Hiatus Ceased

So my mom has been asking me all summer to post on this, and I was just too lazy until my friend Kellianne also suggested that I write again. Well, I guess that was the kicker. It turns out I only need two people to convince me to do something. It's like my mom is an enzyme, and Kellianne is the cofactor.

Hi, I'm Tanya, and I'm going to make as many scientific comparisons as I can in this blog because that's my life lately.

A glorious thing happened today. Let me preface this by saying that I love BYU.

Sometimes I don't agree with its policies--namely the leggings under a shorter skirt rule. (Wah, wah, wah, I know.) Not a huge deal, but I always saw it as an effort someone was making to be more covered and/or modest. I feel like BYU saw it as people trying to push the line. With that logic then, these subversive tactics needed to be be stopped by wasting paper--I mean, putting up posters--all over campus informing people that leggings don't make up the difference between your skirt length and your evil knees.

So we complied. Because, you know, you have to take tests.

But then. Skinny jeans rose in popularity and morphed into different colored, spandex-cotton-y like pants that still retained some form of jean-liness, but denied the thickness thereof. And heavens to Betsy, how do we classify (or vilify) jeggings???

And then I think the fashion industry thought, "whatthehell, let's not beat around the bush." And then simple leggings as pants hit the shelves. And I think BYU threw in the towel.

Which brings me to today. I waltzed in the testing center with just leggings (and a shirt of course). For the win.

Comparisons

Audrey Hepburn > Marilyn Monroe

Smashing Pumpkins > Nirvana

Simon and Garfunkel > The Beatles

I guess it's not always about comparisons...

Mom logic

So my mom got a job offer to be a Spanish teacher at Bonney Lake High School.

There's only one thing.  She's not an actual certified teacher.  The powers that be didn't know that when they called.  She just subs a lot, and she's pretty dang good at it.

"Well..." They said, "Do you plan on getting a teaching certificate anytime?"
Mom: "Nope!"

Afterward we were discussing this, and she said, "Why would I want to go through all that work?  Just to make more money?  And be in the next tax bracket?  No, thank you."

Moral of the story:  Don't make more money.  You'll just end up in the next tax bracket.  Ugh.

Buena suerte

Yesterday I went to a middle school yearbook signing party.  I was the entertainment.  Everybody loves balloon twisters!

This sweet kid came up to me.  We'll call him Manny.  This isn't just because he is Latino; he also reminded me of Manny from "Modern Family."  Super adorable.

He walks up to me and says, "Can you make me a heart wand?"
Me: "I sure can!"
As I get started, he says nervously, "This isn't for me, by the way."
Me: "Oh really?  Who's it for?"
Manny: "Well...it's this girl that I like."
Me:  "Why do you like her?"
Manny: "Well, we've been friends this whole year, and I just haven't told her, but I'm going to tell her today."
I finish the heart wand.
Manny: "Ummm can you write 'I like you' on it?"
Me: "I sure can!"  So I do.  "Go get 'em."

Then Manny courageously walked away.  I hope it works out for him.  Really.  I remember those days on the last day of school where you feel like you need to divulge your soul to the person you've been crushing on all year.  I never had the guts to do that until college, and by then that social-awkwardness-mixed-with-brazen-determination loses its charm.  Or maybe I'm just a pessimist.  Maybe we can all learn a thing or two from Manny.

All I know is that if a boy gave me a heart balloon that said "I like you" on it, I sure as heaven would swoon. But maybe I just have this thing with balloons...  That's what happens when you work for a clown.

Just another family dinner

Scott has fruit snacks on his plate as his serving of fruit.

Dad's on a diet.  He eats lettuce.

After being asked a million times over the past couple of years if I'm going to eat the fish tonight, I finally say yes today.  (So sue me.)  I've never seen my dad so proud.

We try to figure out what the new equivalent of green jello is in our day.

And it always ends with someone talking about the word "bazaar," and my mom tells the story of how she lost the Montana state spelling bee because of that word.

Cheers.

Endearing?

My mom and dad bought a new mattress.  It has a supposed 30-year warranty.  In my insensitivity and morbid humor, I said to my mom, "You'll die before this mattress does!"

Cue: Siblings' horror at such an observation.

Mom: But I'm only 52!
Tanya: Yeah, Grandma died at 80.

My mom starts to seriously consider this because sometimes she doesn't get my anti-jokes, but the siblings quickly assuage the situation and change the subject.

Then my mom chimes in.  "Yeah, but I think Christ will come again before I die...and I just feel so bad that you kids won't get any of our inheritance."

Aww, thanks Mom!  Wait...

Why, hello!

Dear Blogging World,

I'm back!  I know it is mostly just my sister and mom waiting around for this, so here you go.

I finished my time as a missionary.  Sorry for the drop off in posts.  I'm sure there will be plenty of flashbacks to share in the future.

So I've been in the real world for a week.  Sometimes I cry about it, but there are generally some good things it has to offer.

Blah blah blah.

I gained a new respect for the sadists we refer to as dentists.  I loathe the dentist.  I went to a place called Bright Now! Dental.  They always sounds so peppy and cheerful, but really they are about to make your day go from a 10 to a 5.  I needed to get a root canal (or as one of the 'merican employees said, "a 'rut' canal.  People in Alberta always used ask me if I said "ruf" instead of roof or rut instead of root.  Who even says that?  "Americans, that's who." The Canucks would say.  Well, I guess they were right.)  Apparently you need a root canal when there is an infection in the root of your tooth...or something like that.  Now, I always thought dentists were the smart kids who wanted a good job, but they chose the cushier route of the dentist office instead of the unpredictable and strenuous hospital hours of a medical doctor.   I don't blame them. Plus they don't have to deal with a lot of bodily fluids besides saliva and a bit of blood.   But as the dentist drilled into my infected root, all of the sudden the most horrific smell was released into the wild.

Bacteria really did a number on that little part of my mouth.  It literally smelled like something died in there (which something did--my tooth).  All the while, the dentist is all up in my grill (literally), nose-nose with the stench from the Black Lagoon.  I would sense it starting to waft, and then the dentist would apply something that smelled like bleach.  Then some more drilling.  Then the smell.  Then the bleach.  (Is that even safe?? I think I swallowed a couple times!)

Quite ashamed, I apologized afterward.  He said, "Oh, we get that all the time!"  Well, thumb up for the dentist who has to feel like he's in a morgue sometimes.  (The morgue actually smells better.)

At the end the dental assistant came in to match my tooth color with the porcelain crown they will make.  My teeth matched the whitest crowns they have.  All natural, thank you.  And then my ego re-inflated as I bounced out the door.