How I Broke the Elections

Tuesday, November 6, 2012 was a very important day for me. It was the first time that I voted. I felt very cool to be able to do that. More importantly, I felt a surge of pride that I am literate enough in politics to feel like I had a fairly good grasp of what is going on in the world today. I care about what's happening. I read the news. I listen to debates (until it makes me so frustrated that I have to go hide in the other room and have Andy tell me what's happening). I feel like a responsible citizen.

But when I went to vote on Tuesday, things didn't actually go very smoothly.

Andrew and I showed up at the polling/voting type place. Our precinct was assigned to an old folk's home, and there were some adorable old folks sitting on the veranda. It made me happy. We stood in line for all of about five seconds. Now THAT is my kind of line! The nice people checked our paper stuff, and then asked:

"Would you like to vote on a paper ballot or electronically?"

Knowing my history with technology, I emphatically chose the paper ballot. I went over to a little cubed off section and seized the pen lying there on the desk. I boldly colored in the little ovals, marking my opinions for the future of my county, state, and country. I studiously considered the type of pen I was using, because I actually really liked it, and considered getting one for myself. I decidedly shoved my stuff in my purse, and resolutely stood. 

I then looked around like a lost fish in a really big puddle because I didn't know what to do with my ballot. Andy had already finished and was waiting outside. No help there. Then I saw a lady sitting by the door and a huge machine. I watched as a gentleman walked up to the machine and fed his ballot into the scanner machine, and then was presented with a sticker for his good behavior.

Feeling more comfortable because I now knew what I was supposed to do, I went up to the Lady of the Machine and prepared to get my sticker. Oh, how I wanted that sticker! I love stickers! I stuck the end of my ballot into the machine. The ballot got pulled in....

And then it got spit back out again. That lousy Machine didn't want me to get a sticker! What a lame head of cauliflower! The Lady of the Machine had me try five more times before declaring my ballot to be a broken one. She told me to go over to the other corner of the room and get it voided, and then to fill out another one. I walked dejectedly over to the Voider Man. I'd never broken PAPER before. I'm paper-writing girl. I read books. Paper is what I do.

My head was drooped low until I heard the Lady of the Machine call out and say, "Don't void your ballot. It might be the Machine."

That made me perk up. I didn't break the paper, I broke the Machine! I felt much better. That's much more normal for me. But then I started to feel a little guilty as the line in front of the Machine grew longer, and NO ONE could enter their ballot. What had I done? I had stopped the election process! 

After several minutes of not being able to contact anyone or to fix the Machine, Voider Man just had us stick our ballots in a little slot to be looked at later. That helped ease my guilty feelings a little, since we were still able to cast our votes, even if it were to now cause many people extra work going over the ballots later. Oh well. Voting is a good thing to do, so I guess I can sacrifice other people's time to do it. I stuck my ballot into the slot, but the Lady of the Machine was distracted by something, and didn't offer me a sticker. 

I hmphed! and took a sticker anyway. Just because I broke the elections doesn't mean that I didn't vote. I earned that sticker.

Enjoying Compliments, and Missing the Source of Said Compliments

During my junior year of college at BYU, I took a Shakespeare class. Andrew would be quick to point out that it was not the only one that I took, but he's at work now, so I can say whatever I want. Huzzah for free speech! Anyway, I took this class and it was pretty interesting. In case you didn't know, I graduated with an English degree, and I love reading, and I love Shakespeare as well. Not all of his plays, mind you, but a lot of them. This was no ordinary Shakespeare class, however. It was different.

Instead of the usual run of the mill 10 page research paper for the final and whatever piece of torture for the midterm, we kept a blog during the semester. The blog was to be the equivalent of the research paper in work, but it was spread out over the whole course instead of writing it all the night before it's due. Because, let's be honest, what English major actually has time to write the paper for THAT class when they're already working on the other three papers for THOSE classes? This blog project was to help us to get around that problem while at the same time allowing us to have more freedom of tone and expression, and a whole lot of fun with media clips.

During a peer review, a classmate decided that she was one of the awesomest people on the whole planet, and gave me some very nice and glowing remarks. She said that not only was I a "FANTASTIC WRITER," but that"throughout the blog Natashya maintain’s a personable and intelligent voice. If these posts were handed to me in paper form with no identifying markers I would quite reasonably be able to assume that they were written by one person." That really makes a writer feel pretty good. A consistent voice that actually sounds intelligent? Awesome! (The peer review was done via blog post, and it's here if you wanted to see it. Even if you didn't, it's good to cite your sources.) (OH! And here's my somewhat intelligent Shakespeare blog that I did last year.)

