A Lot Like Vloggers

I saw a lot of You Tubers posting the tag called, "My Perfect Imperfections."  The bloggers say three things they like about themselves and three things they do not like about themselves.  I decided to do this during my drive from Salt Lake City to Caldwell out of sheer boredom.  I then convinced Lauren to make one as well to practice her improv skills.  After watching my video back, I realized I was like Leonard from the popular show, "Community."  He is a 90 year-old-man who does food reviews on You Tube.  I debated referencing him in the title; however, I don't think most people would know what I was talking about.  I hope you guys enjoy. Maybe Nicole and Mindy will post theirs as well.

- Cait

WE ARE REVIVING THIS BLOG AFTER FOUR YEARS.

Yes, the sisters are still alive and well. A lot has changed since we began this blog four years ago. Nicole now has two babies. Mindy is married to Isaac and is in medical school. Caitlin is a special education teacher and is now actually not single anymore. She is currently dating Brandon, who is in his residency in orthopedic surgery. Lauren is now out of the small teenager phase and no longer has braces. She has been at Brigham Young University for a year majoring in bioinformatics and is about to receive her mission call for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints! Here is a picture of us now.

Lauren, Nicole, Calvin, Caitlin

Mindy

Okay, I can't find a recent one of all of us girls together. The last time we were all together was at Mindy's wedding July 2014. We live all over the country, but that doesn't matter because we are all best friends and will always be close!


Well that is all for now.

- Lauren

Shockingly Still Single

As you know, Halloween is the one time of the year that girls can dress completely slutty and get away with it.  This Halloween was not an exception.  I raked my brains thinking up scandalous Halloween get-ups to out-shine the other girls aka the rivals for potentials FECs.  I went to the local DI and my closet to piece together the prize winner.  Much to my dismay, the other girls' costumes were a notch above mine on the attractiveness meter.  Why didn't I think of being a Victoria's Secret Angel or a Pussycat doll.  Those ideas never dawned on me!!  Instead, this is what I came up with.  As you can tell I changed multiple times to try to get the ensemble just right.  After all, Halloween is only once a year! I had to put all cards on the table. 

Attempt 1: Pumped to be a Zoob! I love BYU, sneakers with skirts, boy scouts, family heritage jubilee, nauvoo, biking, mom shorts, bows, marriage, and Jimmer.

Attempt Failed.

Attempt 2:  I decided to make a complete 180.  I turned to druggie/dirty/goth.  I thought I looked edgy.

Attempt 3: Two is better than one- Siamese Twins.  Downside- I couldn't walk let alone dance! No boy would come up and dance with us.  Braiding our hair together ... built in third wheel and pain.

Attempt 4: Fruit of the Loom. The lemon is my hometeacher.  I saw him and his pals at the dance.  Later that night I texted him and said, "remember when you asked if I needed anything...I want to borrow your grape suit"  I did not get a follow up text from either of these strapping young fruits.

 Can't say I didn't try.

Yours,

Shockingly Still Single (please note the clever alliteration)

A Lot Like Simba

So I may be copying Caitlin with my movie character reference. Oh well.  Also, I'm not a lion child. I'm a tiger child.  Here is my personal narrative I wrote for my english class. *Note how I tied in aphorisms.  It's all I could think about when I was writing this.  It's not great but you might want to read it anyway.  **Note that this draft may have mistakes. Don't judge.

Victim of a Tiger Mother

            Lately, I have had a growing hatred of common, supposedly inspirational aphorisms.  For example, I am really annoyed by the aphorism, “Shoot for the moon, and you’ll land among the stars.”  This, in reality, doesn’t happen very often; which is why when it does happen, they make a movie about it or write cheesy inspirational stories about chasing your dreams. I have had to learn to accept the fact that I will simply have an average life and do average things.  If I shoot for the moon, I will only fall back on my butt, cursing that guy who first coined this phrase.  Another aphorism I am now coming to dislike is the saying “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.”  Sadly, this statement is false, and it has managed to cause me much grief.

            My mom recently bought a book about why Asian parents are superior to Western parents. It is titled, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, by Amy Chua.  I noticed my mom reading this book when we were supposed to be having family scripture study. I have also noticed my mom quoting from this book and forcing me to listen to passages from it as she nods her head understandingly to the things she reads.  She appeared to be treating this book as the new and improved Bible.  Out of curiosity, I picked up the book.  At first, I believed that it was all a clever exaggeration-- a sort of tongue-in-cheek satirical book about the Asian parenting style.  However, as I began looking through the book, I noticed some disturbing similarities between myself and the daughters in the book.  The daughters in the book are not allowed to attend a sleepover, get any grade less than an A, not play the piano and violin, and not be the #1 student in every subject except gym and drama.  Even the daughter that became rebellious ended up playing tennis instead.

