I want my scholarship back, so I can be a city planner.

I have lots of thoughts that knock around in my head at 2AM and don't let me sleep. Most of them are stupid things I said and did in my younger years. Worrying about how my mouth may have offended others keeps me up at night often.

I went to elementary school at a Parochial school in Toledo. The tuition was more than my family could afford. My parents were not members of the parish and so the amount of tuition for us was higher than the average family. My mom worked at the school as a lunch aid to help with the costs until she was too sick to be able to do so. After that, I received a scholarship and financial aid to cover what it cost. If you go to Parochial elementary school in Toledo, the traditional next step is to choose one of the Parochial high schools. In 8th grade, all the girls go and visit the 2 all-girls schools and the two co-ed schools. I was smitten with St. Ursula Academy from the beginning. I wanted to go there so badly. I applied and took the entrance exam. I had it in my head that I was going there. My mom was the voice of reason. She knew we couldn't afford it. I can't remember what the tuition was in 1989. I looked online to see what the tuition is now and the official SUA website doesn't have it listed. So you know it has to be a lot. I found an independent website that listed the tuition in 2008 as $8800 a year. So in 1989 it was probably around $4000-5000. It was a scary amount of money for my family. I did well on the entrance exam and got some kind of scholarship but not enough to cover the whole amount. And the scholarship only lasted my freshman year. Every 8th grade applicant that is accepted is given an appointment to meet with the counselor to choose classes and pay the tuition. My appointment arrived in the mail with an * next to the tuition due amount and a note that said we would discuss it when we met with the counselor. My dad and I were hopeful that maybe I was getting more of a scholarship but my mom kept reminding us that we needed more than just "something" in order to be able to make it work. Me and Dad went to the meeting at St. Ursula and instead of meeting with a counselor, the principal met with us. She signed me up for all the classes I should take and then looked at me over her half glasses (no she was not Dumbledore) and said that my tuition had been paid for by someone else. The donor wished to remain anonymous. I could only communicate with him via letter. I cannot tell you how elated I was. Words cannot describe how I felt. Dad took me to the book store and bought me an SUA sweatshirt that I wore every moment of my life for the next year. I was an arrow! My life was complete.

I wrote letters to my anonymous benefactor telling him how I was doing and thanking him for his kindness and generosity. I continued to do this through my junior year. At the end of the that year, right before summer vacation, the principal came to me to tell me that the benefactor had decided not to continue my scholarship through my senior year. My heart fell into my toes. I cried right there in front of her. I knew we couldn't afford the tuition without the scholarship. My mom died during the summer between freshman and sophomore year and my dad was contemplating quitting his job and living off of his social security and disability. I had visions of me at Bowsher HS (no offense, Michelle) and I was just so sad. I was going to have to leave my friends and everything I had built at SUA. I was not a slouch of a student. I was freshman class president and had just been elected senior class president. I was involved in clubs of all kind from academic to service to fun. This was my life. I can just say that I was devastated.

The principal left me that day with the assurance that she was going to find a way to help me with this. A few days later she pulled me aside to tell me that the school would take care of my tuition. It was paid for and I didn't have to worry about it. I was grateful beyond words. I cried again and told her how much I appreciated what she was doing for me. I finished my senior year and graduated with high honors. I have continued to let that principal know over the years how much an SUA education has meant to me and has helped me in my life.

So what part of this story keeps me up at night? It's not who was the benefactor. I don't have to know that. The best kind of service and love is done in secret with no recognition in my opinion. The part that bothers me is what did I do to make the person not want to help me through my senior year? Did I say something offensive to him or his family? I totally could have because my mouth works way faster than my brain and often says the dumbest stuff imaginable. What did I do to upset this person to make him not want to help me? I'm not even sure that I really want to know because it would probably hurt my heart to know how I hurt someone else. But part of me wishes I knew. I have a feeling that this will be one of those experiences that will continue to nag at me at 2AM for the rest of my life.

Oh, also.. my fiance died from licking toxic envelopes that I picked out.

Emily and I were in the car this week and the song "A Little Respect" by Erasure came on the radio. I immediately started singing along with the song. Loudly. Emily was pretty annoyed. It's an awesome song. Hearing it took me back to my senior year of high school. I was obsessed with the album that it's on "The Innocents." I listened to it 24/7.

I proceeded to tell Emily about the time during senior year when my dad had to go into the hospital for some treatments for his MS and Anna and I lived with a family in our ward. I don't know how long we lived there. Seems like several weeks. They were a great family to stay with because they didn't have any kids at the time and they had a nice big house with an extra bedroom for us. Thinking back it was pretty incredible that they let us stay there. I was like the messiest person on the planet and they were the neatest. They let me spread my homework and shoes all over and never yelled at me. They let me cook fried chicken in their kitchen. Who knows what other crap they let me do. They had the missionaries over for dinner at my request. One of the missionaries was hot with a capital H and I had a huge tiny crush on him. The mom took me dress shopping for my school's winter formal. Now that I have been dress shopping with a teenager, I know it must have been torture for her.

The only drawback about their house was that it was in the middle of nowhere. It was out passed the Toledo Express Airport off of Airport Highway. The drive from their house to my house was about 12 miles and took 20-25 minutes. I had to go to early morning seminary which started at 6. So I got up around 4:45 to get ready and head out from Swanton back into Toledo. It was very scary for me. The house was very dark and I tried to be really quiet so that I wouldn't wake Anna or the family. No one got me up. No one made sure I was getting ready. I had to be responsible for myself. It scared me to drive by myself out in the middle of nowhere. I was sure I was going to get rammed from behind by a crazy band of marauders looking for Catholic school girls out on the road at the butt crack of dawn. In addition, the weeks we stayed there were the beginning of winter. I remember the swirling snow on the side road that led off of Airport Highway. It was terrifying. As I was telling Emily this story, I was thinking to myself, "What the heck? Why did I keep going to Seminary? Why didn't I take off a couple of weeks?

Three reasons popped into my head. First, our teacher was awesome. I loved going to seminary just to hear what she was going to teach. She was inspiring and I'm so glad I got to have a year of seminary with her and wish I could have had more. I remember so much about the lessons of the New Testament because of her preparation and dedication. Plus she made the BEST spice cake. She would bring a spice cake for everyone's birthday. Second, my best friend Stacy was in a different school from me and I wanted to see her everyday so the only way I could do that was in Seminary. Last, sometimes the awesome teacher invited the missionaries to come to seminary to scripture chase with us and I wouldn't have wanted to miss an opportunity to see the aforementioned hot missionary. Two of my reasons were pretty good.

