Kind or Smart.

Would you rather have your child be smart or kind? 

 This was a question on one of those either/or quizzes that has been circulating around social media for the last decade. I've read my fair share of them & filled them out at almost the same rate. So safe to say i've read hundreds of these questions in my lifetime. 

But it's this one, this question; 'would you rather your child be smart or kind', that stuck with me. 

Stuck with me long before I had children. Or even thought about my potential posterity. I couldn't tell you why for sure but I think it's because my immediate response was surprising to me. I have long valued intelligence. I'm not the smartest cookie in the cookie jar, but for lack of a better description; i like being around smart people. I like being around people that can teach me things. And in all honestly; while i'm not a rocket scientist, I am naturally way more smart than I am kind.

But that wasn't my answer. 

My 20 yr old mind immediately said 'kind'. 

Why? Why kind? What is so great about kind? If you're inherently kind can you learn to be smart? Probably not. But if you were born smart couldn't you just adopt kindness? After all you clearly would have a big brain. Just use some of those neuropathways to exhibit empathy. 

 And yet still. My mind said 'kind'. 

 Fast forward a few years, I disregard anything I was ever taught in health class, & as a result I give birth to my Ashybug. 

Ashybug was such a beautiful & sweet soul right from the start. A lot of people comment on his little brother Shilohs happy demeanor & that was Asher. Asher was as sweet & smiley & happy as any baby ever born. Ash was the OG 'smiley guyly'. 

 Asher was born kind. As it would turn out that is not the only way in which Asher was made differently. As easy as kindness has came to him, is as difficult & hard other things have not been for him. 

Unfortunately the world doesn't normally look close enough or for long enough to see HIS full spectrum. Him. They just see different. And most of the time they do not react with kindness. That has been his reality for his whole life. His ENTIRE life. 95% of everyone he has encountered have treated him not only like he's different. But like there is something wrong with him. 

Asher asked a lot of questions. A lot of them being the same questions on repeat. Thanks echolalia. But one of his series of questions is he constantly is noticing things about people & especially about people appearence & he just wants to know 'why' without him ever thinking than any quality is inherently 'good' or 'bad'.

'Mom why is your hair black?'. Because that's the way God made me. 'Mom why is Frankie missing a toe?'  Because that's the way the God made her. 'Mom why does Tibbsy not have a tail?' 'Mom why is Bunkle bald?' ' Mom why do we have butts?'

Because that's the way the God made them. Also, because 'Bunkle lost his hair in the war.'

'Because that's the way God made them' he will echo to himself. And that answer is usually satisfactory to him. He leaves it there & goes about with whatever he was doing before. Usually to some degree forgetting I am even there.  

I wish that same attitude he has was affording to him. If only by 50% of the general population. That would be a steep rise from where we are at. 

Where he is at. Because ultimately yes, it hurts my 'momma heart' when people ignore his attempt to connect, or make snide comments about him, or openly mock him. 

But more than that, more than me, it hurts him. 

 And this is not to say that Asher is this angel child who is always sunshine & rainbows. He, like any other kid, is assuredly not. I mean I've been at the receiving end of more of his right hooks than anyone. I can confidently confirm that I am at the tippy top of that statistic. 

He's not perfect. But he is at his core; kind. 

I have been said to me multiple times over & over regarding the reality of how other people react to Asher 'it's life.' 'thats the reality with him.' 'tough' 'i should get used to it because it's going to keep happening.' 

And i guess over the years i've come to decide 'no. I will not 'be okay with it'. I don't accept. 

Why im not is because yes.  Yes Ashy is different & he always will be. 

Because God made him this way.

But that doesn't mean that other people cant or shouldn't change in this regard. I mean how could more kindness possibly hurt the world. 

And im not without my flaws. As i say this i know full well that there have been many instances in my life where i was given a choice & i chose the unkind route. I CHOSE to be unkind & i hurt people. Hell there are still moments where I end up being unkind & I hurt people. And honestly those are the moments i most regret. Those are some of the most frequent thoughts that keep me up at night. 