            Last year, I made a new friend.  The topic of sleepovers came up and I found that her parents didn’t allow her to go to them.  I was sympathetic, and told her how that must suck and how it was silly for her parents to do that. However, she was allowed to have sleepovers, and I was soon invited to one.  I came home from school, I asked if I could go to my new friend’s sleepover.  My mom said no.  When I asked her why, she said, “I don’t know her family.”  At this point, I was still completely optimistic about my chances of going to this sleepover.  Unfortunately, my mother seemed to still be against me going to the sleepover for some unknown reason.  At the time, I assumed she was just being overprotective of me having a friend I hadn’t know since I was a baby, as many of my other friends are.  However, similar events to this happened the next two times I wanted to go to a sleepover.  I have now realized that I am not dealing with the average overprotective parent. I am dealing with a genuine tiger mother.

            The next thing a tiger child is not allowed to do is get any grade less than an A.  When I missed two days of school for orchestra retreat, my mom was in a frenzy. She called Mr. Nuxoll and asked for my make-up math assignments.  Immediately upon returning from retreat, she set me to work on it.  The first part of the assignment was to take notes on the 10 basic functions.  Desperately, I said, “Mom, I can just read the textbook and do the assignment myself…”  This plea was futile.  She sat herself down next to me and proceeded to make me take painstakingly graph the functions on my paper, using a ruler to measure every tick mark on the graph and chart individual points on each function.  I complained, saying, “Mom, none of my friends have to do this, and they’re just fine!  This is pointless!” To this, she replied, “Lauren, I spent two hours already studying up on this so I could help, you ungrateful child!  You will know these ten basic functions better than anyone else!”  Four hours later, two tears rolled slowly down my cheeks from overexposure to the hated 10 functions.  No caressing voice of my mother soothed me and offered to let me be done.  She continued her battle hymn and fought to give me the education she believed I would need, one basic function at a time.  My friends also did their make-up assignment. They are good students. But it only took them an hour.  With the aid of my mother, I have never gotten a grade less than an A.

            The characters in the book also play the piano and violin.  I found this section of the book enlightening, because I play the piano and violin. I am also frequently required to practice.  Just today, I wanted to go to a church meeting with one of my buddies.  You would think that I would be allowed to do this, considering the fact that it is a wholesome activity.  I was denied this privilege in order to practice my violin and piano.  Sadly, this is not an unusual event. It happens to me several times a week.  I am convinced that this is the product of my tiger mother. 

            A tiger child, according to my mom’s Bible, must be the #1 student in every class except P.E. and drama.  Coincidentally or not, I am not good at P.E.  I am also not good at drama.  This is no surprise.  Also, last year, I won the top grade in my class award from Mrs. Akkerman every quarter.  Is this because of my tiger mother faithfully checking the parent portal every week? Maybe, maybe not.  The point is debatable. However, I only got the second best score on the science test, and my mom bullied my dad into teaching me science.  On a road trip to Utah, I thought I would take a little nappy-poo, and so I put my headphones in to listen to music.  Suddenly, my dad said, “Lauren, look in the red bag for the science book, and I expect you to read the first section and summarize it to me in your own words.”  I did not want to.  I said, “I’m too tired, I really don’t want to do extra schoolwork right now.”  My dad and I fought bitterly about it for the next twenty minutes.  I was stubborn, fighting not only for my sanity during the road trip but for my freedom from the dictatorship of my parents.  However, my resilience was fruitless as soon as the words “start doing the science or I will pull off the freeway at the next exit and spank you” were uttered out of my very own father’s mouth.  I realized just how serious the situation was and pulled out the science book, much to my indignation. 

            Through these experiences, I have come to realize that I am the victim of a tiger mother.  However, I have had my streak of rebellion:  I play tennis, just as the girl in the book played tennis in her rebellious stage.  To be fair, there are some advantages to having a tiger mother. For example, I was able to write a satirical and slightly hyperbolic narrative about the more pathetic moments in my life.  I also may or may not be more confident with my skills such as math and violin.  A Westerner may call this talent, but only a few can recognize this as the brutal product of sweat and tears. Because of these advantages, I am unable to be too bitter towards my mother’s Asian culture.  Consequently, I have discovered my hatred for corny aphorisms.  You can lead a horse to water, and YES, you can make it drink.  All that is necessary is a tiger mother to resiliently force that stubborn and indignant horse to swallow, one sip at a time.

