Taste the Rainbow

A friend of mine invited me to try some of her rainbow Jello.  Since she gave me a piece the size of Alaska (which, by the way LUIS, is about half the size of the United States), I couldn't finish it all at her house.  So I took my piece home.  My friend was skeptical about me finishing it at home, so I thought I would offer her some proof.

Testing Testing 1 2 3

This is a bit long.  Just thought I'd throw that out there.

Applying for jobs...you gotta love it.  Most require a resume to be sent.  Some require cover letters or typing certificates.  A couple might ask for proof of graduation from High School or proof of birth ("Do you hear me talking?  Yes, that means I am living.")  Lately, I've even had to take tests to prove I'm not an idiot.  It is this last requirement that landed me in a room filled with folding tables, chairs, #2 pencils, and Scantron sheets. 

First of all, they made us wait outside the building while they prepared the room.  There I was, anxiously waiting in line like Black Friday, hoping to go in and score big.  Line placement is KEY, and since I wasn't in the front of the line, I was stuck with the worst seat in the room, sitting on the side of a folding table where the legs and crossbars made it absolutely impossible to tuck my body under the table.  That's got to be the most awkward position ever...especially when I wanted to be hunched over my test in concentration like all the other kids.  Of course, we were all strangers in the room, so we sat there in uncomfortable silence, staring at our Scantrons, wondering if there were really 100 questions on the test.  Finally, the hand struck 1:00 and our proctor promptly handed out the testing booklets. 

Like we were back in grade school, our proctor read us the directions informing us how to correctly fill in the bubbles.  I remember not needing this in elementary, and I'm pretty sure if anyone else in the room needed it, they would still be at home reciting the bunny loop poem while tying their shoes, wishing they had gone for Velcro instead.

An agonizing 10 minutes later, the test began.  Remember childhood tests?  You would be in your own world, minding your business until you heard the first FLIP.  Someone has turned the page.  Suddenly you're thinking, "Hey, what's going on?  Oh no!  They are already flipping.  I'm gonna be last."  FLIP, FLIP, FLIP.  "Oh no, there go some more!  Focus!!!"  Well, it is totally like that, except this time, I am the first page flipper.  Instantly, my mind begins the same game.  "Why is no one else flipping?  What are they doing?  What's taking so long?"   I flip back to investigate.

Question 1  What would you do if a child came in late?

a)  tie him to the tether ball pole before recess

b)  lock the door and cackle as he cries to be let in
c)  encourage him to come to school on time

d)  give him a swirlie in the toilet

(Well I'm pretty sure it's c.) 

Question 2  What is 15 + 0?

a) 15

b) 15

c) 15

d) all of the above

(I have a good feeling about this one.)

Question 3  Which word is cat?

a) cat

b) infinitesimal
c) hydrochloric acid

d) shemozzle

At this point, a girl gets up to ask the proctor for some clarification.  Puzzled, I move on.  Ten FLIPS later, I finish the test.  I check my work, trying to stall.  Unable to hold off any longer, I stand up.  Sceptical eyes drill into me.  I know what they're thinking... "What a show off!"  The proctor barely acknowledges me as I turn in my materials. 

I always thought it would feel great to be the first one done, but I kinda felt like a louse.

Luis has also been taking tests lately due to this being finals week.  You know how people do subconscious things while they test, like tap a pencil or drum their fingers?  Well, yesterday, during his exam, Luis was apparently shaking his legs bit while testing, much like a woman bouncing her foot when her legs are crossed - NOISELESS.  Unable to bear it any longer, a girl nearby summoned the proctor and began whispering and pointing.  Reluctantly, the proctor walked over to Luis and told him to stop shaking his legs because he was distracting other people.  Can you imagine?  I can't take it anymore!  His legs just keep bouncing!  Ah!  The movement!  The annoyance!  The funny part?  Luis remembers talking to this same girl a month ago about an exam and hearing her complain about not being able to concentrate because of a student "shaking his legs" during the test.  Hmm......

Weekend Game Night

Luis and I LOVE playing games.  And since it's free, it is a frequent date activity around our place.

