HEY THERE LONELY GIRL...

If someone offered me $10,000,000 to go back to the eighth grade, I would have to decline without a moments hesitation, "no thank you, you can hang on to your money". Ten million dollars is a whole bunch of money, a lot of zeros... still... wouldn't be worth it. Thankfully there has been no such offer made, nor is there the technology to go back in time... yet. May I express my sincere relief that I only had to experience jr. high once. My interpretation of Hell would be 8th grade... or the LAX airport. You may be thinking "Now Brooke isn't that a bit dramatic?"... of course it is. Please don't take me seriously there, I am well aware that there are infinitely more tragic things happening in the world then having to sit on the bus alone... or having to stand in the security line that stretches beyond miles. All dramatics aside, it was a traumatic time of life, as it is for most thirteen year olds. Nonetheless, I think it was good for me, necessary even, needful for character... at least that is the way I've decided to embrace all the crappier stuff that has taken place in life... my wise mom texted me this great quote recently that sums it up quite nicely:

"Never regret. If it's good, it's wonderful. If it's bad, it's experience" -Elenor Hibbert

I moved to from Phoenix to Mesa when I was nine. It's roughly a thirty minute ride down the Superstition freeway from one place to the other, and yet they felt like two different worlds. I would describe Mesa as your typical suburban society... by that I mean that almost every one owns and drives a suburban (a generalization), except for my family, we are "Ford" people, my dad always said "we don't do drugs and we don't drive Chevy's". But then again... we always were a little different, and as I look back now, I am really okay with that. Mesa is the kind of place that people don't really leave, they stake their claim and that is where they stay, and their children stay, and their children's children stay... we're talking generations upon generations and beyond, all close together, all the time. This is all because of a culture deeply rooted in the family unit. I have to admit, as much as I love living life on the west coast, I truly miss my family, I miss sunday dinners at my grandmas house and sometimes it hits me that I'm not there to see my little brother Quinn grow up, he gets his permit this year... unbelievable.

Anywho, where was I...

We were still unpacking boxes when we heard the knock at the door, it was a man with two little girls that looked to be about my age, "Hi, we live down the street and we just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood, these are my daughters Golda and Kinsey, they were wondering if you wanted to play". Kinsey was a year older then me, but Golda was my age, my height and in the same grade. We instantly became best friends. After school I would do my homework, Golda would do her chores, watch Power Rangers and then we would go on bike rides around the neighborhood, purposefully taking the route that would pass by Michael S's house, the cutest boy at school that I would go on to have a silent and yet serious crush on from the 4th to the 8th grade. Golda would ride in front of me to check to make sure he wasn't outside while I waited behind a car, I spent those awkward years trying to avoid him like the plague, in fear that he would find out that I liked him. Kinda sounds stalker-ish now as I am telling the story, but gimme a break, I was ten. We were rather boy crazy. Sometimes we'd scrape all the change together that we could find and ride down to Basha's to buy Tiger Beat Magazine so that we could tear out pictures and posters of Elijah Wood and Jonathan Taylor Thomas, we also wrote letters to their fan clubs. I remember we'd check the mailbox faithfully everyday, finally we had received letters, only to find they were original letters stamped "returned to sender"... our little tween hearts were broken in two. Speaking of hearts, we also had those "best friend" charm necklaces that you would buy at Claire's Boutique... remember those?

We had my boom box that we took everywhere, during the summer we would go swimming in our friends pool, and listen to the radio and wait for our favorite songs so that we could record them on our mix tapes. We never had a song in it's entirety, we would always miss the intro as we would scurry out of the water and over to the boom box to hit the record button, sometimes recording over other songs on accident. We loved Boyz II men, SWV, Mariah Carey, Celine Dion, The Cranberries and Ace of Base. Golda loved music like I did. I also convinced her that like me, she needed to be an Animator for Disney when she grew up, I taught her how to draw mickey mouse and other characters. I remember it was the last day of the sixth grade and also my birthday, I had gotten a Mickey Mouse watch that played "It's a small world after all" she told me that she had something to tell me, she then broke it to me that working for Disney was my dream and not hers, I was sad, but appreciated her honesty.

