The last couple of weeks have been a weird haze of activity and amnesia. I feel like eating my honey bunches of oats in the morning was about 3 days ago by 5 pm. every day.
So I was in the tabernacle choir thing from the 12 to the 16th and I mean it was REALLY time consuming. I was living on Vitamin Water and tight leotard energy for about a week.
The plusses included backstage pass around my neck allowing me to park and walk around wherever I wanted and fitting into size 10 pants for the first time in 3 years (6 years ago I would have thought that wasa huge size and now I'm like all, 'look at me, I'm so hot' and whatnot. But I am seriously glad that another DVD for mass distribution in Wal Mart, Deseret Book and beyond will not be recorded with me looking like a swollen toad in the middle of a pond with no lily pad to be found (perplexed frog) EVER AGAIN!!! good grief. wrong business to be in if you're going to reproduce and take the wrong anti-depressant for 2 years thereby thwarting any and all weight loss and enciting the accumulation of MORE weight. I digress. The point is that for those few days I was in show business actually. I had my makeup and hair done by professionals, I had costumes and a special door thorough which I was to enter and exit. I had taping sessions to get enough material for cutting and editing a DVD and I performed before about 80,000 people all together (I find that if I keep saying I you may think it was just me when there were 140 of us and the tabernacle choir with 300 and the King's singers who are world famous and the orchestra and the bell choir thus making me a veritable speck on the surface but in my reality it was 'me' you know?) and we were on live television on sunday morning. so it was a pretty neat thing to do and we got to hang out with the king's singers a lot if you've ever heard of them you'll care, if not, ehh...whatever.
I never thought I would feel this way but, aside from the exhilaration of performing for an audience, I really am not too ennamored with the whole, 'leave your family for hours and days and be around a bunch of folks in tights and too much make-up'. If anything I definitely am more in love with my little Sanchez group than I was before it all started. Families are just so good. It feels so good to have somewhere to go and people who care if you do or not.
So monday afternoon we got on a plane and came to Washington to visit my parents which we didn't know we were going to do until a few days before. My mom just decided she couldn't stand the thought of holidays with no one around, germs or no germs and you know how we aim to please So I came with the girls (Gabriel had to stay home and work and work and work) and here we are. We have had fun (my sister and her kids came too, both of us without spousal support so noise and stress abound). Jenny just left a little while ago and we leave tomorrow morning which is Christmas eve to try and squeeze in love and fun and memories and a batch of cookies for santa with our Popi (my husband) before Christmas. My mom who is currently hairless might be the cutest bald person I have ever seen. I'm not saying I want cancer because I don't but at least I'm not terrified of baldness because she wears it well (underneath a hat).
I'll post pictures of the dance thing and our actual christmas together as a family a little later when stuff stops spinning.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Friday, December 07, 2007
this just in...
I think I must be the most boring person I know....i actually don't even believe that because I think I would have fun with me if I weren't me but this whole blog thing is enough to make you feel a little wobbly. I just don't understand how there can be thousands and thousands of people on this blog world and no one wants to talk to me except 1 or 2 people?
come on folks. Have you been talking to my in-laws. None of it's true. lies. all of them.
I've given you presents and hugs and baked goods.....GIVE ME COMMENTS!
oK, so I guess in order to give me comments you have to have a post that has something to comment on besides a glittery porch wreath and some toddlers......
ummm...
shooot.
um.
Oh, ok...when I was about 7 or 8 or 9 or something I used to ride the school bus and it let me out about 1/4 of a mile from my house along side a highway called 17. The road was lined with corn crops but there was a wide dirt path that ran between the asphalt and the corn. That is where I walked. The problem was that every single day it seemed I had this amazing need to pee when I got off the school bus. I don't remember her name very well but I know that she was the grandma of my older sibling's friends and she lived in this two story house that was mint green on the south corner of the bus dropoff. She had shrubs. I peed in them. Now I don't know if it's just my personality or my astrological sign or my mental illness but I think that if I wanted to, I could probably be pretty secretive and sneaky. I think I can figure things out pretty well and that I'm pretty smart.