So I went to Seminary every day even though it was freaking early and scary. I would drive, white-knuckled, down the road as fast as the snow would safely let me, trying to outrun the marauders, with "The Innocents" tape blasting in my dad's van's tape deck. All the songs on that album remind me of that time in my life going to seminary, going to school and doing schoolwork, trying to take care of Anna, visit my dad in the hospital, keep up with things at my empty home and have some kind of a social life. Sometimes I think about different periods like this from my childhood and I just cry because I wish I could have had a bit of a normal life just for a bit. I wonder what it would be like to have a mom to take care of me all the time and wake me up when I fall back asleep and drive me everywhere and hug and kiss me.

Maybe these stressful, crazy times prepared me for a time when I would have 7.5 kids with busy lives and a husband and a calling and volunteer positions and family to love and friends to be with and service to do. Maybe I can handle so much now because of what I went through then.

No one should go through hard times. No one should live in sorrow. Got to face the darker skies. Got to lift your head up high. Yahoo!

misty watercolor memories

This post is for Anna. The rest of you will find it really boring.

Grandma Ballard's house. I don't want to forget the details. Fill in what I have missed and correct what I have wrong.

You pull in the driveway and a rusty mailbox is on the right. Big yard on both sides of driveway. Some big rocks on the left? There's a cherry tree near the driveway and a plum tree that grows little tiny really dark plums. Push doorbell. It's round and white. Garage door opens. White and wood paneling station wagon on left. Golf cart or El Camino or empty on right. Lots of tools and grease. Smells like dirt and grease and cars. Open door that has like a frosty diamond pattern. Shelves on right. Oh man, what I wouldn't give to go through all that stuff now. I'll bet there were some awesome treasures in there. (I have a feeling I'm going type those two above sentences over and over in this post.) Laundry and freezer on left. Messy and cluttered but I never really gave the mess a second thought when I was growing up. Stairs going up, were they gray? I think they were gray or brown. White walls. Was every room in the house white? Did they not believe in color?

Up the stairs. Railings were wooden and smooth. Kitchen on right. Dark cupboards. Light counters. Hexagon rugs on floor? Octagon? Orange and brown? Cheap table with vinyl chairs that had a big vinyl button in them. Am I remembering that right? Old stand mixer. Giant salt and pepper shakers on the stove. Super old stove and fridge. Freezer on bottom. Stuff piled up. Dishes were white with blue flowers. Wish I knew the name of the pattern. Pans were hung on the wall. Remember that pantry built in the wall with the doors? There was a hanging on the wall that I can't picture. Grandad always said the prayer. Something like, "For this food we are about to eat, may the Lord make us truly grateful. Amen."

Outside kitchen, hallway to bedrooms on left, living room on right. Mirror on wall. Full length. Wall hanging with owls? Living room had big gray? couch. Two chairs. Table between them with a lamp that looked like the glass was cracked in it. But that was just the style. Mail on table with letters Grandma would save for other people to read. Organ. Fireplace. Pictures of grandkids on mantle. Red recliner across room next to something old. Some kind of cabinet. Picture on wall was people getting married with big old frame. Another table with pictures of grandkids. Next room had big clock that I would give my first born to see again. (Sorry Emily.) Grandma's chair and yarn. Couch with flower slipcover. Remember those vinyl pillows stacked up in bright colors? A TV. Another organ. Bookshelves with books and photo albums. Toys. Red truck toy that was like a wrecker or something. I can't picture the other toys but I know there were more. Was there a picture of a duck and a gun? Or was that in big room? Sewing plant room. Bench next to window to sit on. All windows with lots and lots of plants. More shelves with stuff and sewing machine. Ironing board. Hanging plants. Exercise bike.

Dining room with most beautiful dining table and chairs. Give second born to own that. Side table. Hutch. Wish I could go through that. More plants. Chairs by window. Can't remember what they were made out of. Chandelier was glass.

First bedroom was small. Double bed? White chenille bedspread. Several dressers and a closet all of which I wish I could see what was in it. Second bedroom two twin four poster beds...third born for those. White bedspreads. Two dressers. Fourth born for the mirror and brush set that sat on one of the dressers. LOVED that mirror and brush set. Fifth born for the old electric alarm clock that sat on the bedside table. What was in those dressers and closet? Treasures untold, I'll bet.

Grandma's room fuzzier. Didn't go in there as much. Big bed. Dresser. Grandad's coin purse on dresser. Grandma's jewelry behind door.

There was a book there about a little girl named Penny that goes to church. I would give sixth born for it. Glad I have so many kids.

Bathroom had weird hanging light. Rug on floor. Doorstop was baby food jar with water and fake flowers in it. Mirror on wall. Fancy towels and shower curtain. Mint green?

Saving yard for another post.

Sooner or later, we all go to the zoo.

I love the Toledo Zoo. It's my favorite zoo that I've ever been to. For our family to go to the zoo, it would cost more than we have. I've been wanting to go. Cameron has never been to a zoo. Poor child! Last week, the Toledo Blade gave Chris 10 free tickets to the zoo. I was beside myself with excitement. I would find myself singing the Raffi zoo song at odd moments. I fantasized about the flashlight fish. And the baby elephant! The baby elephant! I was jazzed.

We decided to go on Labor Day. It was a wonderful, fun trip. We took our own lunches and didn't spend any money on anything else. We saw orangutans, polar bears, giraffes, tigers, lions, elephants (baby and big), snakes, hippos, birds, fish, turtles, penguins, sloth bears, apes, cheetahs and bald eagles.

The Toledo Zoo has changed a lot over the years. I was walking around remembering so many things that were different when I was younger:

Entering the zoo through the subway tunnel and yelling to hear the echo

Hearing the sound of the peacocks all over the zoo

The train tunnel that had a black light

The seals where the penguins used to be that would swim and play all the time

The smell in what is now the "Carnivore Cafe"

The petting zoo that had more than just goats

The giant tortoise

Sunday night symphony concerts at the Amphitheatre

I know there used to be another ride besides the train and carousel. Does anyone remember what it was?

I'm so glad we got to go. It was a great day. Thanks, Toledo Blade!

You can see some pictures of our trip here.

Society has rules and the first rule is: You go to college. You wanna have a happy and successful life, you go to college.

Emily is giving me a lot of grief for giving BYU fans a lot of grief over their sad loss in the NCAA basketball tournament. She keeps telling me I don't like the Lord's school and calls me a hater, etc... I really can't defend myself because it's true. I didn't have a great experience at BYU. Sometimes I tend to blame the school itself even though it was really my own fault.

