The Prodigal Daughter's Sister

You may have seen a link to and/or read this post, titled 'The Prodigal Daughter', on Facebook recently. I was introduced to it earlier this week and haven't been able to forget it since. It is an open letter to all Mormons  requesting that they "let people be happy if they are happy".

Great. I couldn't agree more. No argument here.

My concern comes in when a request to avoid unfair judgment, in a not unusual twist of irony, seems to cast judgment on those are purportedly the perpetrators. I have a funny feeling that the negative talk she refers to was not meant negatively at all. I have a feeling that it was said/written out of love and concern and was internalized negatively, for whatever reason.

So in a completely unoriginal fashion, I will attempt to respond to her letter while hopefully maintaining an air of respect but polite disagreement.

Dear "Mormon",
(I add quotation marks not to offend, but simply to reiterate your own statements regarding being a prodigal daughter and living your version of Mormonism.)

First off, I don't believe that there are 'versions' of Mormonism. There is doctrine. There is a prophet and there is modern-day revelation. These things are truths. They are immutable and immovable.

There are, however, definitely different versions of Mormon (aka. Latter-day Saint). It has been said often that we are not part of a perfect church, because it is filled with imperfect people. "If you expect to find perfect people here, you will be disappointed. But if you seek the pure doctrine of Christ... then here you will find [it]." 

When I thought about writing this, my heart was hurting too. This post is about the things we say to fellow Mormons who we visibly observe and personally know are struggling and unhappy, even as they insist they aren't. I also come from a place of love and concern for the many I know who are living at your same level of Mormonism. And I also speak on behalf of a population of Mormons, whose love and concern may be misconstrued as negative and hurtful. They are also praying that you will eventually listen.

It is hard to love those who have a different perspective than your own. Especially when they disregard and disvalue something that you know to be of IMMENSE importance. (Immense not being even close to an adequate enough word here.) Your well-meaning friend's sadness and disappointment is the same sadness and disappointment I feel when I read about the choices you have made after experiencing what you have experienced and knowing what you know. Or at least what you have undoubtedly heard during your time in the temple.

And you're right, to a certain extent, it is none of our business. But to another extent, this person (who you openly claim as your friend) does have a right to her opinion. An opinion that she felt was too important to keep to herself. Because it affects someone she obviously cares for. Someone who she undoubtedly worries and prays for. Someone who loves you enough to tell you what she's feeling, even though she knew it might hurt you.

You don't have to answer to anyone. Well, except God of course. And I in no way wish to demean your ability to receive personal revelation. However, I have been to the temple and I know the sacred promise that is made regarding the holy garment. Not promise, covenant. It is one thing to break a promise that you made to your best friend when you were 12 to never-ever-ever take off your BFF bracelets. But it is another thing entirely to break a sacred covenant with God to never, NEVER stop wearing your garments. No one is asking you to divulge your very personal reasons for doing so. We also fear being misunderstood and judged. But we ask you to understand that we are trying to come to terms with a decision you have made that concerns us very deeply. I do not know you, nor have I ever met you, but I'm sure I feel the same heartbreak your friend feels. And I admire her courage in trying to express that to you. I know I'm not that brave.

It is never our intention to make anyone feel that they have fallen off the path or are out of the club. It is not 'us against them' or 'us against you'. But it is hard to turn a blind eye to something that you know will have eternal consequences in a person's life. One of my favorite quotes says, "Our culture has accepted two huge lies. The first is that if you disagree with someone's lifestyle, you must fear or hate them. The second is that to love someone means you agree with everything they believe or do. Both are nonsense. You don't have to compromise convictions to be compassionate." Is it not possible that what you perceive as offensive only seems that way because you have made it so? No one can cause you offense unless you let them. You decide how you internalize what they say and how it makes you feel. It may be hard, but it is so possible.

But here is the real meat of what I have to say: you have used the terms happiness and true happiness. You say that you can have both without dedication to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. And it might surprise you to hear that I agree with you. I believe that you, specifically you, can feel true happiness in your new clothes and your new boyfriend and your Starbucks coffee. And I hope you do. However, I know that it is a happiness that cannot last. And I'm not talking about just this life. You have said that Mormonism is very important to you, so I assume that you believe in a life after this. Will the happiness you feel now last for eternity?.. Will your clothes or your choice of drink matter then? I can tell you one thing with a surety, if your present relationship turns into a common-law marriage, that will most definitely end with death without the blessings of the temple sealing.

I am not here to determine your level of dedication to the gospel. And I am very truly sorry if people have said things to you that have hurt you deeply. But what is an appropriate time to voice our concern? This isn't a subject that we feel can wait or is better left unsaid. If it comes to a choice between never saying anything or possibly hurting your feelings, I will always choose the latter. Because testifying of truth is always the right thing to do. I'm sure you know that.

So here are some interesting questions: What if you/they are 'looking for more' in all the wrong places? Or better yet, don't know what you/they are looking for more? It is not our place to answer either of those questions for anyone. But it is our duty to assume that it might be a possibility and to try to relate and respond accordingly.

Seems these days that no one can step out their front door without feeling 'judged'. "You're judging me." "I feel judged that you assume that I'm judging you." "Now you're judging me for thinking that you judged me??!" And so on and so forth for ever and ever. Your 'confront' may be my 'approach'. Your 'gossip' may be my 'hopeful discussion'. Your 'offensive' may be my 'truthful'. Your 'judgment' may be my 'loving concern'. Take everything with a grain of salt and you will always be happier.

And now I am actually going to quote you "Mormon", "If someone you love is sincerely struggling, the successful way to help them is to let them know that you are there, that you will never judge them or think less of them for their decisions but rather love and listen. Tell them this and that you are not going anywhere. You will be better and they will feel loved." But I will also add my own addendum: And when the time is right and you feel inspired, testify to them of what you know to be true and of eternal importance, without saying "you are wrong" or "this is a mistake". It may be Mormon cliché, but it is entirely possible to love someone and not their choices. It is our job to tenderly share what we have learned and believe with everything we are, regardless of its reception. You are the master of your fate. You can decide if you want it to make you feel abandoned or loved.

