Harry's Birthday and Things Less Delightful Than That

It's Harry Potter's 34th birthday.

You say, "Harry Potter isn't real."

I say, "A plague on both your houses." Operating, of course, under the assumption that there are two of you. Because obviously blogs are read in pairs. Date night, anyone?

What I'm trying to say is, Harry Potter is more real to me than you are. Oooh, burn.

Guys. I am in a bad mood. One of the cardinal rules of writing is that you should probably never write when you are in a bad mood because you may say things that you regret.

Like hagdfzlhagdkjlsn vagijogcfm .gaiuafyuhjkm rudfsnhcm riucmoffbghgn;gfn;bgv!

Or dfhjKFH DFSJKHLdfsj fgLGFKJLJLGF MLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!

And fjadklupr fhmcv, dffjmcvcv,nj fdsf!

To name a few.

Some days, it's hard to believe that everything is going to work out.

But they do. If there's anything I know from my life experience, it's that things always work out.

Somehow.

I'm just really bad at waiting.

Persons Attempting to Find a Plot in This Narrative Will Be Shot

I am a history person. I love anything historical. Plus I just like to see places and things I've read about.

The Great Obnoxious Family Nauvoo Road Trip was able to answer to both those aspects of my personality.

For one thing, Nauvoo is right on the Mississippi River. Oh, the Mississippi! After years of learning trivia about the Mississippi for geography class and counting to 100 Mississippi during hide-and-go-seek and spelling out M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I at recess to prove my competence to the other kids, I had a strong desire to see the thing for myself.

It's exactly as everyone says it is and more. The Mississippi River is a river like the Grand Canyon is a hole in the ground--technically a correct description, but inadequate.

Then there was the Church history stuff itself. Let me sum up that part for you:

Mormons live somewhere. People hate them. Mormons are driven out and go live somewhere else. Those people also hate them. Mormons are driven out again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Forever and ever. Infinitely and beyond.

Literary analysis of this summary: Everyone hated Mormons. Actually, lots of people still do. But that's okay. We've done pretty well for ourselves anyways.

Last but not least, we went to Hannibal. Hannibal is in Missoura and is famous for being the boyhood home of Mark Twain.

Although, like everyone else, Mark Twain hated Mormons, you really got to admire the guy. Not only was he hilarious, he could make a story out of anything. Like Hannibal, which was the backdrop of his very famous Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn stories.

Man. Oh man. Oh man oh man oh man. Hannibal looks exactly as I imagined St. Petersburg (the fictional name Twain uses for Hannibal, not the city in Russia). I mean, I never really thought to myself, "St. Petersburg looks like such-and-such," but when I saw it, it was so familiar. The streets, the houses, the whitewashing fence--all right out of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

I came, I saw, I ate catfish. The catfish was delicious. I bought a Mark Twain mug that says, "Get your facts first, and then you can distort 'em as much as you please," and two huckleberry-flavored chocolates. The chocolates were scrumptious.

It was all very fulfilling.

Road Trippin'

A Shakespeare play is considered either a tragedy or a comedy based on the ending. It's a comedy if it ends with a marriage and a tragedy if it ends with death.

Going by that classification, road trips are tragedies, for they almost never end in marriage and almost always involve the participants being bored to death (if not killed by their traveling companions and stuffed in a trunk).

For serious, though. Road trip = 10% adventure and 90% brain-melting, body-numbing boredom. I should know--I just came home from one.

My family set off on the trip lively humans capable of intelligent conversation and returned weakened and stupid by the many, many hours in the Mormon Assault Vehicle. For it took many, many hours to get where we were going. For we were going to Nauvoo, Illinois, not-so-recently the home of Mormon pioneer ancestors on my mom's side.

A brief commentary on each of the states we passed through:

Utah. People working together. What a great place to be. Blessed from heaven above, it's the land that we love. This is the place.

Wyoming. Characterized by semi-interesting rock formations and cheaper gas.

Nebraska. Flatter than a pizza, a sheet of rice paper, or Flat Stanley. There were no mountains, which was horrifying. From Nebraska on, I had no sense of direction.

