Breaking in the New House

Parking in the driveway was something new this year. It was December the 24th, Christmas Eve, and I was coming to my parents new house. I walked in with multiple luggage in hands and a plate of homemade snickerdoodles (one of my favorites) and trying to figure out where to go to put everything down.

To say coming to a new house, and a new area for Christmas was strange would be wrong. It was strange. The room I was in wasn't mine, the bed I was in wasn't mine, the layout of now the tiny house wasn't mine. How unfamiliar everything was. Yes, the stuff was my parents. I recognized the decorations, some of the furniture and of course my parents, but everything else was new. I didn't know where everything was. For example where were the cups? Here I am thirsty after the long travel I didn't even know where to get a cup. I had to have my mom get it for me as i stood there like a helpless child unsure what to do or where to go.

I noticed how the decorations were placed in different areas. In fact everything was. Everything was rearranged and although I knew it all, I still felt lost. All I wanted was to be back in my house in little ole Calimesa. The house where I knew where everything was. The green trash can in the laundry room, the silverware by the stove, and the little shepherd lamb by the fireplace and the couch.....well existing. Apparently they were waiting for their new couch to be delivered.

Yep new couch, new bookshelves, new cabinets, new entertainment center where was I? Where did they bring me? This is my house. This is fake an impostor to my world. And yet here is where I must stay for this holiday season. Oh the constant change that comes with life.

At first it was weird, especially as we sat down for dinner and what a dinner it was. We never had such a cultural Christmas Eve dinner before. But times were changing and there were only 3 of kids for that night. And as my mom brought out new silverware and dishes and such I was informed that they had all this stuff from their wedding but never used it! The running joke, was anything new must have been from their wedding.

But as we talked and laughed and made jokes, I realized that even if this wasn't my house, it was my home. My parents, my sister and brother. They were my home. It wasn't the stuff it was the people. And even if it was better that the other siblings couldn't come due to space, it was as it should be; family enjoying each others company and having fun, coming together to celebrate Christ's birth into this world and thanking Him for all that He gave to us. So even though the house, the neighbors, the simple fact that we actually park the car in the garage is new and different, it's still full of the one thing that is constant in my life, the love of my family.

