Christmasy Break

So I thought I should write up what I've been doing lately, how Christmas was, stuff like that.

A part of me said "Don't do it! It's boring! You'll ruin the already semi-terrible reputation of your beloved blog!"

But then I got over it.

First off, hope everyone's Christmas was awesome-de-possum and full of family fun (and awesome presents, fo sho, fo sho). OHHH!!! I JUST REMEMEBERED! K, so you all think I totally gave up on my doodle-quest right? WRONG! I just doodled presents, and therefore couldn't post them on here, because that'd be just sick and wrong! But now that Christmas is over, and hopefully everyone received their doodle-art gifts, I can safely show the rest of you's. Woot!

Back to Christmas. Life is good, man! In my little family, there was more than expected to go around, lots of delicious candy, and one awesome pinata of awesomeness (yes, the repeatative awesomeness was necessary). Best present?

Harry Potter: Film Wizadry book! Filled with millions of facts about the movies, behind the scenes stuff, interviews with the cast, MY OWN LETTER TO HOGWARTS... yes, I'm a geek, but I'm a very, very happy geek.

Oh, and I also go hot pink fuzzy boot slippers covered in sequins. Also awesome.

And yes, I already spent the Christmas money from relatives on books, so don't even ask. It should just be expected. They should arrive here tomorrow.

Um.... yeah. I haven't really gotten to spend much time with my friends returning from college-- I've randomly had a ton of plans with family. Me, have plans? I know, right? But it's true.

Oh! Mom and Dad and I went to the Wild Animal Park the other day! So cool! A lady my dad works with volunteers there one the weekends and gets free tickets, so she gave us some and took us our on personal tour!!! Sooooo cool! There was this baby cheetah passed out amongst stuffed animals, and an awesome bird show, and an up-close-and-personal meet and greet with this poor hyenna, and gorrillas (which I have discovered I am afraid of). Best part? There was a baby elephant born just hours before the park opened, and we got to see him! He was just trailing around after his mommy, all wobbly legs and not sure what his truck was for... to die for! Hopefully I'll get pictures up soon.

Um, yeah. I think that's all I have to say. Happy holidays, everyone. Hope you guys are all having a nice break from your normal lives and, might I request? you spend extra time with your families. Families rock, and we're blessed to have them. Show them that you love them.

Rain Rain Rain Come Down Down Down

Rain and I have a love-hate relationship.

I love the rain. It's by far my favorite type of weather, and if I had my way, I'd be living in some little English village in a thatched-roof house, watching the rain 75% of my days. Most people hate the rain, find it dismal and depressing. Uh-uh. Not me. I find it flipping fantastic and wouldn't mind if it rained everyday. (Okay, maybe, like, 350 days out of the year. I'd like SOME sunshine, just to mix it up. And because I'd be so disgustingly white everyone wouuld die of horror).

However, despite how deep my love for rain runs, rain hurts. Literally. For those with fibromayalgia (or however you spell it) and, who knows, probably some other musculartory system disease, maybe even auto-immune disease, it truly and literally hurts. Something about the change in barometric pressure aggrivates our easily-aggrivatiable muscles and joints and all that goodness.

Funny... when I was little, apparently "I feel it in my bones" was one of my favorite phrases. And now... I really can "feel it in my bones" when a storm in coming... hahahaha. Oh, the irony of life!

Doesn't matter. I may be hurting, but then I just sit by a window and watch it rain, and everything is all right again.

Hooray for rain!

200th Post!

200th POST!

Woohooo!

Therefore: Blog Makeover! Hope you like it, because if you stop reading my blog just because you don't like the new background, I'd be quite sad. Quite, quite sad.

I like it. :)

Thank you, Blogger, for making such asthetic changes so easy that even I can do it. I feel accomplished AND I get to look at something pretty. Win.

The Twelve Year Old Kid That Made Me Smile in the Orangy Glow of Dusk

There I was, driving home on a raining December evening, the sun just setting over the horizon and flooding the world of Shadowridge Road with the orangey glow of dusk...

(That dramatic opening was for you, Dad :D)

... And I saw this chubby kid, maybe 12, riding along on a Razor scooter with a fadora hat.

And, in the orangey glow of dusk, I thought: Never has a chubby twelve year old kid looked so cool.


The End.

Decemberly Updates

It has come to my attention (again) that I have not written anything entertaining (or anything thing at all, entertaining or otherwise) in the last week or two. This is because---
Well, actually, I don't have a very good reason. Life is just as normal as ever. I suppose I haven't been having enough entertaining thoughts...? Whatever the reason, I find my lack of posts a great loss for the good of my blog. Sorry, dear readers.

And still... I have nothing entertaining to say. Very sorry.

Um... updates?

FACT: It's raining! I do love the rain.

FACT: I realized this morning that I have had the same washcloth sitting on the window sill of my bathroom since I moved here. I has a picture of a dragon on it and says "Fighting Dragons is Dirty Business." I just so happen to love it.

FACT: I've listened to Christmas music maybe five times this month. This is a record low for the Empey household. Although we do have a tree, but it looks kind of weird this year. Don't know why. Maybe because there aren't very many ornaments on it. I don't know. Just weird.

FACT: Diego gnaws on the branchs of said christmas tree

FACT:.... while writing this, I forgot I had a batch of cookies in. I just took them out. They will be residing outside until they stop smoking.

(Bahahahaha)

FACT:

Yeah, I don't think I'm going to beat that last one. Happy Friday, everyone!

