Custom Search

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

A Halloween Reminder About Blogs

You might remember this little post I did on blog security.
Get comfy and let me tell ya a tale.

Once upon a time, there was a cavewoman who went to a party with her caveman and her little dinosaur.

At the party, there were common folks of various professions,
pop culture icons and political celebrities,
concepts, and even electrical components.

Everyone was having a delightful time until tragedy befell the group. A murder!
All were gathered 'round to solve the mystery. But first, they needed to gather clues.

So, they gambled for clues.

They BINGO-ed for clues.

They rock-scissors-paper'ed for clues.

They scavenged for clues.

Finally, they had enough clues to unlock the combination and solve the murder.

They all rejoiced and enjoyed a classic kitty litter cake and other delights.

The people dug in and exclaimed:

"It tastes JUST like cat poop."

They celebrated with a white elephant exchange gift. There were many gifts scattered about. Cher reached for a bag nestled in the pile of gifts, untied it and began pulling out the wadded up paper looking for the gift. A Sumo wrestler stepped in, reached for the bag, and said, "uh, that's the trash." There was much laughter.

Cher grabbed a "real" gift. She and Sonny enjoyed the gift the cavewoman brought.
The cavewoman stole a hearty gift from the scrubs.
There is no honor among thieves though, and the cavewoman lost her loot to another thief.

But there was an interesting turn near the end of the night.


Remember that everything you put on your blog is available to anyone and everyone, and you never know what will end up where.

At the end of the night, this gift was opened, much to the enjoyment of everyone and the surprise of the cavewoman...

Cavewoman did not plan this nor had anything to do with it, other than posting an old photo on her blog long ago.

Remember, everything you put out in the internet is available to anyone!


Monday, October 27, 2008

My First Vote

One year ago, I became a U.S. citizen. Today, I went down to the local poll for a chance to screw this country up.

Originally, I thought of romanticizing the event by voting on Election Day but realized that would mean waiting in long lines to get to the booth. That wasn't a very appealing idea considering the fickleness of my infant. I decided to vote early.

Throughout the campaigns, I listened open-mindedly to the arguments of the two major candidates. I didn't really know who I was going to vote for, but I was leaning towards McCain since I am not for "spreading the wealth."

Wealth is not like oxygen, where everyone is entitled to it just by virtue of being born. Wealth is more like a garden. Someone has to study the conditions, prepare a plan, put the work in, tend to it regularly, and defend it from the elements and pests before she is rewarded with a bumper crop. If the gardener wants to share the bounty with her neighbors, then she is free to do so from the place of generosity. She should not, however, be forced to give up half her crop to people who decided they didn't want to pick up a book on gardening because "I'm just not good at things like that." [/tangent]

I watched the vice-presidential debates and liked both candidates. I recognized Joe Biden's experience put him at a greater advantage than Sarah Palin, but overall, I found both of them to be well-qualified, so still, I was undecided.

I then watched the third and final presidential debate. At this debate, I paid most attention to how each candidate behaved when confronted by the opposition. Both candidates were obviously passionate about their stances, as they should be, however, the distinction between the candidates' "fighting styles" quickly became apparent to me. John McCain behaved quite childishly, nit-picked words, crudely twisted meanings, and kept bringing up issues that had been addressed already by the Democratic candidate. His tactics were transparent, scattered, and worn-out. I pictured McCain sitting down to discuss affairs with China, Iran, Venezuela, and Russia. There is no chance he would gain respect (much less, cooperation) from these countries using the tactics he was employing on this much smaller stage. On the other hand, even though apparently annoyed and confused by the Republican's persistence in matters already addressed, Barack Obama remained calm, addressed them again, and then laid out his own ideas in a clear and organized manner.

I began mulling things over. I can't vote for a man who can't keep himself civil under fire. After all, the President of the United States is constantly under pressure. I had to consider Obama. But how could I vote for him when I disagreed with his economics?

Does the President get to pass whatever law he wants?
Does the President fulfill all of his campaign promises?
May a President ignore the Constitution?

