Once upon a time I had this Great Grandma that lived in this quaint house on 9th east. She had coloring books under her sofa and fig newtons in her fridge. She also performed Indian rain dances upon occasion. When I was 5ish, the alzheimers got the best of her so we moved her to a home in Canada. She lived up there for another 8ish years and sang dirty limericks up until her death. It was awesome…the limericks, not her death. That was sad. But she also started me on my salt and pepper shaker collection.
 
The current members of the family:
 
 

When she moved from the quaint house on 9th east, she bestowed upon me some ceramic salt and pepper shakers. There were several sets, but the one I remember is a kangaroo and her baby. Kangaroos were and still are my favorite animal so I loved those ones! Obviously a 5 year old is not to be trusted with ceramic things, so who knows what became of them. The problem is, I want the kanga and roo salt and pepper shakers. Bad. If there was a salt and pepper shaker stalker, it would be me. I spend a lot of time online looking for a match. I have found many similar ones, but they do not match the image engraved in my mind’s eye. I once found the exact set, but they were all chipped and kanga was missing an ear. Another time I found a perfect match on etsy and said I’d be back later to buy it. I was too late.
 
Please, help me find these salt and pepper shakers. They are the founding members of my collection and they belong with their family. Your help is appreciated.
 
 
 
On a side note: My friend Ryan told me that my salt and pepper shaker collection might be scaring men off. My other friend Ryan told me my collection "made him sad for me". I am guessing this blog post isn’t going to help either.
 
 
 

Babes

Amanda aka Panti is with child



That means a baby shower! Notice the baby in this photo. Jane aka Jems used to be with child and little Eliza Jane is the adorable result of that.



I love my bestie's and I love their offspring just as much!

Ode to Old People

These are my Grandparents.




1 wedding, 5 kids, 5 grandkids and a massive heart attack later, they are celebrating their 50th anniversary. There are a million reasons why I love both of them, but on this special occasion I would like to list a few:

Grandpa:
He instilled in me a love for all things University of Utah. That may seem silly to most, but it is something I am passionate about and that I love to share with him. Some of my fondest/earliest memories with my Grandpa involve football or basketball games at the U. I specifically remember the football game where it rained the whole time and I was in nothing but red biker shorts and an oversized Utah T-shirt (it was the early 90’s, okay?). Being a 7ish year old girl I was really bored for most of the game. It was crappy weather and we weren’t any good back then, but we stayed the whole entire game. I don’t recall the score or who it was against, but I know we ended up coming back and winning in the last minutes. I remember being there with just grandpa and standing on my seat next to him, both of us screaming and cheering for our team. I remember feeling so excited that they won and I am pretty sure that day is when I truly became a diehard U of U fan. Grandpa is a man of few words most of the time, but you know he loves you from the little things; helping you with school, giving you a treat and an accompanying hand-written note every Valentine’s day, buying Buzz (now the Bees) season tickets when you went through your baseball phase, and the list goes on and on. He will never ask for a hug, but when you are 26 and still give him one as you leave his face lights up every single time. He has one of the most contagious smiles you have ever seen. Also, his name is Melvin Eugene. Come on, that is awesome!

Grandma:
She is one of the physically strongest ladies you will ever meet. I like to think that is due in part to the fact that she grew up on an Indian reservation in Canada. That is pretty hard core. We constantly have to stop her from doing things that her old body can’t keep up with such as carrying in 20 lbs bags of rock salt or doing manual labor up at the cabin. She is way more motivated at 76 than I am at 26. I always loved school shopping with my Grandma every fall. She made sure we kept up with the latest fashions and you can blame her introducing me to JCrew. I also might get my off colored sense of humor from her. This may come as a surprise to anyone who knows her, but she can crack a dirty joke right along with the rest of us, which is even funnier coming from a sweet old lady. I love that she “went with” a majority of the men around her age in Cardston when she was young. It may be a small town, but go Grandma! She also held the record for most points scored in a Girl’s Basket Ball game at her High School (she may still hold that title, I haven’t checked my Cardston High School stats in the last 10 years). I love that she met my Grandpa while he was holding the drinking fountain for her, and that she thought he was pompous because she was an engaged woman; I love even more that she broke off that engagement and mailed the ring back to that poor sucker. To recap, she dated a majority of the town of Cardston and called off an engagement by mailing the ring back. Grandma had game (a trait I clearly did not inherit from her).

Both of these incredible people have made me the awesome girl that I am today, and to that I thank them!

March 31, 1985

I once asked my hot high school biology teacher (skyline alums know exactly who I’m speaking of) when aging stopped being a good thing. Without batting a hot eyelash he said 26. His rationale made sense; 25 is the last time there is a perk to aging. You get the ability to rent a car and insurance rates go down, so that pretty much puts and end to things of that nature. He also told me that after 25 my body would start to ache for no good reason (check!), I would be tired all the time (double check!) and there would be nothing left to look forward to. Deyle was always a downer so I hope the last part isn’t true, but thus far he’s 2-1!