I hope those around you never stop sharing what they hold to be true. And I hope you will always try to receive it with more understanding than offense. I don't view your path as a downgrade from mine. As I know you don't view mine as superior to your own. Finding Mormonism isn't the final level, exaltation and eternal happiness with God is.

Many people are hurting, it's true. But the source of their hurt is up for debate. Life is hard, and the only thing you really need is happiness. And true happiness may take many forms. But I feel so blessed to know that happiness, eternal happiness, comes through living a Christ-like life and living worthily of entering His holy house.

I am happy that you feel happy now. And I can accept that your definition of true happiness is different. But I refuse to give up hope that one day you, and everyone else for that matter, will come to find eternal happiness. And that is not found in karaoke and burgers.

Corinner-elly Creations

It's me again, Corinner-elly.

You know, sometimes I feel bad for letting this blog die off, but then I have to remind myself that every person goes through phases in their life, whether they realize it or not. And just because my priorities and interests have changed doesn't mean that the ol' blog and I didn't have a good run together.

And it's not like it's really dead, right? I mean, here I am, still posting.

Hopefully its content has drifted away from my snarky & sarcastic teenage years to something with a bit more substance. Where I can memorialize thoughts and events in my life without forgetting to always find the humor. Because I think if I didn't laugh, I might cry. And I much prefer to laugh.

I'm sure you may have noticed that I recently began a small business via Etsy as a designer specializing in artistic services and graphic design. And based on responses (such as 'what's that Corinner-elly thing I keep seeing') received, I've come to determine that there is some confusion surrounding the matter.

But to begin, I need to go further back. Much further back. To a time when I wasn't Corinner-elly. I was just Rin. (Rinner. Rinnerroo. Rinnerroo-roo. Crin. Crinner. Corinner. Take your pick.)

I've always been proud of being talented. (Is that bad to say?..) Not in a 'I'm better than you' sort of way. Just in an 'everyone likes to be noticed' sort of way. And being able to do many things and do them well gave me the attention that every person seeks.

And so it was that one afternoon, I was home with my family and found myself bombarded with requests to help multiple people with multiple projects all within a manner of minutes. Teasingly, a family member (I can't for the life of me remember who?) burst into song "Corinner-elly, Corinner-elly. Night and day it's 'Corinner-elly'... She goes around in circles 'til she's very, very dizzy. Still they holler 'Keep a-busy Corinner-elly!'" (A variation of the Work Song from the Disney animated classic Cinderella.)

Thus, Corinner-elly came to be. (Funny I've never explained that before. Years down the road and many, MANY blog posts later.) I subsequently started a blog, because I love to write, and I loved the reaction it got. And presently carried the name over to my business: Corinner-elly Creations. I thought it only fitting, considering I am Corinner-elly (or at least, my talented side is), and I love to create!

A little over a year later, and I still can't believe how excited I am every time an order comes in! I have always known that I wanted to be home with my children, but I also knew that I wanted to have a means of bringing in additional income and keeping my creative mind busy. I dabbled with industries such as interior design and professional organizing, but they didn't seem to fit. And I certainly never loved my work.

Which is why it is so relieving to finally have found my professional calling. For those of you who are still scratching your heads as to what it is I actually DO, let me explain.

My shop (www.etsy.com/shop/Corinnerelly) is divided into various sections such as Announcement/Invitation, Artwork, Wall Art, Clipart, Stationery, etc. A large portion of my listings are announcements and invitations that can be customized to include a customer's desired information. They are given the opportunity to request unlimited edits until they are 100% happy with the finished product. I then send them the high-resolution JPEG file via an Etsy conversation where they may save it to their computer and print as many copies as they'd like from the print location of their choice.

However, a large majority of my orders come in the form of custom orders where a customer requests an entirely new design based off examples they send -OR- of my own creation from the direction they give. I have had orders come in from all over the world, sourced from an Etsy search or from my listings in Facebook groups.

I also feature some of my past artwork and will feature many future pieces (if my husband has his way) in the form of digital files that can be printed and displayed at the purchaser's discretion. In addition to printable wall art.

I also list the design elements I've created in the form of clipart PNG files that can be downloaded and used instantly. This comes in handy for other graphic designers as well as digital scrapbookers, etc.

Additionally, I offer my design services in the form of logo/wordmark and business card creation. Basically, if you need something designed, whether it be a paper good or digital file, I'm your girl.

You'll find that my shop is constantly evolving. I add listings and sections periodically as my portfolio grows. I am always up for a challenge and have confidence that I can create whatever it is that you are needing, in a timely manner with unlimited patience should my customer be undecided or especially detail oriented.

If you've found this post intriguing and would like to follow my business, please 'like' my Facebook page at www.facebook.com/CorinnerellyCreations. I so love sharing my talents with the world and find immense satisfaction in my work.

Even if I end up "[going] around in circles 'til [I'm] very, very dizzy. [Hope you'll] holler 'Keep a-busy Corinner-elly!'"

BEEP, BEEP. WAH, WAH.

Growing up, kids my age went through a variety of 'must-have' crazes. There was the year of the Skip-It, Pokemon trading cards, gel pens, pogs and trick yo-yos to name a few.

But perhaps the most memorable/favorite toy peer-pressured purchase of adolescence was my yellow kitty Giga Pet. After jealously watching my BFs with their adorable little pixelated monkeys and puppies, I couldn't wait to play mommy to my own little digital baby.

I'm sure I spent that entire first day with my eyes glued to the screen. Feeding her little fish heads, playing with the yarn ball, giving her medicine, putting her to sleep, etc., etc., etc. By that first night, I was convinced that I was the best virtual pet parent the world had ever seen.

Lovingly, I placed her on the shelf above my bed, already excited to get her out again in the morning and show her off to my friends. Smiling, I nestled in and started to drift when..

"BEEP."