I'm writing this post to help her understand why I didn't love it there.

I had a difficult time deciding where to attend college. I applied to and was accepted at four universities. They were all at least two hours from home. I was so nervous about leaving my dad and my sister all alone. I really wanted to give BYU a try because my mom told me that she really wanted me to go there. My stake president told me not to worry, that the ward would step up and take care of my family. (And they did in such an incredible way, but that's another post.) So, I prayed about going to BYU and I really did feel like it was where I was supposed to go. My dad was very disappointed in my decision and I don't really know exactly why. But he did not lend me any support after I made my decision. I'm not talking financially. I mean he distanced himself from me in a way that was extremely painful. I had a great friend take me to BYU after I was accepted and tour it. I remember my dad was so upset that I was going just for a visit. He wouldn't look at the pictures I took after I got home. I have felt like since that decision, I have never done anything to make him proud of me. (Again, probably an entire additional post.)

So while most kids had parents who were taking the reigns and helping their kids with financial aid and housing and choosing classes, I had no one but me. I didn't fill out the financial aid stuff right. I didn't choose wisely on my housing decision. All of you BYU grads are going to think this was my biggest mistake: I lived off campus my freshman year. I can hear you all going, "Yep, that's it." I choose extremely difficult classes for my first semester. Stuff like Honors Advanced Chemistry and Honors Advanced Calculus. I was a smart girl but didn't know that the first semester is for figuring things in life out and spreading your wings a little and having fun.

I left my house in Toledo for BYU on August 2, 1993, with my little Chevette crammed full and a dear friend by my side. A sister in the ward volunteered to caravan with me to Utah. Again, I had terrible disappointment that my dad wouldn't go with me. I know he had MS and that it was hard for him to travel but deep-down I think he really could have done it if he had wanted to. I saw him do incredible things when he wanted to. I cried myself from my house to the Indiana-Illinois border. Looking back, I just can't believe I left them-my poor dad and sister. It feels like a horrible, cruel thing I did.

I lost the sister from the ward that I was following outside of Chicago. Stacy and I were on our own-an 18 year old and a 17 year old-in the middle of the country. We drove ourselves from Chicago to Lincoln, Nebraska. In a car that would repeatedly overheat. And without cellphones or GPS or anything like that. If that was Emily, I would be beside myself. I would have police helicopters finding her. National Guard would be called in.

Anyways, I got to BYU on August 4. I found a job at the MTC in the cafeteria. I hated it so much and quit and found another job at Krystal Kreations in the University Mall. That was better. I lived at Roman Garden's Apartments. I moved my stuff in, knowing no one. We had three bedrooms. Two of them had girls in them that were friends with each other. They met living on campus their freshman year. (I know, I know...) The other room had one girl who was not a student. She was old...like 22. She taught me some very interesting ways to disobey the law of chastity while still being "technically" a virgin. It was awful. I will never forget my first night there, on the top bunk, crying myself to sleep. But I thought things would soon get better because I had orientation things coming up and then I would meet people.

I went to the orientation things but all the kids had friends from their on-campus buildings. I was extra. I didn't feel any guidance. No one was there to help me figure out stuff. I had to do it on my own and I was not well equipped for it. When I talked to my dad, I would try to be excited about the things I was experiencing. Here's how conversations would go: "I was studying in the Lee Library and it's huge, Dad. It's really incredible." Him: "The library at MSU is the largest and greatest library on any campus on the planet." I know now that I was depressed and trying anything to make myself feel better. This included spending way too much time dancing at The Palace and The Bay in the modern room and too little time studying. And spending way too much money on things to cheer me up and not being wise in the use of my resources.

I was floundering.

I had one friend and I told him how unhappy I was and what should I do? He suggested we fast together and maybe that would help. Such a good friend. So we did. We fasted and I remember sitting on the grass with him outside the library after fasting and we shared a turkey sandwich and I felt better. I hadn't decided what to do, but I felt better. This friend had an aunt who lived really close to me and I walked to her house one day just to talk. I needed someone to talk to who could help me. She was kind and wise. It was so nice to be in a home. I hated my apartment. I hated the stupid guys all around like sharks sizing girls up. I hated not feeling like I belonged anywhere. I hated being lonely. I failed at being away from home.

I decided to go home. I re-applied and was accepted to MSU. I secured an apartment at the LDS Living Center there. I felt happy. I felt like this was going to be a good thing for me.

I left BYU on December 16, 1993. Good riddance, I said. I left Utah having made one friend. The best memories I have of being there are of food I ate. I haven't been back since I left almost 20 years ago.

I moved into the Living Center right after January 1, 1994. I made friends right away. I met my future husband on the first Sunday I attended the university ward there. The rest is history.

I vowed to help Anna when she applied to school and be supportive no matter where she chose to go to school. I helped her fill out her forms and made sure she had everything right. She chose MSU too. But I didn't pressure her in any way. She was just a really smart girl.

I don't really hate BYU. What I hate are the bad, sad memories that my experience left me with. Those four months were pretty awful for me so in my mind BYU is synonymous with a bad, disappointing experience. What I hate is that so many LDS people feel like it is the only valid option for LDS youth. And it's not. Just thinking quickly, I can name 16 couples that I know who met each other at the ELSLC and were married in the temple and are still married today. It's a wonderful place. I want my kids to know that they can go anywhere...MSU, OSU, Schoolcraft, even BYU (But not U of M. I couldn't stomach that one.) and they can be happy and successful. I will do my best to help them. And if they get 1600 miles away from home and have given it a good shot and hate it, I will go get them and help them find another place that fits them better. That's probably not a love and logic mom, is it? But its what I would do.

The only recourse I have to use against BYU is to root against their sports teams. It's just a little thing and probably a little petty but it works for me. This post has been extremely therapeutic for me. I feel much better.

Poor Pinkus, poor little Pinkus.

On Tuesday, I ran some errands with my mother in law. I took her clothes into the dry cleaner for her. I had to give her phone number so the dry cleaner could look up the account and after he found it he said, "Hi, Carol." I said hi back without correcting the name.

I immediately remembered going to the dry cleaner for my dad when I was young.

We had to go the the cleaners every Saturday. We drove 6.22 miles every Saturday morning to my dad's favorite cleaners, Adams Laundry and Cleaners. There was a perfectly good One Hour Martinizing about 5 blocks from my house and why we never used it, I'll never know.