Anyone can be unkind. Good people, bad people. Anyone. There is not any 'one type' of person that has exclusive rights to a lack of kindness. 

WHICH, FLIPSIDE, GLASS HALF FULL, IS GREAT!! 

Because it also means that anyone CAN BE KIND! 

So back to the question that started this all; Would you rather you're child be smart or be kind?

I was given a child who is much more kind than he is smart. I wasn't really given a choice. Life is not a facebook questionaire. 

But honestly, i wouldn't change that. Even if i could. 

 **If anyone here reading this has been on the receiving end of me just being shitty & cruel. I know there have been instances where the word 'unkind' doesn't quite do it justice. I am sorry. I know that doesn't fix it. And there are many occasions where I don't deserve to be forgiven for my actions. I don't expect you to. But I want you to know; I am truly sorry. And i'll continue to try to do better.

If you can't move mountains, climb them.

It's been a solid minute but i am happy to report that i still have a deep love of pushing my fat ass up mountains. i LOVE hiking. Tonight i hiked Jacks Mailbox which is located right above the heart of Highland in East Salt Lake. Which coincedentely is now where i'm planning to live out the majority of my days. So now that that's decided i just need to find some poor old bastard who resides in a foothills neighborhood & wait for his wife to die so i can make my move.

 I'm joking..

theres no way i'm waiting THAT long.

again, i joke. lesbihonest, if theres a member of my family built to dig gold it's Lyv.

most definitely Lyv.

So anyways. Jacks mountain. Sam attempted to hike up it on Sunday, BUT was interupted by me almost dying & sending him an SOS for some extra strength excedrin & a strong dose of sexual healing. JOKE! AGAIN! jeez what is wrong with me. Anyways, back to Jack. I was intrigued. Who is this Jack & why does he have a mountain. Turns out he was Jack Edwards. A todder who passed away from Luekemia in 1995. So in memory of him, his parents placed 2 mailboxes on top of this mountain, & have asked for visitors to take a moment & write a letter or just say hi to 'Jackie Jack'.

I know. So crazy amazing. Utah is the best.

So after reading the backstory on this steep chunk of land i knew i HAD to go. I grab my chiweewee, a bottle of water, & off we went. We got to the trail head around 8:00p. We take off. We go way, out of our way, in the wrong way. No worries though, it looped around. I've found that everytime with hiking, as with the majority of my life, I ALWAYS start everything the wrong way & end up making it way harder than it has to be. And only AFTER i go down my many twisted bass ackwards paths do i see 'oh wait there was a markedly easier way to go about this.' I'm stronger for it, right?

The struggle.

So we're busting up this trail. Summit after summit. As i approach each one my spirits momentarily lifted that this one might house 2 mailboxes thus bringing about an end to my journey. But no, i was mistaken, so i kept on walking.

A few years back my dad put an unGodly fear into me that someday, on one of my solo hike, a cougar would jump out & eat me. On the back sides of these hills there were tall bushes. Perfect for a puma to perch in waiting for a tastey Amy morsel. I was uneasy. So i checked my weather app. Sundown was at 9:00 sharp. It was 8:43. I was going to have to bust my ass to get to the top, say hi to Jack, & barrel back down the mountain before hypothetical mountain cat ate me. I dig my heels in & go.

I was hurting folks. i was hurting BAD. But i had made it that far. No turning back then. I put one begrudgingly foot in front of the other, all the while checking the clock that mercilessly kept counting down. At about 8:55 i begin to panic, but at that point was so tired I was almost hoping a big cat would eat me so i wouldn't have to make the return trip. I'm beginning to think, 'maybe i'm climbing the wrong mountain.' & then i'm irrationally mad at Sam cause 'where the hell are you to make sure i'm not climbing the wrong mountain'. I'm hawking lugi's. i'm blowing snot rockets. i'm panting. my hair looks like it was molested by a family of rabid racoons, & in between yelling profanities that dont even make sense, i'm making unGodly loud animalistic noises.

