

Now I will leave you with a picture of some applesauce cookies that I made. Yes, yes they are fabulous.

You should really wipe that drool off your chin. There you go.

A Bit of a Change-Up...

Hey, I know I spend a lot of time on this blog rambling about my day-to-day activities, thoughts, feelings, and whatnot. Tonight I've decided that I would like to simply share some random facts about myself that you may or may not already know.

--I have read "Jane Eyre" at least 8 times (probably more). It's my favorite book.
--I have an uncanny (to others, "annoying") ability to quote movie and book lines with great accuracy. And I ruthlessly jump in and correct other people when they try to say those quotes and get them wrong. It drives people (namely, my husband) crazy.
--I can hear a brand-new song that I have never heard before, and by the end of the song will be able to identify the artist (provided I've heard them previously).
--I make the best brownies in the world. Not kidding.
--I am the second of 6 kids. (4 girls, 2 boys)
--I can tell when I'm REALLY stressed out, because my body decides that I don't need a voice anymore--so I spend my stressed-out time whispering and squeaking my way through every conversation. (Like right now, during finals. I currently have no voice at all. Hence the rambling blog post, and the fact that I've had to text all of my conversations today. I can't SAY what I want to, so I have to write it all out.)
--I have never fainted before. I've come close a few times, but never completely lost consciousness. (Yet)
--I hate tomatoes. Just smelling them makes me sick to my stomach.
--I kill houseplants. Not intentionally, of course. I just can't seem to keep them alive for longer than a few weeks.
--I hate math. It is my mortal enemy, and shall always be.
--I haven't allowed my hair to grow past my shoulders since I was 12 years old. For some reason, I think I look really stupid with long hair.
--I never paint my fingernails, because I have rather stubby fingers and I think painting my nails enhances the stubbiness.
--I'm slightly OCD. Not about keeping things super-neat, although I do enjoy a clean space. No, I'm OCD about washing my hands every time I touch something that I perceive as being unclean in any way. My hands actually "feel dirty". I can't touch my face or food or anything until they are clean. You know, things like that. (Yes, there are others, but they'd make me sound even crazier than I am willing to admit to being, so I won't go there.)
--I LOVE watching stand-up comedy, but it has to be funny. There are a couple of stand-up comedians out there who are REALLY famous, but do nothing but cuss a lot and make horrifically dirty jokes. Don't get me wrong, some dirty jokes are funny, but some people just don't get where that line is between naughty but hilarious and downright tasteless and disgusting.
--I can't dance. Not because I don't have rhythm, but because my body just doesn't MOVE that way.

So, there you go. A few factoids to get y'all through the week. Or roll your eyes about. (The latter being more likely.)

Anyway...have a good one everybody!

Entering the Final Stretch...

Oh yes indeed. I am now exactly...-ish 5 class days and 3 exams away from finishing out Spring semester. Now if I could just keep it together for these few more weeks I can fully enjoy my Summer vacation. (Did I mention we're going to CALIFORNIA?!?!? No? Well we totally are; and after the LONGEST, coldest, nastiest winter I've seen since I was my son's age I'm ready to see some freaking palm trees!!!)

Updates: Ty got a promotion at work! He is now running the front end of his company's busiest store. Out of  the 16 people that interviewed for the position, he was the ONLY candidate the store director put on his list. (Normally, there's a sort of "Top 3" and the Corporate people make the final decision, but apparently this guy didn't want to take that chance. I don't blame him.) I'm so proud of Ty. He works really hard, and I know he'll be great in this newest stage of his career.

Next on the list: I'm pretty sure that I'm going to go completely insane before school is done with me. Not because of the classes. I'm enjoying those. Not because of the people in my classes or my professors. I like all of them, too. No, I'm going to go insane because for some freaking reason the classes that I have to take in this tiny, highly specialized program are scheduled by crazy, drunken, evil monkeys. Seriously. The two classes that I need to take this upcoming fall are scheduled thus: One is in the morning from 9-10:30, the other is in the afternoon from 3:30-5:00!!! WHY? How in the ever-loving hell does that make sense? You know I have to take them both this upcoming semester. Why can't they be scheduled one after the other on the same days? I'd take morning or afternoon. I'm not too picky. Figure. It. Out!!!

Honestly, since the scheduling sucks so very badly, I'm seriously considering kicking things up a notch so I can finish this undergrad program sooner. Because then I can get into grad school and get THAT done sooner. See where I'm going here? Even just adding one extra class per semester will knock a year off what I've been planning on. Maybe even a year and a half...if I'm lucky...

I love being in school, but I really want to step things up and get through this more quickly. One of my friends from class is graduating this semester and was just accepted to the grad school program. It's really sparked my own desire to get to that point and keep moving forward.