I always put the laundry under my dad's name, Blair Ballard. Pretty soon, one of the guys that worked there started calling me "Blair." He thought I was Blair Ballard. I could have been. Blair is a gender neutral name. And I was too embarrassed and silly to correct him. So I was Blair Ballard to the Adams Laundry and Cleaners for several years.

One time, one of my dad's friends went to pick up my dad's laundry. He gave the name "Blair Ballard" and the guy working there wanted to know how SHE was doing. My dad's friend blew my cover and told him that I was Blair's daughter named, Jennifer. The next time I went to the cleaners and every time after, the guy always said (with great enthusiasm), "Hi, JENNIFER!" Made me feel so stupid.

I wonder how long it will take OK-Cleaners to figure out that I'm Jennifer and not Carol.

Settle Down

Settle down.

My dad used to say this to me all the time. Not in a mean, angry way. But in a calming, kind parent way. Usually I was in a panic or sobbing or ranting and he would look at me in a soothing way and say, "Settle down." He always knew that whatever it was that I was in a tither about was going to be okay. After the "settle down," we would talk and his words always made me feel better.

I can remember crying about something when I was very little and he said this to me while sitting on my bed. I can still see the sun coming through my Holly Hobbie curtains and sitting with my dad and knowing that he loved me and whatever I was upset about was going to be ok.

I remember sitting in the library parking lot with him crying over a boy that broke my heart. He said those words, "Settle down." It was going to be alright. There would be other boys.

I remember holding onto him after Mom died and sharing tears with him. Crying so hard that no sound was coming out. But, Dad could make it better.

The last time I remember him saying these words to me was when he was in the hospital and I was upset about it. I was very pregnant and worried and he simply said, "Settle down." And I did.

I realized recently that I say the same thing to my children when they get worried or upset. They come to me with their fears, so giant in their tiny little lives, yet so small in the grand scheme. What if they don't like their teacher? What if they aren't good at swimming on the Varsity team? What if they get tackled really hard at football? What if they get yelled at for forgetting their scout book? What if there's nothing good to eat? What if they lost their DSi? What if they need new school clothes? What if we have to clean the house and go to piano and football and pick up the big coat? What if we're late? What if their foot, chest, finger, back, *insert body part here* hurts?

And first I say, "Settle down."

And then I listen and try to solve.

Usually it works. They calm down and we talk and resolve the issue.

I imagine that Heavenly Father is the same. I come to Him with my fears looming so large in my life, yet tiny in eternal perspective. I cry and stomp and sob. I tell Him that I can't see how this problem is going to possibly work out. I make quite a production.

Yet He knows all and he can see the resolutions to all my worries. And He simply and quietly tells me, "Settle down. All is well. "

And He's right. Every time.

Did you see "Alien"? When the creature was in that guy's stomach? It feels like that. Freshman

My baby girl is starting high school in 10 days, 15 hours, 33 minutes and 57...56...55. Not that I'm thinking about it at all. Maybe just a smidge.

She went to school today for Freshman Orientation. She found out her schedule, got some books, got her picture taken. She said it was fun and she ate lunch with her swimming friends. Yay for swimming friends!

She had several outfits picked out to wear. I shouldn't call them outfits...I think that would make her gag. She had several really cool shirts picked out to choose between. In the car going somewhere yesterday, she asked me what I wore for my freshman picture day. I told her my uniform and a John Lennon pin that said "Give Peace a Chance." She made a face and thought the pin was really dumb. Why did I wear a pin?

I explained about the old St. Ursula uniform. Try to imagine this. It could be any fabric you wanted. Anything. I had a red one with bears, I had plaid, I had one with frogs...I can't remember the rest. It was a dress, three pleats in front, three in back, long sleeves and knee length, matching belt around the waist. If that wasn't hideous enough, we wore a white detachable collar with a pin that connected the two sides. It could be any pin as long as it wasn't offensive. When I googled "old st. ursula toledo uniform," no pictures of the uniform came up. This one did however, which I thought was HI-larious.

I had to scan my freshman yearbook to get these beauties. I had also forgotten that we could wear a matching sweater over our uniform. We were a collective hot mess.



Here's me in my monstrosity complete with ugly hair and cool John Lennon pin. Why did someone not tell me to wax my eyebrows?? I'm holding all the women in the Toledo 1st Ward responsible for not giving me this tip. I look like a Yeti.


The next year, we got much better uniforms. Traditional pleated shirt, oxford shirts and blazers. I loved wearing uniforms and I wish my kids wore them now.

I don't know if my John Lennon pin story wore off on Emily because she wore her Abbey Road t-shirt and Beatles hoodie. You can't really tell it's Beatles-wear but it is. She thinks the picture looks stupid. Honey, you think you look stupid?? Take a look at my beautiful mug two inches up. You are gorgeous.


Two most important tips for first day of Freshman Year:

1. Wear enough deodorant. I didn't and I felt like I stunk all day long.

2. Go to the correct classes. If you end up going to the wrong Biology class that is full of Sophomores, they will laugh at you and you will feel stupid.

But at ten they start the aquasonics Thirty-five geriatrics throwing elbows. It was like I was swimming through a flabby armed spanking machine.

Great news! Emily made the varsity swim team at Plymouth High School! I am so excited for her.
She's a great swimmer. She started when she was 7 swimming for clubs and has worked so hard to get where she is. I am just thrilled!

I can't wait until she gets her team suit and the "big coat." I found out that the "big coat" is actually called a "swim parka," but I am probably still going to call it the "big coat."

I had a lot of swimmer friends growing up and for some reason I was so jealous of that big coat. I just loved it. They would wear it before and after meets. I was so cool. So I keep telling Emily that while she's in school, I'm going to be going around the house wearing her big coat. She just rolls her eyes. Like it could even come close to fitting me.

Come out and see Emily swim in her meets. She's going to be great! Way to go, Emily!!

Because I'm REFRESHED. I finally found a way to sleep in my office. Under the desk. I lie on my back. I tuck in the chair. I'm invisible.

My grandad took a nap every afternoon. He took it on the davenport, which is an old person's word for couch, with a red pillow and covered himself with a homemade afghan. You could almost set your watch by Grandad's nap. I didn't play in the den when Grandad was sleeping even though that's where the toys were at Grandma's house. Sometimes I would lay down with him. I'll bet he just loved that. He probably got the worst naps ever when I was there.