From Provo to San Diego

I got to my family friends house where I parked my car on the lawn full of snow while imagining having to push it out due to the snow storms I know that will be coming while I'm gone. Then I removed some Utah weather shoes for California weather shoes and we were on our way. We picked up my brother as well and talked the whole to the airport.
We missed the turn off for the airport. Ooops! So we decided to take the next exit and turn around. As we were stopped at a light the driver asks what we thought if she just flipped a U right there while the light was still red. I said, "if there is no cop then it's not illegal." and so she did it and we were once again headed the right direction. (Mom, I really do follow the traffic rules, I was just being funny.)
We get to the airport and we open the trunk. This is the first time I saw my brother's suitcase. I immediately started laughing. His was 3 times the size of mine and he was only staying for 4 days and I was staying for 10. I thought it would have been cheaper if I had just ridden in it instead of purchasing a ticket. Oh well.
Like always, as I go through security I hear a beeping noise and then the words "Bag check". Really? "Yes sir, that's mine." "Do you mind if I take a look inside?" asked the security guy. "Nope its fine." (What else am I going to say? Uhh sorry sir, but those are my things, and do I really look like a terrorist? But if you must you must. And please don't hold up the unwrapped present for my brother to see.) Of course there was nothing bad in my bag. I left my 2000 year old Samuri sword at home this year.
I get to my gate and begin to read. Facing me was this girl, early twenties, brown hair, skinny, and very fashionable with one of those knit hats with the huge flower on it. To the left of her and a few seats away was a man listening to something on his laptop. Blonde hair, glasses, and had the oddest print on his luggage. I thought that perhaps it was a bit too girlie for him, but hey to each their own. As I'm sitting there the girl calls a friend and tells her that she will have to inform her of the "boy situation" later and then proceeds to fill her in anyway. I now know how Ryan is more out going and invited her to a Christmas party, Jared used to play football and is very attractive, and Garrett-the new one- has hung out with her every night for the past week. She then goes into a whisper saying how she feels weird saying all of this at the airport with people around. I just smiled to myself and thought, you just now thought of this? Maybe I'll go meet Ryan for myself.
So now I'm on my flight from Salt Lake to Phoenix for my layover. I was on the asile and then I find out its not a full flight so I patiently waited till the kid next to me realized that and moved over so we could have a space between us. Little did I know that he then has his sister come crawl over me to sit next to him. There went my room.
Not only was my room gone, but these people's parents were the row directly across and they didn't speak english. So there I am reading my book when all of the sudden an arm reaches across me. That's right, little senorita was asking her "Pappa" to hand her chips, magazines, and who knows what else. Then she starts taking pictures while conintually popping my bubble. Not a sorry or a "pardona me". Then she asks for another coke that she doesn't even finish it before the flgiht is over because, oh it's only an hour flight! At one point I'm leanig a bit forward reading and I see her reach behind me. So I lean forward even more to be kind and considerate since she wasn't. Her dad says something to the affect of sorry and I just say its fine. Not the greatest experience on that flight.
As I'm walking through the Phoenix airport looking for my gate I realize I missed it because I was talking on the phone. Having an hour plus to burn due to arriving 15 mins early, I didn't mind and thought well this is nice exercise. I get to my gate bust out my book and I see an odd looking piece of luggage. Yep that guy from Salt Lake was seated near me. I was not seated at my exact gate due to lots of people, and so I figured he was at his proper one.
I get on board and with strength I didn't know I had, effortlessly heeved my suitcase in the overhead compartment and noticed my fellow travelers surprised looks as well. This time I had a window seat. Well I happen to look up from my book and low and behold it was the man with the odd luggage. My own personal traveling stocker had found me once again. I noticed he was the last one on. And where did he sit? Yep you guessed it, in my row. It was another not so full flight. I didn't pay him any attention and kept reading. The overhead light was flickering on and off through out the flight which made reading quit the challenge, but stil I managed. My ears weren't popping very well this time so I kept trying to yawn, chew gum or plug my nose. Sometimes I really hate flying for that reason.
I arrive early yet again and I immediately call my sister to come get me. She informs me that my bro's flight was delayed quite a bit, but she was coming to get me and we could get some food. So I follow the herd of people to the baggage claim. I find a seat and begin to read again. This man had sat down and smelled like smoke. Ugh! Now I can add a headache on top of it all.
I get a call from my sister saying how she was almost to the terminal an dhow I needed to be out and ready to jump in the car because of the airport Nazi's. Apparently the airport traffic guys are vicious. There has even been a SNL about it. So I see her pulling up and I throw my stuff in the back seat and hope in the car as fast as possible before the Airport Nazi's attack. Phew I was safe, a Christmas miracle if you will.
This story was a lot funnier when I told it last night, but I feel as though I have a flying hangover and don't really care if it's all that interesting haha! My next blogs will be better, when I'm not so....... well you know.

Creative Writing Class

So I'm taking this creative writing class and at first I was so excited!! I could write what I want and how long I want and how to write better.I thought yes, this is the class I've been wanting for a really long time.

Well I'm about mid way through and I've learned some things, First: I do get to write about what I want, but only for the first assignment in each new genre, then the teacher tells us what to write about. Of course it’s still our take and even then the assignment is pretty vague. I’ve learned that sometimes its good to be told what to write, it helps you see what you like to write about, and it can surprise you. Second: I don’t get to write as long as I want. In fact one of the first things my teacher said was “I’m going to teach you how to write short.” My response “Noooooooooo!” Even though trying to limit myself to less than 400 words (a task I thought was impossible for me) is actually kind of fun. It’s quite the challenge to learn what words to use, or how to rephrase things an keep it short. I still prefer long, but short isn’t as bad as I thought and actually will be good for one of my book ideas I’ve been struggling to work on. Maybe I just needed this class to teach me? Third: I’ve learned that writing is incredibly subjective. I’m currently in a creative non fiction section and I wrote this rather funny story and I was excited to share it with my new group. Well one said he was bored, and the other kept wanting some moral attached to it or some theme. I thought, it’s about a guy catching a duck? Why does there have to be a theme? I was a little upset that the kid thought it was boring. So the next week I brought in a revised draft and I got the same comments. So I took it to my teacher to see what he thought. Well he loved it! He thought it was so funny and couldn’t wait for me to keep making it better. So this past week, I revised it once again and I changed the minds of my group. I don’t know what I did, but they even helped me chose that story as my final for this section.

So even though writing is subjective, and not everyone will like your style, it’s fun to try to make the haters into lovers. I’ve also learned that I take criticism better than I thought, and if I keep an open mind. I also learned that its good to view other types of writing, and that there are a lot of great writers out there. I’m loving this class even though it’s harder and a bit more disappointing than I originally thought. But hey, that’s the stuff that makes you stronger!

