10 things that make me ridiculously happy.....

10-A really, really sunny day--that isn't too hot--when I don't have to work and can just play.

9-My super cute niece Malena. I replay a question she posed to me in December over and over, "Aunt Sephernie, where's your hubsband?"

8-My Primary class and the way I can keep them rapt with attention while telling them a story. I did tell them today that Abinidi was burned to death. The manual did not mention that part of the story. I think it scared them a little.

7-Playing with good friends and being able to laugh until it hurts. I saw so many friends this week and it was wonderful!

6-Fresh, clean, and crisp sheets. I just wish they could make themselves fresh, clean, and crisp.

5-Getting real, live mail. Not junk mail. Not magazines. But real, live mail.

4-Chocolate.

3-Spending time with my family. I called my baby sister the other day, thinking I would get her voicemail and would leave the silly message for which I was calling. Instead, we talked for 45 minutes and had such a fun time.

2-Getting to sleep in as late as I want to. Or even later than I want to. And not feeling guilty.

1-Darrell. He puts up with my teasing (which is a lot!). He knows when I just need to be with "my girls." He lets me sleep in later than he would. He loves me more than I sometimes deserve!

Just so you know, I'd like to turn this into a recurring, guest post. Please leave a comment if you would like to add your list of 10 things that make you ridiculously happy. Don't include your list...I will email you when it's your turn and then I will post it.

And as a quick fyi...my number eleven would be having several people who want to do this!

It's about time!

I get really disappointed when I go to my friends' blogs and see they haven't been updated. Then I remember that I haven't updated mine in a long time.....

Here's the update.

Look!

It's my sister!

Not there ->

But here!

Feliz Dia de Madre!

Ok....so I decided to combine my celebration of Cinco de Mayo and Mother's Day. Not really. I just wanted to be different.

I thought I'd give a shout out to my mother and wish her the very best Mother's Day. It's a day that she hates. I think it's because the talks at church are just too syrupy sweet and she feels a little guilty that she isn't perfect. Mom, sorry if I made up the reasons. Those are the reasons I sorta don't like Mother's Day. Plus, shouldn't you treat your mom great everyday and not just one day a year?

Yeah. I thought so.

So here's a couple of photos of my mom, being a great mom:









PS--And a very Happy Mother's Day to my Grandmama!

Happy B-day! to my Dad!

Today is my Dad's birthday. Assuming I post this before midnight.

As I have done so far this year, I am posting some photos and explaining a little bit about each.

This first photo is my dad on his mission in Argentina. I don't know exactly who he is with, but it looks like they are having a great time!



This next one, if you can't guess, is my parents' wedding day. Don't they look so young? I think some one should make sure they were over 12....



Here is a picture of me and my dad. We are actually swimming in the pool at the apartments that we lived in about 37 years ago. Oh yeah, and they are about a mile and a half from my house now. Pretty crazy!



Here I am learning how to blow bubbles with my dad. He taught me a lot of things.



While I don't really remember learning how to blow bubbles, I do remember being taught (at 6 years old) the importance of not procrastinating. I was (surprise!) procrastinating--probably in cleaning my bedroom--and my dad and I read and highlighted Alma 13. A few years ago, my mom was going through old books and was going to donate that Book of Mormon. I took the pages out so I could scrap book them. That is if I don't continue procrastinating. Clearly I didn't learn it well.

Here is a photo of my dad after he had taken his first solo flight (I think). He was in the Air Force and was a pilot for much of that time.



He also trained other pilots. I don't know if that is what he is doing here, but it sort of looks like it.



I always thought it was pretty cool, but was disappointed I never got to fly with him. He eventually retired from the Air Force and worked for America West as a pilot. I finally got to fly on a flight that he piloted--his last flight from Phoenix to Reno and back. The whole family got that chance and it was fun! Here I am with my dad right before we took off to Reno. And yeah! I'm in the cockpit!



You are probably asking why I am showing a picture of Bryce National Park.



Well, part of the summer of 1974 was spent in Idaho. We were travelling back to Arizona and stopped in Bryce National Park on the way. My dad decided to take a quick look at the park. But since I was 4 and Jennilyn was 2, it was a bad idea for us to hike too much. My mom decided we could stay in the station wagon and wait, since it was only for 20 minutes. So, it was hot outside, so we rolled down the windows (power windows--I thought they were so fancy!). We drank ice cold root beer. And then came the bees! So we rolled up the windows. And sweated our guts out. So we rolled down the windows. And were again attacked by bees. I think you see where this is going. I don't remember much about this, but I do remember being hot and drinking sugar. From what I understand, the twenty minute hike ended up being well over an hour. But we got lots of pretty photos! And this was one of them.