I'm delerious & decidedly at the end of my rope.

Suddenly i come around the corner & there it was. Jacks Mailboxes. I wasn't climbing the wrong mountain. I didn't require a male travel companion after all. Chalk one up for feminism.

 However what WAS there, along with dos mailboxes, was an exceptionally startled looking stranger. My moment of elation quickly cut short. He smiles & says 'hi', i'm convinced more so not to anger the crazy lady that fate just put in his path.

 i murmur a 'hey' trying to avoid eye contact as i catch my breath & wonder how is it that all of my finest moments are miraculously always witnessed by my fellow man?? Ah such is life. So i take my celebratory Snapchats, fistbump Jacks Buda, & begin my return journey.

I am not good at many things. My skill set is limited. But i am like a mountain goat when it comes to downhills. With my rat dog running beside me i felt like that wolf pack scene in The Jungle Book. The ORIGINAL live one. With the smoking hot Mowgli

Blame it on the endorphins. I felt unstoppable. On the last downhill i make it half way down before i realize i'm sans one Chiweewee. Momentarily debating whether or not to leave him. BUT knowing he can't survive in the wild + no one else who would find him, would keep him, because NO one else likes him. So i go BACK UP & as soon as i get to the top Tibbs cheerfully hops a bush & blows past me. Next time i'm leaving him.

Eventually we make it back to the bottom. Bid a fond Adieu to Jack. And go on our merry way. I'm plum tuckered out. My entire body is sore. BUT i didn't get eaten by a Puma & i already can't wait to do it all over again. Hiking man. Hiking.

GO HARD or stay home..

Let me start with admitting; I'm about the least knowledgeable Mormon I know. I attended church moderately my entire youth. It wasn't my favorite thing to do. My parents found a way to twist it into a punishment, namely; if you didn't go to church on Sunday you were grounded until the following Sunday when you got the opportunity to redeem your freedom by, you named it, attending Church. I was a fairly obstinant child & if something didn't make sense to me, I wasn't going to do it. I didn't care what the repurcussions were, it just wasn't happening. I started a career of sticking it to The Man fairly early in life.

So that being said. My knowledge on any & all things LDS; extremely limited. At times i'm hesitant to even admit i'm Mormon because A. i'm not the greatest example, & B. if they ask me ANY questions that really delve into the religion with any sembelence of depth, I CAN'T answer it. However on the flip side of that they sometimes pose a fairly thought provoking inquiry that I then too want to know the answer to. So theres that. Little things folks. ONWARDS.

So NYE 2015. I naturally am at my Picard family's house. Gearing up for a fairly chill night of Just Dance, copious amounts of chocolate, & just all around good times. When my cousin Sara gets an invite to go to a mass YSA dance in SLC. She then extended the invitation to me. Generally speaking I'm a pretty poor wingman UNLESS there is dancing involved. Then i'm the greatest person to have within an vicinity of your wing cause it's guaranteed you will ALWAYS look better than me. Blame it on the excitement of the impending year to come; we decide to go for it.

People this is my FIRST experience with any YSA thing EVER. So I mean we really went for it. We went big. It was up at the Institute building on the University of Utah campus & it seemed as though it was inclusive to any single youth in the entire state of Utah. Getting there was a little bit of an adventure. Luckily not a bad one, we learned 'there are no turns so wrong you can't turn around from', & eventually we arrive.

Then parking. Driving aimlessly thru the lot, having no luck BUT not yet ready to admit defeat & start perusing the upper (further away) levels. ORRRR just bagging the whole idea & going back home to the warmth & comfort of our elastic waistbands.

I know, I KNOW, it sounds so incredibly lazy! Give us a break though it was 11:00 pm on the last night of the year. It was FRIGID!! Then finally, when all hope was seemingly lost, on the outskirts of the main lot we see what seems to be parking. We get closer. INDEED it is an actual patch of asphalt dedicated for housing non-moving vehicles. Thanks Boy Scouts of America. Sorry we didn't park there during actual business hours. What can we say. The spirit of 2016 made us do it *insert 'Bad Girls SNL skit".