Next: My big sister just had a baby a few days ago! A girl. She's super cute. (Of course she is. She's related to me, right?)

Next Next: Aw crap. I just lost my train of thought...

Oh well. I guess I'll just end things here. But I'll leave y'all with a picture that Ty and I took during our trip to New York two years ago. (Seriously, I'm going back to that city someday.) You're welcome.

Perfect Strangers...

So today, on the train, I was just sitting in my seat listening to my headphones. As per usual. I normally just sit there enjoying my music and my thoughts. Today, a man got on the train, and sat in the seat right across from mine. I gave him that traditional "I'm not a threat" smile that we Americans seem to feel is necessary whenever we come face to face with a stranger. He grinned back at me and as he sat down, he asked me a question about my shirt.

It's green, with a shamrock and the word "Irish" printed across the front in large white letters. He said: "So, are you Irish?" (Oddly enough, this is not the first time that shirt has sparked that exact question) I took out one of my ear buds and said: "No, I got this shirt in New York when we were there for St. Patrick's Day a couple of years ago." He smiled, and his eyes lit up, "New York? I'm from New York. Upstate." He asked me a few questions, if I was familiar with the upstate area, that kind of thing. I said no, we'd only been in New York for a few days, and we'd spent our whole visit in the Manhattan area. He nodded, then went back to his book. I put my ear buds in and went back to looking out the window.

A few minutes later, my new friend seemed to finish what he was reading, closed his book and looked up at me again. He nodded at my backpack, "Are you a student?" I smiled, took out my ear buds again and said, "Yes, I am." He asked me about my major, and my interests. I asked him how long he'd been in Utah, if he liked it here, and he told me how he wanted to go back to school. He's into computers, and wants to learn more about them and how to counter the attempts of hackers and other security breaches.

There was no awkward small talk, just a nice conversation. He was like a favorite uncle, not a stranger. Very warm and sincere. (His name is William, in case you were wondering).

When we parted ways, William shook my hand and said: "Well it was nice to meet you, Candice. You're lovely. Best of luck to you." I wished the same to him, and that was it. I doubt I'll ever see him again.

Anyway, today's encounter has made me think about how such conversations are really becoming a thing of the past. (Interestingly enough, Ty and I were talking about this just the other night). Thanks to cell phones, tablets, and headphones of all shapes and sizes, we--the human race--have effectively cut ourselves off from the world around us.

It used to be the norm for people--when forced to sit next to each other on trains, buses, and airplanes--to start a conversation. Awkward and forced at first, but then as the minutes pass by they start talking about their home lives, family, friends, work, hobbies...knowing they'd probably never see each other again. Just wanting to connect with a fellow human being--however fleeting that connection might be.

Now, because of the internet and the many mobile devices that allow us to instantly "connect" with other people, we no longer feel the need or desire to make face-to-face contact with the people immediately available to us. We just ignore them, and they ignore us. It's kind of sad, really, how easily we've forgotten just how enjoyable it can be to sit and talk to a nice person--whether we know them well or not.

I for one, am very glad I chose to take out my ear buds long enough to enjoy a 10 minute conversation with William today. It really started my whole Wednesday off on the best possible foot.

Another Friday Night Post...

Geez! A lot of crazy stuff has been going on. I don't even remember most of the details, but I'll try to give the highlights...

First off, I got my first C+ on a test in...well...too long ago to remember exactly. It was the first exam in my Speech Science class. You can imagine my shock when I saw that big red "77/100" at the top of my test. Not to mention the pure, unadulterated devastation that followed as I saw all the stupid little mistakes I had made to lose me all those points. My grade in that class is still salvageable, but it's going to take a LOT of hard work--not to mention a nearly flawless record on all future homework assignments and tests. Ugh. 

Honestly, this class has kind of been a bit overwhelming for me. From the very first day, I would sit there in class, taking notes and listening to the professor and my mind would just be in a stupor. It was as though it was saying to me: "Yeah, you're on your own, Hon. I got nothin'." Ugh. 

BUT the good news here is that over the past couple of class periods, I have been experiencing little sparks of understanding--and I'm kind of feeling like I just might be starting to wrap my mind around some of this stuff. It kind of scares me a bit, really. With a LOT of extra studying and some real, concentrated concentration, I just might get through this class.

Next on the list of crazy stuff is the fact that Ty's work has been in a bit of upheaval over the past week or so. It's kind of complicated, but I'll try to sum it up as best I can.

Ty started work in one department of his store. He rose quickly to the level of manager. Then there was a company-wide restructuring of every store and Ty's job changed. He moved to a different department--at the same pay level and by his request. In the meantime, his old department has fallen apart and now the store director has all but whitewashed the management team and asked Ty to come back. So now he's moved, and while he's in management again and the pay is better, the hours are much longer and later and the job is very demanding. It will take some getting used to, but I have no doubt in my mind that he will easily rise to the occasion. He's that awesome.

