My Perfect Body

I can almost hear each of you guffawing loudly as you read the title of this post. Rest assured, I have no delusions of being a size 2, or even a size 10 for that matter.

My mom and I were commiserating last night about the age we were when we had our "perfect body" (21 in my case). When everything was slim and strong and perky and bouncy in all the right places. Aaaaah, I miss that body.

My 32 year old body is a seriously long way from that cute little 21 year old body I used to have, with more flaws than I care to desribe. I passed perfection a loooooong time ago.

But, to very loosely quote a friend of my mom, what if perfection doesn't necessarily mean mean "without flaws" (perfect teeth, shiny hair, no stretch marks or cellulite) but what another definition I found says: nothing requisite is wanting. I love that. Nothing requisite is wanting = perfection.

My body gets me where I need to go - it walks, it dances, it occasionally runs. It definitely kneels. It lifts my daughter and hugs my husband and pets my dogs. It's great at laughing and at crying. It lets me do laundry and type emails. My body has allowed me to work and help support my family. My body has all it's 5 senses and sometimes a 6th, or even a 7th. I can see, smell, touch, and hear my own child. I can taste food! My body even lets me drink Diet Coke.

I can climb the stairs and climb in bed or into the tub. I can paint, I can ride a bike, I can blow dry my hair. I have hair! My body let's me teach music to adorable kids and sing and flail my arms. It allows me to cook if I want, or watch a movie, or walk around Costco.

I can comfort, I can hug and kiss, I can be every role I have and any other role I want: wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, etc.

In short, my body does absolutely everything I need it to.

I have a perfect body.

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And to end on a humorous note, I've included a conversation from one my favorite movies, Beautiful Girls (sensitive souls - don't watch this unedited). It's Rosie O'Donnel's character, Gina, telling some of the guys in the movie what shallow idiots they are. Have no fear - it's been edited, although there are a large # of references to boobs. Be warned.

Gina: I'm finished speaking to both of you okay? You're both insane. You want to know what your problem is? MTV, Playboy, and Madison Avenue. Yes. Let me explain something to you, ok? Girls with big boobs have big butts. Girls with little boobs have little butts. That's the way it goes. God doesn't mess around; he's a fair guy. He gave the fatties big, beautiful breasts and the skinnies little tiny niddlers. It's not my rule. If you don't like it, call him.

[Looking at a porn magazine]

Gina: Oh, guys, look what we have here. Look at this, your favorite.

Tommy: I could go along with that.

Gina: Yeah, that's nice right? Well, it doesn't exist ok. Look at the hair. The hair is long, it's flowing, it's like a river. Well, it's a weave ok? And the boobs, please! I could hang my overcoat on them. Breasts by design were invented to be suckled by babies. Yes, they're purely functional. These are silicon city. This is a mockery, this is a sham. Implants, collagen, plastic, capped teeth, the fat sucked out, the hair extended, the nose fixed... These are not real women, all right? They're beauty freaks. And they make all us normal women with our wrinkles, our puckered boobs, hi bob, and our cellulite feel somehow inadequate. Well I don't buy it, all right? But you idiots, if you think that if there's a chance in hell that you'll end up with one of these women, you don't give us real women anything approaching a commitment. It's pathetic. I don't know what you think you're going to do. You're going to end up eighty-years old, drooling in some nursing home, then you're going to decide, it's time to settle down, get married, have kids? What, are you going to find a cheerleader?

Tommy: I think you're over simplifying.

Gina: Oh shut it. Look at Paul. With his models on the wall, his dog named Elle McPherson. He's insane. He's obsessed. You're all obsessed. If you had an once of self-esteem, of self-worth, of self-confidence, you would realize that as trite as it may sound, beauty is truly skin-deep. And you know what, if you ever did hook one of those girls, I guarantee you'd be sick of her.

Tommy: What?

Gina: No mater how perfect the face, how supple the thigh, unless there is something else going on in the relationship, besides the physical, it's going to get old, ok? And you guys, as a gender, have got to get a grip. Otherwise, the future of the human race is in jeopardy.

It's My Birthday....OK it was yesterday.

Officially, I was born 7/16/76 weighing 7lbs 6oz sometime around 11:06 or 11:07 am. In case your math is bad, this makes me 32. I had black black hair, and apparently looked Chinese, according to a random couple looking through the nursery window.