My eyes popped open. "Huh, she must not be sleepy yet. Better check on her." Apparently kitty still wanted to play. "Go to sleep", I told her.

Convinced that was the end of that, I settled down again, ready for an un-interrupted 8-hours of dreamy bliss before school the next day.

"BEEP." I pretended it hadn't happened. You know, cry-it-out method. "BEEP. BEEP."

A hint of concern crept into the corner of my mind. Why was she still beeping at me?? Once again, I patiently activated her screen to find that she was dancing around a steaming Hershey kiss. So as any good parent would, I begrudgingly cleaned up her mess, determined that this HAD to be the end of it.

I once again laid back down, with the covers wrapped a little more tightly around my ears perhaps, and made it a full five minutes before.. "BEEEEEP."

Frantically, I sat-up. And did what any other loving mother would do: started bawling.

It didn't take long for my own mother to arrive on the scene (quite confusedly, I'm sure) and eventually deduce my hysterics stemmed from a new toy that 'WOULD NOT LEAVE ME ALONE AND WOULDN'T STOP BEEPING ALREADY!'

"For goodness sakes!" she responded, "Don't leave it by your bed at night then!"

"Oh.." I instantly calmed. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Fast-forward 15 years, and I'm a new mom to a brand-spanking-new little 7 lb. 15 oz. ball of adorableness. I had loved being pregnant, feeling all of her little kicks and wiggles and constantly carrying around my little best friend with me.

And my delivery had been wonderful, with the nurses insisting that I 'had to be at least a 1 or a 2 on a pain scale of 10' when I insisted that I was really a 0.

So there I sat in our little hospital room, once the visitors had subsided and the day had become night. I knew exactly what to do. I had been labeled the baby whisperer repeatedly over the preceding decade or so. I couldn't count the number of times I had played 'mom' to my 20+ nieces and nephews, and there wasn't a one of them that I couldn't calm to sleep within minutes.

I cradled my sweet baby (still so surreal to say), nursed her to sleep and lovingly placed her in her plastic, inclined nursery bassinet, already excited to get her out again in the morning and show her off to my friends. Smiling, I nestled in and started to drift when..

"WAH."

My eyes popped open. "Huh, she must not be sleepy yet. Better check on her." Apparently Tiny still wanted to play. "Go to sleep", I told her.

Convinced that was the end of that, I settled down again, ready for an un-interrupted 4-5 hours of dreamy bliss before she needed to eat again.

"WAH. WAH-WAH"

A hint of concern crept into the corner of my mind. Why was she still crying at me?? Once again, I patiently re-swaddled, bounced and carefully deposited her in her cradle, determined that this HAD to be the end of it. I didn't even make it back to my hospital bed before she once again protested. My mind immediately scanned for possible solutions.

The husband was presently snoring, wedged in his little chair pull-out bed, dead to the world. I could sense he would not be a viable option.

So as any good parent would, I swallowed my pride and called for help. Before giving birth, I had so naively assumed that I would keep her by my side at all times during our stay. It surprised me how quickly I was ready to send her off for a bunch of strangers to take care of in the nursery.

Two-days later, we are home. The endorphin high has worn off, leaving in its place exhaustion. Our little Tiny's nursery is no where near completion, and she's decided she hates sleeping alone in the pack-n-play in our room. Time loses all meaning as I groggily try to find a solution that will get her to sleep for, please-o-please, at least a few hours.

I eventually give in and put her in the bed between us. It only takes a few hours of this before I drive myself crazy with worry that one of us will smother her or that she will roll over and smother herself in our plush pillow top. I stumble around upstairs, trying to find the bouncy seat that I pray will be the solution to this problem and fall down the stairs in my stupor.

This has to be one of the 2nd or 3rd worst nights of my life.

By the time dawn is cresting over the mountains, the husband is awoken to our baby's pitiful cries and my own inconsolable sobs as I repeat, "I can't keep doing this! I'm going crazy!!"

And then, as if through time and space, I remembered.. this had happened to me once before. And I had received some very sage advice at the time, advice that I need to once again employ.

"For goodness sakes!" I could hear my mother saying, "Don't leave her by your bed at night then!"

"Oh.." I abashedly remembered. "Why didn't I think of that?"

And so it was that Tiny's nursery was completed in a whirlwind, and I learned the hard (very, very hard) honest truth about motherhood. Not only did she wake up every 3-4 hours, at best, it took at least an hour to keep her awake for a full feeding, change her, rock her and get her back to sleep (sometimes easier said than done) before it would all start again 1-2 hours later.

I had thought I knew everything about being a mother. I'm embarrassed to look back and remember it. In the past, I had felt jealously upon hearing of a new mother and her precious bundle, but my experience has wisened me.

Now when I hear of a new baby, I instantly pray for their mother. I have to bite my tongue at baby showers, debating between laying the whole horrible truth on them and letting them be innocently optimistic for a little while longer. And when I do share a few hard to swallow details, I remind them that I do so 'not to scare them.. to prepare them'.

And finish with the best news of all: in a few short- (hah!) hellishly long weeks, their baby will start to sleep through the night. Then they will see that first newborn smile, hear that first baby laugh, feel that first toddler hug and have the best (very, VERY best!) feeling in the whole entire world.

It's now been a little over a year, and I can hardly remember those tear-filled days and endless nights. They are but a post on my Timehop app and twinkle in my eye.

Now, every morning after a solid 12-hour nighttime slumber (woop!), I can't wait to burst in her room and scoop my not-so-Tiny-any-more up and thank God that I am so blessed to be her mom.

And someday, when she begs to have the latest digital pet (in HD, I'm sure), I'll knowingly smile and remember.

A Matter of Fact.

I've taken on a new title.
I've decided to become a 'self-proclaimed truth authority'.

What this means is that every time you or one of your friends or one of my relatives decides to 'Facebook spam' an image claiming some outrageous statement to be true, I feel morally obligated to debunk fact from fallacy. And then to make sure they are fully aware of their naivety. Out of love, mind you.