My grandad had a huge garden and grew everything. I was especially adept at helping him harvest strawberries, raspberries and blueberries. In the fall, I was good at relieving him of his concord grapes. He worked in the garden wearing a straw hat, navy work shorts and a t-shirt. He wore the hat because he was bald and the sun would burn the top of his head.

There was a pool at Grandad and Grandma's. It was a round, above ground pool. I wanted to swim in it all day, every day. Grandma would sit inside and crochet and watch me through the window. We used tire inner tubes as floats. They were great because they would rarely get a hole. You had to be careful though because the valve stem poked inward and you could get a bad scratch from them. Grandma would give me a handful of pennies and I would spend all day throwing them in and diving for them. The best was when Grandad would put on his swimsuit and swim with me. It was such a treat!

Grandad was a beekeeper. If a honey bee got into the pool, you carefully scooped it out and put it on the grass so it could fly away. You NEVER killed a honey bee! Grandad would wear his beekeeping suit sometimes when he worked with the hives. I can remember making honey in the basement at his house.

When I was little Grandad had a blue truck for his "work/junk" car. It was a Ford. I can remember tracing the letters F-O-R-D on the back gate. He had a really cool El Camino for his junk car too. I LOVED the El Camino. I wish we still had it. It was pretty awesome.

Oh, woo. Look at the time. I gotta get to bed. I still gotta brush my teeth, feed the hog, still got some homework to do, still got those bills to pay

I taught Christopher how to mow the lawn on Friday. He was an eager student and did a really great job. He is hoping to gain some lawn mowing clients and earn money.

Mowing the lawn was my job since I was in the 4th grade. I HATED it. Our lawn was tiny but I still hated it. I remember when we bought our new lawn mower. I had really short hair and the salesman said that the mower would be perfect for me, "Right, Son?" I wanted to kick him.

I used to pray for rain so I wouldn't have to mow. I remember in the 7th grade, I'd be lined up in the bus line waiting for Mrs. Bauer to let us go and asking her if it was supposed to rain that afternoon. I think I asked her every day. Finally she quizzed me on why did I want it to rain so much. I told her and she gave me some "fun" tips on lawn mowing like mow patterns into it. The tips ended up being not really that fun.

When I got married, I knew I would never have to mow the lawn again. Mowing the lawn is the man's job. I think that since we've been married, I've done it maybe 5 times. Under protest, of course.

Now it's Christopher's turn to carry the mantle of "lawn mower" for the Vos house. Luckily for me, I've got 4 boys in a row that can hand down that mantle for the next 14 years. By then, maybe I can afford lawn service.

BABY PREP UPDATE: Cradle is in and cleaned! Garage is organized. Check one off my list and one off Chris'! Hooray for us! And I'm on AOGG book 3. I hated book 2. It was so boring. Can't believe I never noticed before.

I know nothing stays the same. But if you're willing to play the game, it will be coming around again.

Anna and I rode to Toledo with some friends who just happened to be going to the same show. Anna and I had planned on eating at Tony Packos after the show. We narrowed it down to Ideal Hot Dog and Tony Packos and Packos won out. But not by much. :) So, I had to tell our ride that we had to go to Tony Packos after the show. Luckily they didn't seem to mind too much. Something is wrong with you if you don't like Packos. Really seriously wrong. You should get checked out.

Driving into Holland and then Toledo toward the theater was really sad for me. SO many memories on those streets! St. John's High School, location of a very disappointing homecoming dance. (Josh, if you read this, I'm sorry. I know it was disappointing for you too.) Chuck Muers which is now some lame Mexican place. And Reynolds Road...what happened to Reynolds Road? Has South Toledo just fallen apart?

The saddest by far was the parking lot that once was Southwyck Mall. Southwyck Mall contains a million memories for me: Santa's Lap, the Easter chicks, the giant fountain and stairs to sit on in the middle, the carousel, Anna's ear piercing(s), Lions store. Lion's Store! That's where I got my first Liz purse with the vinyl sides and the L stamped in it. That was the "it" bag at my school. Everyone had one. And Midnight Madness at Lions. And that's where my mom took me to the Clinique counter for my first makeover. Everything cool came from Lion's. Can you tell I just loved Lion's Store?


My best friend and I would walk from her house (she lived in the neighborhood behind the mall) to the mall all the time. I think Eliza and I saw "Three Men and A Baby" there five or six times. One time I gave her a birthday gift in a bag and the ticket taker either looked in it for contraband candy or asked her if she had some. I can't remember exactly why but we thought it was hilarious. Southwyck Mall was where I went to the movies with friends to see a specific movie that my mom had forbidden me to see. Don't do that, Emily!

In high school, we pretty much stopped going to Southwyck and spent most of our malling at Franklin Park. Which I'm pretty sure isn't even Franklin Park anymore. Where has my Toledo gone?

I almost cried in the car seeing the sad dilapidation for an area of town that was relatively bustling 10 years ago. I guess things change fast especially when you aren't around it every day to experience it slowly. I was glad we didn't head out the other way on Heatherdowns so I would have to pass my old Churchills. That would have reduced me to tears.

How will I know?

I just heard the song, "How will I know?" by Whitney Houston on the radio. That song totally reminds me of being in the 5th grade. I got a boombox for Christmas that year and my first tape. It was Whitney Houston's first album aptly titled, "Whitney Houston." I had the job of dusting and sweeping our living room every Saturday and every Saturday I would bring my boombox with me and play that song and make up my very own cool dances to it as I dusted and danced. FYI: I am not a very good choreographer and if Chris ever got his hands on the video of my attempt at choreography for Senior Halftime Show, my reputation as a semi-normal person would be over.

I love songs that bring back fun memories.

You have to meet Bess. She's amazing. She's 93, she's a writer... and I told her about you.

On Thursday, Rachel Clawson and I went to the temple to do an Endowment session. The two names that we took to do were family members that I know a little bit about. The first was Jane Dorothy Hamilton. She was my grandma's cousin and I met her several times. She ended up being quite a wealthy woman and either had no children or maybe just one. She would send a box to our family every Christmas with some toys for Anna and I and something for my parents. I remember she bought Anna her first real Cabbage Patch Kid. She was a very nice lady. I was glad we could do her work. The other person we did work for was Waneita Hudson. She was my great-grandmother's cousin. She was quite old when I knew her. She was born in 1902 and she went by the name "Neita." She and my mom shared quite a bond over African Violets. Many of the ones my mom grew came from starters that Neita gave her. Neita came to my house once and I was just searching for the picture from her visit but was unable to find it. I'll keep looking.