No, no, and no.

Thank goodness for our system of checks and balances! Considering that everything has to get through a Congress comprised of persons holding different ideologies and has to pass muster with a Supreme Court upholding the Constitution, I don't believe that some of Obama's plans will come to fruition (just as some of McCain's plans would not).

Based on this, I had to vote for the candidate with the higher character and who conducted himself best during this election season. (That's a challenge in its own for most of us.) But, first, I had to calm the crying baby in my left arm and move her so drool would not drizzle onto the voting screen. Then, I voted.

You may have your own system for selecting a candidate, and I encourage you to use it, even if it leads you to a different decision than mine. I just hope you will be grateful for your freedom to vote and respectfully use it.

And if you can, sneak a camera in and take a photo of your vote.


[Posted song: "America the Beautiful" by Ray Charles]

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Golden Chocolate

I don't really like chocolate. It's good, don't get me wrong, but I don't much crave it like I know some of you do out there. I've seen grown women shove little kids aside upon witnessing chocolates fall out of a piñata. I've seen women drag sleepy trick-or-treating toddlers through neighborhoods in a ravenous hunger for chocolate. These are the same women who chastise their kids for eating-too-many-candies-and-it's-late-so-go-to-bed-now, so they can sort through their kids' loot and "borrow" chocolate. ("It's not stealing," they tell themselves.) I've seen women buy bags of Halloween candy in September, and I've seen them rush to the store on October 30th to replace the mysteriously missing candy. I'm not one of those women.

My confectionery weakness is caramel.

Caramel [kar-uh-mel] is the golden lava that oozes out of the mountains of heaven. It's buttery chewiness both teases and indulges my tastebuds. I get to eat some now, and I get some later when I've been able to dislodge the bits that get stuck in my teeth. If it weren't for caramel, chocolate bars would be largely ignored. Rolos, Twix, Snickers. They attribute their success to caramel.

Jennica recently posted an ingenious caramel apple idea. Regular-sized caramel apples have one and only one downfall: too much apple. Once you eat the caramel armor, all you have left is a huge non-caramel orb. This recipe improves the caramel to fruit ratio, if anything, erring on the side of caramel.

I quickly employed this recipe idea. I melted the caramel cubes I managed to spare during the unwrapping stage, dipped my mini apples, and placed the treats on a wax paper sheet to set.

Either I used the wrong side of the wax paper, or I used the wrong side of the wax paper because after removing the apples, there were thick, voluptuous caramel footprints. I tried scraping the tan mounds off with a knife, but there were still copious amounts of chewy streaks being left behind. I grabbed the paper and dragged my teeth across the lavish remnants. Delicious soft stretches of caramel stuck to my chin. I'd get them later; at the moment, the big globs took priority.

The tooth shoveling method worked to an extent, but the caramel was firmly adhered to the paper, and the paper began to rip.

I don't usually eat paper.

I found that I'll make an exception for caramel.

Within seconds, bits of goo and paper were stuck to my nose, my hair, my hands. Feverishly, I bit and licked and searched for the best hold to each caramel mine. My kitchen windows fogged up. Had someone shown up at my door during this sugary make-out session, I would not have wiped my hands and face off before answering. No way would I have allowed precious golden caramel to be rinsed down the drain! Sure, my doorknob would have gotten sticky, but nothing a good licking couldn't fix. For caramel, I am not ashamed.

Now, excuse me, there's a keyboard that needs cleaning.

[Posted song: "Caramel" by Suzanne Vega]

Friday, October 17, 2008

To market, to market to buy a fat pig...

The other day I mentioned I had just received a long-anticipated and long-fought-for refund. What did I do with that money?

When I lost my first teeth in Venezuela, the Tooth Rat brought me 10 bolivares, which was like getting a $10 bill because I could buy at least 10 ice cream novelties from the ice cream cart down the street.

First "teeth"? Don't you mean "tooth"?