Over our childhood years we started a very unsuccessful lawn mowing business, a long story that is worthy of it's own blog post. We created and held meetings for "Krafty Kids" in the 3ft X 5ft pantry in my house... and thats Krafty with a "K", we had sleepovers where we toilet papered the neighbors houses, I always felt guilty around 5am and would wake her up to tell her that we needed to go clean it up before they woke up, we did. She was also the first person brave enough to let me come near her head with a pair of scissors, I gave her a horrendous haircut, she pretended to like it, her mother wasn't pleased. I had also decided to give my little sister Katie a haircut while my mom was in the hospital in labor, when she returned home with a new baby from the hospital , she too was not pleased. I never stopped cutting hair...

Neither of us seemed to fit in with the cool girls at school and church. In my eyes, they alway had perfectly french braided hair with poofy bangs and matching bows and never appeared to wear the same outfit more then twice. We were always a bit disheveled in our usual black leggings and oversized flannel shirts, Golda with her terrible short haircut that I gave her and me with my dorky glasses . They all sat at the same lunch table and ate their fancy "lunchables" and stuck together on the play ground. They all happened to be in the same class year after year, they had birthday parties and played together after school. We'd swing on the swings watching from afar, wishing we could be one of them, but we were on the outside looking in. There were many times we felt left out, wanting to belong, to be popular, but at least we had each other... and over time we accumulated a few other good friends that also struggled to find their way into the "clique"...

Elementary school was over. I was unbelievably nervous, we had our student orientation and got our student I.D. cards, and new P.E. uniforms. I remember taking a tour of the school and knowing for certain that I was bound to be lost to wander the crowded winding hallways of the maze that was Jr. High. I remember riding the bus for the first time, then walking through those halls, everyone appeared to be so tall... much taller than me at 4 foot 7 inches (I didn't grow till 9th grade). There were so many new and unfamiliar faces, I even recall seeing a few kids with mustaches. Golda and I compared schedules, we hardly had any of the same classes together, and with only five minutes in between classes we rarely saw each other... however we did have the same lunch period along with a few of our friends. I admit I was slow to make new friends and I clung to the familiar. There were however a few popular boys from the ninth grade that would come and sit with us "7th graders"... they were cute and also happened to be on the football team. They always asked us ridiculous questions and laughed at our honest and naiive answers. We could never understand why they wanted to sit with us, we were way beneath them on the social totem poll, definitely going through the "awkward" stage... I was intimidated by them, but sort of felt like we might be cool if they were sitting with us.

Seventh year came and went like a blur, I survived and expected that things could only get better... but they only got worse. A lot of things changed over the summer... A close friend of ours started to wear make-up, and was hanging out with a new group, the boys came back to school with lower voices, and then just two weeks into the eighth grade Golda's family had sold their house and decided to move to a new neighborhood which meant that she would be attending a different school. I was devastated, who would I sit next to on the bus, who would i ride bikes with after school. I started anticipating the worst... maybe she would find a new best friend at her new school. She assured me that we would still hang out after school and on the weekends and we did, for the first little while... and though it was no ones fault, everything was changing... change was inevitable, and change is hard.

The rest of that semester was rough... I was unsure of where I belonged, what I was good at, who my friends were, what I believed in... or if I really believed in anything. The insecurities of being a teenager started to take a firm grip over me, feeling overly self-conscious about my personality... and my appearance... While it appeared that everyone around me was getting prettier all I could focus on was my glasses and my overbite, I started to smile without showing my teeth. Each day was filled with anxiety as I would walk into the cafeteria for lunch scanning the tables for a familiar face, or a "hey do you want to sit with us?" or trying to find the courage to ask if I could join the table where the those same "cool" girls would sit, but I was paralyzed with my own lack of confidence, to no avail, embarrassed to be seen alone I would end up hiding in the bathroom, or roaming the campus, until the bell would ring. The bus ride home was a similar scenario. One day on the ride home, I overheard the one of the girls talking about a birthday party and who was going to be there, she was a particular girl who would acknowledge me when we were in class but never in a group. I wanted to yell out "please invite me... please". But the invite never came.