Officially, I was named "Girl Moulton", and unofficially called Kimberly by parents until I was 3 months old. At that time, my mom (and dad? I'm sketchy on the details of this decision) decided she liked the name Micaela Heather better, and unofficially wrote my "new name" on my birth certificate in pen. Officially, this became a fat pain in the arse for me when I was DROPPED OFF at the DMV on my 16th birthday for my driving test (my parents either had a misplaced amount of faith in my driving abilities or were a wee bit foolish). I managed to pass the test by a healthy margin of 2%, but was denied my license because, according to the State of Washington, I was still legally "Girl Moulton". Apparently, writing on an official court document with a Bic does not constitute a legal change.

I love that story, and since hopefully none of you know me as Girl or Kimberly, I guess we got Micaela officially documented.

Here is me at 2 months. Methinks this is not what Chinese babies look like, but what do I know?

This is our little fam at my parents wedding in SLC (this is my stepdad). I'm starting to get cuter by this age, and I'm the only one in this picture that shouldn't be embarrassed by their hair. I guess Cassy's isn't THAT bad.

TAG

OK, this is too funny. I was catching up on my blog reading and stumbled on a fun tag Peggy had done. Just so you know, I LOVE TAGS. I thought to myself "this looks like a fun tag, but no on actually tagged me to do it, but I really want to talk about myself, so I'll just do it anyway". Admit it - you have all had similar thoughts. Anyway, I kept reading and noticed at the bottom that Peggy actually DID tag me, so if I do this tag, I'm not a self-absorbed freak after all! Hurrah! Thanks Peg!

1) What was I doing 10 years ago?
1998... Let's see, I was on my mission until October and then went home. I got engaged a month after that which ended a month after that - all before 1999! I am an overachiever.

2) What are 5 things on my to-do list today.
1. Work for 8 hours - I think I've logged in 90 minutes?
2. Clean the house - work in progress
3. Marinate the chicken for our dinner guests - awww crap
4. Shower - check (yeah me!)
5. Exercise - later

*This is my own addition - things NOT on your list that you did today: rearranged the living room, read blogs, posted on blog, plucked my eyebrows, shopped eBay, read People.com and talked to my sister. Very productive day.

3) What are some snacks that I enjoy?-
Oh my, this could be a very long answer.
-Diet Coke, although this is more of a food group for me than a snack.
-All time favorite - Nutella and pretzels
-Cereal, any kind
-Popcorn
-Paradise Bakery cookies in CO, Specialties cookies in Seattle
-Soft cheese and crackers
-Pirate's Booty
-Pik-Niks (original). Honestly, these are like crack. Don't start!
-Graham crackers and canned frosting


4) Things I would do if I were a billionaire.
First, I would pay off all debts and invest, oh I don't know....a lot. Then I would pay off all our immediate family's debt (houses/cars, etc.) buy each family a new house, and a car of their choice. Over the next several years (because traveling is tiring and you need breaks), I would visit ever single dingle place I've ever wanted to go, including, but not limited to:
Banff -Canada, Grand Canyon, Australia, Japan, Lake Powell, South Africa, Greece, India, New Zealand, Kenya, Chicago, Germany, Ireland, Jerusalem, Egypt, Austria, Moscow, Nepal, China, Peru....OK, you get the idea. I would travel. I would also take my whole family on an amazing vacation every year.
I would buy a home in Switzerland and maybe the South of France, an apt in NY, and a house overlooking Puget Sound and the Olympics in Seattle. I would get 3 cars (b/c more than that is excessive), laser hair removal, permanent teeth whitening and possibly liposuction. I would have lots more kids including several that I'd adopted, and 2 nannies. I would put a movie theater in my house and have a personal trainer and a chef. Once I reached a size 2 (OK 6), I would go ballistic and buy amazing clothes, and at least 20 ridiculous purses. And lots of jewelry - really cool pieces I could pass on to my kids.
I would setup some kind of scholarship fund for either young marrieds in college, or something like that. And I would drop anonymous baskets of food and money at people's houses that I knew needed it. I would find my own causes and donate lots of time and money to each. My kids would all be in private school and would learn at least 2 other languages. Oh and I forgot - I would have 10 dogs, a pool, tennis courts, and I would host a semi-annual girls week at my house for all my old girlfriends.
Holy hannah - time to stop. You get the picture.