Apparently, I had a loose tooth that would not fall out as quickly as my parents thought it should, so they took me to the dentist who thought the tooth next to it should also come out. I had two needles inserted into my gums (go ahead and cry, I did) to numb me (eventually) and then had my teeth pulled out by force. I remember trying to be brave as tears ran down my cheeks and neck and I feebly smiled at my two bloody teeth. (I'm not British. My teeth really were bloody.)

So, anyway, the Tooth Rat must have had compassion on my ordeal because he brought me 10 bolivares.

Tooth Rat? It's the Tooth Fairy.

My goodness, the interruptions...

Well, in Venezuela, it's El Raton de los Dientes (The Rat of Teeth) that brings you the moolah in exchange for your dental cast-offs. I don't know why a rat and it seems I wasn't the least bit concerned about having a rat crawl under my pillow looking for teeth. All I know is he brought me a lot of money, and I knew it was he who brought it because the bill had little teeth marks on it from being carried in his mouth. Proof undisputable.

So, I had just come upon a small stash of cash and had figured I could buy 10 ice cream novelties. (My ice cream addiction started early.) Upon hearing about my new money and it's equivalence in ice cream, ALL of the kids in the neighborhood came to delight in my fortune. I distinctly remember sitting on the steps of the apartment building and being surrounded by a bunch of smiling and hopeful kids. And so, it came to be that my money was gone in an instant when I bought myself and 9 of my "friends" an ice cream treat.

So... who wants ice cream?

(Woah, that's freaky, an ice cream truck just entered the neighborhood. Cue Twilight Zone music. Uh, anyway...)

OK, I'll admit, I'm not quite as charitable as I used to be. Get your own dang ice cream. And besides, I already used the money. On Tuesday, I ordered myself a helping of stock market.

There's no punch line.

I realize you don't have a TV but you ARE aware the economy is shaky and the stock market is going crazy, right?

In 1999, when I lost almost everything I had, I read a book by financial consultant Suze Orman and learned about Roth IRAs for the first time. Since that moment, I've wanted my own Roth IRA. David did not understand this at first since he already had a retirement account. For me, a Roth IRA represented taking charge of my financial future and not allowing myself to be trapped because someone else held the wallet. I didn't know yet what I wanted inside that Roth, but I knew the answers would come in time.

A couple years after that, I decided that whenever I got that Roth, I would want my first one in a mutual fund following the S&P 500. A couple years after that, I decided that when I got a Roth IRA in a mutual fund following the S&P 500, I would want to purchase it through the company Vanguard, which kept popping up in different money articles with favorable reviews.

I saved money for years to get the $3,000 minimum required to open a Vanguard account, but something always came up with the family and I kept sacrificing my retirement account to the cause. In essence, I was buying everyone else ice cream and leaving myself with nothing for tomorrow.

(How creepy that the ice cream man would show up today. Anyway...)

When I got my refund from the car dealership, I had more than enough to finally purchase my Roth with Vanguard! HOORAY! I placed my order on Tuesday and my purchase went through on Wednesday. (In a few years, Warren Buffet will be calling me for ideas.)

I feel so blessed that I didn't receive the check three years ago when it "should" have been cut. At best, I would have put it in savings, but more likely, I would have purchased some thing with it. The victory of the refund is so much sweeter with a financial plan already in place.

Awww. What fun is that?! Where's the vacation? The new toy? A television for goodness sake!

We are on Baby Step 4 of Dave Ramsey's plan so it is the perfect personal timing for me to invest in my retirement, AND the stock market is having a sale! The combination of the two doesn't happen very often and I absolutely feel... well... blessed to be able to take advantage of such timing. Everyone else can go crazy selling their stocks because they've lost faith, or they can go crazy buying stocks with borrowed money, but I'll enter the market with money designated just for that purpose and enjoy the ride for the next few decades.

True, it's not the trip to Hawaii, the day at the spa, or the new wardrobe. I'm not anti- those things, but I am pretty much anti- having-to-worry-about-money-when-I'm-62. Time flies, right? Before I know it, I'm going to be putting in my teeth in the morning and putting in my papers to serve a couples LDS mission. I'd like to afford the nice set of teeth and be able to go on a mission without worrying about financial obligations (or cheap teeth).