That night I laid in bed, the pain of loneliness enveloping me completely, I finally broke down and sobbed a deep sad cry, the kind of cry that exhausts your whole body. In that moment I decided to pray. With an attitude of skepticism, I was upset, I asked God if he was there, if he knew who I was, I told him that I was lonely, that I needed a friend... please... i expected nothing.

softly the answer came "I am here" and that was all. And that changed everything... cause it changed me.

The world kept turning and eighth grade continued. Super long story longer, I ended up changing schools to a small little charter school where we were required to wear boring uniforms that I loved. It was a fresh start. It was exactly the place I needed to be. It was the place that I made friends that encouraged me to make good choices. It was the place where I discovered my voice and explored my talents. Oh and I grew a few inches taller, got braces, contacts and high lights and yeah sure, life changed a little, but I was still me. I still experienced heartache and encountered some real rough patches along the way. That never goes away...

The experience of loneliness however, might have been one of the most valuable I've had. The memory of being a lost little 8th grader searching for a place to sit at the lunch table has provided me with a real sense of empathy for others... look around, there are a lot of lonely people out there that need a friend, to this day I will see people, and I can just sense it, there is a sadness in their faces, and it is almost unbearable to me. And then there have been times where perhaps I had forgotten that experience as I had become comfortable within a group of friends, or overwhelmed with busyness to take time to reach out to an old friend that is struggling. Becoming familiar with the other side of the table has helped me to realize that it may be an innocent mistake to not look outside of our own circles and busy lives... interestingly, that experience helped to soften my heart towards those I felt didn't reach out their hand to me.

But it was the experience of loneliness that gave me the opportunity to know that no matter how lonely and hard times may get, I'm never really... alone. And knowing that changes everything...

PS-

This one is really long, I have been typing and typing for hours and it's 2:34 am and I need to sleep... but I've been feeling the impression to share this story for the last few days now, I don't know why. I hope it wasn't too much of a downer, it is honest and real but with a message of hope, I hope you got that. If you happen to be reading this and you're struggling, my heart goes out to you...

PSS- Golda is still one of my best friends...

PSSS- I just realized today was the last day of June...

VIEW FROM THE iPHONE...

was looking through old photos on my iphone... every picture tells a story

JUNE GLOOM & CULINARY CONFESSIONS...

The sun was really dragging it's feet this morning... I was irritated, I waited, and waited and waited. I looked out the window and stared into the gloomy juney sky and I thought maybe I could see a hint of blue peering through... but it was just wishful thinking...

just my imagination.

No blue.. no yellow... just gray. boo.

"This is not okay sun!" I said, out loud "not okay". I looked down at my list of my Monday to-do's and let out a sigh... I just couldn't muster up the motivation, nope... not without my sunshine. Like Spinach to Popeye or Pixie Dust to Tinkerbell, I need the sun to be on my A-game. I just do.

It finally showed up at noon. woo-twirl...

Totally changing Subjects... I love food, eggs benedict, mashed potatoes... cupcakes. It's no mystery. However... I confess... I possess no culinary skillz :( Well none that I have discovered yet really. My mom on the other hand is an incredible cook. She even butters toast to perfection... it's like magic, I don't know how she does it. Maybe it's the special butter knife that she found at a garage sale years ago... I wish I could find one.

Honestly, cooking intimidates me... mainly cause it includes me having to go to the grocery store, which means I have to make decisions "Prego vs. Ragu" "Digiorno vs. Red Baron"... hard decisions. And then there are recipes with those ingredients from a foreign land that I've never heard of?! Oh and then the timing situation... making sure that everything is done at the same time and hasn't burned or gone cold. Oh and portions, did I make enough or what do I do with all this extra food?! Yeah no... Left-overs always end up in the back of the fridge while they evolve into a scary monster, which then I spend the next three to six months procrastinating a very uncomfortable confrontation. Ya see, this is why my comfort zone includes about 3 dishes: spagetti, stoffers lasagna & frozen pizza... oh and cheese crisps. Sometimes I will even throw a salad in there to mix things up. Woo... I know... don't you feel bad for Dave? I do.

