Friday, June 22, 2007


Screw the rules. No one left to tag, so here's my stuff.

1. When I was “little” people called me Winchell. I was fat (Numismatist, please don’t argue). I had a roll of fat around my neck that made me look like I swallowed a donut, so people called me Winchell. I kind of like it.
2. I have always dreamed of singing on Broadway. I still like to practice in my car.
3. I have had three babies with no medication during the birth. Lest you think I am some sort of granola woman who believes in an all-natural, organic birthing experience let me share this: I do not breast-feed (my breasts are strictly recreational), I watch movies through the entire labor (mostly SNL until the end when I need calm and beauty, then it’s Sense & Sensibility), and I love, love, love percocet after the birth – it’s the only reason I have babies!
4. I said the “F” word in a high school assembly. I still feel guilty about it.
5. I was a cheerleader in high school, and like the Duchess, am very proud of it. I acted like a goof, but I looked hot and it scored me Mr. Eris.
6. I do everything in patterns or even amounts. I cannot leave a list partially finished – it must be exactly half-finished or completely done. I eat M&Ms in even numbers by color order (red, yellow, green, blue, brown); if there is an odd number, I give the left-overs away. This is true of all my activities – it must be symmetrical, by height, by color, chronological, or in some sort of order that makes sense to me.
7. I actually like going to church, and I’ve liked it since I was 14. This is probably because in my family, the best way to rebel is to go to church and be a good girl, so that’s how I stuck it to my parents.
8. I bare no resemblance, whatsoever, to the family I see most. At family reunions or events in Utah, I look adopted and people can’t remember my name because they think I’m an in-law. But in California, I can be identified instantly be people who knew my family 40 years ago but have never met me. It’s rather odd.

Now, since the Duchess tagged me and the only other blogger I know – the PG Meemoo – I am changing the rules a bit. Anyone who reads this, including the Numismatist, Big Sis, Fry Sauce, etc., should comment back with at least three random facts.

I can’t wait to see where this goes…

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Utah County - meh.

It's 11:53 pm. I just got home after leaving the house at 7:30 a.m. We had a big day.

First, we drove to Provo where we participated in an adopt a highway clean-up project for my favorite radio station. "We" means the whole family. Mr. Eris joined, pulling the wagon with Little and Littlest Mrs. Eris. Little Mr. Eris was also there, and he made quick friends with another Little Mr. They raced along the road to each piece of trash and talked non-stop about how awesome Pirates 3 was and how totally awesome Transformers is going to be. The girls were little troopers, and I found an old pair of men's underwear. Most importantly though, we helped the community - yay us!

After that three hour activity, we loaded back into the van and headed out for some real excitement: visiting the new IKEA. Words cannot describe this place. It's a zoo, but an organized zoo. We walked the whole store, ate at the very reasonably priced and quite tasty cafe and then the kicker - the Swedish food market. FYI, Mr. Eris spent two years in Sweden on a religiously affiliated, extended vacation, so he's in LOOOOOOOVE with the IKEA already. But now we find out they have all his favorite Swedish foods for an affordable price (unlike the snooty Scandinavian Store in Downtown SLC that charges $5 for a dang candy bar!). Mr. Eris is getting chocolate and cookies and yucky licorice treats for Father's Day. Oh, and bonus points to the IKEA for offering free diapers and wipes for parents who run out - I didn't need it, but it was nice to know it was there.

Next we decided to hit the other big draw in Utah County: Cabela's. Let me stop right here and confess that I do not enjoy shopping in stores of death. Stores with dead animals hanging on the walls and posed in "natural" scenes aren't exactly my forte. But Cabela's is supposed to be amazing, and we needed a Father's Day present for my F-I-L, who does enjoy the stores of death, so I went. Big Sister will no doubt have lots to say about this, but I really don't see the big deal. It's the same thing as Sportsman's Warehouse only with a bigger dead animal atrium in the middle. Seriously, I walked this whole store and at the end felt very unimpressed. Had the IKEA raised my expectations to unrealistic heights? Posbbily. Maybe if I had a stronger affection for camouflage?

Finally, we celebrated Father's Day with Mr. Eris's grandfather. This is an 84-year-old man on oxygen who could take any dang one of you in an arm wrestle. Seriously, he has hands like bear paws (and I should know having been up close and personal with several bear carcases earlier at Cabela's). It was a nice evening, and I came home with two handkerchiefs hand-tatted by Mr. Eris's grandmother. They will be nice keepsakes for the Little and Littlest Mrs. Eris.

So that was my day. I am so tired I can't stay awake, but my legs ache so much I can't sleep. What are ya gonna do?