I'm so excited to prepare my way for the future and to finally be proactive in the portfolio I always desired for myself! Well, and selfishly, I also can't wait to move on in the Money Makeover Baby Steps and pay off the house.

Home again, home again, jiggety-jig!

Thursday, October 16, 2008

The Fun of Refunds

In 2000, I bought my first car by myself. I had just gone through (to put it mildly) a crappy phase in my life and had suddenly lost most of my possessions, so I was living with my parents and dependent on them to drive me where I needed to be, mainly a job. I was tired of waiting out in the snow for my parents to pick me up from work whenever they got around to it. On the morning of my 25th birthday, I woke up and decided I was going to buy a car that day.

By the end of the day, I was the happy little owner of a maroon Nissan Sentra GXE. Nessie G served me well. I held 10 jobs that year (yes, 10) and she got me to all of them.

Nessie G has since been relegated as my husband's commuter car. She has been rear-ended more times than a... well, there isn't an appropriate metaphor here. But she's still around and I'm grateful for her.

Being younger and naiver in 2000, I had also purchased with that car, an extended warranty. (Never ever ever buy an extended warranty unless you get an extended warranty for that warranty.) (Translation: never.) I only purchased it because I was dying to get back home after a long day of car shopping and I was told that if I didn't use it within 5 years, I would be refunded all of my $1,295. I was cold, I was hungry, it was my birthday. I told the guy I'd buy it if he gave me $50 for dinner. He did, and I bit.

Five years later, my birthday again, I called the refund company and told them I was ready to get my money back. They said I needed to fill out a form and return it to them within 30 days of my birthday. They didn't send the form out until two weeks later, leaving me little time to get the photos and documentation I needed. Long story shorter, they rejected my refund. I was livid!

They sent me a rejection letter that made no sense. The names and dates mentioned in it didn't match my situation at all. I called the company and called and called and left voice mail after voice mail. None of my calls were returned. I was out my money.

Certainly, there was something that could be done about this injustice! I didn't know what though, and at the time of the rejection, three kids had move into our home and we had just been rear-ended (again), so my mind was occupied with more pressing matters.

That was 3 years ago, and I held onto the documents all that time. I couldn't force myself to throw away my copies of the papers involved in the case. Every few months, I'd clean out our file box and come across those papers. Fume, fume, fume.

Have you ever held onto something that made you feel angry? Every time you looked at it or held it, charged emotions returned to you as if you were reliving the moment you acquired the item?? Why do you hold on to that item? I held on because I was convinced one day I could put these papers to good use. Maybe I'd make a piñata.

Years passed. In August of this year, I came across the papers again and decided I shouldn't keep things that make me angry. So, I promised to "play" with the papers one more time and then throw them out the next time I cleaned out the file box. I went online to find the refund company's website. There, I found the email address for the president of the company. I couldn't believe it, right there in the open! At least, I could now have sweet sweet closure!

I wrote a short email telling him that I was sure his intentions were to run an efficient and ethical company but that no one had returned my calls to explain why my refund request had been denied. I hit "send" and thought no more of the matter.

A few days later, I got a phone call from the refund company. The president had passed on the message to the claims department. After a few phone tag conversations, I found out that the dates on my contract had been filled out incorrectly by the car dealership and my contract had actually expired 2 years earlier than the 5 years I had purchased. The dude who bought my dinner screwed up. I suddenly became re-energized. All those years, and I had a live case again! Long story shorter (again), after two months of phone calls, voice mails, and emails, the dealership offered to refund 1/2 of my money.

Now, for those who have known me the longest, you know that it is a mistake to stand between me and my money. An ex used to say about me, "she can pinch a penny until Lincoln squeals." While I am no longer quite so frugal, I still put up a fight for what belongs to me.