Another crazy thing is that Ty and I are approaching our 12th wedding anniversary. Hard to believe it's been that long, but I guess calendars don't lie. Usually. Over a decade of marriage and he can still make me laugh better than anyone else in the world; make me feel utterly safe and whole just by enfolding me in his arms. My heart still leaps up into my throat whenever I hear his voice. Now, 12 years and two amazing chiddlers later, we still enjoy each others' company and keep learning from each other every day. Yep. It's been a good dozen years. I'm just amazed that he has found a way to tolerate my particularly potent brand of crazy for all this time.

Now...I seem to have run out of stuff to ramble about, so I'll leave things here. Have a great weekend! :)

Okay, Time to Rant...

**Begin Rant**

I have many pet peeves. One of which--I think most of you already know--is the blatant disrespect for the English language that has become so rampant in our day and age.

Seriously. It's downright shameful. I realize, of course, that I'm not an expert. However, I think I have enough experience and knowledge to allow me a few occasional rants when the need arises.

However, one sin that grates against my nerves, sets my teeth on edge, and makes me want to straight up B@#&H slap people is that no one seems to know the difference between the words: "further" and "farther". No one. It's as though they think the two words are interchangeable! It's not even that they think there's only one word--they USE both of them, they just don't seem to realize that THEY. ARE. DIFFERENT.

You will now sit still and take notes while I tell you why.

The word "farther" refers to PHYSICAL DISTANCE.

Example: "Wow. That house is much farther across that corn field than I was thinking it was."

Or even: "I think I need to move farther away from the city."

Are we clear now? Good. Moving on...

The word "further" refers to a measure of degree--such as how far along you are in a process, etc.

Example: "I think this relationship can go much further if we are honest with each other."

Or maybe: "My skills extend much further than the kitchen. I am also a great dancer."

Got it? Different words. NOT interchangeable.

I can't tell you the number of times when I've heard people--on television, in writing, and in person--who have--IN THE SAME BREATH--flip flopped back and forth between these two words. "Let's go further along this path before we take a rest, I noticed that we've walked a lot farther than we were expecting--but let's just go a bit further."

**(Eye twitching)** DIE!!! DIE IN A HOLE!!! **Deep Breath**

It's time to educate the world, because I'm tired of listening to crap like this. These people are only embarrassing themselves--and the human race.

So...spread the word, my friends. Let's save the world from itself, shall we? Thank you for your support. I know I can count on you.

**End Rant**

Hey, Look! A New Blog Post!...

I realized after posting my last that I forgot one very important label! I covered nerds, geeks, and dweebs, but I never once mentioned...DORKS.

In case you were wondering, a dork is a nerd, geek, or neek who has one very distinct personality trait: Pure, unadulterated social awkwardness. These people can barely function in a room with other humans. They just don't know how to handle themselves. They become so self-conscious, they just start talking. This is NOT a good idea, because they start really awkward, one-sided conversations that make everyone and anyone else around them even more uncomfortable than before. Things like:

"I'm just waiting here for my friend." **Long pause, no eye contact.**

"Her name is Sheila." **Another long pause. More careful avoidance of eye contact.**

"She's just gone to make a phone call." **Maybe a noncommittal nod, but still no verbal response and you are probably trying to turn and walk away at this point.

Then:  "I'm sure she'll be back soon. She's been gone for a while though. I wonder where she's gone?"

Everyone knows that there are only two possibilities here: 1) "Sheila" does not actually exist. The dork in this situation has made her up in order to NOT look like such a loser, standing all alone. 2) Sheila is real, but she has just used the dork for carpooling, and has no intention of coming back anytime soon. Not until she's completely sure she can't hitchhike to get home.

Hope that's cleared some things up. For the record, a lot of Crazy Cat Ladies started out as dorks.

OKAY, NEXT TOPIC:

So I think I'm officially a goob. Guess what I'm doing in my spare time (and some of what should be my study time)?

Crocheting.

A.

Shawl.

I finished a cute little scarf a few weeks ago. I still have no idea what I'm going to do with it. It's not really practical for keeping warm in the winter. It's more of a "decorative scarf"--something you could wear in the Spring and Fall as an accessory. That...is really not my style. I barely wear any jewelry. I wear my wedding ring, and I have about 5 or 6 necklaces that I alternate wearing at various times and occasions. No decorative scarves. So if you know of anyone who wants a light-green, leafy-patterned scarf, just let me know.

The shawl I'm currently working on is a pattern I found a long time ago and always wanted to try. Now I finally have the yarn for it, so I dove in and it's about halfway done. I'll have to post pictures when I finish. It's going to be fabulous, just wait and see. You'll all be totally jealous and want one just like it.