5) Places I've lived.
I think I've answered this in a different tag - it's not a very exciting answer. WA, ID, UT, CO. How about foreign countries I've visited? Mexico, Canada, France, England, Spain, Switzerland, Italy, Belize, Honduras, is Grand Cayman a foreign country? I don't think so.

OK, I tag: anyone who wants to self disclose.

Idaho Boise Mission comin' at ya

It is 11pm on Saturday night, which means that I should either be asleep or preparing music time for primary tomorrow. As you have no doubt observed, I am doing neither. The song I am supposed to be teaching the younglings this month is Called To Serve (which is about being a missionary). As I was digging through my non-scrapbooked mess of pictures and various nostalgia inducing mission paraphernalia looking for my mission nametag, I got totally distracted and spent a good hour laughing at all my old mission pics.

I know these pictures and anecdotes will not be half as amusing to you as they are to me, but I couldn't resist posting oodles of photos. I cannot BELIEVE I was ever that skinny or young. Note - I am not a champion scanner, so please, no complaints about crooked and otherwise retarded shots.

Classic and obligatory MTC map shot (my district)

Quite possibly the most awkard moment of my life: running into my not so long ago dumpee, Andrew, at my first area in Boise. Think about it like this...you're thinking to yourself "wow, it was only like 4 months ago that I was kissing this guy, and now here I am with a nametag". Hmmm. It didn't help that he seemed to still be holding a grudge and took great delight in making me feel as weird as possible.

*Sidenote - pretty sure this is the last time I ever wore a belt.

Aaaaah Peggy my love. Peggy was my first stake missionary who made S. Fuller and I monkey bread and kept me sane during my first 3 months in the IBM. Peggy is one of only 2 people I keep in touch with from the mish (so sad) and most definitely the funniest person alive. We visited her and her cute fam recently in UT - see this post and then this one. I cannot possibly top Peggy's artful descriptions of our trip.

P-Day at Bogus Basin with my first zone. One of the funnest days ever.

In case you were wondering what people in Idaho do in their spare time - this is it. Learn how to do "The Wedding Ring".

I call this little piece of photo art "Dork on a Bike". It started snowing shortly after this picture was taken. Because that made it look even more normal (Nampa, ID).

And in case The Wedding Ring didn't convey what complete hicks all residents of ID are, this should help. This is me in Twin Falls learning how to "run the shoot" while my Zone Leader (E. Bloomfield on the right) was "bull-dogging". I kid you not, that's what they called it. Basically it means trying to wrestle a wild bull to the ground with your bare hands. You only win if they get all 4 hooves up in the air. I think this was what people did for fun before Tetris was invented.

Here is Vick and I (or Sister Beaumont, now Mrs. Kennington) washing Barney the purple love bear. I don't think we called it a love bear, but it sounds more interesting this way (Sun Valley, ID).

And this, of course, is what we wore tracting. My sister thought it would be funny to send me this little camo see-through nightie, since I would get so much use out of it as a sister missionary. As ever, Vicki and I found a way to be totally inappropriate and laugh our guts out.

Sister Swainson was my 2nd companion (although this is a reunion several months later) and a Canuck, who ended up marrying our Zone Leader 4 months after she got home. She was awesome. SUPA-STAR!

A missionary's halfway point (for sisters that would be 9 months out) is called their Hump Day (think of a bell curve). And since it's 9 mths...you get the idea. It's tradition to pretend you are prego and about to pop. Although it just occurred to me that even when I was 7 mths pregnant for reals, I was WAY bigger than this. I think this is me being optimistic.

This is Sister Munganzaya, my cute little Mongolian companion, and I in our dive of an apartment in Mountain Home - the ugliest place ever. I think I drove her totally nuts. In my defense though, she made me get up at 5:30am every day and go RUNNING. Those of you that know me can imagine that this was not a boon to our relationship.

And to close, my sweet, sweet love, Vicki, who used to punch me in the boobs and still honks when she laughs. I miss you, you crazy Brit!

JUNE 2008 - A MEMOIR

I wish I could even begin to describe the last month we have had. I have started to write this particular post at least 6 times and can never quite convey the proper amount of amazement and SHEER HORROR at how MANY things can go wrong in one person's life at one time!!!!! OH. MY. HEAVENS. You know when you say "it couldn't get any worse?" and people always tell you not to say that because things can always get worse? Well, I am now officially the living testament to that belief. It really is true...things can and likely will always get worse.


