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Crazy good site, from my Uncle, who is obsessed with Google Chrome OS and fancy phones that I don’t understand. (I know this because he shares items with me on Google reader.)

I was on the ground laughing.

mylifeisaverage.com

Check it out. Laugh. Better than reading about my life (which is perfect, by the way, just so your aware. Perfect job. Perfect husband. Perfect apartment. Perfect family. Perfect friends. Or near perfect, if that makes you feel better.).

(NOTE: not all items are appropriate, so be forewarned.)

Butter

Wait. Before I write this post, I need to do my laundry. I’ll be back in a moment.

There. Laundry is started. I remembered my laundry when I started writing because the subject of this post is dirtying some clothes.

I’ll start at the beginning.

Yesterday, Dillon and I were cooking, baking, and watching Mulan. Specifically, Dillon was baking chocolate chip cookies and I was cooking fish. He put two cubes of butter (not real butter, though, but something that resembled it) into the microwave. Not knowing butter softens quite quickly, he set the timer for a minute.

A few minutes later, unaware of what my husband had done, I had my own few tablespoons of butter to put in the microwave for my fish. I opened up the microwave. There was a bowl. I grabbed the bowl.

Slosh. Major slosh.

From the bowl, the butter did pour:

soaking my shirt, soaking my skirt,

and going onto the floor.

(I just made that up.)

A few minutes later, the clothes were in the tub in a mixture of various cleaning liquids, and the fish was in the oven.

The fish was delicious. It was flavored with butter, garlic, parsley, and lemon juice, and was very moist and good. I served it with rice that I made by throwing in a packet of chicken ramen seasoning and some soy sauce before cooking, and then adding green onion, tomato, and cheese when the rice was done. We also had green beans. It was one of my better meals, and definitely the best rice I have ever made. (I’ve ruined rice quite a few times, so that isn’t saying much.)

The cookies, however, tasted somewhat like toothpaste but without the mint flavoring.

Why?

They lacked butter.

I’m not lonely

The other day, I was feeling sort of lonely. I did move up to a new area recently, and I sometimes tend to think I don’t make friends very easy.

Then, as I was on my bike, coming back from visiting with some people I knew, I realized that I wasn’t lonely. I didn’t need a magical friend to appear or anything like that. Instead, I simply needed to value the people that I had around me.

I thought about my ward, my work place, and the other people I’ve gotten to know while I’ve been up here. I’ve been living here for about six months, and I’ve met and gotten acquainted with dozens and dozens of people. And many of them are my friends. I’m really not lonely.

I guess my problem was I wanted friendship to be easy. I wanted to have someone be friends with me without taking the time to be friends with them.

But it doesn’t work that way. If you don’t want to be alone, you have to seek out people to be with.

  • Rewrite two novels.
  • Quilt.
  • Play the organ. Since I’m the ward organist now. I love playing it.
  • Take photographs
  • Exercise
  • Shoot my bow
  • Cook
  • Bake
  • Blog
  • Do fun things with friends
  • Do fun things with husband
  • Read other people’s blogs and comment on them
  • Read newspapers
  • Read books
  • Research
  • Write essays
  • Write poetry
  • Do my visiting teaching
  • Transcribe family history stuff
  • Go hiking
  • Etc.

But I can’t do everything, so I do bits and pieces when I can.

There are just times in life when you forget that you have a blog. And last week was one of those times. I used to blog and do things on the internet almost compulsively; now they sit neglected for a while until I remember that I have them.

So today is a bunch of random ramblings. First of all, I have a typewriter. A real, working typewriter. I had a typewriter once, but the space stopped working, making it pretty useless. But on a whim, I went on to ebay, found an electronic typewriter for $30, and ordered it. It came slightly broken from shipping, but I had to wiggle a piece of plastic to get it working again. And then, finally, typewriter. Not too big. Not too small. Has an auto correct feature. I’m happy.

Second of all, Dillon is still plugging away at school. And doing really quite well. I was shocked to discover that the end of the semester is coming up–it’s so weird having the semester pass without being in school. It goes a lot quicker when you aren’t doing the homework, I have to tell you. And its less stressful. But I’m still supporting Dillon. We were working on some homework a while ago for a genetics class, and there was a complicated problem that we couldn’t figure out. I haven’t taken a science class since my first year of college and I haven’t taken math since my senior year of high school. But I guess my brain still works, because I was the one to come up with the solution. It made me happy.