So we hop out the car. YIKES. So cold. Literally every time I'm cold, & i'm not exaggerating here, I think of what a suckass pioneer I would have been. However my walking tempo becomes markedly more upbeat, so once again, little things. We cross the parking lot. Nearing the doors. Kind of getting excited, mostly wondering 'what the hell we had all gotten into.' We walk in. GLOW STICKS! To better identify what ward boundaries we fell into?? Cause THATS going to make it easier to find someone you take any amount of interest in???? 'Ya so he was pretty cute, didn't catch his name, but he was wearing a purple wristband, so I mean that pretty much narrows it down. Consider him found. I can hear the wedding bells now!!.' .......     ???               I don't know.

So from there it was straight to the dance floor. No wait, bathrooms. Always bathrooms. I pee more than anyone I know, barring pregnant broads. They had a coat hanger on the back of the stall & a lovely sign above it that read 'Please sweet ladies ONLY for hanging clothing.'.. ?????? This is off to a great start. Pee break, broken, we head for the dance floor.

No words. There are literally no words to describe OR explain what I saw taking place. It was crowded, it was hot, it was awkward. I have never been so distracted in my life. But the group I was with pushed their way RIGHT into the thick of it. I've always been okay with being an observer. On the side. Where i'm safe. Not tonight. Tonight was different. So we begin dancing. At least they were dancing. I'm not even sure what I was doing.

My cousin Sara has GREAT rhythm. Like everything she does on the dance floor just. looks. GOOD! And she's got this great eternal tan (half native American) so she even has that extra bit of street cred that being, people will trust whatever moves she's putting out there because; BROWN. 

So everyone around us, myself included, would just kind of mimic whatever Sara was doing. To some extent. At first it was mostly subconsciously. Then later when you were aware of your shameless copycatting you would at least try to put your own spin on it so it wasn't quite so obvious. It was still pretty obvious. So anyways. The music was actually REALLY good. Like that DJ knew what was up. And not once did he play Cotton Eye Joe. Holla.

I'm not sure if you're aware but most white people DON'T know how to dance. And really aren't comfortable with it. BUT you're at an event where you want to LOOK like youre fun, & open to trying new things, & like you like to dance. Because apparently dancing is synonymous with all of those things. So you see a lot of uncoordinated bobbing & weaving.

Occasionally you see that couple that has caught one anothers eye, & so they attempt to pair off BUT the only kind of dancing they know is... GRINDING.. which they do for about 3 seconds until the remember the venue they are in. Then it's just awkward. They try to make it work. They can't. They part ways.

Then you have the weirdo's. You know what i'm talking about. The lurkers. And sometimes they travel alone, other times as members of a creeptastic pack. But EVERY party has them. Tonight was no different. Tag teaming seemed to be the big thing. You'd be dancing, finally starting to feel good about your moves, life would be good, & you'd look up & see them on the edge of your posse, & all the good feelings would be gone.

 Then you'd see them start to size up the situation. Do they try to take on the whole group at once, or do they pick off one of the weaker looking stragglers towards the edge. They usually went for the weaker one. BUT occasionally you'd see them get ambitious & go for the whole enchilada.  No one was safe.

Also the ONLY dance moves that white people are even remotely comfortable with is line dancing (obvi) & jumping. Which technically shouldn't even be considered a dance move. It shouldn't be. But anytime it would even start to drop, the bouncing would commence with reckless abandon. Thank God for dubstep. And Single Ladies. That was like the highlight of the night. We ALL went BERZERK when you heard those beginning notes. Every female in there was like 'THIS MY JAM!!!' & it's like 'we know. we're all singe. Hence the ONLY reason any of us are here.