I'm glad I had the chance to go to the temple and bless the lives of these two women who blessed my life in many ways.

You know who I am? In the field of local-live-home entertainment, I'm a god!

Today, Chris did a magic show for the kids' school assembly. He did an amazing job. I love watching him perform. Even though I have seen the tricks a million times and know how they are done, I still enjoy watching and I laugh at all his jokes. Watching his shows reminds me of some of the first times I saw him perform magic.

Chris and I met at the LDS Living Center in East Lansing. I lived in the girl's building and he lived in the guys. My roommate and I had just moved there from BYU and we didn't know anyone, so we decided to throw a little party and invited all the residents and hoped that we would get to know guys people. It worked. Lots of people came and we had fun and danced and ate snacks. It was a great party. This guy, Chris Vos, came too and brought some "magic tricks" with him. Being the snotty 19 year-old that I was, I thought "magic tricks" were about the gayest thing you could have at what was supposed to be a really cool party. I didn't go over the the "magic" corner of the living room where Chris Vos was wowing and amazing our guests. I stayed in the safe, ungay, cool part of the living room with the music and the dancing. But pretty soon I was all alone. Everyone was watching Chris Vos. I slunk my way over to the crowd to get a peek and couldn't believe what I saw. He totally stunk! He couldn't remember how to do the trick and kept screwing it up. I was so embarrassed for him to fail like that in front of all those people. And then...WHAMMY...he does the trick and amazes my socks off. Then I felt like an idiot..the not remembering and screwing up are done on purpose. I know now that it's called a "sucker trick" cuz the magician is suckering you in to believing that he can't do it and then he totally blows you away. Chris is awesome at it!

After he used his magic on me and won my heart, he would do magic all the time for money for us to live on. He worked for a talent agency in Detroit and would get gigs at the country clubs down here all the time. I would drive down here from East Lansing with him and sometimes I would sit in the car and wait for him. Sometimes I would go in and sit with the coat check girl while he would perform. In those days, putting together his show took FOREVER and I was really impatient. It would make a huge mess in our apartment. I hated that part of the magic. I once broke one of his tricks by playing with it too much until it just collapsed in my hands. We laugh about it all the time because I am always breaking stuff accidentally.

Every apartment and house that we have lived in has had a playing card stuck to the ceiling after Chris did the "Card on Ceiling" trick. It is a great part of our house. I love that our kids love his magic and that he is teaching them how to do the tricks so that they can have a great talent like him. Chris, you bring magic to my every day.

When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does.

I finished the Book of Mormon today. Every time I read it, I find something new that amazes me. This time when I was reading, I was especially drawn to the story of Alma and Amuleck. Their faith was astounding. I was also struck by the quick downfall of the Nephites after the visit of the Savior.

I don't know how many reads that makes in my lifetime. I do remember the first time I read it. It was 1988 and I was 13. Our Young Women leaders challenged all of us girls to read it and if we did, we would get a keepsake pillow. I was motivated by the idea of the pillow. In fact, I still have the pillow and it has been on every bed I have owned for the last 20 years. The pillow reminds me of the first time I read the most correct book on the earth. The pillow reminds me of the feelings I had that first time reading it and knowing it was true. The pillow reminds me that I need to read and reread the Book of Mormon daily. It reminds me that I know that the Book of Mormon is the word of God and that I will get closer to the Savior by reading it. I am thankful for those YW leaders who challenged me to read the Book of Mormon 20 years ago. I am thankful for a book of scripture that I can turn to and find answers to life's most pressing questions. I am thankful for a book that guides me on a daily basis and encourages me to press forward in the face of adversity. I know the Book of Mormon is true and I am thankful that it is a part of my life.


I know it looks ratty and dirty, but I'm afraid to wash it because I don't want the paint to come off.

I wouldn't sell my bike for all the money in the world. Not for a hundred million, trillion, billion dollars!

Riding bikes in the summer is a glorious activity. Growing up in Toledo, riding bikes is what I did all summer long. I got my first two-wheeler when I was 5. It was orange and I loved everything about it. I rode it around and around and around and around the block. It saved me from various scary neighborhood dogs and helped me achieve respect from several neighborhood boys who would let me play with them because my bike wasn't pink. I was a rider in the days before the helmet craze. If you were crashing, you were hurting. I was a rider in the days of the banana seat and the giant pole with a flag attached. I loved my bike.

One evening my mom and I went for a bike ride/walk to our neighborhood park. There was a baseball game going on and we saw some friends we knew. I had ditched my bike in the grass to play on the play equipment. After the game was over, the friends offered to take us in their car to get ice cream. My bike was forgotten as we piled into their car. The next morning, I went out to our garage and was confused at not seeing my bike parked in its usual spot. I ran inside yelling to my mom that my bike was stolen. She came out and was as perplexed as I was as to where my bike was. Then I remembered...I left it at the park! As fast as my little seven year old legs could carry me, I headed for the park. I can still remember the feeling of panic and fear of losing my bike and hoping it would still be there. I searched everywhere but it was gone. I walked home crying bitterly all the way. My precious bike! I had lost it! A few days later one of the boys in our neighborhood came over with his dad. He had seen my bike at another kid's house. Apparently that kid had taken my bike home from the baseball game and since it wasn't pink, he was keeping it. The boy and his dad went with my dad over to Bike Stealers house and retrieved my bike for me. I can remember sitting on the front porch dying with anticipation at being reunited with my bike. It was wonderful to have it back. We bought the neighborhood boy a toy for his reward for finding my bike for me. I never lost my bike again!

When I was 10, I graduated to a 10-speed bike. This bike and I were friends for a long time. We knew every uneven piece of pavement in the neighborhood that would send you flying when you hit it. We found the driveway that was really steep and fun to go sailing down. We spread our wings together riding to the library and Burger King and friends houses. Anna and I would go for bike rides after dinner. I remember how fun that was. I can remember the first time I let her ride her bike alone around our block. I'll never forget the panic I felt when she didn't return in what I thought was a reasonable time. I started running in the direction that she should come back from and pretty soon I could see her. There she was just happily riding unaware of the panic I was feeling. I stopped and composed myself so she wouldn't know how worried I was. She was so proud for riding all the way around the block all by herself.

I left that 10 speed at home when I left and I haven't had a bike of my own since even though I really long for one. The last experience I had on a bike was several years ago at Lifetime Fitness. I thought I would give one of the biking classes a try. Much to my surprise, those seats were painful! I couldn't stand it. I left the class before it started.