Some other things in my life right now:

  • I’m attempting to hand quilt a quilt my sisters gave to me. It is going slowly. But I do like needlework, so hopefully I’ll get it done in the next decade.
  • I reread The Goose Girl. I haven’t read it in a very, very long time. But I got to remember how good it was. Shannon Hale’s writing has really changed and evolved–not better or worse, maybe, just different. So I liked returning to the reason I started becoming a fan in the first place.
  • Went home over the weekend because my mom’s blog makes me homesick. I saw my older brother play basketball and shot my bow. I got a new peep sight on my bow (don’t worry about what that is), and it made it so I actually grouped arrows together. For the first time. Five arrows went to the same general area of the target. It was awesome.

And I’ve decided that this post is long enough, so I’ll stop.

Recipes

I am full of food right now–I think I actually ate too much. But I want to share my meal

Chicken Pillows

  • package of crescent rolls
  • cream cheese
  • green onions
  • celery (though I didn’t use it today)
  • rosemary, pepper, garlic salt, paprika, and celery seed

Grill chicken. Mix chicken with rest of ingredients. (I know nothing about spices, but I had this spice rack given to me for my wedding, so I went through and added anything that smelled good, and it seemed to work. No idea on the quantity–not too much, though.) Put on crescent rolls and form into pillow shape, so roll is covering filling. Bake according to crescent roll directions. Eat.

Fruit Salad

  • can of fruit cocktail
  • apple
  • a banana
  • strawberry yogurt

Mix. Eat.

Stuffing

  • Stove top package of stuffing

Follow direction on package. Hard to ruin.

 

So there is my meal today. It was very, very good.

 

unique

I want

to write something that is

unique.

It wouldn’t be the best thing in the world. It wouldn’t have great popular appeal. Some people wouldn’t understand it. Most people wouldn’t even read it.

That wouldn’t matter.

Because everyone who read it–

would never, ever forget it.

Because it was

unique.

Prior to June 19, 2009 we were engaged for 70 days, then we got married in the Mount Timpanogos temple.  Today we have been married for 19 weeks,  133 days, 3182 hours, 190,920 minutes, and 1,1455,200 seconds more or less.

So today I was thinking about how long people live, how long they go to school, how long they work, how long they sleep, how long they eat, how long they are married, how long they dedicate to God, how long they serve, how long they are happy, how long they are on the computer, how long they hunt (in my case), and the list goes on and on.

I believe 100% that time is the one thing in life that we all have, and the one thing that every human manages differently.  I wish I were able to more efficiently manage my time, so that I would be more productive in life.  I imagine that we are all this way.  Procrastination is like an illness, that once you get you have to do your best to control.  I am the worlds best procrastinator at times, and I do not expect a medal for it.  If our time on earth is so precious then why do we waste it doing the insignificant, and setting aside the truly important factors in life?  I believe we waste time because we feel that we have so much of it, or do we?   I have only been married for 133 days, and plan on being married for a very very very long time.

I just felt like sending myself on a guilt trip for a minute about my time management skills, and maybe I sparked a similar interest in others that will read this post.

Heather is awesome, and I love her.  She loves me, and we are going to now eat dinner and go get ice cream… even though it is like -34 degrees outside here in Logan.

DILLON

What sort of word is fantastic? It sounds like a sort of word that because sarcastic really easily, because of all those hard consonants and basic structure you can play around with so much. Just try changing the stress up. FANtastic. FanTAStic. FantasTIC. Okay, so the last one sounds like your are trying to speak with a very bad French accent.

Anyway. I really mean it though. I started work on Monday as a legal secretary, and so far, I feel sometimes like I’m a little kid and I get to play with toys all day. Though copy machines and computers and paper are my toys, but they are good toys.

I can play copy machine. And I can play with stamps and a stapler. Even an electronic stapler. And envelopes. And labels. And paper clips and binder clips. And large elastics. And I even got to touch a typewriter today.

So I like office supplies. But I like working in law too–I feel like I’m doing some good in the world. I feel like I’m working with some amazing people who I can look up to in a lot of ways.

And today is just a happy day too. For no reason except for I wanted it to be.

I hate flies

Perhaps it was because we left the door open.

It seems like the most probably explanation for all the flies in our small 450-square-foot apartment. And one horse fly, which buzzed noisily in our bedroom.