And yes, I will be posting my writings as soon as I get my computer back and everything is updated. Grrr Best Buy! But that's another blog, as soon as I get my computer back.

The Greatest Known Song

So a guy at my work posed an odd question. He asked which is the greatest song ever known out of the Miley Cyrus song "Party in the USA" and John Denver's song "Country Roads". Well there was quite the debate. I ended up defending John Denver just because well, I can't stand Miley Cyrus and sometimes a John Denver song just hits the spot. So here is the rebuttal I wrote.

Why Miley Cyrus Can’t Even Compare with John Denver

Disclaimer: I don’t have any strong ties to John Denver, I do admit I like some of his songs, and I certainly won’t turn the channel when a song of his comes on, unlike Miley who I will turn with just the mere mention of her name. I also would like to add that there are obviously other songs that would fit this category better but alas, this is what I have to pick from.

If you are looking for statistics you won’t get any from me, although I can certainly come up with more creditable ones than a mere google search and relying on that. Obviously Miley Cyrus would have more hits then John Denver, she’s young, she’s cute (so the boys say), she’s alive, and tweens are more apt to use the internet then the older crowd of John Denver’s era. Besides who cares what she wore at an awards show, or who she has kissed lately, or if her Hannah Montana wig stayed on properly? The John Denver fans don’t need to research him online because they paid for his cds, books, and life story. John Denver is worth paying for. I believe statics don’t prove a lot when it comes to music. Everything is so biased that it doesn’t really matter.

I would like to first compare the lyrics. First off John Denver is a true lyricist because he can say in just a few stanzas what is in his heart while Miley Cyrus needs 10 stanzas. He secondly doesn’t need to name drop. He uses what he’s talking about, the mountains, trees, rivers, roads, essentially the earth. The real USA. Without this wonderful land we have there wouldn’t be a Hollywood for all those rich celebrities to party on. He uses the 5 senses so you can identify with what he is feeling (a true poet). You can see, hear, smell, taste and touch the wonderful country roads that brings us to our favorite place, which is home. I guess you could say you see the celebrities, and you smell the sweat from the people who are dancing, or the stench of the feet in the stilletos. That’s great! I love thinking of those smells. I’m not saying I don’t love California I was born and grew up there. And I’m not saying I don’t love dancing, because I do, but if I had to choose a memory that truly meant something to me, it would be taking those roads back to my home. And on that note, John Denver’s song (which he did help to write) is a metaphor that all can identify with. He’s using his love of the mountains in West Virginia (which WV is considering making his song a state song) as representation of all our homes. Miley Cyrus talks about herself and how she feels awkward about fitting in. Which we can all identify with, I will give her that, but its in such a tone and image that makes me not even realize what she’s talking about. The DJ puts on a song so she can dance, Britney Spears (horrible role model of a choice to put in any song) and Jay Z. Really? Her simple lyrics simply show she has a simple mind. She isn’t any where near iconic as John Denver was at his time and still is.

In twenty years lets google both Miley and John and see who comes up with more hits. I’ll bet it will be about even, or John would have more. John is ageless and will forever be remembered via songs, movies, as an entertainer, award winner, and his charitable contributions and all around nice guy (who else sang with Kermit the Frog to make aware the problems of the earth. He was ahead of his time. Do the words global warming come to mind?) As a person I’m sure Miley is very nice, kind, helpful and loves the attention she gets by riding on here one hit wonder dad’s celebrity light, but John Denver was a no name that changed the world. Despite given her momentary popularity (which I don’t understand due to her bad acting skills-where has America’s standards gone?) she will be nothing but an out of work, no voice, middle-aged, trouble making, tabloids pictured person, whom I’m sure we will all feel sorry for. Nothing like John Denver who when spoken of, might get a grimace due to his genre, but still will be respected for his classy and iconic talent he brought to the world. How can you even mess with a legend? All hale John Denver, Poet for the Planet, Mother Nature’s Son and A Song’s Best Friend! (take that Miley and Hannah)