Not going to lie- I feel pretty good about myself, and very benevolent towards this person. I mean, what taste and discernment! But besides feeling great because of these wonderful compliments (most of which were probably undeserved, since I really wasn't the best about posting on that blog- but it WAS the semester that I started dating Andrew...), I now realize something.

I miss writing. 

True story. I am one of those weird people that actually love to read something, and then analyze it in a paper. I LOVE it. I don't always like writing the paper in a very stressful time frame, especially when grades are on the line, but I do enjoy the actual activity. Did you know that I wrote a 12 page research paper on Disney princesses? Yup. It was about how society's ideal feminine archetype has changed from the Maiden to the Modern. I used Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Enchanted, and The Princess and the Frog as my texts. It was a really great paper to write. I mean, how many people get to watch three Disney movies for HOMEWORK?!

I know that a lot of people have said that they like this blog because of my personable writing tone. Honestly, I just write things how they come to my mind, almost as if I were just speaking. Maybe that makes some of you wonder what the heck kind of conversations I have with people, but I can assure you that most people I spend time with are rather splendid at understanding my language. And at speaking my language.

All of this goes to say don't be surprised if you suddenly see an essay pop up on here. Or maybe I'll just start writing stories. Stories about life. Or maybe I'll just keep blogging and writing in my journal.

NOTE: I'm starting another type of blog postings- the kind where I just blurb out something, even though there may be no point to it. If nothing else, it should at least help me get into the habit of posting.

A Stinky Adventure in a Big Van

(DISCLAIMER: I said that I would post this yesterday, but I didn't. It wasn't my fault. I had it all ready, but Andrew didn't see fit to add his comments till today. But he did, and they're good, so we're all glad we waited for Andy to be cool and witty with his commentary.)

While I may feel that the title of this post is pretty self-explanatory, others may not hold the same opinion. I shall therefore do my best to elucidate the situation. Read on.

While Andrew and I were in Tennessee visiting during the summer (see the previous post), we did a bit of helping out around the place. My family is building a house right now, and so it's great fun to be out there digging and pounding and shoveling and all sorts of cool stuff like that. I especially liked bashing bricks to pieces- I'm not sure why I got to do it, but it sure was fun.

(NOTE: I want to crush the bricks, not the house-builders.)

It helped that I was on a Thor movie high, and I was totally stoked to be using Mjolnir, that hammer forged by elves in the heart of a dying star..... or whatever it is he says. My brother Spud knows, but he's on a mission in Thailand right now. And no, I wasn't actually wearing a dress while doing this. Or a cape, sadly.

Anyway, back with the titular story. My family has a 15 passenger van to cart around our 12 member family. (Recap: Daddy and Mama, six girls and four boys.) When we need to cart stuff around, we take out enough of the seats so there is room in there. There are only seven kids at home now, anyways, so it's not like it's that big of a deal. It's a useful vehicle. We've had it since I was eight or something.

Apparently there is no trash service to my family's place. They live kind of in the country (though not too far away, since Daddy does teach at the university right there in town), and there is a trash dump-off place not far down the road. Basically, you just load up your trash, drive on down, chuck your trash in the giant dumpster, and then leave. I was never to know this joy, however. Life is not so simplistic for me.

There was a load of garbage to be taken down to the dump. The boys but it in the back of the van (this isn't as gross as it sounds- it wasn't free range trash, it was very well contained), and somehow I became the designated driver of the vehicle. Andy, Bug, and Fat Boy all came along for the ride and to help out. We were instructed to drop off the trash, and then fetch a large bag of ice from the Dollar General on the corner on our way home. So we all hopped in the van, and the screaming then began.

I hadn't driven that van in quite a while, and suddenly I'm driving down these little roads with hardly any shoulder at all! I was most intent on not hitting the other cars on the roads. Andy kept bothering me with trifling details, like mail boxes. What ended up happening was that I would scream and bellow loudly every time I saw a car coming, which would trigger Andy's warnings of minor obstacles.

(By Andy:  I would have to interject here and explain that by "minor obstacles," my dear and lovely wife means anything that would tear a fender off of even a van such as that one.  Which were usually NEXT to the road.  Though in response to this comment, my darling would like to point out that she--as can be seen from the picture-- was already more than busy bending the laws of physics to fit the van on the road in the first place.)

By the time that we finally made it to the dump, we were so relieved! However, we pulled up to the gate to see a horrendous sign that marked the peak of hopelessness of our journey.

Man, that was a disappointing sign, because, believe me, that sign knew what it was talking about. That van WAS a very stinky, smelly place. With a frustrated growl from EVERYONE in the van, we pulled out from the place and went back down that horridly tiny and twisted little road. We were all freaked out from being in a Big Van with Stinky Stuff, with a Crazy Driver. I don't know if Andrew or myself could be called the most stressed. We were both in a serious competition for that title.