We go out to eat WAY to much, mainly because of how busy we are, and how often I am out of town. And I won't lie, going out to eat is kinda my favorite, but it is starting to loose it's sparkle, and really it isn't the healthiest choice. Not to mention it's expensive. So this week I am challenging myself to cook four meals at home. I even got out the Crock Pot... I am serious here.

So heres where you come in, if you've got a great recipe, or can suggest a helpful website or blog that will give me some good ideas then please do share!!! Do you believe in me?!

Yes! I can do it! I can make un-frozen foods!!

PS- Actually... my Chocolate chip cookies are pretty tasty. I have always said that if the music thing doesn't work out I would have a back-up... "Brookies Cookies"

SUNDAY SKETCHES...

I love to doodle... I'm pretty sure I'm a better listener when I doodle... or play tetris... it's true. Today during church I was doodling in my notebook... then I decided to start sketching random people in the congregation.

this guy had no idea...

this little girl caught me...

he was doodling too...

and she wouldn't sit still

Amen.

SATURDAY SIX: SIXTIES...

1.) Time of the Season - I still get stoked when they play this on the radio... the epitome of cool. Oh and the Zombies record cover is super groovy

2.) Gimme Shelter- This intro is possibly one of my favorites of all time... it takes me away, I just like listening to the intro over and over... easily the best part of the song in my opinion. Intros are important.

3.) Let's Hang On- the first CD I ever bought with my own money was Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons, I was 13. I got out the phone book and called every record store in town looking for it. I finally found it at Tower Records, they had one copy. My mom drove me to the store and it was mine.

4.) This Guys in Love with You- The first time that I won a radio contest, first caller to to guess Herb Albert & the Tiajuana Brass Bands first number one hit won a dinner for 2 to Herb's restaurant... of course I knew the answer, I was obsessed with this song... c'mon Burt Bacharach wrote it. Epic tune.

5.) These Eyes- This song is pretty much on all my mix cd's, I have always wanted to do a cover of it. I wish I could explain what effect it has on me... but I can't. Just know that I love it very much.

6.) Be My Baby- Her voice rules, so much character, so much soul. The production is signature Spector, his best. It is also Brian Wilsons favorite song. I heard him say on the radio one time that he wrote "Don't worry baby" kind of as a response to this song... greatness inspires greatness.

MUSIC LESSON...

"My daughter is taking piano lessons, she hates it, but I know someday she'll thank me for forcing her to learn, I can't get her to practice, how can I get her to enjoy it?" she asked me as we were reaching 30,000 feet above the state of Colorado. I fly a lot, therefore I eat a lot of peanuts and drink a lot of tomato juice (my beverage of choice when flying... with ice) and I also have many conversations with many random strangers. It's almost funny how often these strangers happen to be parents with children, children that are in some kind of music lessons, children that are highly unmotivated to practice. And without fail, that's when they ask me "what did your parents do to get you to play?"...

That's a loaded question... My answer could very well take up the remainder of the flight... it might even require me telling my life story...

For starters, my parents didn't make me, or "force" me to play the piano, really they didn't force me to do anything, they're just not the forceful kind. Who likes to be "forced"? Not me. Now I am no expert, nor am I a parent, and perhaps it is likely that someday I will eat my words, but It's my personal opinion and observation that "Force" seems like a less effective tactic, sure it might produce some short term results, but generally it causes one to develop a negative association or "hate" whatever is being forced, such as practicing the piano, going to church or eating green vegetables. Force is saying "you will do this because I said so"... it is doing something for the wrong reasons. As a matter of fact, it seems that if you force someone to do a particular thing, it's a sure way of ultimately getting them to do the opposite. One word comes to mind... Rebellion. (side note: of course my parents did have expectations, we knew them, they taught us, often by example, they communicated and talked to us, then they allowed us to make choices, and then to experience either the reward or consequence of our actions.) All this being said, allow me to say parenting has got to be the toughest job, I'm not sure how my parents do it, that is a completely different blog that I am not qualified to write. I am just writing from my own experience... cause that is all I have. Moving on...