Since we don't have many games for two, we usually end up playing STRATEGO, our favorite. 

Luis usually wins, darn it.

 Another fav is Qwirkle.  The name itself bespeaks greatness.

We received several bags of MaRsHmAlLoWs for our wedding, so our treat usually involves roasting s'mores over our stovetop.  This is a version we ESPECIALLY enjoy.  You should try it!

Life as a Hoarder

As I was watching the Nate Berkus show today, he featured a woman on his show who, according to Nate, had an out-of-control pantry.  As I watched, the dialogue in my head went along with the show a little like this...

Nate:  Let's welcome a woman who has a major problem.  She has a pantry that is literally out-of-control.
Me:  My pantry is not out-of-control - it's stocked.

Nate:  Let's look at her pantry.

(And then he revealed her pantry.)

Audience:  Gasp!

(The picture looked a little like this)

(Only, this is MY pantry.)

Nate:  Pantry woman, why do you have so much stuff?

Me:  She shops too much.
Pantry Woman:  I like to be prepared.

Me:  Oh.  Me too.  But, at least I know where everything is.

Pantry Woman:  But at least I know where everything is.

Me:  Um...

Then, Nate brought on a hoarding specialist.

Hoarding Specialist:  You have too much stuff when your family finds it a problem....

Me:  Luis doesn't mind our stuff.

Hoarding Specialist:  ...or if you find yourself buying more than one of an item to stock up...

Me:  I find good sales.

Hoarding Specialist:  ...or if you find yourself shoving contents onto a shelf to fit it all.

Me:  I have a very teeny pantry.

Hoarding Specialist:  That's called hoarding. 

Thinking about these qualifications and conducting a brief runthrough of the items currently in my home,

I came to one realization...

I guess I'm a hoarder. 

I guess it makes sense that anyone who has a collection of mini shampoos and soaps

really is a hoarder.

Oh well!

All About Ashley

Luis always enjoys reading my posts, but lately he has become worried.  One day, he asked me why I always make fun of myself yet paint him in perfection.  In my defense, I'm not trying to make fun of myself... I'm merely trying to 1) keep myself busy; and 2) find things to laugh about.  Can I help it that there happens to be a lot to laugh about these days?  Many of you have children that do silly things or events you attend to blog about.  I'm just trying to do the best with what I have.

To appease his worrisome heart, (and as a form of non-negotiable remediation) Luis asked me to blog about things I'm good at, which is not as fun.  Plus, when I started to catalog items for this post, I realized he would still be somewhat disapproving.  He would say that taking a picture of myself watching television or napping is still making fun of myself.  I also doubt he would appreciate me joking about how fast I can grow armpit hair.  His suggestion was to take a picture of the pizza sticks I make.  Boring!  After much deliberation and several drafts, I've come up with a list in which both he and I can find satisfaction.

Here goes...

Ever since I was little, I have loved curling my hair.  I would much rather curl my hair than blow it straight and have even curled hair for proms and weddings.

I remember years back being pretty awesome at the pogo stick, and if I had one now, I have a feeling I would still raise the roof.

I am a speedy crocheter and have a tradition of crocheting a blanket for every sibling when they leave the nest or produce offspring.  I have also crocheted dolls, animals, and bookmarks.  Once, I even crocheted a baby booty that fit my own foot (which I wear on occasion).

When I read, I can tune out EVERYTHING - much to my family's annoyance.  Often, when reading in the same room where conversations are flowing I'll catch an interesting bit or two and stop to ask "What?"

(They hate that...he he he)

When practiced, I can sing like a man and in high school I even tried out for a male solo once upon the conspiring of my friends.

Speaking of singing, I love to sing along to songs.  Unfotunately, I don't always know the words and will break into a chorus of "Na na na na" or try to mumble along.  This qwirk particularly bugs Megan (much to my delight).

I'm also really good at "sing-along" videos.

I can wash dishes lightning fast.  (Luis usually rewashes them when he thinks I'm not looking as I sometimes miss a spot or two.)

I can tell a story and brush my teeth at the same time.

Luis and I sometimes go down to swim laps in our pool, and as it turns out, I'm the faster swimmer!

