It only takes one person to ruin it for the whole class.

So here's the deal, friends.  I realize that having a stalker would imply that I'm super duper neat and rad. Someone thinks I'm bomb diggity enough to obsessively check my blog multiple times per day.
This should bring flattery and reaffirm what I've known all along: 
I'm totally kickass.

HOWEVER. This is not the case. I'm actually annoyed.

If you're one of my subscribers that DOES enjoy my blog and thinks I'm cooler than sliced bread, shoot me an email because I'm going private at the first of the year: lairlyn AT gmail DOT com.
Don't be shy: there are certainly a share of blogs I enjoy reading of people whom I vaguely know or don't know at all.

Blog stalking is fun! Just not when you're the one being stalked, and it's by a creeper that most likely takes voodoo dolls of you to bed instead of taping your picture to the ceiling and hoping the masking tape gives out.

This has been a hard decision since I'm a big fan of saying how I feel and not really caring who knows it.  Oh well.

Get your ern fill while you can, Stalkzilla. You're gettin' cut off!

American Holiday: All about the fatties.

Last night was BFF Thanksgiving 09er.
Some of these little wiseasses made jokes about what they were thankful for, but in reality I think we were all thankful to just be around each other.
Thanksgiving is a great holiday because it revolves around food. If you've not picked up on this little nugget, I'll fill you in.  I love food.
Hello, holiday that encourages you to eat until you cannot physically move and must unbutton your jeans.  WINNER.



<-- Some random crap meticulously placed in a bowl. That's right ladies, you can call me Martha.

 <-- Turkey straight out of the Keg Roaster. Kudos, Keystone Light, you served your purpose well...

 <--Yeah, it was THIS GOOD.
 




 <-- The only time EVER that more than four burners would have come in handy. You can rest now little stove, you probably won't get used again till next year....

<-- Mmmmm this is what Thanksgiving is all about, 3/4 carbs to 1/4 protein ratio :)

<-- PIE. OMG.

<-- Aww. Tender moment.

 <-- Aww. Ruined moment. Jackass.

<-- The girls, and I think there's a Larsen under there somewhere....



I love muh friends and I'm glad we got to do this. Oh, I also love pie. Amen.

What I've gotten myself into now....

Quite a while ago, Laura mentioned stumbling upon a website for a charity that accepts knitted eight inch squares and sews them into blankets for orphaned children in South Africa. This appealed to me since I'm a sucker for service projects and knitting is something I love.
About a month ago I started looking into it deeper and decided I wanted to plan some sort of drive to collect squares to send. I mentioned on my Facebook page that I'd be collecting them, and Rebecca offered her assistance in my crazy scheme.
Rebecca wrote an article that was put in the News Journal and we planned a "Knit-a-Square Day" for last Saturday. A girl from the Standard-Examiner even called to interview me and did a story.
I did some research on postage and found that a 20 lb. box would cost about $53 to mail. I worried that I'd never collect 20 pounds of knitted squares.

Laura asked me what my expectations were, and I told her that I had none.  I planned on sending the 15 or so squares that I'd done, and anything above that would be fantastic. She told me that she thought 500 was a good number. At which point I told her that she was a lunatic.

The turnout on Saturday was overwhelming.  People kept dropping off squares they'd knit or crochet and I was genuinely amazed. My fear of not having enough squares to send quickly turned into "how the hell am I going to raise enough money to send all the squares I have?!"

Going from having no expectations to sitting in a huge pile of handiwork was crazy, but looking at the bigger picture, it's such a drop in the bucket.

"The aim of knit-a-square is to raise as much awareness as possible for the plight of the children of South Africa. As well as to warm them with beautifully hand knitted and crocheted blankets from around the world. The issue of children orphaned by HIV/AIDS is widely unknown around the world. There are 1.4 million children already orphaned in South Africa followed by a sickening 500 children orphaned daily. This is so sad and one of the biggest issues in the world today." - Kalai McDonald, Knit-a-Square

We've collected 395 squares so far, which will go towards keeping 15 children warm. 15 kids out of 1,500,000. Wow.