The day after I was born, my mom took me to my dads band practice... talk about starting young. She was a little concerned about my tiny newborn ears and the loud noise of the drums, the distortion of the electic guitar and the rumble of the bass, nonetheless I went, my ears were fine and I had my first introduction to music. They played songs like "Blinded by the Light" and "More then a feeling". Whenever those songs come on the radio he still reminisces "we used to play that in our band". My dads band didn't go very far, he wasn't trying to be a rockstar, it was just a few guys getting together to play... for fun, they loved the music.

I grew up in a small house. We weren't rich, we did not have lots of fancy things, we didn't have a big screen TV... we had a crappy 15 inch Toshiba and no cable for the majority of my childhood. I shared a room with my sister, until Quinn was born when I was 12, eventually he slept in there too. Tyler had his own room but he always made a bed in the middle of our floor with several layers of blankets where he slept every night. Though we had bunk beds, Katie and I would always end up on the top bunk together, surrounded with strategically placed pillows and stuffed animals to protect us from just about any kind of spooky character that could show up in the middle of the night. We were all scared, all the time, scared of the dark, scared of ghosts, scared of burglers, kidnappers, the boogie man and bad dreams. Shaq, our massive 150 pound dog was often found sleeping on the bottom bunk. Were close together all the time, sometimes too close...

What we did have, was music. We had my parents turn table and a collection of records from the 60's and 70's... The Beatles, Saturday Night Fever, Jerry Lewis and the Playboys. We'd set it up in the living room and perform dances for visitors to Michael Jackson's "off the wall". We also had a few small boom boxes for the bedrooms, I had one that I would take with me to my friends house. We even had an old beat up juke box player in the backyard that played old forty fives, we'd listen to it for hours while we jumped on the trampoline and run through the sprinklers during the brutally hot summers. We also had a Ford Aerostar van that generally lacked functioning AC, but it did have a working radio and tape player that we would play mixtapes that my Aunt Tam made for my mom. We'd go for drives just to get out of the house and listen to the radio. We'd listen to the Carpenters and Carole King on our vacations to Disneyland, the van struggled getting from Aneheim to Phoenix, always breaking down in Yuma. Then there was the karaoke machine that we got for Christmas, one night for "Family Home Evening" we had a karaoke night, I was shy and embarrassed to sing, however my mom got up and sang "make it happen" by Mariah Carey. Very ambitious choice. She also decided she wanted to learn how to play the drums. She bought a used kit and started to take lessons. One day we heard someone playing them, and playing them very well... when we went back to see who it was, it was my younger brother Tyler, first time he'd ever played. My mom let Tyler take over the drum set. He played, and played, and played and played. He was a natural, He still plays... incredibly. We would go to grandmas on Sundays, Uncle Pat could play anything on the piano by ear, we would sit around and play name that tune.

Music was the glue, that bonded us all together, especially during the toughest of times... and there were some. Life in the White House was not complete with out the sound of music, loud music, blaring from every bedroom, filling the kitchen, pulling up into the driveway. It is what we loved.

They often say that the best way to learn a language is to immerse yourself in the culture, in the country where the language is spoken, become familiar, listen to it, get lost in it, get confused with it, live it and eventually you will find yourself speaking it, understanding it... loving it. This is the case with music... it is a language... and our home was the place where were immersed. Like a sponge, I was soaking it all in... kids do that.

I was seven years old when we got our piano. It belonged to my moms grandma, my great grandma "Tootie" who also played the piano. I remember when they wheeled it into the living room. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. I remember my dad sitting down and playing a handful of songs, "somewhere in time" "heart and soul" and "fir elise". I wanted to play it so badly I could hardly stand it, finally I sat down at the bench and lifted the cover, my fingers were like magnets to the keys... they knew exactly where to go. I started playing, plunking out the notes to "Right Here Waiting for you" by Richard Marx. It was a huge hit on the radio. How did I know how to play? It is hard to explain... it was like recalling information that I already knew. I wasn't great... but it was enough to get me started. From that moment on I never left the piano figuring out all the songs that I could... naturally my parents asked if I wanted to take piano lessons? I made is through two lessons when I became discouraged with reading the notes, bored with generic songs like "bouncing ball"... it was as if I had to forget everything I knew and start over. After telling my mom and dad that I did not want to play the piano anymore. Worried, they decided to take me out of lessons and encouraged me to continue to play on my own, developing my ear, figuring out songs that I wanted to play, creating my own melodies... playing because it was fun, because it was natural, because it was what I loved to do and now here we are... it worked!