For instance, remember a few months back when a photo of 'pink slime' seemed to be circulating rather rapidly?..

 

The accompanying word blurb described how this 'pink slime' was mechanically separated chicken that is used in all processed chicken products. It went on to relate that "basically, the entire chicken is smashed and pressed through a sieve - bones, eyes, guts and all. [Then] it comes out looking like this."

But wait! There's more! Apparently "because it's crawling with bacteria, it will be washed with ammonia, soaking in it, actually. Then, because it tastes gross, it will be re-flavored artificially. Then, because it is weirdly pink, it will be dyed with artificial color."

Lastly, the author concludes in the most sarcastically ridiculous way possibly, "But, hey, at least it tastes good, right?"

Okay, first off, yes. Yes it does. It tastes amazingly delicious, in fact.

Second, let's take it easy with the commas and the 'thens' lady.
(I only assume it's a lady. Most likely because the Facebook friend who shared it was also a lady and also impossible to reason with.)

Next, let's just think about this for a second.. You really believe that your chicken nugget is the result of a whole chicken being smooshed through a strainer at some unnamed factory??

How about we check our facts before we start alarming the masses.

I, for one, find it a good rule of thumb to reference Snopes.com anytime I come across information that seems even the slightest bit fishy. Some will claim that the site isn't always correct, but I would much rather risk the unlikely instance of a few minor errors than to blindly believe anything that I read on the Internet.

And so, do you want to know the truth about 'pink slime'? It's exactly this: a process is used to mechanically separate small pieces of meat from bone that would otherwise be wasted. These edible meat tissue scraps are then processed and sanitized in order to keep them from growing harmful bacteria. So basically... 'pink slime' is food that isn't being wasted and is kept germ free so that it's safe for us to eat.

I KNOW! THE AUDACITY!! THE UNMITIGATED GALL!

I'm not saying that you should therefore love processed meat. And I'm not saying that in it's most common fried forms is the healthiest thing you can eat.

What I am saying is that you shouldn't always believe everything you read.

Another example that both amused and infuriated me at the same time was a link claiming that cut onions absorb bacteria, making them extremely effective in reducing illness. Just think, all these years I never knew that I could chop up a few onions and scatter them around the house if I wanted to avoid getting the flu! Wonders never cease!

And then as if that weren't enough, it went on to claim that "it is dangerous to cut an onion and try to use it to cook the next day [because] it becomes highly poisonous for even a single night and creates toxic bacteria which may cause adverse stomach infections because of excess bile secretions and even food poisoning."

Interesting... because I've cut and stored onions for quite sometime now, and I've never died a horrible, agonizing death from doing so.. Must have an iron stomach or something.

That, or I'M INVINCIBLE. Yep. Probably that.

And just in case you weren't convinced by that myriad of blatant lies, it ends by warning that "...dogs should never eat onions. Their stomachs cannot metabolize onions. Please pass this on to all you love and care about." If that's not a 'forward or you will die tomorrow' phrase, I don't know what is..

What's interesting is that the basis of these allegations are usually true. Onions can create adverse side affects when fed to canines. But then they throw in phrases like 'highly poisonous' and 'bones, guts and all' to scare the average reader into feeling so horrified and repulsed that they can't help but share it with their easily fooled friends.

Which explains nearly ALL of the incorrect truths I was taught growing up. Granted, my dad did like making up answers just for fun, but my mom is still convinced that aspartame and MSG are going to single-handedly destroy the world.

But perhaps my favorite example of Facebook foolishness is the image of someone (there have been several) holding a winning lottery ticket and claiming that they will give portions of it to a few lucky 'winners' that re-post/like the image.

Come on people.. Is gullible written on the ceiling?..

And then there are those rare but refreshing instances where I research a claim and find it to be true. Surprisingly enough, some of these posts (we're talking a VERY small percentage here) are actually fact-based. Take Capri Sun for example.

The post claimed that the fruit pouches grew mold and that several children confused the fermentation with what they believed to be 'worms'. And while that obviously isn't the case, it is possible for the drink to go bad.  Just like any other food. Especially if the pouch were to be punctured due to neglect by the owner.

And just like an expired block of cheese or a moldy loaf of bread, it is not typically medically dangerous to ingest. Disgusting, yes. Life-threatening, no.

So here's what I suggest:

Think twice before spreading the claim that an entire t-bone steak can be dissolved when submerged in Coke for a 24-hour period. If that were the case, your stomach and/or intestines wouldn't stand a chance.

And don’t annoy people by making them feel guilty about a leper in Botswana with no teeth who's been tied to a dead elephant for 27 years and whose only chance of living is the 5 cents per letter he'll receive if you re-post this image.

Now share this with everyone you know.
Otherwise you'll find all your socks missing tomorrow morning.

'Weather' You Like It or Not

As we get closer to (hopefully) buying a home, I can't help but think about the things I'll miss about our first little apartment. Such as its closeness to my work (we're talkin' literally three blocks here), its abundance of natural light, the walks the husband and I took around its city blocks admiring (and at times critiquing) the downtown architecture and the overall simplicity of our lives while living there. 

Granted, these things are far fewer in number than the things I won't miss about our first little apartment. Such as the swarms of boxelder bugs, the cramped closet space, the ghetto neighborhood, the smelly laundromat, the outdated fixtures, the drafty crevices, the ear-deafening heating/cooling system and the tiny dining area. The list could go on and on.

But probably at the top of list of things I will miss is this: the view from outside our bedroom window.

Minus the unfortunate wires that weave through its limbs, our massive walnut tree is a sight to behold. It sits in our neighbor's neglected backyard, home to a clowder (yes, clowder) of wild cats who have provided me with quiet entertainment a number of times now.

We chose an apartment on the top floor for several reasons: no noisy neighbors overhead, no 'Peeping Toms' at the blinds and mandatory stair-climbing exercise (truth be told, the husband's actually not much of a fan of that last one). But little did I know that I would end up loving the view the mostest.