This is a photo of me, my sister Jennilyn, and my dad at Disneyland.



We were moving from Arizona to Sacramento in 1974. We stopped at Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm, and Marine Land. I still remember not wanting to go on a roller coaster. My parents took me on the Matterhorn (Space Mountain wasn't invented yet). I yelled the whole time--"This is a roller coaster!" I ended up not going on the flying Dumbos because I was afraid of those after the Matterhorn debacle.

There aren't so many photos of my dad, since he typically was the one taking the pictures, but these were some of my favorites.



Hope your birthday was great, Dad!

PS--I missed the deadline...it's just after midnight, so I really need to re-read Alma 13!

Liar

Before you think that I caught you lying to me (or someone else) and am calling you out, I want to let you know this is not the reason I am writing. This is another in the mp3 game. I let the mp3 player choose a random song, which is then the title of my post. I have to come up with a somewhat sensical blog post.

So, alas, I am not calling you a liar.

I am, however, going to call myself a liar.

You read that correctly.

I. Am. A. Liar.

At times in my life, I've even been a dang good liar. My mission was one of those times.

I know. I know. You are supposed to be on your best behavior on your mission. But here's the deal. I was really good. MOST of the time. But there were times that I just couldn't be perfect.

So I would lie.

Unfortunately, most of the time, it was in the letters I sent to my family.

(This is background information, which some people may not find too useful or relevant, but others won't "get" the story without it. Read it if you want. Don't if you don't care. But if you are still reading, chances are, you won't stop. Especially since I'm done. )

I went into the MTC the end of September for 3 weeks. Which means I got to Missouri the middle of October. I "killed" my first companion that month (she had been out on her mission 17 months, and went home in November).

I then got one of my favorite companions--Sister White (now Nicole Ungerman). She was scheduled to go home the beginning of January and intended to work hard up to the airport. And we had oh-so-much-fun.

We were in a wealthy-ish area and had dinner appointments every evening. The first Sunday of the month was with the Blah-Blah Family; the first Monday of the month was with the What's Their Name Family; and so on.

So, of course, we had a dinner appointment scheduled for Thanksgiving! It was with the Who's It Family. They had the third Thursday. I think I let me family know the eating arrangements in one of my first letters I sent. (And I say sent, because I would sometimes write letters and not send them. I have always been good at procrastination. I'm even so good, I can check it off my to-do list--you know, the list I call my Ta-Da's.)

Well, the letter I wrote to my family went something like this:

Things are going okay.
We've been tracting a lot.
It's getting cold here.
I bought some boots to keep my feet warm.
Something happened with our dinner appointment
last Thursday and they had to cancel.
We ended up going to the K-Mart deli (side note from Stephanie
in 2009--do you remember the K-mart deli and the K-mart
cafeteria?).
We got some sliced turkey just before they closed for the day.
It ended up being pretty good.

I intended on telling my family later in the letter that it was a joke and we had a yummy dinner, but it wasn't the same as spending the day with my family.

Only, I forgot that part.

Fast forward about four weeks, or so.

I'm talking to my family on Christmas day, telling them what I've been doing, asking what they have been doing, etc....

Then my mom asks about Thanksgiving dinner. I think I had forgotten all about it, since when you lie, you forget lots of the details involved. (That was for all you parents, whose children may be reading this. I wanted to make sure they know that lying only gets you into trouble. And never out of trouble.) (I'm a giver that way.)

I ask her what she is talking about and she reminds me of how I was deprived of Thanksgiving and she knows that the missionaries in her ward had about 57 dinner appointments that day. (Ok. Here is the embarassing thing. I don't really remember what she said, so I MAY have stretched the truth about what she said about the missionaries in her ward. Or that she even mentioned them.)

I then had to confess to her that I had been using a little thing I call "poetic license."

She then told me that she had been mad at the ward where I was serving; that they didn't appreciate the sacrifice that was being made in their area; that she felt really bad for me when she read about the sorry meal we had eaten.

Unfortunately for my mom and myself, she believed most of what I told her until I was 25. That is when she decided that most of what came out of my mouth was a lie. And that's when she decided (for her own sanity, and who can blame her) that she could no longer believe me.

So. There you have it. An example of Stephanie, the Liar!

I know I usually add a video of the song that inspired the post, but Deana Carter's "Liar" is not available. Boo! Just go and listen at your favorite digital music outlet. :)