So... Do you want your kids to practice? To want to play? Then teach them to LOVE music first, infuse passion. Surround them with it... Turn off the TV and turn up the music, dance in the living room. Listen to it while you are cooking dinner, while you wash the car or mow the lawn while doing Saturday chores. Sing along to the radio. Get them started when they are young, my producer set up a turn table next to his babies bassonet and played Beatles records. Ask them what their favorite songs are, get in touch with what they are listening to. Show them what you listened to when you were their age? Expose them to different genres and styles. Take them to concerts, my first show was Phil Collins, I was in fifth grade, I'll never forget it when he played an amazing drum solo on the trash cans. If you insist on them taking lessons, or they express interest, you must find the right teacher that embraces the way he or she learns. I still can't read music, or sing classical music, but thanks to a few patient people along the way I learned simple chords and was encouraged to trust my ear and my instincts and am still learning to accept my own voice.

Another thought, Instead of playing super lame and ultra boring generic songs like "bouncing ball" in the books take them to the music store and let them pick out a book of their favorite artist. When it becomes fun, they will become unstoppable, as they experience the satisfaction of playing music that they enjoy. They may run into challenges or get burnt out. There may be times when they want to take a break, it's okay. If music is their gift, they will find it and it will grow, it is inevitable...

One last thought, If you realize at some point that perhaps that taking piano lessons, flute lessons, oboe, viola, glockenspiel or whatever kind of lessons is causing you and them pure misery, nor is there any potential for joy, maybe it is just not their gift... let go. If you want them to learn just because you wish you would have learned, then maybe you should take lessons, it's never too late. Remember, we all come in different shapes and sizes... Maybe they are athletic, great at math, inventive, funny... whatever it is, embrace who they are, be in tune with their gifts and teach them to love them.

Instead of Force, think Love... Love is the great motivator:)

A to Z...

Me from A to Z: Only one word (ok... maybe 2-ish) for each Letter... some letters were a real stretch, I'm fighting the urge to give an explanation for each, just gonna keep it short and simple for a change. This is harder then you'd think... give it a try! Thanks Ashlee G. for the idea...

A- Artist

B- Bed-maker

C- Christian

D- Detailed

E- Emotional

F- fifth

G- Goofy

H- Hungry

I- indecisive

J- jolly

K- kid

L- Lover

M- married

N- near-sighted

O- optimistic

P- procrastinator

Q- Quirky

R- right-brained

S- sensitive

T- thinker

U- upbeat

V- vulnerable

W- worrier

X- xylophone fan

Y- yellow

Z- zealous

B-DUB COVERS...

So tonight I've had a chance to read through your kind comments, and wonderful suggestions for blog topics, (I thank you... will be using those suggestions in further blog posts!) as I was reading through previous posts I came across the sweetest comment from this lovely gal Catherine... anywho she had mentioned that she had done a cover of my song "Change" and asked me if I could watch it on YouTube... so of course I went and watched, and before I knew it I had stumbled across a slew of youtube videos displaying people performing covers of my own original songs... I have to say it is kind of a trip, and yet an honor to see and hear people singing my tunes, especially in their own interpretation, I really enjoyed watching them and then I thought to myself, looks like I've found tonight's blog post...

So I was thinking I would post a handful of the videos that I found. Interestingly, "Hold Up My Heart" seems to be the most popular to cover... funny, I just mentioned on my blog a few nights ago that it was my favorite song from "High Hopes & Heartbreak" !