Seeing it change from full bloom (for lack of a better term) in summer to naked in winter and now noticing little 'bean-sprouts' (as I referred to them yesterday much to the husband's amusement) starting to form is quite satisfying. Just like the walnuts it dropped last fall, free for the taking. (Or at least I would assume so... we may have innocently committed nut-theft.)

I can only hope that our future home will have such lush and beautiful vegetation. The 'house snobbery' the husband claims I possess has expanded to include mature trees as a requirement. And if one could be right outside my window, I wouldn't complain. Throw in a waterwheel in the summer, a wind chime in the fall and chirping frogs/crickets in the spring, and I'm sure I'd be one happy camper.

Which is why it always confuses me when people complain about the weather. Sure, it's unpredictable and sure winter seems long sometimes, but we live in Utah. Get used to it.

I, for one, love the seasons. Not only do they provide variety, they also seem to perfectly chart the passing of time. The husband and I agree that holidays wouldn't quite be the same without their accompanying weather. I mean, who doesn't love finding Easter eggs in the new green growth of spring, or baking in the hot sun at the swimming pool, or jumping in cool piles of crisp autumn leaves or waking up to fresh snowfall on Christmas morning?

Palm trees and a temperate climate year-round sounds pretty boring to me. After all, we wouldn't know the good without the bad, no? Or in other words, we wouldn't appreciate the warmth if we didn't know the cold.

And though I sometimes fall into grumbling upon having to scrape the snow off my windshield for the ump-teenth time or claiming that I have contracted heat stroke at the peak of summer's swelter, I really can't justify not loving Utah and it's weather.

Don't get me wrong, making small talk about weather is right up there with 'cruel and unusual punishment' in my book. Just know that I'm pretty dang pleased with my location in life. Regardless of the unexpected flurries and soggy-hair showers that seasons may bring.

Shopping Around

I am currently in the middle of a game against myself to see how long I can make it before going grocery shopping. We are down to a few tortillas, an onion and a quarter gallon of milk, so it's an exciting challenge.

I'm also very excited about one home in particular which we toured last week in Springville that has everything we're looking for! Don't know if you were aware, but we've been shopping the housing market for over a month now with no success. We've seen a few prospects, but they've all turned out to be big disappointments.

The husband is determined to find a fixer-upper for a steal and transform it with his handy-man skills. I, on the other hand, would prefer to find something with good 'bones' that needs only a little work here and there. So naturally, this equates to him thinking that I am house high-maintenance and won't be happy with anything less than the nicest/newest and me terrified at the prospects of living in a sh**-hole (pardon my French) for the months on end that it would require to flip the dang thing. Combine that with limited funds/time, and pretty sure you've got a recipe for disaster.

That's why I'm so happy about this recent find. It has all of our 'must haves' but still leaves room for improvement. Not to mention the large back yard. I can just see the husband's eyes light up every time he imagines a vizsla puppy frolicking around out there. Which is fine with me, so long as he also imagines a baby swing hanging from the willow tree...

Unfortunately, it's stuck in probate court for the time being (whatever that means), so we've been forced to wait even longer and get our hopes up even more. All I know is that when I see a kitchen with pantry space, my brain goes crazy thinking of all of the ways I can fill it up with bargains.

Pretty sure I could turn Extreme Couponing crazy before long. I've held back seeing as we've had limited storage space, but now that a change is on the horizon, I plan on building a veritable stockpile. So sign me up for the Sunday paper and give me all your inserts people, because I'm ready! WOOOO!

In other news, did you know that a lot of manufacturer's coupons are online now?.. I print them through Swagbucks via Coupons.com and not only save the offered value but also get ten swagbucks (equivalent to $.10) per redeemed coupon. It's a happy little bonus that definitely adds up.

And to you doubters out there who thought this 'Swagbucks' craze of mine would never last, I'm happy to relate that the husband and I have earned over $175 in the three months or so we've been logging on during our spare time. Not too shabby, my friends. Not too shabby.

So when you get a birthday card with a strange little ecard print out inside, just know that it is indeed for reals and was kindly funded by my hard-earned swagging effort. I share, because I care. :)

If you want to start earning free gift cards in your spare time as well, click HERE to sign up for your free Swagbucks account. There really isn't a catch!

And now please excuse me while I run home for a quick lunch break. It looks like an onion burrito and a glass of milk are on the menu.

Sizing Things Up.

I find it interesting that people can be so concerned with appearances. And I've recently realized, there are no exceptions. Whether you're fifteen or fifty, women (in particular) will take every chance they can get to criticize and analyze everything about themselves, especially how they look on the outside. Even going so far as to refuse to accept praise as truthful when it is freely given.

I know I'm occasionally guilty of the 'begging for compliments' syndrome, but what concerns and, quite frankly, confuses me, is how they can allow that insecurity to completely control their outlook on life. Like they'll never be happy until they're a size two and have skin that is smooth as a baby's bottom.

I'm not saying that I don't like to make a good first impression. Or that I don't know the value of a flattering angle or a few picture retakes.

What I AM saying is that intentionally untagging yourself from a Facebook photo or even requesting that it be removed entirely seems a bit ridiculous. And a bit sad, really.

Do you think that people don't know what you look like?.. Do you think that they don't almost instantaneously forget whatever it is you're obsessing over? I'll tell you what they won't forget: the petty side that comes across when you throw a tissy fit over something so minuscule. Deleting your connection to the image or even the image itself doesn't mean that it wasn't a picture of you.

And it certainly doesn't mean that you're not fine just the way you are.
Amazing, even.

No one is 100% photogenic. There are going to be a few less attractive shots of even the most universally accepted beauties. And the sooner we realize this, the easier it will be to stop judging so harshly and overreacting so much.

You are the only one who notices that blemish or wrinkle or pit taco or what-have-you. And guess what?.. When the rest of us see that picture, all we notice is how happy you look or how much we miss you or how important you are to us. And if you'd sit back a take a moment, you'd realize that most people could really care less about how much you weigh (I know.. gasp!).