So i'm trying to dance, & I was just constantly distracted by my environment. I didn't even know where to look 90% of the time. And my dance moves went from bad to worse. Eventually the midnight hour was upon. FINALLY. Our sentence was almost up. 10 SECONDS!! The verbal countdown commences. 3,2,1, HAPPY NEW YEARS!!!! Then they attempt to release a plethora of balloons from up above us. Only the release mechanism was poorly constructed & instead of dropping them it made the net anaconda squeeze around them. So they kept pulling it harder & HARDER, hoping that doing the exact same thing would eventually yield different results. Eventually we all grew tired of waiting & began tearing at the netting, eventually enabling ourselves to release balloons 1 or 2 at a time. It was anti climactic. But maybe all the more memorable because of it.

ALSO i'll have you know. My New Years countdown came from an IWatch. Not my own , mind you. But I felt just SOOO friggin' Utah in that moment. Thankfully I have a really permanent white trash anchor to keep me connected to my Wyoming roots.

YAY for poorly planned, impulsive tattoo's in the most conspicuous areas!!!

So we stand for a moment like. Whelp. And then immediately it turned to 'but is there any food.' So we ditch the dance floor in hopes of finding some nourishment. I help myself to some quality, albeit picked over, vege trays. They were so good. I was in rabbit food heaven. My night suddenly all worth it. Then I begin to look around noticing all the people around us were weirdo's. Makes sense that THAT is where I would end up I guess?? Maybe not??? I'm normal I swear!! So after gorging myself on fresh fare we head for the door.

As we walk back to the Jeep, & its awe-inspiring back seat butt warmers, aka one of the highlights of my entire nights. FUTURE HUSBAND, we WILL have back seat butt warmers. They are like the pinnacle of adulting. We all were kind of like.. 'well, not what we planned to do with out night. cant say it was better than we originally HAD planned to do.. BUT at least we did it.'

So we climb in. Turn on the seat heaters. And then Brad (Sara's friend) took us on a lovely tour of his old stomping ground up above the city. I'm telling you, it was awesome. So informative. People are so interesting. And he knew all of the most interesting stuff about the most interesting people. If the whole grown up thing doesn't work out Brad should definitely consider a career in tour guides. I think I speak for all other passengers in the car when I say he would come highly recommended from all of us.

So eventually the hours keep getting later & we begin our journey back down south, to home. Eventually reaching our different & various destinations tired but with a tiny small sense of accomplishment. And so goes the beginning of the year 2016, the year of;

At least we did it.

(she gets it)

PS. If I wasn't motivated before to get married, I sure as hell am now. I'd be pretty okay with taking myself off the eligibility list for attendance to those YSA dances for like the rest of forever. One & done folks, one & done.

Ames OUT

you da real mvp

I don't know how to be a mother. I've sat & stared at this computer screen for God knows HOW long trying to find some variation & formation of words that would make this post seem less horrendous. I could find none. I say none of this lightly, so i'll just come out & say it. I have an acute inability to mom.

I figured I'd be able to change. That nature would kick in eventually & my mothering instincts would kick on at full blast. And they never did. I can still remember that moment that Asher was born. I heard his cries & I  remember I felt something BUT it wasn't that incredible bond that other people had spoken about. It was like hearing Gabes or Carolines or Nicos cries for the first time. I loved him with all that I had & then some, I would kill, with my bare hands, for this child withOUT a second thought, I recognized how special & wonder & precious this tiny new baby was, but I KNEW even then something was off. Something inside of me wasn't right.

I was so disappointed in myself. I had been hoping throughout my pregnancy that I was wrong. That something inside me would shift & I'd be able to love my baby in the right way that would allow me to be the mother he deserved. I was wrong.

I take care of people. Its what I've always done. I have all these skills & it seems like the very best of them revolve around motherhood. Yet I can't mother to save my life. It is the most frustrating thing I've ever dealt with. It's like a was meant to mother things YET I can't actually be a mother in & of itself. I've always excelled at caring for YET lack severely at loving things. I don't know how to love in the correct way. I have so much love in me for so many people & things in my life & I have no idea how to show it OR what to do with it.

Thankfully God knew that I would be different & somewhat broken. So he made sure when he made me that I would have a Coley.