My children were all given bikes by their grandparents recently. Emily got hers a few summers ago and Christopher, Calvin and Spencer all got theirs this summer. Christopher and Calvin just on Monday. Yesterday they rode up and down our street and I sat in a lawn chair and watched them. They had so much fun and it brought back so many biking memories for me. Someday I hope we are in a situation where I can have a bike too and go with them. I don't know if I'll remember how, but it's riding a bike...you just don't forget.

Emily's scootering because her bike needs a repair.

Stop eating people's old french fries, pigeon - have some self-respect! Don't you know you could fly?

I love the Wendy's Breaded Chicken Sandwich. I don't remember when I first started loving this sandwich but I was probably in high school. Wendy's was my dad's favorite fast food restaurant. It was my job to cook dinner each night and if I ever just didn't feel like it, Dad would take us to Wendy's. We never went in and ate; we always ate in the van in the parking lot and threw french fries at the seagulls that lived at that lot. It was great amusement. I would always get a chicken sandwich. I loved the juicy chicken, the flavor of the tomato mixed with the mayo, the crispy lettuce. Mmmm...my mouth is watering! The only part of the sandwich I didn't like was sometimes on the end, there was this gristly piece of chicken that was really gross. I would try and pick that piece off first.

One of my best high school friends shared this love of the sandwich with me. Sometimes after Young Women, we would stop at Wendy's and get a sandwich. She and I once drove really far for one. A post in itself would be my trip from Toledo, Ohio to Provo, Utah. I will have to do it someday. For now let me say that it was just Stacy, age 17 and me, age 18 in my Chevette, which kept overheating, in the middle of Iowa. We were separated from our caravan somewhere outside of Chicago. We didn't have cell phones then so here we were, two girls, traveling across the country by ourselves. We thought it was AWESOME! Our parents did not agree. So, we are in the middle of Iowa and decide that we want a Wendy's chicken. We start watching the exit signs and see McDonalds, Burger King, etc...but no Wendy's. So we keep going. And going. And going. But still no Wendy's. Finally, we are starving and decide we have to stop and eat somewhere so we go to Burger King. Their chicken is disgusting compared to Wendy's. The whole dining experience was so disappointing. We got back in the car and headed west and what do we see at the next exit? Wendys. UGH!! I have hated Iowa ever since. If I was ranking the states from 1-50, Iowa would be #50 right behind Kansas coming in at #49. Why is Kansas so long and sooooo boring? I don't know but I loathe Kansas. We finally met up with our group in Nebraska and made it to our stop in Wyoming. We spent the night in Cheyenne and the first thing we did was go to Wendy's and get a chicken sandwich. It was delicious!

For a while, Wendy's changed their sandwich. They thought it was an improvement, but it wasn't. They changed the bun and the lettuce. They took away the mayo and replaced it with some yucky sauce. It was nasty. Several years ago, they brought back the original Breaded Chicken Sandwich. I applaud them!

A couple of days ago, I got some Wendy's coupons in the mail. One of them is 2 chicken sandwiches for $5. I am dying to use it but need someone to share with. I do love the sandwich, but even though I'm eating for 2 (and have been for several years) I can't eat 2 sandwiches. Anyone interested in sharing a coupon, let me know.

I remain tender toward the bees

A post has been ruminating in my head for a few weeks and I wanted to save it for Mother's Day because it seemed more appropriate but I just have to get it out now. (This blog is such a lifesaver for me. Sometimes there is just stuff you have to get out! ) Anna had a post on her blog last month about women who influenced her during her lifetime. It got me thinking about the special women who influenced me. I think of them often but don't credit them enough for helping me become the person that I am.

My mom was so sick at different times that she was hospitalized for extended periods and during these times I did not live at home. As a child, it felt like I was away for months at a time. The first experience I had was living with my Aunt Pat and Uncle Ken. I lived with them when I was small--maybe 4 or 5--and I'm not sure for how long. It seemed like a really long time. Living with them was very different for me than living at my own home. They lived on a farm in the country and I was used to living in a townhouse in the city. They had 5 children at the time and I was an only child. I was used to spending a lot of time with my dad and their dad worked at night and slept during the day. You couldn't make noise in the house that would wake him up. The prospect of him accidentally waking was terrifying to me because he was very, very tall and stern. I think he's probably 6'5" and to me as a child, he was a giant. I missed my dad so much during this time that I was away from him and once I was crying and my uncle picked me up and rocked me in a chair and just held me until I stopped and felt better. It was such a tender moment and from then on, I was not afraid of him. I wish that I could say that I learned specific things from my aunt during this time with them but I think I was too little to soak anything in. I do know that she loved me because she took me in and cared for me during a time that was difficult for our family. I always think of my Aunt Pat as a woman who has had a gentle influence in my life.

Another summer I lived with our Stake President's family. They had nine children at the time and I think they rounded it out to 10 eventually. The family ranged from college students to babies. I learned so much from them! The mother was the most soft-spoken woman I have every known. I NEVER once heard her voice above a regular speaking tone and even her speaking tone sounded like a whisper. I aspire to be that great, but I fail miserably. I learned to hate waffles at their house because that was all we had for breakfast. You could have waffles or homemade cereal. I really missed my Grape Nuts, which was my favorite cereal at 8. So I hated waffles after eating them every day for weeks. I learned how to clean at their house. Sis. Cheney gave me a little card each week with my jobs on it. I had to clean the tubs with comet and a scrub brush. I had to dust the living room including their daughter's harp. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Once I got scolded by Pres. Cheney for leaving my shoes in the kitchen. I never did it twice. Even at my young age, I learned that spending time with individual children is very important. As parents, they would take out each child individually periodically. It made an impression and I follow their example in our home today. I also learned the importance of Sabbath Day observance from them.

For a while, I had to go to another family's house after school because my mom was in the hospital and my dad was at work. This family had a very interesting mom. I would not say that she was overly expressive with her affection. Even her smiles seemed forced. It bothered me because I was used to my mom being cheerful and lavishing me with hugs and kisses. This mom scared me a little and I would try and stay out of her way when I was at their house. However, she was a good woman. I found out that my mom had given birth to Anna while I was at her house. I was so excited and thrilled to have a sister and after I hung up the phone with my dad, she hugged me and was so happy with me. There were times that my parents had to leave me with them in the middle of the night and rush my mom to the hospital. There was never a question as to whether they would take me in. I have seen her on her hands and knees scrubbing our floors because my mom was too sick to do it herself. True service above self was what this sister taught me.