But whatever the reason, the files were buzzing all over my house. I did not like it. Their little legs would land on me and crawl up my skin. They flew into my hair and buzzed in my ears. And their little black bodies are just plain ugly.

At first, my thought was that I didn’t have a fly swatter. Which was true. It is pretty easy to kill flies with fly swatters. But then I realized I had a spatula. And it was pretty much like a fly swatter.

So I got the spatula out of the kitchen. My husband lay on the bed, completely not annoyed at the flies.

I wielded the spatula.

At first, I only thought there were four or five flies in the house. But after killing, one, two, three, I realized there were much, much more, as if they were replicating somewhere in the cooks and crannies of our apartment.

I kept swatting.

The guts spilled out on the ceiling, on the kitchen counter, in the sink, in the bathroom, in the bedroom. Their blood splattered my white walls.

The horse fly sat half dead on a towel, barely able to move. He got flushed down the toilet.

And then, I was done. Not a fly left. Over ten killed.

I was victorious.

Except for now, a few weeks later, the flies buzz around me again.

I didn’t even leave the door open this time. I think they are out to get me . . .

A secret

I don’t think of myself as a very good blog writer. I can write fiction as much as I darn well please. I can write personal essays. I can write philosophical papers. I can write literary reviews. I can write poetry. I can write in my journal. I can write furniture descriptions, even though I don’t have to anymore. I can write letters. I can write pages on a website.

And I’m sure I can write a whole slew of other things as well.

But writing a blog?

That’s difficult.

Now, with the thousands and thousands of blog out there, it is quite obvious that anyone who knows how to use the internet can blog. They have these free blogging sites that makes posting really simple. And you don’t have to be a good write to get a blog published–in fact, you don’t have to know how to make a complete sentence to have your blog published.

And with a few friends and family members, you don’t have to do much to have a small audience. Friends and family members are forgiving of incoherent thought, confusing posts, typos, misspellings, a lack of focus, and whole other slew of problems that may arise.

Thus, blogging shouldn’t be difficult at all.

But now, I must to my secret, which is the reason I find blogging difficult.

Blogs are just not my favorite things in the world.

While it’s nice to stay in contact with friends and families, and there are some amazing posts that I’ve read, I would rather something in my hands. Something that requires my attention. Something that is more than just a fleeting thought.

When I decided on a domain for myself, Typewriter Heather fit me very well. Because I would rather have a typewriter than a computer.

And that is my secret. That’s why I find blogging difficult–because blog just aren’t my thing.

Mrs.

For the first time, I saw my name with a “Mrs.,” and it made me all giddy inside. Yes, I have been married in four months. But no one has every called me “Mrs.” before.

When I got married, I knew Dillon liked to hunt. No, I knew he was somewhat obsessed with hunting. I married him anyway, quite gladly actually. Partly because of all his good qualities. But also because I could take up archery, something I’ve always wanted to do.

I had never experience a hunting season with Dillon when we got married, since it was June, and we met in October. So this fall was an interest time, where I got to see my husband in his favorite time of the year.

I let him go on a three day trip without me. And then I drove for hours and hours and hours to go hunt with his mom. My mother-in-law hunts. She is a trophy hunter, and likes to shoot big deer. And overall, she is a pretty awesome person who works incredibly hard and has an extremely good attitude about things. You get to know more about people when you go hunting with them.

And I did get to know a little bit more about my husband. Like when were sitting at a water hole, and saw deer* a few yards away from us, staring at us–well that was cool. It was fun to watch all the does and fawns, hoping for a buck. It was exciting when the bucks finally came in at the later point of the evening to drink. I got to know why my husband likes to hunt–because, frankly, being outdoors and looking for deer is just plain enjoyable.**

*When I started on this hunting trip, I was asked if I knew what a deer looked like. And I said that they were gray and had sticks on the tops of their heads. Which was a pretty accurate description, and now that I’ve seen lots of them, I’m sticking to it.

**The good thing about this trip, and about this hunting season, is that I have never been present when a deer has been killed. And I’m very happy with that.

New happenings

Mostly, the new happenings are a new baby and a new job. Both quite significant.

My sister, Liz, had her baby on Monday, little Peter, was has wrinkly hands and is so new and pink right now. I went and saw him yesterday. This was my twin sister too, so it was all together a little odd. Dillon was so uncomfortable holding little Peter, and I myself wasn’t the most comfortable. He was so small, and somewhat squirmy as he is getting used the world and himself. But yet, little ones are so wonderful too. They make the world seem better, and full of hope. While it is weird that my twin sister is a mom now, I am excited for her.