Coley is the mother I could never be & then some. She is the one that is there to comfort Asher when he has bad dreams. She is the one that bears the brunt of his killer aim & ability to throw shit at an accelerated velocity whenever he's having a bad day. She's the one that holds him when he's sick. Who gets him ready & takes him to Church. She's the one that takes him to the doctors. Who got him a cat even though she hates the filthy creatures.

Who reads him stories. Who hangs her head over the crib for hours so he can play with her hair while he falls asleep. Who builds up his tiny confidence. Who lets him be little. Who sneaks him 'kinka (pink) milk'. She is the one that watches his favorite movies over & over & over again to the point that she could single handedly put on a verbatim one woman play if ever necessary. She is Asher's biggest hype man & strictest security detail. (you do NOT mess with her babies). She's the one who is there when I'm not.

She pops out babies like its solely HER mission to repopulate an already populated planet, but she is a good enough mom to do it. While I love my Ashcat with everything that I have. SHE loves Ashy in the way he deserves to be loved. In the way that he needs to be loved. Even on her worst day she is a better mom then I could ever hope to be.

And I know that I haven't said thank you to her, not nearly enough, for the sacrifice she's making on behalf of my shortcomings. Coley is the mother that I couldn't be. She's the mother that I always wanted my Asher to have. Every wonderful & spectacular thing that my beautiful perfect Asher WILL be, he will owe to his Mom. His beautiful MomCole.

 

Once go BLACK you never go BACK

Thanksgiving is one of my most favorite holidays. Ever. Sure I get overly stressed out/turn into an alpha kitchen wench. But I still dig it. It's like a less hyped up Christmas. You still get to spend time with your family MINUS the stress of presents. Because gifts are the bane of my existence. I LOVE giving them. Ask anyone, i'm that awkward person that if I hear a friend of a friend of an associate say they have a slight hankering for a Snickers, next time I see that distantly acquainted person I will be there, creepy grinning with a Snickers bar in tow. HOWEVER if I have to come up with a gift idea seemingly out of thin air, I stress almost to the point of ulcers.

So THAT is why thanksgiving is pretty much the kitties titties in my book. LATELY though douchebag corporation giants are trying to cock block turkey day by starting BLACK FRIDAY on a THURSDAY. I know, it doesn't make sense. I've taken to calling it Brown Thursday. Cause it's a shitty thing to pull. This year we had stores opening as early as 3p on  Thanksgiving. .We generally don't even start eating until at least 4p. I can't lie, I HAVE participated in Brown Thursday. But when it started at 8p. & even then it felt awfully premature.

This year I decided to participate in Black Friday ON Black Friday. It was awful. Most anything worth braving the mass crowds of the general public for, was already sold out. Leaving us that chose to WAIT until the designated day, to pick over the scraps of door busters long since busted. If I sound bitter & butt hurt, it's because I am. I really am. Generally I try to get ready for this retail blood bath SINCE it is proven FACT that people tend to be nicer to people if they look prettier. We suck, we're all super shallow, MOVING ON. This year I threw caution & cover-up to the wind & went looking like Sadness. Both figuratively & literally (if you've seen Inside Out; Sadness is my dopple-ganger *holla).

Plainly put, today I was a mean, MEAN bum. Next year, i'll be once again busting out the falsies & contouring my face to chiseled war paint perfection.. They really are an unorthodox confidence boost when you're having to risk life & limb to find your Aunt all the pairs of size 10 $19.99 doorbuster boots. It seemed like SUCH an easy task,  who else even has feet that large? Cake walk, right? Until I was wrestling over 'big-foot-boxes' with the largest herd of Cholas I've ever seen in my entire life. Not joking.

For the record, I got those boots. Every damn pair.

This year I was able to make out with some modest savings. Found some decent deals. NOT my best work. In all honesty I'm not exceptionally proud of what I did today. BUT I am hoping Cyber Monday will bring me better luck. Chances are already lookig good as I won't technically have to deal with any 'people'. Hallelujiah. It really is the little things.

take a hike//

I've had the opportunity to hike EVERY weekend in November. Can I just say I LOVE November in Utah?? I love November in Utah. You could never pull this off in Wyoming.