Note: I already told you about how Ammon got laid off...that was in May so it doesn't actually appear on the world's worst-month-ever events, but just keep that little bit of info in the back of your head when reading the June play-by-play below.

June 3 - Ammon's birthday and day of Actuarial Exam #2. Also known as: June 3 - the most anxiety filled day in a seriously long time. And no, we don't know his score yet (August).

June 9 - Speeding Ticket #1. I was on route to the airport and speeding madly (no surprise) because I had left late (no surprise there either) and wanted to be sure my friend didn't miss her flight. Bother.

June 11 - Dropped a contact down the drain. Keep in mind, these are hard contacts and not quuuuiiiiiiite as easily replaceable as soft. Thankfully, the contact was recovered after some serious sweaty effort on the part of Ammon, bless his heart, and a whole lot of water. And yes, I washed it at least 17 times before even considering sticking it back in my eye.

June 11 - Speeding Ticket #2. Due to the contact trauma earlier that morning, I got a late start (again, no surprise - do I ever leave or get anywhere on time?) to Pueblo, a 2.5 hour drive away, and the official Armpit of the Universe (with the exception of Moses Lake, WA). Because of speeding ticket #1, I set the cruise control for 90% of the trip, until about 30 mins away from Pueblo when I started speeding again because I realized I was late. Again. It took the female detective, not patrol officer, over 30 MINUTES to write me a ticket. Because I wasn't speeding or anything because I was LATE. Gads. Then she informed me that a) she never gives out tickets and lucky me I am the special exception and b) I was in a construction zone so my fine was doubled. Awesome. I think this must have been one of those new fangled "invisible construction zones" because there was not a cone or hint of orange within 50 miles.
Obviously I will be fighting this ticket, but there is a healthy chance that cops will knock on my door anytime now and take my license away before I get the chance. That, or my insurance will cancel me.

June 19 - The Passat has a premature and unexpected death. In Wyoming. Ammon decided last minute to drive to his niece's wedding in UT. He makes it to Rock Springs, WY (aka the 3rd Armpit of the Universe) where the car promptly decided it has taken enough abuse from the Crapo's, and died. We had a frantic 2 hours of ridiculous calls back and forth between Ammon and I trying to figure out what in blazes to do. Incredibly, our friend Miguel's dad lives not too far from there, and he rescued Ammon and not only towed the car to his house and let Ammon crash there, but then took him and the car all the way into SLC the next day. It is AMAZING to me what people are willing to do for you in a crisis. In anticipation of me driving to WY to pick up Ammon (bad idea), I had dropped Addy off at our wonderful friend's the Cox's who were immediately willing to let Addy stay over. Luckily, Miguel rescued us from our own idiocy before I got out of Frederick.

June 20 - We get THE ESTIMATE on the Passat. Are you ready? $8,000. I did NOT add an extra zero. Apparently the oil pump failed, the engine siezed, and that's that. We are now a one car family and the car is going to be buried in Salt Lake. Ammon flew home that night.

June 21 - Micaela floods the laundry room. Because a lost job, two tickets, and a dead car weren't enough, I thought I needed just one more trauma. I wish I could say that one of the machines failed, but sadly, it was all me. In one of my finer moments, I filled the laundry room sink to soak some clothes, and left the water running for a minute while I ran into the kitchen for something. Overcome by ADD and/or a wild fascination with dishes and what was on the Discovery Channel, I completely forgot about the water until roughly 30 minutes later when I heard the unmistakable sound of trickling water. I remember thinking to myself "if Ammon and Addy are both napping, then who is taking a shower? OH NO I DID NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I actually said that in my head as I streaked into the laundry room to find water happily filling up the room and spilling down the air vent into the basement and the furnace below. Naive as ever, I thought we had managed to clean everything up with 29 towels and a wet vac, until as a precaution, we called the insurance company and had ServiceMaster come out.
Today is now June 26, and there are still 7 fans and 2 ginormous de-humidifiers going full blast 24/7. Since the decibel level is roughly that of a 757, we have more or less had to stop all verbal communication.
It turns out that we have to replace the floor and cabinets in the laundry room and the bathroom across the hall, as well as have the ENTIRE first floor wood refinished, which is 88% of the square footage. Apparently, we have to move out for an entire week while this happens. Living in a motel with a toddler and 2 dogs for a week should be super fun.