The feeling of great pleasure over the amount of squares collected is quickly dispelled by a look at the numbers. 
I guess I just need to remember that as a community, we HAVE helped 15 children that otherwise wouldn't have received a blanket. 
Looking at the amount of good that's been done is easier than looking at the amount of work that needs to still be done.

This time of year gets everyone thinking about what they're thankful for, what they have.  Take a second to think about what's great about your life and the freedoms and opportunities you enjoy. Then take a second to think about people who have it a lot worse than you.

Next time you see the Salvation Army bellringers at Wal-Mart- don't avoid making eye contact and shuffle by, smile and give them your pocket change. They're out there freezing their asses off trying to make life better for someone else.

And next time you see me, cough up ten bucks for postage, I got some damn squares to send!

Open mouth, insert turkey.

We're having Thanksgiving at Manny's mom's this year.
I asked him last night if his family ate white people food, or what. 
I thought it was a legitimate question.
He replied sarcastically with that squinty look I love: "No, we eat burritos and enchiladas........ Just like the Pilgrims did."
At which point I said "Well... you guys make tamales for Christmas, and I'm pretty sure that's not what Jesus did....."

I'm thankful for a man that enjoys (read: tolerates) my humor.

However you're celebrating, have a Happy Thanksgiving!
And find something to be thankful for!

Home on the range

Yesterday we made the thirty minute pilgrimage to heaven on earth. And we took hot dogs.

We took the kids out to my family's property in Corinne to run amok in the wide open spaces.


They had fun running and hiding in the Brayden-tall grasses, exploring around the pond and finding dead stuff. I had fun simply being in the middle of nowhere enjoying the quiet and gorgeous surroundings. Fall is the perfect time to be out there- it's not too wet like Spring, and there aren't mosquitos big enough to carry you away like in Summer.


It was warm enough to cook hot dogs outside so we had one last outdoor cookout for the year.


We took a four-wheeler ride to the pond where I spent most of my time taking pictures. I was using my old camera since my new one met an unfortunate demise.

We won't get in to exactly how it died, just let it be known that I'm not responsible enough to own a camera, and this is the second one that has been fried via water in a 6 month period.




Going back to the cabin, I realized that my camera had jumped from my hoodie pocket somewhere along the way. Like I said, completely irresponsible.
We drove back to find it sitting upright on the salt flat. I didn't move it, but turned it on and took a picture. This is fate's vision. Pretty damn neat, I say.


Check out the rest of my super rad pics here

Brand Whore.

I feel like I've come full circle in my quest to be clothed decently. Everyone recalls when they were younger, specifically Jr. High, when all you wanted was name-brand clothing. It was as if the pubescent gods would cause you to spontaneously combust if you did not own a pair of Lucky jeans. In reality, you'd just be knocked down a peg on the social totem pole, which felt like the same thing.
Getting your parents to spend outrageous amounts of money on what seemed like the exact same thing as something you'd get at K-Mart but was labeled "what the cool kids wore" took a force of nature.
Christensen's has ruined me. I've been somewhat of a tightass in my adulthood anyway, but working at a clothing store has made me even worse.
A $59 price tag on a great hoodie in the real world is unacceptable. FIFTY NINE DOLLARS? Seriously? And lets get back to jeans- A pair of Big Stars out in the real world run about $108. I own several pairs of these, but surely did not pay that price. In fact, I didn't pay ANY price. See, I work for clothes. Two Saturdays a month affords me pretty much anything I want in this store. Which makes paying actual dollars in the real world impossible.
I'm the best dressed poor kid in town.
Basically, I'm a 24/7 posterchild for Billabong and Hurley, which I happen to usually like but feel limited to since I won't go out and pay full price for anything else.

Recently my mother called me a brand whore. This is probably true. Even though I get amazing deals on my brand whore items, I don't ever really look at clothing at cheap stores.