I'm about as outdoorsy & sturdy as a chiuhuahua BUT I have always loved hiking! I'm never the most prepared so it helps to have a hiking buddy that is always OVER prepared. Or just the right amount of prepared?? I tend to make fun of him for all the extra precautions & excess amounts of weather appropriate apparel he brings along AND then I always end up eating my words later.

Plainly put I should probably die on the side of the mountain due to exposure to the elements EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. But my boy scout always makes sure I'm taken care of. It's pretty great. The best part is he does it in a nice way that lets me know ' we're both are aware that you're not very good at this outdoorsy stuff BUT it's okay, I got you'. He even undertook taking me AND the Ashcat on a hike// ended up carrying Asher for 90% of it// even wiped his runny grubby little nose.

pretty great, right? Right.

 

So far I've done; Ghost Falls, Desolation Peak, & The Living Room. Yesterday was the first time I did a hike by myself & it was easily the least best one I've done so far. Sure I HAD Adele & Biebs to cheer me up the mountain. BUT I wore entirely too many layers + packed skittles +  NO water..

 

The view was AMAZEBALLS. The dehydration NOT so much. I've always thought of myself as a seemingly & mostly competent person who was proficient at adulting. Yesterday I was able to cover the basics, such as I got my ass up the mountain, HOWEVER that being said, it really proved how much better life is when you have a handy dandy hiking buddy to get up the mountain & take in the views with.

And now a vain photo montage.. Cause my handy dandy hiking buddy makes for a pretty great view.

He was nervous about the dog going out there. Obviously not about me though. #priorities

#kidding

some random couple told me to do the Titanic pose. lets call this half mast.

just a boy & his dog..

a boy & his dog::pt 2.

 

HAHAHA joke

 

whelp that's about it!!

 

ames out

 

 

NovemBRRRRR!!!

FALLaLaLaLa-FALLALEJIAH!!! Fall is by far my best jam, seasonally speaking.

September still has a hint of summer to it. Once October hits, Fall really takes stride. And by November you can only find subtle traces of Autumn. Don't get me wrong though, I love November. The holiday season is in a wind up before going into full swing right around Thanksgiving. Christmas lights are starting to peak out. Trees are still putting themselves to sleep for the long winter ahead. It's truly fabulous.

What is not so fabulous is how damn cold it is. All the time. It's the 18th day of this the 11th month & I'm pretty sure that my hands haven't felt NOT post-mortem since mid October.

Today, under obvious circumstances, I found myself asking my frigid conflicted soul a question. 'Is it worst to have to sit on a cold toilet seat?? Or to find your ass on a THROUGHLY warmed over porcelain throne, for obvious & equally disturbing reasons??' Do you appreciate the fact that someone unknowingly took the time to sit there BARE ASS & all for an extended period

 SO LONG in fact that their hind end was able to warm up a frozen over November toilet seat?? And that YOU had to use the facilities in such a close timed proximity that you can still, very literally, FEEL their presence?? Congratulations; you get to enjoy a relatively toasty YET extremely off putting trip to the lou! But is it worth it?? Do you appreciate the fact that said persons butt bugs are extremely warm & inviting?? Ya me neither.

I just want my ice cold crapper back. Where I can lie to myself & tell myself that IM THE ONLY ONE for it.

Basically it's cold. The world feels like an ice cube. And I can dig it. As long as my toilet seats remain as frigid & SEEMINGLY barren as my own heart & I'm taking in the wonderful frozen world from inside a warm hospitable environment that is impervious to any outside elements. 

So one more time, IN CASE you didn't get it, let me reiterate so there is ZERO misunderstanding. Toilet seats; I want those to feel as consistantly cold & as dead as my hands.

always..

& scene..

Now here are some pictures of cats.. because YAY!!! FELINES!!!

& a cow kicker for Lyv cause she has a weird obsession with our bovine counterparts.