~ Simba the tiger baby (a.k.a. Lauren)            

           

           

A lot like Fluffy

This weekend I worked at BYU's Lost and Found sale.  My shift started at 6a.m. and ended at 1p.m.  The actual sale went from 9-12.  My job was to stand outside of a door the entire time and tell people to use the other entrance.  For those of you who are familiar with the wilk, I was at the door in between the ballroom and the cougareat.  The patrons were supposed to enter through the garden court door (the glass room in between jamba and the ballroom) that is right by Jamba Juice.  This was crucial because they had to check their backpacks, purses, and coats so that we could make sure they didn't steal anything.  Apparently, locking the door I was posted by would not suffice.  In a sense, I was like Fluffy, the 3-headed dog off of HP1.  However, instead of guarding a valuable wizarding object, I had to make sure no one snuck into the sale with their backpack on. 
The first 2-3 hours were horrible because no one was even there.  I literally stood by a door for 2 hours staring off into space.  We are not allowed to text, do homework, or do anything to entertain us.
You would think things would have been more endurable when patrons actually started coming, but no!  Every time I told them that they had to walk around to jamba juice they all let out groans and complaints about how far of a walk it was, probably a whole 200 feet!  To make matters worse, I couldn't even see into the sale to see what cool and funky things were for sale! I literally started at a blank wall for 8 hours!  Then my roommate came out and had purchased a Tiffanys ring for 50 cents and a Juicy bracelet for $1! That could have been me if I didn't have to be Fluffy!!! At least Fluffy got music in the end!
By my third hour I tried to find the positives to my job.  It dawned on me that I was in fact a bouncer! Who would have ever thought that I would have been a bouncer??  I always imagined myself as the cool person that had an in with the bouncer so I could by-pass the line! I invisioned this to be at a popular club or concert, not at the BYU Lost and Found sale! I can't say that my dream job has ever been to be a bouncer but I can now check that off of my bucket list!
By the last hour, I came up with the Fluffy comparison.  We were both angry and tired.  We were both chained to our post, mine being metaphorically speaking.  However, I don't want to be like Fluffy.  I identify myself with Harry Potter.  Instead of being the geeky door monitor I am supposed to be the person cleverly sneaking in.  Instead of earning $7.25 an hour, I should be earning the Sorcerer's stone.


Yours truly,

Fluffy, the three-jobbed Caitlin

A lot like... my week (by Nicole)

Little anecdotes from my week:

#1:  Brownies

Prior Me self-righteously decided NOT to buy brownie mix from the grocery store.  Present Me did not appreciate it one bit.  So Present Me had to make an emergency trip to the grocery store, just for brownie mix - but then decided that maybe Prior Me had a point, so substituted apple sauce instead of vegetable oil... and suffered for it.  The Hubs ate the entire pan of brownies (minus a few tiny little ones eaten by Present Me) over the course of 2-3 days.  Then The Hubs complained that brownies were not as tasty as usual.  The apple sauce trick was confessed, to much indignation. 

Lesson Learned:   Be Wary of Prior Me. 

#2:  Litter

My friend Amber had a lot of good things to say over the merits of wood pellet litter instead of normal gravel kitty litter.  So I thought maybe it was worth a try.  But it was a flop.  Lola essentially gave us the finger.  She promptly had an accident.  Then when I tried to put her in her litter box, she bit at me.  Then scrambled like mad to get out of the litter box, made a huge mess of the litter in trying to escape, then ran around like a maniac eating the wood litter pellets that had fallen on the floor. 

Lesson Learned:  Stick to Gravel Litter.

#3:  Crazy Dog Lady

It seems too irresistable to take pictures of Lola and text them to friends and coworkers with funny captions.  Only I am beginning to get the suspicion that some friends are starting to think I am a crazy dog lady.  Why?  Oh, because they ask me how Lola is doing, and if Lola has any messages for them.  "Of course not," I say, "geez, she IS a DOG."

Lesson Learned:  keep texting dog pics, but to Lauren only  (yes, even Caitlin has made me feel stupid)

#4:  Snort/Laughing

At some point in the past couple months, I've started snorting sometimes when I laugh too hard.  It is so embarassing.  I don't know why I started, or how to stop myself.  Good thing Dave still loves me.

Lesson Learned:  Advice for sisters - snort/laugh in front of your potential boyfriend and see how he reacts.  If adversely, dump him.