Well kiddos, tomorrow marks the start of my downhill slope. It’s no longer fun for me to age. Maybe someone will gift me some Tory Burch flats to ease the pain. They’re probably better for my knees than those heels anyhow.
5 hours ago

You can run, you can hide, but you can't escape the office windows!

If I could travel back to the 9th grade and talk to 15 year old Kirsten, I would tell her one thing:
 
“When you’re 25 years old, you will have a job that will allow you to listen to boy bands for 8 hours a day.”
 
Holy cow! Can you imagine how excited that would have made me? It would have made all of those awkward/traumatic teen years so much more bearable!
 
“What’s that Erin [last name omitted]? You think I’m a loser because I have never kissed a boy? Well I don’t care what you think because when I grow up I will get to listen to NSYNC and Backstreet Boys all day long while you will be working at Walmart, married to some sick white trash guy who wears affliction all the time because you peaked in high school!”
 
(sidenote: Teenage Kirsten knew about affliction because I would also warn her about that fashion nightmare)
 
(sidenote #2: I don’t know where Erin [last name omitted] really is these days, but I assume I am fairly accurate on that…at least I truly hope that I am…)
 
And that is what I do ladies and gents. I have created a Backstreet Boys station and Pandora and I listen to the best of the mid to late 90’s all day at work. Everything from 98 degrees to Mariah Carey dazzles my ear drums while I process payroll. It. Is. Glorious! The downside is that I might have just experienced the downside of tapping into my teen years. Today at work I was standing at my desk dancing to “Escape” by Enrique Iglesias. I suddenly realized that my office blinds were open and that the stylists at the salon next door could see directly into my office windows. They could see me and they did. I stopped my dancing, sat back down in my wheelie chair and got back to payroll. At least Erin [last name omitted] doesn’t work at the salon next door.
 
 
 
 

Benny & The Nighty-Q

Last night I mixed bennys & nighty-Q and lived to tell the tale! For those of you who are not hip to my OTC drug names:

Bennys= Benadryl 
Nighty-Q= nyquil 

I need you all to just calm down! Before you judge just listen to my reasoning! I have this date tonight and I have had this awful cough for the last 10ish days. I cant be hacking up a lung on a date, so obviously I needed nighty-q. Then last night I was at dinner with Mary and Amanda. We got this delicious dessert called chocolate decadence. 2 bites into it I remembered that I'm allergic to chocolate. Not to say I forget my allergies, but I'm usually fine unless its super rich or dark. Chocolate decadence sounds rich and I wasn't about to take any chances! I spun into panic mode and started freaking out that I might get hives. I took the bennys as preventative measure. I mean obviously it was totally necessary. 

Before you start calling me mean druggy names, I want to assure you that I consulted google before mixing them and google said it "could be done but was not advisable" See, that means it's totally fine! 

The best part of my OTC cocktail was the text I got from Amanda this morning: "Please bless that you are still alive after your many mixes and also that you are hive free!"

Awwww! She's such a sweet friend to be concerned! Indeed I am hive free and still breathing. Not advisable? What does that really even mean? I mean, I have done plenty of things against the advice of others and I'm fine! 

Wish me luck on the date! 

The Worst "Movie" Ever Made

I would like to ask you all to participate  in this little activity with me. First, close your eyes (metaphorically because you couldn't read this if you actually closed your eyes). Now think back into your mind's eye to recall the worst movie you've ever seen. I am guessing it's some awfully un-funny comedy or perhaps a poorly made chick flick. Maybe if you saw "the hills have eyes" you're thinking of that movie, because that's where my mind would have gone before last night...Now I want you to take that movie and imagine watching it 6 times in a row while you are tied to a chair and can't go to the restroom. I can promise I would still have rather done that than to see the movie I saw last night. 
I legitimately saw the worst movie ever made last night. To call it a movie is generous. It's called "The Oregonian" and I can't even begin to tell you what it was about, if it had a point or storyline, or why I stayed to the end. Basically it was a series of incredibly disturbing images with very little talking and random flashes of even more disturbing images. I refused to clap at the end. The film maker and star were sitting behind us and I made no secret to my thoughts on the film. We also walked out of the Q&A. That wad based on some dreams you've had and influence by country music, Calvin Reeder? Well if that's true, I don't know what stations you're listening to and I feel you should seek intense psychiatric help. It's about stories, Calvin Reeder? Well please explain what the story was in that! Was it a story about a giant green monster performing lewd acts randomly? Or people who drink gasoline daqueries? Please enlighten me! 

  Bottom line: I don't know what happened to me in that "movie". I say it happened to me because it did happen to me. It was some sadistic form of abuse that I endured and will likely ignite some PTSD in me. I doubt this "movie" will ever see the light of day past Sundance so it probably won't be able to get you. Thank your lucky stars!

You got me real good this year, Sundance! Funny joke you trickster!