Sunday, October 10, 2010

To Gini...From Reagan...

Dear Aunt Gini:

My mom told me that you sent some heated words her way in regards to the blogging, or lack thereof, she has done (...or not done)... over the last few months.

First, let me tell you that I am not my mother's keeper, therefore I should not be held responsible for her not feeling the need to update this blog with pictures of myself. Who wouldn't want to see how amazing I really am. Seriously. Who wouldn't?

Second, she probably keeps pulling the "I'm too busy to blog" card...and let me tell you...she isn't lying. She's so busy, she forgot to change my "non-clean and not just with urine" diaper last week-for a good couple of hours. That rash belongs in history books. And my mom should have been arrested for child-abuse. So the point here is: If she's too busy to change certain diapers---I would prefer that she not spend her time blogging in hopes that she remember some of us don't have the luxury of cleaning ourselves off after certain events.

Third, could you please tell me why she keeps referring to you as a pot...and why you keep calling the kettle black? It confuses me.

Lastly, I miss you too... and I'm sorry I wasn't as attentive to you last time you came to visit. I was too busy getting into anything and everything else. Enjoy my amazingness...and if you can come see it in person too :) I love you!


P.S.---I had a chat with her(my mom)...mentioned the rash incident...dropped "Child-Services" a couple of times in the conversation...and she was more than willing to comply with the blogging.

My mom calls this the contradiction picture...

I'm not sure if you're aware of this or not...but I'm kind of goth now.

If the clothes don't prove it-the face does.

Do you know how much fun it is playing in an empty file cabinet?

Did I do a good job faking it?

Do you think my parents will buck up and actually get me age -appropriate
toys or do you think Christmas this year is going to be tissue paper and empty boxes?
(I can only fake for so long).

Yeah---that's right---cross-dressing. At least it's not an empty file cabinet.

Okay-so I may have lied about the toy department. I got a balloon. Not even inflated though. They make me do all the work. I'm smiling here...but I'm really thinking "Throw me a freaking bone people...give me something I can enjoy...that's actually fun...and doesn't require me getting light-headed to enjoy."

Welcome to my Grandma Bean's house.
Now I know where my mom got all of her ideas for "Fun Times."

I think this one is pretty self-explanatory. Kidding... Amazing :)

Monday, February 22, 2010


This is the first "venting" blog I have ever done.
Why? Because I prefer to vent in person...for whatever reason, giving voice to my frustrations just seems to make them go away(so I will be reading this out loud as I type...killing two birds with one stone). However, in light of recent events...I want to be one of those people who makes their frustrations known to the world....and by world I mean the few people who actually read this...also facebook doesn't let you type more than a few sentences on your "status," so this was more default than anything else. (This also means that I will have posted three blogs in a years time...exceeding what I did last year--- so I should be good for the next ten months).
Ever since I moved to Utah, I noticed, probably within the first week, how crazy people here are, and by people, I mean women (minus the old school thinking men who still believe in submissive wives and the patriarchs of the family making the decisions and being the final word in all things....amish-thinking weirdos). My first Sunday out here was when I lived with my sister- and I attended her family ward. As I sat close to the back, I started people-watching...(with a little people-judging thrown in here and there)-- and was amazed, and not in a good way, at the "individuality" most of the women portrayed. I literally could have sworn that there existed identical twenty-uplets in that ward: same hair--- blonde, highlighted, either really long and parted with the "puff" at the back of the hair, or super short, with the layering "puff" at the back of the hair. Latest fashions represented only by name brand clothing. Most of the time the hooker-boot was worn (and I have nothing against's cold here, and I can get away with wearing long wool socks in winter...but I should probably let people know I moved here in June...). Their children--very similarly dressed--- little boys in sweater vests and dress shirts...looking more like target ad models than church going rascals....yes...I did say rascals. The little girls had their hair done perfectly, and their outfits put together perfectly... I don't know what most people are used to growing up, but I can say from memory and from pictures that my Sunday best was on Holiday weekends, visitor weekends, or family event weekends. All of the other times I sported the homely, messy, cant wait to get out of church and put pants on look. Sadly, I still carry the same look the majority of the time.
Then as I got invited into some of their homes- I realized those were all the same too. Exact same outer appearance, with the little lawn, inside: same carpet, paint, color scheme, decorations, couches, tables, pictures--- everything was the same. I feared for their children ever getting lost in the neighborhood---they couldn't really recognize the outside of the house, and then if they decided to walk in to see if it was their home- they still wouldn't know, it was all the same. Scary business.
All of that was a little overwhelming, and really sad to me, but things got incredibly more sad, as I talked to them and got to know them, and realized that the majority of them had the same problem: perfection.
I don't know why, I didn't know then, and I definitely dont know now, but the women here have this ridiculous need for perfection in everything they do. Perfect house (good luck there), perfect husband (does not exist), perfect children (if they were, they wouldn't be alive), perfect bodies (expounding on that later), perfect in their callings, in their mothering, in being the best wife, in their homemaking skills, and some feel the need to transfer that attitude to a job as well. I feel tired just typing about it (because I'm thinking about it...not because typing is a tiring activity). Couple this need for perfection, with the need to do it all, and you have your classic...for lack of better words, nut-job.
It's craziness.
(Please refer to the aforementioned "expounding"--- it's happening right now)
One of the biggest perfection problems I have noticed, especially recently, is people's need for the perfect body. I don't know if this is news to most people or not, and it may come be too much for some, so maybe you should sit down before you read this, "There is no such thing as a perfect body." Shocker right?! Honestly, I have met so many people since I've lived here, who have this unrealistic idea of achieving a perfect body, and it doesn't exist. In fact, find me someone who claims to have a perfect body, and I will show you a flaw. That's life. And it ruins lives when people think that such an achievement is possible. There is a fine line between people wanting a perfectly healthy body, and people wanting their healthy body to be perfect, and it's the latter who end up more stressed, more upset, more anxious, and more unhappy, because they are trying to achieve the impossible.
Here's why: you could always be skinnier, you could always be more tan, you could always have whiter or straighter teeth, you could always have better definition, a better hairstyle, a different face (thank you plastic surgery), bigger/smaller breasts, you can even have a sculpted hind-end, which I am saving my money for. Kidding :) (Andy's saving money for me). You could always be something better, but you will kill yourselves trying to get there. I know what it's like to have that mindset, momentarily. It's stressful, and ruthless, and completely consuming.
Don't get me wrong--- I love the idea of being healthy-- I want to be healthy for my family, kids, future grandkids- for my husband, but mostly for myself, because it feels good, and because I feel good. That doesn't mean I'm spending my days working myself out to death, or jumping on the scale and depressing myself over what weight I think I should be. I don't spend every meal calculating the calories I'm eating and worrying if I've exercised enough to be able to eat something I want, and I don't beat myself over the head for not having time to work out every now and again, because to me, that's crazy. Here's what I think--- I want to be healthy enough to be able to walk to Missouri if needed in the later days, but not large enough that I'm the first people want to kill on that trip because of the meals I could provide. Moderation.
I love freedom(that's why I decided to live here and not North Korea)--- knowing I can do whatever I want, whenever I want--is a very liberating feeling. I would lose that if I felt the need to be perfect all the time, and I think that's what happens here a lot. It's interesting... with the majority of people here being LDS, and one of our great understandings about this life being our agency, how is it that so many people hold themselves captive to their own standards?
Instead of perfection, I have a different "-tion" word I wish people would strive more for around here. Imitation. Kidding. Moderation. Why? Because perfection is unrealistic.
It. Is. Impossible.
If it were possible, the people who achieved it, would not be here. I redact, it is possible, but not in this lifetime (*disclaimer...that is not me telling anyone to off themselves so they can reach perfection). Moderation in all things. It's not a hard concept, it's a lot easier than the concept of perfection, and I promise it will make life so much happier.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