Another time that my parents needed to leave me in the middle of the night, the above mentioned sister couldn't take me in because she was having a baby of her own, so I went to another family's house. I didn't know them very well and I was so scared. I remember the mom putting me to bed and I was crying because I missed my parents so much. (I was such a crier when I was away from home. I can't tell you how many sleepovers I had to leave because I just couldn't stand being away from home.) The mom laid down with me on the bed and told me a very wonderful story about a husband that she had had who died and something about an airplane. I can't remember it very well, but it calmed me and made me trust her and know that I was going to be alright. Her kindness towards me will never be forgotten.

Another woman in my life started out as the mother of a child I babysat. I loved babysitting! I would give up any activity with friends to babysit for them. This woman became a friend to me as the time passed. She and I would go out to lunch and I would go over to her house and just hang out. Several times when her husband was gone, I would go over and we'd watch movies and eat ice cream. She and her husband gave me my first job after high school to earn money for college. She helped me financially so many times when I needed her. She taught me to have fun being a mom and have fun with my children.

My mom had a good friend who became my friend too. She took me to pick blueberries and we canned something together or maybe froze something together. Sweet Corn? I can't remember exactly! She took care of Anna after school everyday until I could pick her up and she would sit on her porch and talk and talk to me like she had nothing else in the whole world to do. I know she did because she had 5 kids and was super busy. I needed those talks with a woman then. She was so kind to do that for me. I remember staying overnight at her house once because I was going to watch her kids while she and her husband went to the temple early the next morning and she and I stayed up really late and talked. I remember her telling me know much she loved kissing her husband which I didn't understand exactly then but now I totally get it. (Sorry, Laurie!) I could always count on her if I needed her. She was one of the first people at our home after my mom died giving us her shoulder to cry on. I know she did so much more than I'll ever be able to thank her for.

I know I learned the most from the mother of my childhood best friend. I met their family when I was in the 6th grade and at that time they had 6 children. Over the next few years, I became great friends with their oldest daughter and fell in love with their oldest son. I spent a lot of time at their house and then when they moved away, I would spend entire weeks during spring break and Christmas break there. The mom was the most patient, kind person I know. I never heard her yell. How I aspire to be a non-yelling mom! Once I threw a Tootsie Pop across the room to someone at their house and it hit her baby on the head. He started crying and I felt terrible. It was the closest I ever saw to her getting mad. She said, "Oh!" at me. She was great at managing their home and getting things done. She made great meals. She also seemed to know exactly what to let go and what to make priority. I am still learning this lesson. I watched their family grow from 6 to 8 in the course of the years that I knew them. The things that I remember about them are things that are happening to my family now. Doritos and sugar cereals were a LUXURY. We had Doritos all the time growing up and now I hardly ever buy them because an entire bag lasts about 10 minutes. Same with sugar cereals. I can remember going to the store with her and buying 5 gallons of milk at a time. Same with us now. I can remember children sleeping anywhere and everywhere in their home...couches, floor, beds. Same as our house. I can remember the kitchen never seemed really clean because someone was always fixing something in there. Same as our house now. I could feel her love for her family and her love for the Lord. Being in her presence always brought me such great comfort.

The word charity can have negative meaning for some. It seems that no one wants to be the recipient of other people's charity. The word, charity, comes from a Latin word (yes, I took HS Latin) meaning love. Charity truly is the pure love of Christ expressed by a loving action towards another person. These women knew, perhaps by the influence of the Spirit, how to give me what I needed to get by during difficult times. I have learned by the example of women, special charitable women, who listened to the Spirit and acted when prompted. I am so thankful to them for the influence for good they had and continue to have upon my life.

Thank you to Aunt Pat, Sis. Cheney, Sis. Griffioen, Sis. Plowgian, Joan, Laurie, and Sis. Washburn. There are many, many other women who have influenced me and I am not trying to leave them out. I'm thankful to everyone, but this is just about a few women I have been thinking of lately.

I guess it looks as if you're reorganizing your records. What is this though? Chronological?

I've got Idol Fever and the only cure is more Idol. All the members of the Vos household are faithful Idol watchers. We sit around Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights in front of Idol, shushing each other to be quiet because some of us (Christopher) are very chatty TV watchers. Each of us chooses our favorite. Emily and Chris like Brooke, Christopher likes David Archuleta, Calvin and I have not decided who we like yet. To be perfectly honest, I don't like any of them as singers. I will never buy their album. The only former Idol that I currently like is Daughtry. I know this is a singing contest but I am of the firm opinion that very little good music has been made since 1995. And I don't really care enough about the new stuff to find out if it is good.

Be honest, can anything out there today compete with the Beatles, U2, REM, Nirvana, Nine Inch Nails, Depeche Mode, Def Leppard or Guns N Roses? I really don't think it can. My friend, Jodi, made me a mix of current music that is all really good. She's trying to cool me up. I especially like this song on it by Maroon 5 and one by Hoobastank. I like the mix and it is fun to listen to. Current music on the radio is not the music that I love. It doesn't have any memories attached to it. It doesn't remind me of sitting in the car with my dad after my little 8th grade boyfriend dumped me, crying and listening to "Patience." It doesn't remind me of dancing to "Head Like a Hole" with this totally HOT guy in the modern room at the Palace in Provo. It doesn't remind me of singing Beatles in the car with my mom. It doesn't remind me of making my sister memorize the names of the singers on the posters in my room and singing REM to her. It doesn't remind me of falling in love with Chris (Enigma). I guess I'm an old fogey. I remember being about 13 or 14 and listening to music with my mom that she described as "jangly." I laughed at her then but now I would laugh with her. Most music I hear on the radio I would describe that way. My mom was a devoted WJR listener, which I found to be very annoying. Our little car only had an AM radio and so we had to listen to it but when I was 14 we got a car with an FM radio and a tape player. My mom wouldn't listen to my jangly stuff but my dad was a sport listening to Metallica and other wonderful choices of mine. Now my radio is permanently fixed on WJR. The circle is complete.

So how do I choose my favorite Idol singer if I don't base it on the music? I do it the same way that I choose a winning card in "Apples to Apples." I choose the one I like the best based on their personality and annoyingness. As far as the Idols, I like Brooke White because she's a Mormon but not annoying. I like Michael Johns because he is nice to look at. We need to get rid of Amanda Overmeyer (aka Bride of Chucky) because she is NOT Janis Joplin and Danny Noriega because he annoys me. If I were a judge, I would probably be like Paula, "You stink as a singer but I love your top. You're through to the next round."