I had a mission companion who used to walk down the street and poop her pants and grab her crotch while she peed and when she let go her whole dress would be wet and I was like, um, hermana Lunn....you take the next adobe shack? what? I don't think so. I was like, ok missy, step your smelly self aside while I do the work for two people and try to fix this first impression we've just made of being homeless, unattractive, white cotton sock wearing incontinent American Mormons. Anyway, this girl who was completely off the deep end crazy was talking to me one night and she was like, "the problem is that I'm just really, really intelligent and that's why I don't have very many friends. I was always the best in school and could learn extrememly fast." It was in this moment that I thought to myself, "am I the Hermana Lunn of my own life?" am I dillusional? Do I look homeless and smell like poop and move like a sloth in the fast lane?
Well, it turned out that I was dillusional because one day, Sharon (who is my mom) comes to me and she's like, "Erin, miss what's her face down the road called me and told me that you've been peeing in her bushes. you have to stop that." okey-dokey...that was awkward. How could this be? How did she know since I'm this amazingly clever 7 year old scorpio, fire dragon ,future social anxiety suffering welbutrin popping genius?
I think we all know the answer to that question.
I seem to be figuring this out a little at a time here. I actually am not all that. I am actually not the smartest person or the cutest person or the most talented person or the person who deserves things just because I was born. Did you all know this the whole time and you never told me? This is a hard truth people.....some might say it's even inconvenient...the truth of this. I am just a girl. It's not a huge mystery why I never had a boyfriend until I was 18 and he was a dork. I had that amazingly gigantic wake up call at age 7 and another chance in a steamy, pee smelling missionary room to realize that folks can figure me out! CRAP! I ACTUALLY AM DILLUSIONAL!
this is very bad.
I hereby promise that I will not pee in any of your bushes and I will not have an underlying notion that I am the shiz any more. Wait! This is not a sad moment. This is a moment of clarity. So far I'm about 24 years behind so by the time my kids are married I will be a good mom and by the time my husband is bald and blind I will be a good eternal companion (at least eternity will be a little closer by then).
So that's the skinny folks. That can go safely in your list of reasons why you always knew I was totally and competely normal (in a not normal but not extraordinary either kind of a way)
happy holidays.
come on folks. Have you been talking to my in-laws. None of it's true. lies. all of them.
I've given you presents and hugs and baked goods.....GIVE ME COMMENTS!
oK, so I guess in order to give me comments you have to have a post that has something to comment on besides a glittery porch wreath and some toddlers......
ummm...
shooot.
um.
Oh, ok...when I was about 7 or 8 or 9 or something I used to ride the school bus and it let me out about 1/4 of a mile from my house along side a highway called 17. The road was lined with corn crops but there was a wide dirt path that ran between the asphalt and the corn. That is where I walked. The problem was that every single day it seemed I had this amazing need to pee when I got off the school bus. I don't remember her name very well but I know that she was the grandma of my older sibling's friends and she lived in this two story house that was mint green on the south corner of the bus dropoff. She had shrubs. I peed in them. Now I don't know if it's just my personality or my astrological sign or my mental illness but I think that if I wanted to, I could probably be pretty secretive and sneaky. I think I can figure things out pretty well and that I'm pretty smart.
I had a mission companion who used to walk down the street and poop her pants and grab her crotch while she peed and when she let go her whole dress would be wet and I was like, um, hermana Lunn....you take the next adobe shack? what? I don't think so. I was like, ok missy, step your smelly self aside while I do the work for two people and try to fix this first impression we've just made of being homeless, unattractive, white cotton sock wearing incontinent American Mormons. Anyway, this girl who was completely off the deep end crazy was talking to me one night and she was like, "the problem is that I'm just really, really intelligent and that's why I don't have very many friends. I was always the best in school and could learn extrememly fast." It was in this moment that I thought to myself, "am I the Hermana Lunn of my own life?" am I dillusional? Do I look homeless and smell like poop and move like a sloth in the fast lane?
Well, it turned out that I was dillusional because one day, Sharon (who is my mom) comes to me and she's like, "Erin, miss what's her face down the road called me and told me that you've been peeing in her bushes. you have to stop that." okey-dokey...that was awkward. How could this be? How did she know since I'm this amazingly clever 7 year old scorpio, fire dragon ,future social anxiety suffering welbutrin popping genius?