The House

I promised two people two different things, and in the genius that is my mind- I found a way to kill two birds with one Meagan--- here are the house pics (finally)--- and Carrie---here is another blog (finally...but in my defense on that one, I average about two posts per year, so consider yourself lucky that I've done two posts in two months).

First the downside----
Welcome to across our street. This is the only place in the entire neighborhood where it looks like a garbage dump...and I personally believe there is at least one dead body in there somewhere, which is why we a)avoid it, and b) keep our screen and front door locked.

Here is the front of the house--- complete with snow, a scarecrow, and the most ridiculous weeds I have ever encountered. After weeding three times throughout the summer, and using four bottles of weed killer, I have decided they literally are the spawns of satan and we're going to try and find some Holy Water to take care of them this summer. (If you know where we can find any feel free to let us know).

Next we have the spare room...or side room...maybe it's the sitting room. We call it the piano/bookcase/table that Reagan destroys room. The piano is something we acquired over the summer, and there is a story behind it, but we won't get into it here. All you need to know is there was a lot of cat and dog fecal matter....a grosso of an older lady...and sheep. NEVER AGAIN. But we like how the room turned out--- and actually the table isn't there anymore so we have a blank space, but we're looking for a little loveseat to put there. All in good time.

Then there is the computer room---and this is pretty much all it consists of. It's probably the most exciting place in the house--- I mean look at it--- it's a party zone.

The living room is where we do all of guessed :) Andy's favorite feature of the house currently resides here, and if you don't know what it is---then you don't really know him. I'll give you a hint---it keeps him in tune with his "passion" (aka...obsession). The rug (which you can barely see, ties in to our next pic--- which sucks a bit---but it was my first time--- and I have grand plans to improve!)
Enter sucky paintings- however they do add color to our house and it does tie in with our carpet, so David Bromstad from Color Splash would be happy.
Our bedroom is actually really fun---meaning the setup (get your minds out of the gutter). There are double doors that open up into it- we usually have the one bolted shut, but when Andy tries to be cavalier, and carries me into the bedroom, we have to open up both doors. Sad day. He doesn't do it that often because of the grunting that occurs as he is carrying me. I can only handle so many blows to the self-esteem :)

Here we have the spare/Reagan's bathroom. It is about the size of an airplane bathroom...the only difference is we provide an air freshner...someday they'll catch on.

Finally we have Ms. Reagan's room. Andy picked out the bed set for it about six months before she came-- and we played the cheap card at target and bought the wire basket holders- and so far it's worked out quite nicely. There again we could expound with a story, this time involving meat scissors and an almost cut off finger...but another time (thank you again to the Richins who helped us save $75 and a late night trip to the Instacare...this is why you need to move back).
And the best part of the whole house? (Minus the fun bedroom ;)


The End