Also, I got the feeling that nothing exciting ever happens in Nebraska. Please feel free to provide evidence to the contrary.

Iowa. You really ought to give it a try.

We saw a million Iowan businesses with 'River City' on them. It made me like The Music Man that much more.

Illinois. About two years ago, Little Sister did not know that the 's' in 'Illinois' is silent. This brought great joy into my life.

Missouri. I spent the entirety of my time in Missouri calling it 'Missoura,' as I have been led to believe that is the proper pronunciation. No one corrected me, so either I'm right or I was bringing great joy into their lives (see above commentary on Illinois).

Kansas. When we stopped for gas in Kansas, Little Sister suddenly said, "I want there to be tornado while we're here. Not a big one. Just a small one that will follow alongside our van but not destroy anything in its path."

Colorado. It was windy whilst we were in Colorado. I had a sudden desire to spit on the concrete of a parking lot during one of our stops.

Now, I don't randomly spit in public. Excepting those times when the Chess Master would spit in the grass after track. And I would too because he did. We'd spit, and then we'd jaywalk.

I'm not proud of it, okay?

Anyways, I had that sudden desire to spit, but I had a just as sudden image of the spit being caught by the wind and striking the face of the guy gassing up his car a few feet away.

Other than that, I slept through most of Colorado. Also, listened to my mother traumatize my brothers by telling stories of giving birth.

I was a little traumatized, as well.

So yeah. That's an overview of the wheres and wherewithal of the trip.

I was only going to write one or two blog posts about this trip. But it ended up being so interesting, Imma write 3-plus instead.

Road trippin' posts, ho!

The Search for Delicious

After a late movie, Dad took my younger sisters and yours truly to get some treats.

None of us could agree on what kind of treat that would be. Little Sister wanted cake pops, but the cake pop establishment was closed. I wanted cake pops but also doughnuts with powdered sugar on them. Baby Sister wanted not-cake pops and not-doughnuts.

After some heated discussion, Dad took us to a grocery store and told us to pick out our treats.

LITTLE SISTER: Look at this box of assorted doughnuts.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: That's not very assorted. There are only three kinds. And none of them have powdered sugar on them.

LITTLE SISTER: Well we should still--OOH FROZEN CAKE POPS!

BABY SISTER: How about these cherry turnovers?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: No. No fruit. Fruit is an inferior flavor.

BABY SISTER: You're an inferior flavor.

LITTLE SISTER: (comes over with cake pops) Let's get these and the doughnuts.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Doughnuts with powdered sugar. Not assorted ones.

LITTLE SISTER: But-

DAD: Let's go.

BABY SISTER: Wait for me while I grab the turnovers.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: They're fruit.

BABY SISTER: They're what I want.

LITTLE SISTER: Let's also get these coconut doughnuts!

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Nooooo. We can't spend $30 on pastries.

We kept up this rousing conversation as we bought the ($20 worth of) pastries and trooped out to the car. Once we reached it, all conversation suddenly stopped. We were radio silent for the entire drive home. By which I mean, we were silent but the radio wasn't.

I'm starting to think my family is weird...

On My Knees

You know what's great about Christianity?

In Matthew, and in Nephi, and in the Doctrine and Covenants, we're asked to endure to the end.

Basically, it's the scripture version of this:

La Petite and I were speaking today of how discouraged we are about a multitude of things.

Now, La Petite and I do not have awful lives. Far from it. We're two darned blessed individuals when you get down to it. But we have our trials and tribulations, and we face the daily complications of even the most humdrum of existences.

Sometimes we get sick of it all. Today, we were sick of it all.

Today, I find it necessary to apply the reminder of enduring to the end.

One of the greatest pieces of advice I've ever received is that when discouragement comes knocking on my door, I should get on my knees and pray for the strength to keep going.

Guess what? It works.

Also, posters of kittens don't hurt.

The Greatest of Gifts

As I was Christmas shopping last December, many cashiers asked me for donations to various worthy causes.

DOLLAR STORE CASHIER: Would you like to donate a dollar to buy toys for children for Christmas?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: No thanks.