Puzzled

So, Mom and I attempted to make Snickerdoodles today, which, by the way, are one of my favorite cookies ever.

Okay, wait, I can't say that. I think EVERY cookie is one of my favorite cookies ever. Except maybe pumpkin cookies.. too soft. But peanut blossums, and chocolate chip deliciousness, and my grandma's merguine cookies with chocolate chips...mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!

But that's besides the point.

So, Mom whipped up the snickerdoodle dough, and I went to town rolling the stuff, getting it all over myself, of course, and dipping them in cinnamon and sugar... mmmmm...

And when they came out of the oven, they came out as crepes the size of your face.

.................. How????

Bitter Sweet Losses

There is always such a bitter-sweet sadness that comes with finishing a book.

You'd think that with as many books as I've finished in my life, I'd be used to it, and would have found ways to cope, and yet...

I suppose that is a mark of a good book. When you can't just sit up and continue on with normal life when you turn the last page, skim the acknowledgements for hope of some extra goodness (I've never found joy there, in the acknowledgement pages, but yet I always look, hoping for an extra taste of... some unknown joy) and close the cover. When there's still that lingering thought, where you feel like there's still a part of yourself lost in the pages, searching between the lines for extra goodness, and you can feel the loss.

Maybe I'm dramatic. Maybe I'm insane. Or maybe I've uncovered one of the greatest mysterious joys of life. Who knows?

I just want to find a way to make the good things last. Then again, who isn't looking for the exact same thing? I suppose I should just be like Dr. Suess said... "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." Which, in and of itself, is an awesome thing. But applying it? Not so easy, my dear Doctor (and somehow I know you knew this as well).

O'Shaughnessy and I

Truth be told, I have no idea who he's referring to as "we," but I find this quote so completely and utterly describes myself :) Love it!

I am a dreamer of dreams :)


“We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of the dream. Wandering by lone sea breakers, and sitting by desolate streams. World losers and world forsakers, for whom the pale moon gleams. Yet we are movers and the shakers of the world forever it seems.”
-Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy

What I Hope My Words Say

I just saw a note on blogger that said ".....yada yada yada, Make money while blogging!"

Now who in their right mind would make people PAY to read blogs? Man, the people that read my blog deserve to be paid themselves, simply because they make me feel better about myself!

Now that, and this video I watched the other day about another Mormon woman who blogs, made me think about why I blog. Why DO I blog?

Maybe I do it for myself. So I can have the satisfaction of saying something clever and having it written down somewhere in public, where anyone could read it and behold my cleverness. Maybe because I just want to be heard. Maybe because I just need an outlet, and hey, why not let that outlet be open to not just my friends and family, but the rest of the internet as well?

All that is true to some degree. But, in the back of my mind, I hope that there is a bit of purpose buried in the words I write here. I write silliness. I write nonsense. I write of the irony of life and I write whatever the heck I want. My blog is nothing of consequence in the scheme of the internet, and that's quite alright. But in those words, I hope there is goodness.

The hope that I have for my blog (while still allowing me to share my clever thoughts with the world and feel better about myself in a very egotisitcal way) is that, while you and any other reader could be reading any filth or trash on the internet, you're getting none of that here. Here, sure, you're reading nonsense, but you're reading happy, uplifting nonsense where you'll never hear a swear word, you'll never find a dirty picture, you'll never hear about me getting drunk and making a fool or myself or about how much I want to go get high. Drugs and alcohol will never be promoted here.

The only things I want to have on my blog are things that are virtuous, or lovely, or of good report, or praiseworthy, or simply optimistic or, yes, even, silly. I hope that people can come away from reading something on my blog with a smile or a laugh, even if they're simply going to forget what I said two minutes after they read it. As long as they're not getting a dirty image or story burned in their mind, I'm quite alright with that.

Any way you see it, I'm just glad that I have an opportunity to write, and that people actually read what I say, and, occasionally, actually care about what I'm saying :) So thanks, my friends, for reading. It means a lot to me, and I hope it makes you smile every once in a while.

Love, Holly

Killer Sea Life of Doom (and other scary dreams)

I don't have nightmares. I have stress dreams.
Dreams that include:
The brakes not working in stop-and-go traffic...
or
not being able to remember where I parked my car...
or
.... no, basically, it's pretty much the brakes not working on the car. Psh.

And I know there's got to be some sort of pshyco-analitical reason behind this, but really, it's getting old.

But, when I don't dream about my car not working properly, I'm having nightmares about killer whales and other sea life. (Okay, so they're sort of nightmares. Not the type where I wake up screaming--I've never done that, although I have woken up crying a few times over the years--- but I'm pretty freaked out in the dream, which makes for an overly-stressful occasion of resting)

No no, it's not a joke. In the past, what? Four months? I've had at least a dozen and a half scary dreams about large, Holly-killing sea life. It started with Killer Whales. Then it evolved to include mostly only giant bat-ray things that always have nefarious plots and large, slick black bodies of doom and torture.

No wonder I get headaches all the time! I'm constantly worrying about being sucked in some evil bat-ray's eating/sucking hole when I'm sleeping, which is SUPPOSED to be the time that my brain RESTS!

Obviously, my brain never got that memo. Oh no. Being unconscious is when my brain comes to life. 9 times out of 10, my stories have begun with a crazy dream I had.

And while I enjoy having an alert imagination, sometimes, I just want to sleep. I sure never expected dreaming to be stressful, but then again, what do I know?

Exactly.