Why I Like the Sound of Music

The hills are alive with The Sound of Music (ahhhhhhhh-this is singing not screaming) So I finally did it. I watched the Sound of Music for the umpteenth time. So as I'm watching I think of all the fun filled memories I had as a little girl singing with Maria. While watching I came up with some reasons why I love this musical so much.
1. You'd think a story about a nun would be boring, but its quite the opposite. I guess because she is really only a nun for probably 20 -30 mins of the movie.
2. I love that there were 7 children in the family and there were 7 children in my family and the youngest one is a girl, and I'm the youngest in my family. Do you see the connection I have?
3. I'm pretty sure this is the movie that taught me how to sing and to understand English accents.
4. I think this is where I also learned to love puppets. This was probably about the time I was watching Lamp Chops Play along too.
5. Kurt was my next favorite after Grettle. I love saying and "God bless whats his name".
6. The curtains in my house would definitely not work as "play clothes" for me and my siblings.
7. Everyone should have an uncle Max.
8. I also know why we weren't allowed to play with whistles in the house.
9. I learned that you shouldn't give in to your 16 year old daughter when she asks to try champagne in front of all your friends. (But you shouldnt have champagne anyway.)
10. That dancing very close to a Captain makes "your face all red".
11. That boarding school is an evil thought brought on by soon to be step mothers.
12. That the funnest scene is when Maria says, "I can't face him again." And the Reverend Mother says, "Him?" Oh such a priceless face. I laugh every time.
13. That I have "Confidence!"
14. That older brothers will bite your finger.
15. That no matter how cold it is, Strawberries will not turn blue, like unto Blueberries.
16. That at the beginning of the movie I always hate the Bareness, and by the end I feel sorry for her. And that this same vicious cycle happens every single time I watch the movie.
17. "That somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good."
18. That the Captain and Maria give the oddest examples of when they started falling in love with each other.
19. I still wonder to this day if the nuns really sing the "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria" song at her wedding.
20. I'm always sad that Rolphe becomes a Nazi.
21. I don't get why the Captain touches Leizel's cheek after he read his telegram from Berlin.
22. I always wanted my family to perform on stage in front of a whole lot of people.
23. That after seeing one of the winners touch his hair, and after shaking this same mans hand, Uncle Max wipes his hand due to the grease on it from the guys hair. (Does anyone catch that part or is it just me?)
24. thinks its creepy that the family hides in a graveyard at night. I'm pretty sure some therapy will be needed for the youngins.
25. That if you tell a young man he will never be one of the Nazi's that he'll blow the whistle on you.
26. That nuns can sin.
27. And if your the youngest of a family trying to run away from the Nazi's and having to "Climb Every Mountain" that you get to have the ultimate piggyback ride.
I tried to go in order of the movie but I forgot some key moments and I didn't want to go back and change all the numbers.
28. That no matter how many time I watch this movie I will never understand what Grettle says as she's leaving the room after finding out about the dinner party.
29. Oh the non verbal communication between so many people just kills me. The tension is insane!
30. Lastly, I learned that the headdress on the nuns head is called a wimple. How cool is that?
So there ya go. 30 Reasons why I love the Sound Of Music and will always love it! So now go home, unless you are home, and watch. I know you ll find it more enjoyable this go around. until next time.... " So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good bye."

California Here I Come...

Let me tell you about my first happenings back in good ole California. First was I realized how much I missed humidity. To feel moisture in the air is indescribable. While standing in front of the airport waiting to be picked up, I raised my hand and just felt the air. (I'm sure the security guards that I was nuts but I didn't care) I felt the moisture and I knew, I was home. Granted, the humidity is nothing like the East, but its definitely more then Utah.

Second, the people. Oh the people in California are in deed special. We arrive at a Norm's diner for a quick freshening up. But as we drive towards the entrance I look and notice a sort of colorful character. Standing at the parking entrance is an old, white haired, leathery-skinned, tattooed, man. But this wasn't the first thing that caught my eye, oh no. This man was wearing a white tank top, and what really had me drawn to him, this most interesting of human beings, was his long, plaid skirt. Yes this gentleman was wearing a skirt with sandals. Not a kilt, not a lava lava, or any type of clothing that is culturally accepted to be worn by humans of the male persuasion. It was a regular, girly, church-like skirt. But to make the story even better was, he was conversing with a young brunette holding a cane, who by the looks of her, could easily have this man on his knees in his pretty skirt begging for his life. What a sight to see.

Next on the people adventure was the 10 second walk from the car to the actual door entrance of the diner. Where thru the huge side window you could see 4 middle-aged latinos simultaneously turn their heads to check out who was coming their way. I'm sure I could imagine their disappointment as they hoped to see some foxy ladies out on the town, but in actuality it was well, a mom with 3 of her children. (We don't need to go into detail as to how we looked or how old we are). Just as fast as they had turned their heads towards us they quickly turned them back toward their drinks, I'm sure in embarrassment for being mistaken. It's ok boys, we wouldn't choose you either.