The other new thing is a job. I got one! A new one. I’m really excited about this–it’s working as a legal secretary at a law office. I’ve never worked at a law office before. But I’ll learn! I’m really looking forward to working there and I think the job will fit me perfectly . . . well, that’s my hope. I’ll finish up my technical writing in the next few weeks, which has really turned into answering phone calls lately. Then off into a new world . . .

Some websites

I like having a web presence, I guess.

I decided I liked my photoblog separate, so I’ve created a new photoblog site.

edgeofshade.wordpress.com

For those of you who are family, or who are interest, I made a family history blog that will post a story from my family history on a weekly basis.

walkerboot.wordpress.com

Add to your feed readers! And your links!

I get cranky when I loose arrows. The reason I loose arrows is because I miss the target, of course. Someday I will be able to hit the target on a regular basis. And maybe hit the target in the place I want to.

Today we went out to the outdoors, since Dillon had a day off of work. And, of course, we shot our bows. Out of the eight-ten shots, I missed four, which is pretty terrible. I blame the wind.

The good news is, I did eventually find all my arrows.

We also drove up to a trail, and hiked it. But there was snow. And it was really cold. How did it end up being winter already?

Pictures:

shooting a bow

happy us 2

happy us

snow and fall

You know what the best thing about today was? I’ve known Dillon Hoyt for a year now. A year ago, it was Sunday, and Dillon bore his testimony in my single’s ward. It was his first time at church, and he wore a brown suit. He said he liked school in his testimony. He was a very recently returned missionary too. And I thought, “Hey, this guy’s pretty cool.” So I was daring and talked to him after sacrament meeting, something I didn’t usually do. Talk to guys, that is. But I talked to him. We talked about his mission–I remember talking about him being in the Andes and learning a little Quechua, and then his last area in Chincha where there had been an earthquake and did a lot of service. I distinctly remember our first conversation.

I thought that he was about the best guy in the ward at that point. I didn’t really care about the rest of them.

And do you know what he thought? That I was tall and had really short hair. Which I did.

He was also glad I talked to him, so he didn’t feel alone that day in his new ward.

It’s been a very eventful year together. I held hands for the first time. Kissed for the first time. Had a boyfriend for the first time. Got engaged for the first time. And got married too. I moved out of my parent’s house for the first time, graduated from college, and started working instead of going to school. Lots of changes–but lots of good things.

And Dillon, I love you. You’ve totally made this year worth it.

So yesterday I wrote a poem. It was actually while I was waiting for someone, and all I had with me was a notepad and a pen, so I wrote whatever came to mind. Which was furniture descriptions, of course, because that is my job right now. I write furniture descriptions.

The list of words commonly used to describe furniture (elegant, comfortable, sturdy, veneer, beautiful, intricate, acanthus leaves, finish) quickly turned into a poem about Plato. Because, you know, Plato has everything to do about furniture.

And then I ended with my husband, because he has everything to about Plato.

Okay, so Plato and furniture and my husband don’t really relate, but somehow, in the midst of writing my poem, they had everything to do with each other. It just felt right to put three together.

And the moral of the story is . . . I haven’t written poetry in a long time. It was fun.

(Just don’t expect me to share it now, because it needs to be turned into a sonnet, and it isn’t yet.)

Since I graduated, I’ve had to think about what to do for my career. And, after spending many hours listening to Pandora Radio, I have decided that I want to be an indie rock star.

This may come as a surprise to you. It comes as a great surprise to me, since I knew nothing about the current world of music. Well, I knew a little. But very little. I didn’t know what sort of music I liked. I didn’t know what music was out there.

But after months of listening to Pandora, I realized that many of my favorite artists are listed on Wikipedia’s list of indie rock musicians. (Except for Cold Play, which is a shame.)  And right here I should list some musicians I like except for I won’t.*

You know what I like about indie artists? They are creative. They are free. They do weird things sometimes. But it’s liberating to listen to them, because they are crammed in a category and have no room to breathe. They do what they want. They are new and original and fresh.

So that’s why I want to be an indie rock star. To be creative without boundaries. To feel free to create whatever I want. To live and breathe, and do it in a new way.

*The reason I didn’t list musicians is that I still don’t know that much about music.

A red bush

Flaming Bush and Dillon

Red Bush

Where we heard elk

Fence

Fence 2

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