And those few miserable people who do notice don't matter. Nine out of ten times, they won't even comment. And if they do, it's probably because they're stuck in the same self-loathing rut that you are. No one should feel that the only reason they can't accept themselves and how they look is because of unrealistic expectations and unwarranted judgements set on them by others.

I'm particularly worried about how this affects children. Our society's incessant desire to criticize ourselves and others is causing a chain of unacceptance that won't stop with us. I see my tween nieces and their obsession over appearances, and I worry that the damage has already been done.

But then I read THIS and THIS and start to regain a little bit of hope for humanity. Apparently, I'm not the only one who feels this way.

Maybe the problem isn't that we only hate our extra weight or thin hair or crooked teeth. Like if they were gone, our world would be perfect.

Maybe the problem is that we haven't learned to accept and appreciate ourselves the way those we love accept and appreciate us. Maybe we should try looking through their eyes for a change.

Be healthy. Be thin. Be pleasantly plump. Be whatever you want. But also be happy with who you are, not who others make you feel like you should become.

So the next time you consider disliking yourself for the fear of being disliked by others, remember that "...[you are] the only one who notices. The rest of us are too caught up in loving you."

Well Blended, a Perfect Mix.

Late Saturday night, the husband and I took a quick trip to Wal-Mart to stock our fruit and vegetable drawers. They were shockingly bare. I mean 'not even an old piece of garlic in the corner' empty. Either due to my compulsive desire to see how long I can go without taking a trip to the grocery store (it's kind of a inner-challenge thing) or my refusal to acknowledge that making dinner for the husband from a hot dog, tortilla, lone pickle and some mustard then calling it a 'grilled polish wrap' isn't a good idea.

Regardless, we found ourselves in the produce section. After stocking up on Cutie's, baby carrots and the likes (apparently our food is adorable?..), I sent the husband over to the banana display to pick the perfect bunch: more green than yellow, not too big, only a few to the cluster, you know.. the essentials.

But when I circled around to join up with him, something caught my eye. Namely, a little packet of delight I like to call 'banana smoothie mix'. Probably because that's what it is called, but regardless. I used to make them frequently in high school, but had somehow forgotten about their existence. Which was a real tragedy, because those things are delicious.

Fast forward an hour, and we're unloading plastic bags when it dawns on me: a banana smoothie would be the perfect midnight snack. Plus, the husband's never had one so everybody wins. All it takes is a banana, some milk, exactly eight ice cubes and one little packet of magic.

So I whip out my blender. And to pass the time, start up a little conversation:
Me: "You know, you married into an excellent blender. Heavy glass container, multiple speed setting, professional grade. Not to mention dishwasher safe. You should be proud."
Husband: "Don't I know it. Too bad it doesn't have a corner spout though. Those are the best."
Me: "Corner spout?.. I've never heard of such a thing."
Husband: "Yeah, they work a lot better than the side spout. Haven't you ever noticed that??"
Me: *embarrassed pause* "I guess so... I just never thought about pouring it from the corner. Now I'm thinking back to all of the times I've poured frozen drinks from this thing and shloshed it all over the place because the side spout's so dang crappy. It drives me bananas!" (pun intended)
Husband: "Well, why don't you try it?"

*commence making a perfect pour into each glass from the corner of the container, not spilling so much as a single drop*

Me: "CURSES!! How have I not thought of this before!??"
Husband: "I guess it all goes to show, you may marry into an amazing, top-of-the-line, grade A blender, but it takes a little love n' common sense to make it worth a dime."

Oh that boy.

He's the creme to my Oreo.
He's the fruit to my loop.
He's the epic to my fail.
He's tons of fun, and I'm no fun at all.

He... completes me.
Well, me and our blender.

Check Out My Swagger.

Let me begin by saying that no individual or company is paying me in any way, shape or form to say this. I am just so overly excited about it, I can't keep it to myself any longer!
 
Months back, I signed up to receive daily emails from Freebies2Deals so that I could stay up to date on free products being offered and awesome sales going on. I'm kind of a coupon freak, truth be told. I just love how it feels to get a good deal! 'Da twinneh' understands.
 
Anyways, the author/owner kept mentioning something called 'Swagbucks' and encouraging others to sign up, saying that she's earned countless gift cards for free. You read that right, FREE.

 

I was pretty skeptical at first, but it seemed pretty straightforward, and she'd never led me wrong before, so I decided to check it out. And that was the day that I became completely and utterly addicted.

Their main premise is that you can earn things called 'swagbucks' when you search online through their toolbar or search engine. Each buck is more or less equivalent to a penny, which doesn't seem like much but certainly adds up. Especially when you're rewarded 10-50 swagbucks per average search. And let's face it, you're going to be searching regularly, so why not be rewarded for it!?

There is no rhyme or reason as to when you win, but you'll certainly know it when you do. I'm not ashamed to say that I get a little thrill any time a picture like this appears at the top of my search results.

It is estimated that you can earn upwards of $100 per year, just by simply searching through Swagbucks. And if you are even more dedicated to building up your virtual dollar stockpile, you can earn above and beyond that! I've been using the site for a little over a month now and have already earned around $40 worth of gift cards.

And there's a wide variety of restaurants and businesses to choose from. You could be earning all year, redeem your bucks for Amazon gift cards and buy Christmas presents with no out-of-pocket! CAN YOU TELL I'M SLIGHTY OBSESSIVE ABOUT THIS?..

Dan and I log-in to their site whenever we have a slow moment at work to earn swagbucks through voting in the daily poll, clicking through the no obligation special offers and completing 10-15 minute surveys. We try to meet the daily goal (which changes daily and ranges anywhere from 50-150 SBs) so that we get the daily bonus and call it good.

You can also win free bucks by 'liking' SBCodez on Facebook. They notify you whenever there is a 'swagcode' available, which is basically just a word you enter on the homepage for free bucks.