Third are the sights. As we are driving East on the 91 we see 2, not 1, but 2 firework displays. One I am certain, is from the "Happiest Place on Earth" and the other well, I assume the ending of some sports game. The Angels perhaps? Oh how I love fireworks. The color, the height, the noise, wonderment.

Lastly, the drivers. Oh the drivers. Now, I'm the first to admit I complain about the Utah, or Utah County drivers (whether they are from the state or not) on a daily basis, but there is something unique about California drivers. I love how the old men are driving 55 mph in a 66 mph, which is really a 70- 75 mph zone. And does he notice? Nah. He's cruising in California on a Friday night. Forget the nursing home and lets take that 1980's Oldsmobile for a joy ride. All the while the other not so tolerant drivers, are showing their love for this old man in many universal ways.

I love California! I know the budget isn't so good, the pollution isn't so good, the housing isn't so good, the living cost isn't so good, and the crime-rate isn't so good. But there is so much more than that. And while I'm here for the next few days I hope to rediscover what those things are so that I might take them back to the Provost with me to survive yet another season away from California.

What Makes Up Me

Ok so here’s a nice blog that isn’t so filled with frustration. In fact these are some well known or little known facts about me.
When I write a lot (my stories can be very detailed). At times I'm a little clumsy (hence the picture of me spilling my soup and the many bruises I tend to display). I like to do puzzles (someday I’d like to put one on the wall). I love the sun and warm weather (born and raised in CA). Snow is not a good friend of mine, but we are civil towards one another. I prefer cross country skiing over downhill (I hurt my knee the first time). I like to go biking although I need to replace my mountain bike for a road bike. I love quoting! I can use a quote in any conversation, and act as if it’s completely normal and no one ever knows (which isn’t always a good thing). I like to moon walk at work whether people are watching or not (in heels no less). I drive a black Honda Civic (not by choice) which has two names. Sometime my thoughts and emotions compute faster than my fingers when typing (you will notice the spelling errors along the way, if you haven’t already). Reading was considered torture when I was younger but I’ve grown to love it, although I’m way behind in my reading sheriff (that’s a quote that has been tweaked to fit the situation.) Movies are a passion of mine. I have tons of them which stare at me from the bookshelf waiting for me to unwrap and watch. (Some day little dvd’s, some day)
Volleyball is my favorite sport! I love to dive! I always have a bruise somewhere (the price you pay when you get into sports). I like to donate blood. I like to go on walks (It’s a nice way to get some exercise, clear my head, call people and enjoy the outdoors). My favorite color is green. Ice cream or chocolate are always a plus. The beach is my best friend (oh how I miss it). Disneyland IS the happiest place on Earth. Pineapple Whips are a joy that all need to try. I still have my baby blanket (sadly I found out my grandma didn’t make it). The first time I went fishing I caught 4 fish (it was deep sea fishing). I like scrambled eggs (but the runny yoke is a nice change from time to time) I tend to cover my mouth when I’m laughing really hard (using a pillow to hide is preferable). I’m also known for crying when I laugh really hard (I hear it’s a gift). I like to talk in accents. (I used to have English Sundays). I love to dance but am self conscience when I haven’t done it for a while. I never had teenage heartthrobs on my walls when I was younger. In fact I once was asked why I had a picture of old guys (aka the First Presidency) over my bed. I don’t like the “what’s your favorite” type of questions (I have too many favorites). I’m a bit old fashioned (I really want an old phone from the early 1900’s that hang on the wall). I used to be in plays and musicals (I was even Peter Pan). I used to make up stories when I was little (the Napkin Tree or Tree Napkin hmmm). I once broke a window playing tennis against my garage (I think my brother was blamed until I fessed up). I love pictures (I was a photographer in Junior High and High School). Music is a way of life that I like to follow (I tend to get random songs stuck in my head for days on end). I love volunteering at cancer camp (cutest kids)! I miss the East Coast (shout out to Philly). Traveling is high on my list of things to do (Italy here I come). Lastly, I love my family, I love my friends and I love my church. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