As ridiculous and horrid and bizarre this all sounds, I am actually doing quite well and keeping a pretty good sense of humor about the whole thing. I did have one giant long "WHY.....WHY????" sob session, but since then I feel quite philosophical about it all. Just think - now that we are down to one car, we have no car payment. And, if I really hated the bathroom floor, now I can redecorate for free! At one point, we did consider burning the house down to maximize the insurance benefit, but luckily good sense prevailed.
As a final note - the month is not quite over, so please pray that neither of us is struck by lightning, attacked by wild ants, or gets arrested for lighting Christmas Trees on fire in our backyard.

Hurray For Blogs!

I've noticed something interesting about blogging....when I'm overly stressed and tired, I don't blog for obvious reasons, but I also don't read anyone else's blog because it makes me feel guilty that I'm not blogging, and who knows why else. But, I got over my little streak and starting catching up on my blog reading today and realized how much I had missed it! I feel totally disconnected from the world and even a little lonesome when I don't write and read blogs.
I love it when I read some personal insight that someone has come up with, or even just a bad-day-vent. It's makes that person somehow more real. My friend Marie B. is excellent at this. And I'm off to read more of all your fascinating lives.

You know you have a problem when...

...you find Nutella on your bra.

Me llamo es Micaela

In large part, this thing is freakishly accurate.

What Micaela Means

You are confident, self assured, and capable. You are not easily intimidated. You master any and all skills easily. You don't have to work hard for what you want. You make your life out to be exactly how you want it. And you'll knock down anyone who gets in your way! You tend to be pretty tightly wound. It's easy to get you excited... which can be a good or bad thing. You have a lot of enthusiasm, but it fades rather quickly. You don't stick with any one thing for very long. You have the drive to accomplish a lot in a short amount of time. Your biggest problem is making sure you finish the projects you start. You are very open. You communicate well, and you connect with other people easily. You are a naturally creative person. Ideas just flow from your mind. A true chameleon, you are many things at different points in your life. You are very adaptable. You are usually the best at everything ... you strive for perfection. You are confident, authoritative, and aggressive. You have the classic "Type A" personality. You are friendly, charming, and warm. You get along with almost everyone. You work hard not to rock the boat. Your easy going attitude brings people together. At times, you can be a little flaky and irresponsible. But for the important things, you pull it together. You are relaxed, chill, and very likely to go with the flow. You are light hearted and accepting. You don't get worked up easily. Well adjusted and incredibly happy, many people wonder what your secret to life is.

What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?

under pressure

May I just state that I am stressed? Not just your every day "Oh dang I forgot to buy milk and pay the phone bill" kind of stressed, but full on, all out, rash-inducing, zit-creating, 15 cookie-eating, obsessive picking, spontaneous crying, dog kicking (figuratively), overplucking and not sleeping STRESSED.

My shoulders are already tense from writing that. Oy.

Since you will no doubt ask, I am stressed because of the following:

1) Ammon has his 2nd Actuary exam (don't ask - just check this website: http://www.beanactuary.org/about/whatis.cfm) on Tues, June 3. Also his birthday. Poor guy - he should be the one writing this post.

2) Ammon got laid off (a blessing in that he has ample study time, a curse because, well duh: no job = no money)

3) I seem to have reached the end of my ability to tolerate boneheads (idiots/boobs/ nincompoops/nitwits/dolts - insert your favorite adjective) and work outside the home. Not that I wouldn't run across any as a stay at home mom, but my guess is that the interactions would be much less frequent. Especially since I won't technically report to one.

4) My house is a rat infested slime hole where cockroaches go to die. Perhaps that's an exaggeration but it feels that way. And I have a beloved friend coming to visit in less than 2 weeks, and I haven't the faintest idea when I'll have time to clean. Not that she would judge me, but you understand.

5) Addy has started the potty training process, which is great, but has one unpleasant side effect: post bath, she likes to run willy-nilly around the house like a little nudist, which is actually very charming and funny, until she decides to pee somewhere - usually in our bedroom (see #4). Apparently this is great fun and an endless source of entertainment.

I could go on, but you get the gist. Does a visual help? ME = see below.

I think maybe I will go read some Bloom County. Laughter is supposed to help stress, yes?

Photo update of the Lovekins

I LOVE MILK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ahhh the Happy Gardener. Addy definitely gets the gardening gene from Grandma Carol.

I'm sorry, but I have the cutest kid alive.

Kyla and Addy drowning trees together. Good times.