#5:  Murphy's Law

Had an embarassing moment at work this week.  I had to give a powerpoint presentation in front of a lot of people, including senior management.  I carefully added red and green circles to my powerpoint slides, to circle the good and bad results.  There were a lot of numbers in the exhibits, so the red/green circles were CRUCIAL.  During the middle of my presentation, the computer froze (which had my presentation on it).  I said, "hummm, not sure what to do now."  Someone handed me a black & white copy of the presentation, and said, "keep going, you can use this."  I felt like the Wizard of Oz, sans curtain.  I floundered, but got back on my feet when the computer situation was fixed.  Afterwards, several people came up to me and said things to the effect of "you did pretty well, considering..." which is not the best sort of compliment, but I guess that's how it goes some days.

Lesson Learned:  bring color copies

#6:  Dave has a man cold.

A lot like being cool

This weekend I had a 2.5 hour job training because I work at Guest Services on BYU's campus.  This is a very important aspect of my life right now.  My main responsibilities are enforcing the honor code at campus events and making sure the patrons are safe.  I am an honor code police.  Isn’t that cool? I know you think that I’m so cool right now. You’re sitting there going “dang, if only I was as cool as that Caitlin girl.” To you I say: It’s okay. I used to wish I would one day be as cool as I am today.  We spent a good portion of the training reviewing exactly what the First Presidency has classified as modest.  My boss had a powerpoint of various girls and boys.  We had to tell her if they were modest or not.  When they were not modest she asked us how we would fix the problem.  Her answer for almost every picture was to safety pin a napkin over the exposed area.  For example, if the shirt was too low we safety pin the napkin across the chest.  If the skirt is too short we safety pin napkins across the hem to extend the skirt down to the knees.  When I tell people what my job is they make supportive comments that go along the lines of "well at least it is a job."  However, their comments contradict the looks on their faces.  I had a few respond to my ground breaking news with faces kind of like those you see at cancer patient's bedside, To you I say:  This is more then just a job.  It is the best job in the world.

Why it is tight to be an official Honor Code Nazi

1.  I get more sleep.
I no longer have to stay up all night wondering how I can better mankind.  I literally toss and turn in my bed brain storming ideas of how I can tell girls that leggings worn with a dress that is above the knees is NOT modest.  Now I can dutifully tell all girls that leggings fall under the category of revealing and form-fitting in the honor code.  I will be saving the girls at BYU one pair of leggings at a time.  I get to tell the men that their beard does in fact jeopardize their chances of making it into the Celestial Kingdom.  I am sure they will thank me incessantly when I point this out to them.  Thus, I get to sleep soundly at night knowing that I have saved a soul that day.

2.  I will meet potential lovers.
I get into every school dance and other functions for free.  While I am doing crowd control I will see a strapping young lad.  I get to kick the flouzy he is dancing with out of the dance for either immodesty or suggestive dancing.  I then will slip into her dancing position.  The self-respectable man will find my dedication to the For Strength of Youth pamphlet both admirable and refreshing.  The courage I have to enforce the rules is a quality he has been looking for in his FEC.  I am the first girl he has found who has this characteristic  We will dance into the moonlight (but end well before midnight).

3.  I look popular.
I will no longer have to invite myself to activities on Friday and Saturday nights because I will be working.  I do not even have to tell others I am working.  I will just coyly say "Oh, I have more important things to do."  What makes someone look cooler then having mysterious plans every weekend? Nothing! 

4.  I have a higher self-esteem
I will feel better about myself because instead of hanging out by myself at nights, which is quite typical, I will be working.  I will think to myself, "If I were not working I would be on a hot date or with a huge group of friends."

5. I get to fatten my resume.
What better way to secure a job than to tell my potential employer that I am an expert with a light saber?  My job as an upholder of the honor code and everything else that is true and righteous requires me to use a light saber.  I shine the light saber on those that are dancing provocatively, mosh pitting, or not wearing shoes.  Yes, light sabering is considered to be a special skill.  Have you ever used one? No!  That places me a step above everyone else.  No big deal.  In my esteemed job interviews (which I assure you I will have) when they ask what I will bring to the company that other applicants do not have (as you know, they always ask this) they employer and other applicant will be silently mocking me.  "Oh, Caitlin" they laugh in their head "she has nothing to contribute to this business. This job is way too distinguished for her" and that's when I, sipping my champagne flute of Sprite say "My dear friends, I used a light saber on a regular basis at my old job." That'll shut them up. Oh, how snotty my imaginary potential co-workers and employers can be!