The Irks of Blogging for the First Time

So I've been told by many a people that I should blog. "Denise," they say, "I want to read your writing. I want to know what you're up to. I think your blog would be fun and creative. " "Do you rally think so?" I respond. "Ya, of course, and its really easy." "Hmmmmm. Well I'll think about."
So I thought about it. I said Denise, you like to write. You like people to know your thoughts. You like to give your opinion. You want to be a writer. What better way then blogging, getting out there and networking a bit. Who knows this could help you and motivate you to write your book. So I won myself over and decided ok, I'll blog.
Well that idea came and went with the craziness that is my life. But the other day I was suddenly inspired my good friend/roommate who started her own blog. I thought, wow she made it look so simple. There she is, she's online. She's blogging. Her thoughts are now a part of other peoples thoughts. So I decided that day that I would come home from work and start. I would become a "blogger".
Little did I know (what a simple, yet powerful and usually scary phrase) that this would become my Mount Everest of the internet/technological world. Someone like me who likes flipping the pages of a book over the scrolling of a sidebar should have known that something like this is not so simple and "easy" as it appears to be for others.
The realization that this will stick with you "ffffooorrreeevvvvveeeerrrr" (thank you Squints) is a little intimidating. Pick a name, pick a layout, don't like that lay out go to a webiste and switch it. Don't liekt hat one you just switched it to, its ok. Try another. Oh wait, its not working. Try again. Still not working. Maybe get out of everything and start all over. Nothing changed. Hmmmm maybe you still have the original copy lets copy something different just to make sure. Yep, its working. Hmmmm, well maybe I'm the exception to the rule. Lets try the FAQ page. Well that didn't help just like every other FAQ page. What made me think that would work? Hope. Well sometimes hope is overrated. So then what, well maybe the program has had its fun and done watching me suffer in agony and feel as though I'm definitely not smarter than a 5th grader. Nope, the mocking continues.
The hands go up in the air and come back down pounding the couch cushions. All the while an exasperated noise escapes as the head frustratingly hits the back of the couch barely missing the wall. Although, if it would have hit the wall it would have given more of an excuse to throw a tantrum, like the little child that you are slowly regressing to. But alas, no such luck. So what now? Maybe in all of that someone will show mercy and come help. A rescue. If I remembered moorse code I'd S.O.S. someone. Fortunatelty a kind Fairy Godroommie happened to turn her head in my direction and came over to help. There she was deleting 13 (could be more but we didn't start counting till a little later) of my failed attempts. and with a wave of her magic wand there it was the layout I had been trying to get for over an hour.
Ok I feel better now. I can do this. Whats next a picture? Are you serious. Another decision? It's liek that scene in You've Got Mail, "The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc". Now I do know how to make decision, but such things as colors, fonts, layouts, titles, pictures, are meant to take time. This is a serious matter. Well after picking one picture I, of course, decide to change it. So I pick the first picture I thought of (a very true to life picture unfortuntely, but hey it brings a smile to others). So I decide, I should crop it out. So I open this picture in another program to crop it and make it pretty. So I hit save and look i that folder I saved it to, and to my technological track record there was no change. "Nooooooooooooo. you've got to be kiding me." More grunts, more hands flaring, more frustration. It's a good thing I don't swear. So I try again, and again, and again. Finally I decide hey, I need to let other people of my woes. So I update my staus wnad with it a bribe and a plea for help. And wouldn't know it, that at that time my Fair Godroommie happened to have read it and took me up on my bribe and helped me out. Well she once again waived her magic wond and there we go. Saved as I had cropped it. (I woudl tell you how she did it but my pride has already been hurt enough. It's really embarrassing. I chalk up my stupidity to a long day.)
Ok upload picture. Oh wait how do I do that again? I need to write these things down. Ok here it is. Upload and done. Lets preview. What? The other picture is still there? I jsut want to blog. Why can't I just blog? A voice is heard from the left "Denise, you can still blog. you can continually update and fix things as you go." My fairy Godroommie is wise.
So here I am. I've been working on my unfinished blog for a few hours now. Barely have the basics, and still am not satisfied with how it works. But I have sucessfully completed my first post. I feel a though a great accomplishment has been made. Sure I didn't go biking (there was a storm that helped to prevent that) and I somehow missed dinner, and well it's almsot time for bed and still not in the shower. But I have posted. I have shared my thoughts, my opinions my struggles, my many irks about blogging and all the cra.... wonderful growing and learning expereinces its given me. Thank you blogspot for this most enjoyable memory that I will keep forever. (SIGH) I feel better.
Oh and to whomever might have actually read this whole thing, for future reference my posts may be as long or longer (I'm a writer and well if you knew my gene pool you'd understand) but they hopefully won't be so frustrated. Although, sometimes that makes for the best stories. DC Post-It out.