There I was being offered $647. This dealership either thought (1) I was still the naive girl who bought an extended warranty eight years prior or (2) that I would be happy to get any money back. They apparently didn't know who they were dealing with. (This is where my husband would smile in sympathy for whoever was patting me on the head while attempting to cross me.) True, I was tired of being given the runaround for two months (and ignored for three years), so I definitely understand why someone would accept half their money and let the rest go.

I gave the dealership my final offer in no uncertain terms, "I don't care who pays me, (name of dealership) or (name of refund company), but I am getting 100% of my money refunded to me. If I don't receive 100% of my money back within a week, I will send out a press release to the media and tell them that (name of dealership) has been selling warranties and refunds that aren't honored."

The refund check got rolling within the hour.

Saturday, I received my money! YIPPEEE! I asked David, "Can you believe I got my money back after all this time??"

He took a deep breath and said, "Yes because it's you. Yes, it's amazing, but I'm not surprised."

Mr. T says:

I pity the fool
who gets between Adhis and her money!

Tuesday, October 14, 2008


Tonight, at about 8:15pm, we got Booed! This means that someone anonymously left a plate of goodies on our doorstep along with a drawing of a ghost.

I love getting treats! For the treats, I am grateful. The only bad part about being Booed tonight was that the givers delivered the goodies and then proceeded to ring our doorbell wildly. The doorbell that's attached to our house. The house that has the nursery. The nursery with the baby. The baby who had finally fallen asleep. The same baby who did not sleep last night and caused my husband to leave for work 4 hours late today, so I could finally get some sleep this morning. That baby. That doorbell.

Boo, indeed.

Dear Treat Giver,
Thanks for the treats! I'll enjoy them after the baby falls back asleep.
With much love and sincerity,

Saturday, October 11, 2008

A Night Cap

Baby Dhis sleeps until 7am, but this morning, I heard her crying at 6am, which was odd. She quieted down, then I heard her again a few minutes later. I decided to just peek in on her. I groggily shuffled through the dark house to her room. She had quieted down by the time I got to her doorway, so I began quietly stepping into her room. I heard her suddenly turn towards me. I recognized the sound from daytime naps in which she had been facing the wall but then heard me coming into the room and turned quickly to see me through the slats of her crib. I froze in my tracks. I decided that since she was being quiet, and I had just heard her move, she was OK and I should just go back to my bedroom for the next half hour.

I stepped quietly out of her room and closed her door, half expecting to hear her scream when she saw me walk out. Nothing. (Phew.)

I heard her let out a cry a few more times. The cries were getting closer together in frequency, so I decided that 15 more minutes of interrupted sleep would do nothing for me; I went into her room to get her.

This is what I found in the dark.

I was about to reach down to "rescue" her when I decided to run into the office for the camera instead.

Daddy had left her cap on and sometime in the morning, she had flipped the brim down over her eyes. (In the above photo, she knows I'm in the room and is waiting for me to say or do something.)

She had been trying to remove the cap and only succeeded in frustrating herself.

She held no grudges toward her camera-clicking mom though; she cheered up as soon as she was able to see again.

I think we may have found her Halloween costume.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Apostles Blog T-shirt

Let the ward know
* how righteous you are *
(you were watching General Conference)

* how cool you are *
(you have a blog!)
by wearing this tee.

All will "ooh" and "ahh" as they behold the sweet and hip message
of Robert D. Hales.

Tees start at $15.25 based on t-shirt color and style.
Customize this design and put in on dozen different shirt styles
Make one for every day of the week!

And if you order in the next 15 minutes,
you will have placed your order before the sister who waits 16 minutes!

Baby Shirts and Onesies
"Leave a comment on my Mommy's blog"

Monday, October 6, 2008

Keep the Commandments.
Go Ahead. Keep 'Em.

Did you hear Robert D. Hales' talk on Sunday morning? He said you need to leave a comment on my blog. He did! He did! Straight up from one of the 12 apostles.

So, go ahead. Leave a comment. It can be about anything: how great I am, your favorite thing about Conference this weekend, a memory about me, the economy, how great I am. The possibilities are endless!

