Flashback Friday - Toothless

Did you know that tomorrow is National Tooth Fairy Day? Well, now you do. So let's talk about teeth.
This is me the first time I had a retainer (circa 1991). I was smack-dab in the middle of losing all my baby teeth and my adult teeth were coming in all sorts of wonky. If I clenched my teeth and stuck my tongue through the spaces, it made a perfect "W". I have a picture of this somewhere, but my hair is even crazier than it is in this picture--I know, hard to imagine--so I didn't really look too hard...

Tragically, my retainers were somehow lost during our move to England and it was months before I saw them again. By then they didn't fit anymore. It all worked out in the end though, because I only had to have braces for 11 months between 7th and 8th grade. Take that, Karma.

But I still have my post-braces retainers. They're sitting in they're lovely little turquoise case in my bathroom closet. Every few months when I get out a new toothbrush I see them a feel a little guilty. But I'm no masochist, so there they stay.

Fun Facts:

• My dentist's name is Dr. Payne. It wasn't until my third or fourth visit that I got the irony of that. What can I say, homophones are my Type-A drug of choice.
• I discovered the Tooth Fairy wasn't real even before the Santa Claus myth was busted. I found a note I wrote to her in my mom's jewelry box along with my tooth. I don't remember feeling sad or bad, mostly annoyed and embarrassed that I had been fooled by such a juvenile scheme. I was 5 at the time.
• I haven't had a cavity since I was 11.
• Flossing daily is the first of my New Year's Resolutions to fail...

Flashback Friday - Seattle

I'm going to Seattle in a couple weeks. That got me thinking about how long it's been since I've been back (6 years), which got me thinking about the reason I was there last time (choir tour), which got me thinking about my most* favorite class senior year (choir).

I've been in a few choirs in my day, but let's face it: I can't sing a note. But that's okay, because we all know the "most obvious reason [for choir is] the flirting between the sections." (Don't you love how I just quoted myself from my senior yearbook...)


That's right. I caved to nostalgia and broke out the old yearbook. (Conveniently located on a shelf in my room after I dug it out of a box of junk in the garage a couple weeks ago to try and identify some facebook friend requests. I can't believe I've already forgotten so many.) Seems like I'm not the only one whose eyes weren't always on the music:

"I love concert choir because of the altos I am privileged to sing with." - Darrell M.

The altos (:

And of course we loved the basses and tenors right back (:


But you had to be careful of where and when you looked, and "watch out for the big eyes or [you'd] end up on [Ms. B's] hit list!" - Steve B. and Johannes G.

Good times. Good times.

Fun Facts:

• One time, Adriane and I snuck to Taco Bell during a concert because we were starving. Of course we still had our choir robes on because we had to sing again, so we elected to go through the drive in because it was faster and less conspicuous. Obviously we didn't expect the cashier at the pickup window to openly laugh at us. Or to point us out to all the other workers so they could come over and join in. (But that's just what he did.)
• I also loved how it was kosher to be late to class as long as you brought Ms. B a snack. (The snack didn't have to be kosher.)

On an unrelated note, this is a pic of me at the Seattle Temple. My hair has passed this point and is officially the longest it's ever been. (Obviously now I just want to cut it all off again.)

*And by most I mean not so much...

when it snows, you have two choices...

...shovel or make snow angels. ~ unknown
dear mother nature,
thanks for the reminder. and the yummy smell.
apologetically,
meagan

summer afternoon - summer afternoon...

...to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the english language. ~henry james

dear mother nature,

are you quite finished?

hopefully,

meagan and henry

Flashback Fridays - Puppy Love

Right now we have two black labs named Samson and Delilah and we love them.


I really do think it's true that pets make you live longer more fulfilling lives. Sammy and Lilah are hysterical to watch and interact with and super smart too. They've figured out how to open the door to their room and will surprise me while I'm working a couple times a week. Yep, I love pets.

Which is a good thing, because we've had a lot of them. This is Ian with our Rottweiler Marco back in 1999. He was one of our favorites. His favorite game was to knock Ian down flat on his back and lick face off. It was Ian's favorite too. Sort of. Our favorite game was to give Ian Marco's leash and then kick a pear down the street and watch them go. Ian liked that one even better...

Fun Facts:

• The first pet I can remember was our cat Tiger. We had him in Canada. Taylor's favorite game was putting him in a grocery bag and swinging him around her head. He loved that.
• Then there was my cat Scamper. His favorite game was pretending he was a mountain lion. The mountain lions didn't like that so much.
• A few months later Tay and I got golden retriever puppies that we named Sinbad and Samson. (Obviously I really like that name.) One day I was walking Samson and he found a bird that had fallen out of its nest. I rescued it and named him Tweety and kept him in a fish tank on our back deck. His mom actually found him and fed him Box Elder bugs every day. He was almost big enough to fly when Scamper decided to include him in a game of mountain lion. Tay and I planned a wonderful funeral.
• It was also during this time that Tay and I were big on herpetology. Our record was 13 lizards, 7 horny toads, and 4 snakes at once. We kept them in ice cream buckets in the barn.
• Then there was the time I went to England leaving behind a dog and two cats. Four months later I came back to two guinea pigs and two bearded dragons. Ian's favorite game is letting the dragons out to run around my room. It's my favorite too. Not.

lest i lash out with an angsty facebook status...