There are so many different ways to earn, through couponing, special offers, watching videos, playing games, etc. And while it would be ridiculous to believe that you could earn any semblance of a living by joining, it is just as ridiculous not to be earning free stuff doing things that you do everyday anyways. Especially if you have free time to spare while working at an office job.

I guess what I'm saying is that there really is no reason why you shouldn't sign-up for Swagbucks. And when you do, you might as well be my referral. For every person you refer, Swagbucks awards you up to a thousand matching bucks for every search buck your referral earns.

Please click HERE if you are interested.
(And I'd be happy to answer any questions you may have if you're fuzzy on the details.)

So, in a way, it'd be like you're giving me a Christmas present.
Because really, this post is my gift to you.

Breaking Point at Breaking Dawn

I had an awesome weekend. It was full of sisters and sleepovers and silliness. And also alliteration, apparently.

 

'Da twinneh' and Gem slept over on Friday night. The husband was gone pheasant hunting, so we had the apartment all to ourselves. Which meant there was no need to hold back.

 

It's at times like these that our true colors really shine. Should you have the privilege of witnessing how we act when in only each other's company.

 

And somehow, I always end up at the brunt end of every joke. Like when we were all spooning on my bed, and I suggested that we reenact a particular scene from the movie Corinna, Corinna (skip to 8:50), and then they mock me relentlessly for how I roll over. Regardless of how much more efficient or practical it is.

 

I mean who likes having their pajamas all twisted up and strangling them in the middle of the night?? That's right. No one.

 

This sisterly reunion was all in anticipation of the new Twilight movie release. My oldest sister and her oldest daughter met up with us at my apartment the next afternoon to watch the first half of Breaking Dawn, then we had some dinner at Zupas before hitting up part II at the mall.

 

Just for the record, I don't consider myself a raving Twilight fan. True, I enjoyed the books and true, I've seen all of the movies. But that doesn't mean I stand behind the horribleness of films 1 & 2. The third was only marginally better, and I only started truly enjoying them on these last two.

 

That being said (and in an attempt to refrain from leaking any spoilers), there was a certain point during the climax where I seriously contemplated going home, burning the novels and never speaking of them again. It seemed as though the director had changed the storyline in such a way as to completely ruin the saga. The entire theater was in a state of shock, including 'da twinneh' who sat with her hands covering the horrified expression on her face.

 

I was beyond infuriated. I loved how Stephenie Meyer had finished the story. She hadn't felt the need to kill off any main characters, the conflict was resolved and it had a happy ending. Something you rarely find in literature.

 

But that was far from the direction the film was taking. Fortunately, we all breathed a sigh of relief when the twist was revealed, and the world was right again. The theater literally buzzed for the next two minutes as all of the women expressed their excited relief.

 

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that everything turned out alright. Sorry if that ruins the surprise for you, but I personally would rather have known from the get-go that it would all be okay. Would have saved me a lot of anxiety and loathing later on.

 

And of course, the 'Twi-hards' all clapped enthusiastically during the credits.

 

Which always makes me roll my eyes. I classify it right up there with cliche Relief Society pity chuckles and when people require you to prove you're not a robot when leaving a comment on their blog.

I hate to break it to you bloggers, but that deters me from saying anything 9 out of 10 times. If you're really so worried about someone posting inappropriate content, moderate your comments before they're visible.

But considering that the majority of you who still utilize this ridiculous feature have fewer than five followers, myself included, I think you're safe.

And so that is what I have to say on those subjects.
See it, stop it and remove it.

A Few of His Favorite Things

It was the husband's birthday Saturday, and I knew he was excited about having the whole day off, so I planned some surprise activities all involving his favorite places and people. He tried his hardest to get as many hints out of me as he could, but I was surprisingly successful at warding him off.

Granted, he did guess a few of the day's events, but he is just good like that. Even when I don't give him clues, he's still a master guesser.
It couldn't have been avoided.

I had planned on hiding a bunch of helium inflated balloons in my trunk and then sneaking out to retrieve them in the night, but then pictured releasing them over his sleeping head and him awaking to the sound of 26 balloons hitting the ceiling or their strings tickling his nose in the night and ruining my surprise. So that idea was kaput.

Plus, I forgot to get them after work and couldn't think of a valid excuse as to why to venture back out again when I got home. All minor details.

I had also planned on writing on all of his car windows with window markers like I did last year (as kind of a new tradition, ya know), but dang blast, it snowed. A lot. Therefore rendering that idea impossible..

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the universe was intent on ruining all of my birthday surprises. I had to settle on decorating the bathroom mirror with a dry-erase marker and calling it good.

Then I remembered the left-over punch-ball balloons I hadn't used when making our wedding reception lanterns. By this time, the husband was asleep, but I was still paranoid at the idea of him waking at the sound of balloons being inflated and therefore decided that putting two closed doors between us would relieve that worry.

Keep in mind that my surprise anxiety was starting to escalate by this point. And that is precisely why it took me approximately twenty minutes to, inch-by-inch, close the bedroom and office doors. And the universe didn't relent, because they both immediately became very squeaky, and I could have sworn his eyes were open for at least part of the time.

It was a pain-staking effort, I tell you, because I didn't dare move an inch without waking him. He has the unique ability to be dead to the world one minute and then jump up the next, alert and somewhat startled as to why he's suddenly standing.

I probably would have died right there if he had caught me in the act.

Needless to say, my nerves were fried by the time I hung the balloons over each doorway and crawled into bed. I was so hurried in my effort to be sneaky that I mistakenly hung three orange balloons right next to each other in the dark. That is a big no-no in the world of Corinner-Elly. I was mortified.

And then, wouldn't you know it, as I lay there listening to the husband's gentle snoring, I started to remember all of the other things I should have done before snuggling up. Thinking of his card and gifts resting neatly in my nightstand drawer, I painstakingly slid from the bed (smartly waiting until he restlessly rolled over, to best cover my movement) and took another twenty minutes trying to silently slide out the drawer, remove its contents and tip-toe around the bed to place them on his nightstand.