Tomorrow is my first lab for my Audiology class. It's going to be in the morning, and as my classes usually go until 6 PM, I plan to skip classes tomorrow. There is no way I'm going to have a day where I leave the house before 9 AM and don't get home until 7 PM. It's crazy. But the lab should be cool, I get to play with an otoscope and a tympanometer! Rock on!

Okay, I'm getting really sleepy for some reason, and my writing skills are seriously impaired at the moment. I'll try to be more lucid during my next post. Or something like that...

Have a good week, everyone! :)

The Epiphany of the Century...

So I mentioned in my last post that I had discovered something pretty groundbreaking. It occurred to me mid-conversation with my friend, Leesh, a couple of months ago.

Have you ever REALLY considered the true implications behind the words "Nerd," "Geek," and "Dweeb"? Neither have I, until that fateful night. What follows is an account of what I discovered that night.

NERD: This is a word that used to carry a lot of negative connotations. These were the "undesirables", those people who wore thick glasses and pocket protectors. The kids who wore their pants with suspenders "Urkel-style" (Am I dating myself too much with that reference?) HOWEVER, in later years, the word "Nerd" has come to take on a more positive meaning. Nerds are the really smart people. They're the ones who have invented all of the extraordinary technology that the human race has become utterly dependent on.

Less specifically, I choose to define today's "nerds" as people who are really smart, love learning, and work hard to achieve their goals--whatever they may be. They're the thinkers, the innovators. You know, the Steve Jobs' of the world.

Most of these people are very socially functional, and quite well-liked by their peers. They are highly independent, and self-sufficient.

GEEK: Although it is possible for a geek and a nerd to overlap in a single person, I am separating the terms here for purposes of clarity. The geek is a person who is HIGHLY knowledgeable and passionate about something very specific. They aren't always successful academically, but if you ask one of them about their particular area of interest, get ready for the lecture of your life! You can find out more than you ever needed (or wanted) to know.

These specific interests are what give geeks their more official titles. Take for example the "Star Trek Geek". This particular person could take you from the beginning to the end of the Star Trek franchise and tell you all about every captain of the Enterprise, which one is the best (in their opinion), the actors who portrayed every main and minor character, and give you a point-by-point breakdown of every episode including plot twists and all the subtle nuances of every scene. Oh, and they could probably tell you about all of this in fluent Klingon.

There are all sorts of geeks out there. "Star Wars" geeks, computer geeks, "Lord of the Rings" geeks, "Twilight" geeks, conspiracy theorist geeks, gun geeks, paintball geeks, comic book geeks. And many of these different groups can actually be subdivided into even more specific groups. Comic book geeks can break off into their own favorite characters/stories...you get what I'm saying here.

A majority of geeks are self-sufficient. These interests are purely "extra-curricular". A geek often has a good job and a healthy social life. This label does not have to be a negative one.

DWEEB: Now here is where we enter the negative connotations. A dweeb is someone who is obsessed with and very knowledgeable about...video games. Computer, X-Box, Online, Wii...You name it, they play it. All day every day. It's all they think about. It's all they do. Dweebs are the grown-@$$ adults who live in Mom's basement and their "jobs" consist of part-time work for minimum wage. They use what little money they get from that job to pay for more video games and video game accessories.

These people have no social life outside of the virtual world. They can't hold a face-to-face conversation. Heaven forbid they ever go on a date! Dweebs are freeloading, anti-social, under-achievers. It's sad, really, when someone falls into Dweebism. It's not an easy lifestyle to pull out of. Don't be a dweeb. It's not worth it.
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Now, it is possible for these three labels to intersect.

Neeks: People who are smart and high-achieving, and then go to Comic-Con on a regular basis.

Gweebs:  People who are obsessed with one specific thing, and one or two video games--they still live in Mom's basement, but hold down a decent job and have a social life. (My own brother, "Mac", falls into the category of a gweeb. He's a good kid, really, and he wants to move out of Mom's basement, but he's still in college and can't afford it. Oh, and he needs to go on a freaking date!)

HOWEVER, it is important to note that you CAN NOT intersect Nerds and Dweebs. To try and combine them could possibly tear a hole in the delicate fabrics of the Universe and end life as we know it. They must forever remain separate, for the safety of humanity!
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So, now that you know the truth about these particular terms, what say you? Have you ever come across one of these people? Perhaps one of the cross-breeds? A Neek? A Gweeb, perhaps?

Be on the lookout for these interesting people. They could end up inventing the flying car (nerds), starting up a "Star Trek University" (geeks), or rotting away in a basement playing video games (dweebs). And now that you more fully understand these labels, you can start to use them properly. Teach your friends and families. We could change the world!