.... i'm going to release some negative energy here. (it's already been one of those weeks.)

first, i'll do this:
things that amuse/annoy me one a scale of 1 to 10*

• people who say "irregardless" - 1
• spelling errors or misused words in general - 2
• angsty facebook statii - 3
• publishing house editors who spell my name wrong when paying me for editing services - 4
• internet flash ad games - 5
• unsolicited dating advice - 6
• hospitals - 7
• false pretences - 8
• political pundits - 9
• crass humor - 10

now i'm going to do this:

*1 being mostly amused, 10 being completely annoyed

Flashback Friday - Changes

I got carded a couple weeks ago. I don't feel old enough to be flattered by that, but I thought it was funny. (Especially since I was buying canned air at the time.) Later, as I was relating the experience to a colleague, she asked me how old I really was, and I honestly had to think about it for a second. Forgetfulness like that makes me feel too old:


My mom always says she's an 18-year-old living in an [insert real age here]-year-old body (I've been sworn to secrecy on this) and I think I her that more and more as time passes. Every once in a while something will happen like my baby brother gets his license, or I have a five-year high school reunion, or they start playing Chicago on the oldies station, and time slaps me upside the head because I haven't been paying it enough attention. Sometimes this makes me sad, sometimes I am proud, sometimes I feel nostalgic, and sometimes I get so excited I can barely hold it in. But it is always disconcerting.

That's why I love, love, love, this picture:


This is a picture me at eighteen months. But let's be honest, besides the height difference (one of the few times it's actually noticeable--yay!) this could have been taken today. Matching sweats? Check. Wild and crazy hair? Check. Kicking back in the office? Check. Lunch at my desk? Check. (I even had ravioli today.) This reminds me that while change is inevitable (except from a vending machine), some things--hopefully the best things, the essentials--don't have to change too much. (Also that I have been prepping for this job for over two decades.)

Fun facts:

• I was born partially deaf in one ear and have never regained full hearing. This made me speak with a lisp when I was younger, and while it has faded, I recall one home video in particular where I was trying to catch Shultze (a puppy named after Herbert Schultze by my Grandpa, a veteran who retired from the U.S. Navy as Chief Petty Officer. He recognized men of honor on both sides.), so I ran around yelling "Shul-thee! Shul-thee!" It's pretty cute, but I'm glad that's one thing that has changed (:
• I learned to read at a very young age and was reading Green Eggs and Ham out loud to my mom less than six months after this picture was taken. I've never stopped. (Reading in general, or Dr. Seuss in particular.)
• My grandma still has that booster seat. It's seen her through over twenty grandchildren and at least ten great-grandchildren.

Both these pictures remind me that even though I still cringe when I see Ian behind the wheel of his car, or think that I don't know enough to be a high school graduate, let alone have a Bachelor's degree, or vividly remember dancing around the house with my mom to her brand-new Chicago 17 cassette tape (probably even in those same purple sweats), I don't have to feel like I'm getting too old for any of those things.

Instead, like the namesakes of Bill Watterson's iconic duo, I can enjoy the faded, "70s" color of the past for what it was and be grateful for what it still is because "there is no color in this world that is not intended to make us rejoice."

And for the things that have changed, I can "take my [next] voyage. A great leap in the dark."

mars and venus in the bathroom

When I was young, my hair was pretty wavy. And instead of settling down, it's only gotten more and more contrarily curly as I've aged.

I've mounted all sorts of defenses in response:

• Blow dryers
• Paddle Brushes
• Round Brushes
• Curling Irons
• Flat Irons
• Hot Rollers
• Straightening Sprays
• Pomades
• Bobby Pins
• Clippy Claws
• Hats
• etc.

It's quite the ordeal.

So every once in awhile, I just take the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" approach (aka "shake what your mama gave you") and pass on all the primping. The blow dryer takes a holiday and mother nature takes the wheel (with a little help from the AC when I was commuting to SLC) to result in something like this*:

It's very freeing.

Except one day, whilst I was waxing rhapsodies to my mother about my liberated state, my brother snidely remarked, "I wish you'd liberate some counter space in the bathroom while you're at it." (Because of course, you can't trust Mother nature before applying gel, mousse, and de-frizzing serum at the very least...)

*results not typical