I did a Napoleon

I live in Idaho. Idaho is cool. The movie Napoleon Dynamite took place in
Idaho; so it's cool, right? (I'm a little ashamed to admit that I've watched that
movie more times than I can count.) Remember the part where Kip runs over
the tupperware when he is trying to sell it. I love it for some reason.

I dropped one of my rubbermaids last night while unloading my trunk and
couldn't find it. I figured I'd get it in the morning when I could see it.
I forgot. It didn't make it.
Although I'm impressed there isn't more damage from being run over.
I recommend the brand. Found at any local Wal-mart.
(They should pay me.)

I am probably the only one that thinks this is slightly humorous.

The man and I went out to my sister's place over the weekend. She is the
first of my siblings to return back to our roots. I think we are all slightly envious.
There are goats, chickens, a pony, a pit bull, and a
few cows all running around getting along quite well. I just took a few pictures
of my niece that is so stinkin' cute its ridiculous.

Indulge me please.



She's pretty much in love with him, too.
It honestly can't be helped.









She is kind of a little rascal. Extremely hard to take pictures of because
she moves around so much. Zip, zoom. I am loving my new lens though.
If you didn't know, my new toy is the Canon 24-105mm and there is love all
around with this baby. My mister says that all I said in New York was:
"My feet hurt."
and...
"I love this lens!"

Hey sis, I'll be getting you the pictures somehow. Soon.

Light Painting

{This is me and Mr. Friend in Mario Land.
I am sitting quite comfortably on a mushroom.
Mr. Friend is defeating the evil turtle shells.}

I loved this and I never knew how to do it before.
It is called light painting and you can do some crazy,
fun stuff. (Go google it and look at the images. It is fun!){Reminiscent of Star Wars}

We did this for FHE. It would be an awesome date.
I wish I'd had more time to play with it.
{I'm playing the drum quite poorly. Mr. Friend has the guitar
down pat.}

What you need:
SLR
Tripod
Glow Sticks and flashlights
Lots of crazy people
and a dark, dark room

Settings on your SLR camera:
ISO: 1600 or 3200
Needs to be on Bulb
Low Aperture between 16-22

Then the fun begins. Hold down the button while
people in front of the camera go crazy with glow sticks.
My camera counts the seconds. I usually tried to keep it around
15 seconds per shot. If you want to see the people's faces flash
them with a flashlight right before releasing the button.
We were laughing hard. Definitely good times.
Maybe next time, we can be a bit more creative.

What to do with Blogger's Block and Togas

I have a huge case of writer's block. I don't consider myself a

writer. Writer can be bloggers, but I think bloggers are different than

writers. Considering I don't really consider myself a blogger either
(blogger have interesting things to think and blog about and I have
writer's block for about two weeks now, so I guess I could say that I
have blogger's block) I don't really know what I am talking about.
Are you following me?

Anyways... about my blogger's block, I don't really
have much to say, which makes for a really boring blog right?

Sometimes I just really want
to send my students to the bathroom to pop their zits. They
have some really juicy ones. I love popping those kind.

Like I said, I have blogger's block.
I thought about blogging about my art, but I haven't done
any. I thought about teaching, but like I said the most interesting
aspect there is the plump zits. I thought about talking about men,
but I'm ALL BUT MIFFED about them. And then I thought about food.
Food is a safe subject to blog about. Everyone loves food and everyone
has experience with food. But sadly I am in a continuous cycle
of Ramen noodles and after the guilt sets in a nice salad.
Which got me thinking about my clothes. Well, more specifically
why my clothes aren't fitting. The tight, uncomfortable little buggers.
I hate jeans. They are too honest to me.
I don't like the stretchy ones, because lets be honest
I am complete woman here WITH curves and why do
I want some guy staring at my butt poured into skin tight, stretchy
jeans. Which got me thinking about togas because they
look so nice and breezy and loose. They would lie up a storm to you
about your weight and lie loosely over all the curves.
I would look hecka good in a toga. Those Romans were smart people.
Get a toga and you don't have anything to worry about when you eat.
Which means you COULD EAT.
Which means I could probably blog something clever about food,
including pictures to make you all jealous.

Yep, I have blogger's block.

{image via weheartit.com}

The COW Story (involving poop)

The sun was setting behind me. The colors blending in with the cloud

of dust from my tires as I speed along the dirt road. I stuck my hand out

of the window making an airplane and letting the wind blow it up and down.
It's harvest time!

All day long there is the sound of machines going in the fields. A fleet of trucks

run along the roads taking wheat, barley, and oats to their rightful places. The

sticky hotness and the itchy cloud of grain dust penetrate the air. It is

definitely miserable. But I love it. I didn't always.

Living on a farm sounds romantic and appeasing. Let me tell you it isn't.

When I was younger I hated the farm with a PASSION. I wanted to live

in a big city full of culture and art. I loved art. However, I was stuck in a town

where the nearest thing that could be called artistic was a cattle brand.

When I applied for college I was required to write an essay addressing

the question of why the college should choose me over other applicants.

I told them a story:

It was a stormy day. Actually, it had been raining for about three days.

Dad hauled my little brother and me out of the house to sort out

some cows that needed to go to auction.

We chased them down the alleyway into the sorting corral.

I grabbed the gate and was using it to push the cows in. All of a sudden I

was on my back as one of the mothering heifers kicked the gate right into my

forehead and sent me flying onto the ground. Let me remind you it

had been raining all week and so, yes, I was covered head (including hair) to

foot in slimy, oozy COW POOP!!!

{image via}

I just laid there stunned; cows running all around me

taking advantage of the open gate. I got slowly up. Waddled over to dad,

holding back my tears asked if I could please go home. "Nope," he said.

" We have to finish the job." So I stayed. Miserable to the bone. Hair

matted to my head with poop. Crusty. Stinky. Wet. And we finished the job.

I told those big college people that I would be that way the rest of my life.

I would stay until the job was done.

And so... in two days I move.

I move to a new town, a new job, and a new life.

I'm starting my student teaching. Starting the beginning of "being cultured."

And you know what I think I'm going to miss the most: home.

I'll be packing now.