I have distinguished and accomplished alphabatizing skills.

I am developing a truly Hispanic accent which my familiy erroneously mistakes for Russian.

I crack myself up.  Seriously, I am radiculously good company for myself.

I am deeply sorry if you now find yourself outrageously jealous of my talents and abilities.  Like I said, this was Luis' idea...not mine.  I'm sure if you practice very hard every day and put all your heart, mind, and effort into it, you can have a scant portion of the skills I possess.

GLOW

Last weekend, we heard about a GLOW festival down at Santa Monica Pier.  We didn't know much about it other than it featured a bunch of glowing artwork.  We decided to go since we rarely attend local events (a certain someone has to study a lot). 

Thankfully, Luis drove.  I have come to realize that driving on crowded city streets without knowing the area gives me a panic attack and completely stresses me out.  Anywho, the festival lasted from 7pm to 3am.  We got there early in the night, but as we walked around, we didn't see much.  However, since the rides on the pier were all lit up, we chose to ride the famous ferris wheel. 

We stood in line for 20 min, which was fine.  But, as we neared the front, we realized everyone else had little papers in their hands, commonly refered to as tickets.  "Oh, you have to buy the tickets before you ride?  Why didn't we think of that?"  Right then, a bored looking ferris wheel attendant began ushering us forward asking for our tickets.  Of course, you can imagine how proud we felt to announce before him and all the other ticket-holding patrons that we had not yet acquired our tickets.  Without a word, the attendant pointed to the EXIT sign with a "get outta here" sneer on his face like we were miserable scum.  Feeling quite sheepish, we stepped out of line and dejectedly shuffled to the ticket booth.  That too was tricky.  We ended up going in the out (much to the annoyed glares of those in line) before figuring out where to go.  In our defense, it was a bit confusing...it was like being in a Blockbuster, trying to weave around the candy displays to find the appropriate place to join the ranks.

Finally, after successfully purchasing our tickets, Luis boldly strode through the ferris wheel exit and flashed our tickets to the attendant.  Much to my surprise, the man ushered us right in.  Who knew Lu could be so audacious? 

By the way, of course we were delighted to find many of our favorite heroes in attendance, including Spiderman, Elmo, and Gumbo the Shrimp.

Blueberry Bags and Ice Machines

We have a full freezer.  Apartments freezers aren't very big anyways, and when you grow up in an LDS home, you can't really avoid stocking every available space with food.  This is why we have a full freezer.  It was so full in fact, that our bag of blueberries ended up sitting on top of our ice machine.  That wasn't a problem until...

Yep.  Now if you look a little closer,



...you will see that the bag appears to be stuck.  At first, I thought it was frozen.  I was wrong.  Somehow, the bag became intwined in the ice machine.  Fantastic.  I tried pulling it out, but thought I'd rather tell maintenance "some weirdo needs help getting a blueberry bag out of an ice machine" instead of "some weirdo needs help getting a blueberry bag out of a BROKEN ice machine."

So, I made the call.  First of all, I don't think he (Mr. Maintenance) understood what I was talking about.  He told me to turn off my freezer and then take the bag out.  (See, the word TAKE is a pure give-away...he has no idea what he's dealing with.)  The problem with that is that I don't know how to turn off my freezer (Mr. Maintenance also doesn't realize WHO he's dealing with).  I finally found some sort of dial and switched it to zero.  Two hours later...still freezing.  I called again.  This time, he asked which apartment I was in.  When I gave him our number, he immediately changed tactics and said he'd come up.  I'm guessing they have a bulletin board with my face tacked up, warning all maintenance workers to use caution when dealing with me. 

An hour or two later, not one but two workers stopped by to help resolve my issue.  You can imagine how idiotic I felt explaining my problem with a lame "I don't know how it happened" tacked to the end of my narrative.  Luckily, they simply removed the ice machine, pulled out the bag, and left with a reminder not to use the contaminated ice from the next few batches.  I made sure to gush over their expertise so they would remain just as friendly when my next fiasco arrives.

Moral of the story:  Take heed when stuffing your freezer.