I just want to help you get to Heaven. Go ahead now, keep the commandments. Leave me a comment!

And remember, anytime you leave a comment on one of my blog posts, an angel gets its wings.

[Posted song: "Keep the Commandments" by Mighty Mahogany from The Singles Ward]

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Phantom Viewing

Phantom pain. That's the phenomenon where a person who has had a body part amputated, such as an arm, still feels sensation where the missing limb used to be.

You will recall that back in May, I amputated our 60" big screen television at a weak moment in my husband's electronic judgment. That was 6 months ago, and I'm still experiencing phantom pain. It turns out that I was the most attached to the TV after all.

The evidence:
Exhibit A
My friend Summer mentioned that she would be on a local television show showcasing her boutique business. I made a mental note to watch her. The night prior to the show airing, I remembered I have no television.
Exhibit B
Last Saturday was the LDS Women's Conference. My neighbor Tracie mentioned that this year it would be telecast and we could watch it at home. I decided to do that. Saturday afternoon, I realized we have no television.
Exhibit C
This weekend, I was looking forward to watching Conference, Saturday and Sunday. Then, I remembered, we have no television.
We don't have time for Exhibits D through Y.

You'd think I'd remember that we no longer have a 5-foot-wide black and silver monstrosity taking up half the main wall of the living room I walk into EVERY DAY. Nope.

You'd think the fact that I sit on a love seat that is where the TV used to be would be a reminder that we have no television. Double Nope.

You'd think that because, while I sit on the aforementioned love seat, I kick my feet up onto the coffee table the television used to sit on, I'd remember we have no television. Nope Nope Nope.

Everybody sing wit' me! There's my feet on the table that's in front of the loveseat that fits in the space where the television used to sit in the hole at the bottom of the sea! There's a hole, there's a hole. There's a hole in the bottom of the sea!

Back to Conference. (How easily you guys get distracted.)

I really wanted to watch Conference as a family instead of waiting for the talks to appear online or in the Ensign magazine.

Here was the problem:
Conference weekend + new baby + no TV=
pouty me

David is a man, so he likes to solve problems. And since he is David, he likes to solve them in some cool gadgety fashion. My Tech Hero Stud Guy brought home a projector from work and connected it to his laptop. See? ---->

He projected the live internet stream of Conference on the wall where the TV used to be. My OCD side was a little irritated that he didn't center the image between the two bookcases, but the wiser side of me said it was good to let things be. But the OCD side still had to blog about it.

Kinda cool, eh? I kept entertaining the idea throughout Conference that buying our own projector and attaching it to the ceiling might be a neat alternative for us. (Shhh... don't tell Dave.)

Even Indy the Dog was impressed. Here, he is intently listening to a talk. He seriously was just sitting there watching the speakers.

When I was trying to get a good photo of him doing that, he got really annoyed, turned his head toward me, and said, "Do you mind? I'm trying to listen to this." Then, he turned his attention back to the Conference.

(All dogs already go to Heaven; Indy is just trying to get to the upper tier of the Celestial Kingdom.)

Baby Dhis was sitting next to me on the couch where she watched Conference for a while. Partway through the morning session, she found the salt of the earth. (She did this for a long time. She kept doing it even while watching this video play back.)


Anyway, gotta go, I hear there's a great television movie airing tonight.

Oh. Right...

[Posted song: "The Church of Jesus Christ" by Magstatic from The Singles Ward]

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

High School

Flash back with me!

1. Did you date someone from your school? I dated while in school. I didn't want to be anyone's girlfriend, but I thought saying "no" would hurt their feelings. (This guy was the nicest guy ever! EVERYONE loved him. I thought he was "too nice." Funny, though, David has the same personality as this guy. I guess nice guys do get the girl. Well, a different nice guy. A different girl.)

2. What kind of car did you drive? I didn't drive in high school. I got my license when I was 20. But in high school I got to ride with friends in some pretty interesting rides, including a Ford Maverick spray-painted in camo, a beautiful restored 1950-something car (my car knowledge is mind-blowing, I know), and a hearse.