May I ask that if you wish to comment on the videos that you do so with kindness and respect. Speaking from experience, It takes a great deal of courage to let your voice be heard, to perform and put it out there for people to hear and often times take the risk of being criticized or judged... especially in this day and age where the internet allows anyone and everyone the platform to express their opinions from the most adoring to the most hateful. First thing I learned on idol was to resist the temptation to "google" my own name, or read what everyone had to say about me. I did it one time and that was all I needed to learn my lesson. Anyways, as usual I am going off on another tangent, perhaps that topic is another blog post at another time!

Enjoy the cute vids:

PS- Happy Birthday to Randy Jackson... seriously the nicest.

11:59

it's that time again... I look up at the right hand corner of my screen, my heart starts to race, with only one minute to spare, I consider the thought that if I wait even seconds more I will have dropped the ball and ruined everything. Well, that might be a little dramatic... (me... dramatic? c'mon) It's been 19 days since I publicly declared that I would post a blog every day for the rest of June... I'm happy to state that I have remained true to that declaration, and that I am just 11 days away from the solidification of a new habit (based on the scientific study that it takes 30 days...don't have an official source, you can google it). However I have found myself creating another habit, one of procrastination, of cutting it down to the wire, waiting quite literally till the last minute to post. Why do I do this?

I'll tell ya why... is it the rush... my lame way of living on the edge? Kinda, but mainly it's just that this blogging everyday thing is much harder than I anticipated. The thought sits anxiously at the back of my mind all day, that dang blog badger "so what are you gonna blog about today? huh? huh?" I start to take inventory of my day, of my thoughts, experiences, ideas... (and there is no shortage) "no, not that... too boring, too chipper, too personal, too complicated, to sappy... too lazy? " ahh, and there I go again with my PWATMist ways ... over-whelming, over-thinking, over-analyzing, till I arrive at the point where I am... well, over-it. These are the moments that I just stare into the computer screen, with nothing but a great big scary question mark staring right back at me, like a staring contest... tonight the question mark wins.

So this is what I got: I DON'T KNOW.

That being said, maybe you do... do you? well that is assuming that "you" are reading this, maybe not. But if you are, I am open to good suggestions... Blog Topics? Help me... please:)

HIGH DEF...

Gonna be in Girls with Glasses mode all week... time to go to bed, gotta get some beauty sleep before stepping in front of the High Def camera in the morning... it's scary I tell ya.

Classic:

this is also my favorite:

BRAD THE DAD...

I don't even know what to say about my dad...

I think about God. I do, because I believe in God.

Yes I am getting spiritual on my blog... maybe it's too personal... but,

I believe the love of God is infinite,

incomprehensive to my human mind...

And yet, I think maybe I have been able to experience a portion of that love,

because I get to be the daughter of Brad the Dad.

Happy Fathers Day!

CLEANING IS FUN...

Well I just took a look in the mirror for the first time today... I was frightened a little bit, lets just say I definitely wont be entering any beauty pageants any time soon. Not to mention that I went out in public this way, maybe I should be embarrassed, oh well.

That being said, mi casa is lookin' good... This was the first Saturday in maybe a year that we've had the freedom and time to dedicate the entire day to Home Improvement, and that excites me a whole lot, seriously. Being out and about and busy all the time means that our little house gets neglected... Well not today, after a few trips to Home Depot, Osh and Dunn Edwards (btw, superb customer service... love the nice folks at Dunn Edwards) we pretty much replaced every lightbulb, fixed every broken drawer, cleaned out underneath the sinks (gross), shampoo'd all the carpets, touched up old paint, sprayed the house for bugs, swept the back porch, pulled weeds, cleaned out the fridge, fixed the garage door AND last but not least, went to Costco... Woo!

I know, this blog post is so captivating that you can hardly stand it. Believe me, I'm struggling to contain my excitement, I mean my little fingers just can't type the words out fast enough I tell ya! For real though, I loved today, and I love cleaning, because I am a seriously big weirdo.

In all fairness I did provide a disclaimer from the beginning... "I can't promise it will always be interesting", maybe I should have said "I can promise that it won't always be interesting" and I would deliver on that promise, Nonetheless, here it is, my blog post for June 19, 2010. Hope your Saturday was a special day...

Oh and Tomorrow... it's all about you Dads!!

Ps. I had to post this picture of Mary Poppins... cause she rules.