GROCERY STORE CASHIER: Would you like to donate a dollar to feed children for Christmas?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: No thanks.

BOOKSTORE CASHIER: Would you like to donate a dollar to buy books for children for Christmas?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: YES PLEASE.

Books are one of the greatest gifts of all. I truly believe that. Children need them more than toys; they need them more than food. Well, maybe not more than food. Though it's better to be hungry and have a full mind than it is to be well-fed with a starved imagination. Just sayin'. If you don't believe me, read A Little Princess.

Now, Shutterbug and her husband are about to become parents. Like small children, puppies, and teenagers, new parents need some guidance as they face uncharted territory.

To help provide some of that guidance, I choose baby gifts imbued with meaning. I bought some baby wipes to encourage cleanliness. I bought some baby clothes to discourage nudity.

Most importantly, I planned to give them books. To promote literacy and appreciation of this greatest gift, of course.

Books, sadly, are expensive. So when I found Dr. Seuss board books on sale 2 for $10, I was like, "Score."

I poked around, trying to decide which ones were the best ones. Although I dearly wanted to get Oh The Places You'll Go (it's supa inspirational), I settled on The ABC Book and Mr. Brown Can Moo. Can You? (The alphabet and animal sounds? Supa educational.)

Happily, I made my way to the front of the store to purchase the books. I was almost to the checkout line when something hit me with the force of a falling piano.

Shutterbug is afraid of Dr. Seuss.

The scared thing is a metaphor for Shutterbug. The pants are a metaphor for Dr. Seuss.

I returned the Dr. Seuss books to the back of the store, and Looking for Books for Baby: Round Two commenced.

After weighing the merits of P. D. Eastman and Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, I settled on The Monster at the End of This Book and Another Monster at the End of This Book.

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, those are books about Grover of Sesame Street fame. Grover learns he is in a book with a monster at the end of it and subsequently tries to nail/glue/solder the pages together so he doesn't have to meet the monster. In the end, he realizes he is the monster, and everything is hunky-dory. The second one is more of the same, except Elmo is there too.

I bought these books and presented them to Shutterbug at her baby shower.

MR. SHUTTERBUG: I've read those books. They were scary.

Scary? That never even occurred to me. I mean, sure they're about monsters, but the monsters are lovable and fluffy. Though come to think of it, Elmo's habit of referring to himself in the third person is rather terrifying...and however you slice it, these are books with monsters at the end of them...

First the Dr. Seuss books, then this. It seems that my subconscious is determined to scar Shutterbug's child for life.

Will Work for Oreos

I graduated several weeks ago. I put on a silly gown and a flat hat, walked across a stage, shook some hands, and took some pictures. Once this ceremony was over, I was declared a real, true adult and told I had to find a job.

It's all a bit arbitrary if you ask me.

There's a song that Little Sister happens to know about how English majors cannot get jobs. She enjoys singing it to me. Thanks, sis. Love you too.

Song or no song, I have thus far not been able to secure a job in my field.

Today, as I was scouring the internet for jobs, I found a likely candidate and immediately began reviewing the qualifications. I seemed to fit the bill, so I began the application process in an excited frenzy.

ME: They want to know my college GPA! Where's that letter that Nameless Utah College sent me saying that I was awesome and that they were awarding me tons of GPA?

ALSO ME: That's not exactly how it works.

ME: WHATEVER.

Anyways, I finished the application and sent it off, and now I'm waiting to hear back.

Cross your fingers.

Fingers crossed? Good. Now go off and continue your joyous ramblings on the internet, while I wait and continue arbitrarily being a real, true adult.

Even Genius Children Get Things Wrong

Baby Brother and I went to Arctic Circle to get some delicious dinner for our siblings. When we arrived home with the grub, we were not met by the expected stampede of hungry Obnoxiouses.

BABY BROTHER: Where is everyone?

AWKARD MORMON GIRL: Maybe they were kidnapped.

BABY BROTHER: By who?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: I dunno. By the last of the Mohicans?

We had unpacked most of the enticingly greasy food by the time our siblings emerged from their rooms.

BABY BROTHER: There you are. We thought you had been kidnapped by Mexicans!