3. Did you pass your driver's license test on the first try? Uh, yeah. 20. Hello?

4. Were you a party animal? I was a heavy metal headbanger and hung out with garage bands doing silly stuff. My friends and I were in a group self-dubbed "The Ugly Reich." Fun fun! I wish I would have taken more photos in high school; I have nary a photo of the Ugly Reich. (This one is a partial group photo from the yearbook where we convinced the school that we were an official club. Ha-ha! It was too late before anyone was the wiser. Ah... good times.)

5. Were you considered a flirt? Yes, but *I* didn't think I was a flirt. I was boy-crazy and boy-shy at the same time.

6. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir? Excuze me???

7. Were you a nerd? No. Most people don't qualify as true high school nerds. I was one of those who didn't really obey clique rules. If I wanted to talk with you, I did. I just liked people. Maybe I was clueless more than anything.

8. Were you on any varsity teams? I kinda forgot all about sports once I got into JROTC; they provided all the exercise I could ever want. (I still have the t-shirt in this photo.)
9. Did you get suspended/expelled? No. I was once suspended by a rope on a rappelling trip with JROTC, but that was about it.

10. Can you still sing the fight song? What fight song? I went to one pep rally in my entire high school career; for the rest of them, I either hung out with garage band members who lived close to the school or hung out in the JROTC trailer practicing marksmanship.

11. Who were your favorite teachers? Major Best (JROTC), Mrs. Craig (newspaper)

12. Where did you sit during lunch? In the booths part of the year and outside the rest of the year.

13. What is your school's full name? Cape Coral High School (in Florida)

14. School mascot and colors? Seahawk; orange and blue (because you know everyone looks good in orange)

15. Did you go to Homecoming and who with? Didn't go. (But this was my photo in the yearbook for Homecoming Week. I don't remember what the theme was that day, but this was my interpretation of it.)I turned down invites to Homecoming due to aforementioned boy-shyness. I always wished my parents would just have told me I wasn't allowed to date, so I could have rattled off that excuse without stumbling over my words.

16. If you could go back and do it again, would you? Yeah. I had a lot of fun!

17. What do you remember most about graduation? It was freaking humid and hot. I was sweating in a wool dress under the graduation gown, and I had heavier hair back then. The other thing I remember is seeing an ex-boyfriend after the ceremony (the one in the first photo above) who had graduated the prior year and giving him a hug. I had ended things so meanly.

18. Where did you go senior skip day? I think I went to a new boyfriend's house to watch a movie. That's when I learned he was an octopus. That relationship didn't last long.

19. Were you in any clubs? JROTC, newspaper, National Honor Society, and a few other clubs that I participated in for a short time. One of the short-term clubs I was in was headed by the police officer on-site. We had a meeting during school in the cafeteria and the friend of a boyfriend I had then saw me there and told my boyfriend. He dumped me that day because he thought I was an undercover cop and was sure I was going to bust him and his friends for drugs. THAT was the weirdest break-up E.VER.

20. Have you gained some weight since then? Hard to say. I've put on more fat, but I have less hair now, so it probably evens out on the scale.

21. Who was your prom date? Joe, a friend from newspaper and AP classes. Joe was a type-A planning kind of guy, so I thought it would be funny to tell him all week prior to prom that I couldn't find a dress that fit me. I don't know why I like to torture people so.

22. Are you planning on going to your 10 year reunion? Did not go. My 15-year reunion is this weekend. Not going. My 20-year reunion is in 5 years. Might go.

23. Did you have a job while in high school? No. I was in AP and honors classes and too many clubs. And, oh yeah, I didn't have permission to work in the U.S.

I only did this tag so I could have an excuse to post old photos of me. (I learned two things: (1) I need to get these photos out of the old static adhesive albums, and (2) my scanner is dirty!)

I bet you wish you knew me then! Lucky you, you know me now!

[Posted song: "Rock n' Roll High School" by Ramones]