I think we all know the answer to that question.
I seem to be figuring this out a little at a time here. I actually am not all that. I am actually not the smartest person or the cutest person or the most talented person or the person who deserves things just because I was born. Did you all know this the whole time and you never told me? This is a hard truth people.....some might say it's even inconvenient...the truth of this. I am just a girl. It's not a huge mystery why I never had a boyfriend until I was 18 and he was a dork. I had that amazingly gigantic wake up call at age 7 and another chance in a steamy, pee smelling missionary room to realize that folks can figure me out! CRAP! I ACTUALLY AM DILLUSIONAL!
this is very bad.
I hereby promise that I will not pee in any of your bushes and I will not have an underlying notion that I am the shiz any more. Wait! This is not a sad moment. This is a moment of clarity. So far I'm about 24 years behind so by the time my kids are married I will be a good mom and by the time my husband is bald and blind I will be a good eternal companion (at least eternity will be a little closer by then).
So that's the skinny folks. That can go safely in your list of reasons why you always knew I was totally and competely normal (in a not normal but not extraordinary either kind of a way)
happy holidays.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
'tis the season
It looks like it's going to snow. We have a Christmas tree. We have these little white candles in our windows at night. We have a lighted garland with christmas ornaments hanging on it going up our stairs. We have two little christmas trees in urns on either side of our door with little white lights on them. We have a sparkly wreath on our door. Now there are two parts of me. There is the part that's like, come on, Erin...think outside the holiday gift box a little and do something creative with your decorations...your whole downstairs is pink for goodness' sake..... and then there's the part that's like, "look....this is my house and it's so simple and traditional and sparkly, hooray!" ....
rock and roll band boys or dead poet's society boys....this was always my quandry....and I ended up with the preppy responsible extremely cute and good boy....
maybe that explains the house.
It happens about once a year that the feelings of disgust start creeping up for the amount of stuff that we (I) have accumulated (namely clothing for small children). If you only could fathom the sheer volume of things I have for a little boy you would be embarrassed for me...
I SO don't have a little boy and my husband doesn't even want to reproduce again so I'll just be this freaky Norman Bates lady dressing up all the neighborhood kids like the boy I never had.
I just find it hard to give up on the whole 'at least two more kids' thing even though most of the time I am crap at parenting. There's just something about little folks that I love. Like Ruby standing on the stairs right now saying , "Mami, hep me, I need hep... I tot-ing da sky, look!"
So, anyway, I'm cleaning out the nooks and crannies and making 20 boxes into 4 reasonable ones. Some would call this consolidation. I prefer to call it 'way to make me feel like I've accomplished something and help prevent me from shopping for kids clothes.'
It's time to go to preschool now so I must adjourn. we're all wearing various renditions of the pajama and that needs to be fixed before we go.
feliz dia jueves.
erin
rock and roll band boys or dead poet's society boys....this was always my quandry....and I ended up with the preppy responsible extremely cute and good boy....
maybe that explains the house.
It happens about once a year that the feelings of disgust start creeping up for the amount of stuff that we (I) have accumulated (namely clothing for small children). If you only could fathom the sheer volume of things I have for a little boy you would be embarrassed for me...
I SO don't have a little boy and my husband doesn't even want to reproduce again so I'll just be this freaky Norman Bates lady dressing up all the neighborhood kids like the boy I never had.
I just find it hard to give up on the whole 'at least two more kids' thing even though most of the time I am crap at parenting. There's just something about little folks that I love. Like Ruby standing on the stairs right now saying , "Mami, hep me, I need hep... I tot-ing da sky, look!"
So, anyway, I'm cleaning out the nooks and crannies and making 20 boxes into 4 reasonable ones. Some would call this consolidation. I prefer to call it 'way to make me feel like I've accomplished something and help prevent me from shopping for kids clothes.'
It's time to go to preschool now so I must adjourn. we're all wearing various renditions of the pajama and that needs to be fixed before we go.
feliz dia jueves.
erin
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