I immediately decided even careful movement in such a close proximity would be a problem and therefore dropped down on all fours and slowly crawled around the base of the bed. I'm sure from an outside perspective, it all would have looked rather ridiculous, but I was determined. I was like Pocahontas creeping through the woods, you couldn't hear a single movement..

That is until I hit every creaky floorboard in our entire apartment. I knew this was the end. He'd peek over the edge any minute now and see me crouched at the foot of the bed, a few presents in hand, card in mouth, looking back at him terrified and it'd all be over.

I waited for a few tense minutes until.. nothing happened. Realizing that I'd better just do it like a band-aid, quick and pain-less, I stretched out fantastically, plopped those bad-boys on his nightstand and raced back around to my side. He didn't even bat an eye.

And so I finally fell asleep, two hours later than I should have and with grand ideas still buzzing around in my head of all of the other things I still wanted to do but couldn't with no remaining courage left to venture out again.

I found out the next morning that the husband had awoken some time later and seen his birthday morning surprise awaiting him. But I guess, in way, my efforts were still a success. He was surprised, and I didn't die in the meantime. Which is always good.

He was gifted two DVDS (Megamind and Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, both of which he constantly quotes), a hilarious birthday card containing a voucher for a 1-hour deep tissue massage and a pack of cards, documenting 52 of the many reasons why I love him. (I take no credit, Pinterest is my guide.)

They included such things as 'because he dressed up like a Viking with me for Halloween, even though it was hot and itchy.' and 'because he eats whatever I put in front of him and isn't a picky eater.' (Apparently I spoke too soon on that one, seeing as he refused to eat 'brinner' the next Sunday at my parents. I was quite surprised.)

A few that I forgot to include but are worth mentioning are 'because he, unknowingly, squeezes my hand very tightly when we're driving. Like death grip tight.' and 'because it's impossible for him to focus/listen to what I'm saying and/or praying when the TV is on.'

And so we got up, went to Denny's to redeem his 'free Grand Slam birthday breakfast' and raced over to American Fork for his surprise appointment at Lehi's Ole Town Barber Shop (complete with haircut, massage and beard-trim with a straight razor). It was pretty spiffy. She even used heated shaving cream and vintage looking aftershave. He was a veritable Dapper Dan afterwards. Literally.

Then we picked up a gift from his parents' house and shopped for a bit. I'm ashamed to say that we bought more things for me than we did the birthday-boy, but I can't help it if he likes making me happy. ;) After all, this birthday was about all of his favorite things..

Which happens to include 'challenges' and 'wings', both of which are a part of the eating experience at Wingshak. So we ate a few tasty morsels for lunch, admired his picture on the 'wing challenge wall of fame' and once again headed north towards, debatably, his FAVORITEST PLACE EVER: Cabela's.

Where we purchased a 'manly' insulated lunch bag (he was ruthlessly teased previously by co-workers for taking mine) complete with two aluminum water bottles for a steal-of-a-deal. He was quite proud of my haggling skills. Hey, we can't help it if we found in the $16.99 bin when it should have been in the $36.99..
Deal with it, cashier lady.

It's his birthday presen to himself! He's so happy...

We sadly missed out on the daily fish-feeding, due to the only times scheduled being 12:00 and 6:00 PM, which make sense for the fish but lands right in the middle of meal time for us humans too. I mean, who schedules fish feedings then??! The mind boggles..

I shamefully neglected to take any pictures up until this point. And therefore, will let them tell the rest of the story. For the most part.

 See? He's happy..

 and also surprised!!

 Our next stop was Scheels, a place to which we'd never been but heard great things about.

Don't ask me why he's picking Thomas Jefferson's nose. It was his birthday and, well, I try not to ask. 

 The inside was pretty dang amazing. And huge! Complete with awesome fish tank display.

 Not to mention a giant Ferris wheel in the middle of the building. FANTASTICNESS.

 The husband was convinced that they saved money by cutting this prairie dog in half and using both ends in their display. We were tempted to prove that theory but didn't follow through.

Overall, Scheels was a win. It was definitely added to his list of favorite places by the end of our visit. I highly recommend checking it out. It has something for everyone and is very family friendly.

Our second to last scheduled event was dinner at the Red Iguana. We had tried it for the first time on our way back from the honeymoon after recommendations from family and Guy Fieri from Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives and fell in love with the deliciousness. So after a short drive around the state capital to kill time, we ended up making the two block trip to the Red Iguana 2 after finding the first to be closed due to lack of power and met up with his BFF/2nd favorite person, (I reserve the rights for 1st) cousin Eric.

Surprise!!! Okay.. he guessed it before hand, but I tried.

Sorry that I caught you with your mouth full husband. And on your birthday too..

He also guessed my final plans for the evening: a surprise showing of the new James Bond movie, Skyfall, at the Thanksgiving Point Megaplex (a film which he has been dying to see for months now), but we had some time to kill so Eric suggested a surprise outing to a nearby park to kill some time.

He had planned on taking the husband sledding in the freshly fallen snow, but in a surprise (theme of the day) and twisted turn of events, ended up hitting black ice on the freeway and slamming into the middle barrier. We were following immediately behind him and therefore witnessed the whole terrifying ordeal.

He hit hard enough that the airbags inflated and his truck was pretty mangled, so we pulled off and hurriedly jumped between the center barriers to wait for the police to arrive, but eventually decided to get off the freeway for safety's sake due to the buckets of snow that were now falling.

And so after a miraculously well-placed prayer, a lot of scared minutes, freezing temperatures, emergency bathroom trips to 7-Eleven and a tow truck later, we slowly puttered home along the unploughed belt route. It was very scary and we were very blessed. 

Needless to say, that was NOT a pleasant birthday surprise. Thankfully, Eric wasn't seriously injured, but we did end up missing the movie in the meantime.

And... I just realized that this post was quite the saga. It just goes to show how determined I was that the husband have the best birthday ever! Which, according to him, it was.

Well, minus that last bit and all.
But I guess you can't plan everything.