This all changed last week when trying on close to one million pairs of jeans. None of which fit me. I've always said that I'm not built for jeans. Something about my small ass and bran muffin top just doesn't work. If I can find jeans that fit my butt, they're too tight up top, and if I find jeans that fit my waist.... well... then... I walk around looking like I just crapped my pants. I'm also able to regularly perform a magic trick of walking OUT of my pants.
Utterly defeated in my quest for new jeans, I got a crazy idea.
I'm going to Shopko.
I tentatively wandered into the clothing section towards the denim. I quickly realized that I no longer trust anything Stacy London has to say, since she's endorsing Rider Jeans. I looked at them and realized that I wanted nothing to do with trying to find jeans at this store.
As I felt like hope was lost and I'd be destined to wear sweat pants for the rest of my existence- which Stacy London says would be the coup de grace of my social life, but I'm not listening to her anymore so who cares anyway- I discovered the juniors denim.
I found a few pairs that looked pretty decent and made my way towards the dressing rooms.
In a matter of minutes, I found two pairs that actually felt like they fit. They didn't squish the hell out of me and they didn't produce sag ass.
Excellent.
Suddenly, I've gone from wearing $108 jeans to $19 ones. Yeah, they were even on sale.

I guess when you get older (and you also happen to be misshaped) you come to realize that having something that actually fits you is worth a lot more than someone recognizing that you have a $200 True Religion tag on your ass.

Yeah, I own those too, and yeah, they fit like shit.

Happy Halloweeners

Usually for Halloween I have a pretty good idea for a costume in advance, but due to the fact that I was on my deathbed the week before this Halloween, it kinda put a damper on the festivities.
I was sick. Hella sick. So sick that I didn't knit or read, but rather just sit like a zombie on the couch and watch tv with remembering to breathe as my only concern. I was too lethargic to even steal my neighbor's internet to tell you all how sick I was.
At this point, I kind of wish I would have gotten tested for H1N1 because I really wonder if that's what I had, so I'm just pretending that I did.

I didn't start feeling like a human being again until the day before Halloween, which meant that a costume was pretty much just thrown together.
I can't even tell you what I was, only that I was probably time warped out of the 80's. I found this shirt at the DI that was tragically hideous, so I had to wear it.

Now going through the pictures, I realize that it looks like a giant pastel potato sack and as though I've gained 50 lbs. Probably a mistake. Oh well, I was pretty damn comfortable and didn't need to keep making sure my cleavage was still intact like all the other whores at the bar that night ;)

Manuel started out looking for things to be an 80's child with me, but ended up as what we've decided was a long-haul white-trash red-neck trucker. Ah well.

It ended up being a good holiday from what I remember, I was pretty hopped up on dayquil, sudafed, ibuprofen and caffeine.

Just kidding mom.

Kinda.

Please excuse my EMO moment....

Hello blog, it's been awhile.

I am quite melancholy today, and have been intermittently for a while now.
In an effort to finish this chapter of my life entitled nuclear fallout, and move on, I attempt to scribble my thoughts.

There are so many things I can think to blog about, yet can't.
So many things I could say, and at the same time, don't really want to.

When was the exact moment I turned into a pussy? Unsure.

Is it because I don't want to unleash the Pandora's jar that's rattling around in my nugget? Perhaps.

Is it because I can't even put certain emotions into words? We'll blame it on that.

Why are you being such a cryptic creep? How 'bout we get on with the blog, smartass.


This is what I've come up with.

On the road of life, you collect things on your journeys.
You collect people, places, things. You collect experiences and knowledge.
Some of these bring you happiness and contentment.
Others bring heartbreak and sorrow.
Do you hold on to the happy ones and let go of the sad ones?
No. They all stay with you.
Do good times have a higher value than hard ones?
No. They all culminate and bring forth the current version of you.

I have a special place in my home where I keep material things that are precious to me.
I have a similar place in my heart where I keep people that are precious to me.

The place in my heart where the people are stored has been robbed.
I will not receive a restitution for my loss, nor will things ever be the same.

The only thing I can do at this point is install a security system so that this can't happen again.

I will continue down my road, and be slightly more cautious of the people I put in my heart.