When we got to Dollar General, Bug and I decided that we would wait in the van. We may or may not have been in a questionable state of appearance. Andy and Fat Boy went in to get the bag of ice. It should have taken a few minutes. Apparently, however, the checkout lady inside was gabbing away with someone and didn't feel like going faster than a bald man's hair growth.

Meanwhile, back on the ranch (aka, inside the van), Bug and I were dying.

Seriously, dying. (Note: The putrid green lines signify the putrescent odor, the rancid red lines denote the oppressive heat, and the other lines... well, just all around general unhappiness with the situation. I mean, seriously, look at our faces. Can't you just tell that we're massively upset?)

Not only was it very, very stinky inside of that van, it was also very, very hot outside of that van. Very warm. Quite warm. Extremely warm. SO, we faced a choice. We could either sit in that stinky van with the windows rolled up, and therefore enjoy the air conditioning OR we could roll down the windows have some breathable air. And, yes, this was an EITHER/OR situation. We did a little bit of both, alternating between the two whenever either the heat or the smell became too unbearable. The only thing we did throughout was seriously get confuzzled in a frustrated way about what was taking those boys so darn long. And then they did come back! And then Andy found out that Talkative Cashier had shortchanged him by quite a bit, and had to go back in, so we were stuck there for even LONGER!

(The poor checkout lady was more than a bit flustered.  She gave me $5 too little in change.  Then when I went back to bring it to her attention she gave me 3 or 4 too much.  It wasn't her day.  But Tashya doesn't quite feel as sorry for her as I do.)

By the time they were finally done, we girls had decided not to dawdle for a second longer than necessary. We sped home, screaming the entire five minutes, parked on the grass, and jumped out of the van. We avoided garbage and Big White Vans for a while following this ordeal. Fortunately, Bug and I have both recovered from the horrors of garbage warfare. Barely.

YES! WE LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE! And a Story or Two About Tennessee As Well

Hello, dear folk! How are you all? I know that it's been forever and a day since I last put ANYTHING up here, but I do have some reasons. None of them are extremely valid, but I'll say that they count anyway. The first and foremost of the group involves the fact that a little devil in the form of an overactive computer program snuck into my laptop and made it so that nothing would run. At all. But guess what? My favorite engineer fixed everything! He's so good at that!

As I put it, "He fixes what I break and eats what I bake!"

Pretty accurate statement.

Fun Fact: Before I ever really met Andrew, he came over to my apartment to pick up my roommate for the ward Halloween activity. Our water heater had broken, but I really needed to shower. I took the most freezing shower of my life, and pretty much almost died. My roommates mentioned the freezing water to Andrew, who said, "Let me see something." Then he did something, and our water heater was fixed. There was warm water once again! SALVATION from the COLD! I'm pretty sure that I fell in love with him right then. No romance sparked, however, since I didn't know who he was until a good while later. I was in my room for all of this. My mysterious hero!

Speaking of fixing stuff, I have a few stories about Andrew. Did you know that my handsome husband is also quite the mechanical miracle worker? True story. I shall confer evidences upon you at this point.

Way back in June, Andrew and I went out to visit my family in Tennessee. I never lived there, they moved there after Andy and I got married. And just so you know, Tennessee and Texas are a lot closer than Tennessee and Utah. Much better for visiting. But when we showed up, we found out that quite a few things were experiencing technical difficulties. Several people (related to me) grabbed Andy and expressed an interest in his ability to fix things. Like the lawn mower, and the fan, and the potato gun that we had brought out with us. And the fact that the bathroom door didn't have a lock- a fact that led to more than one embarrassing situation during our stay.

And Andy went to work and fixed that stuff. He couldn't fix everything (like the chainsaw and the internet thing), but that was in part because he didn't have the right parts. I feel very proud of him. He's pretty darn awesome.

In fact, I think that the only thing that rivaled Andy's awesomeness that week was Bug's ability to give directions.

During the week we were visiting, Andy and I went to get our hair done. We took Bug and Baby with us (Reminder: Bug is 18 (during the story she was 17) and Baby is 9, and they are two of my five sisters). We were going to to meet up with Mama and Daddy afterwards to go food shopping and then go home together. Mama and Daddy were out doing other errands while we were getting hair cuts. Food shopping is great because you get to help pick out the tasty edible stuffs to be consumed during the week. And you can usually ask Daddy for an Almond Joy. He's very loving and good like that.

Anyway, since Andy and I had never been to Tennessee before, we didn't know how to get around. Bug said that she knew how to get to the hair place. She was pretty darn certain. We just needed to get to that one big road, and then stay there until we turned right at Ross, which was right past the Waffle House. Sounds easy enough, right?

WRONG.

Under Bug's command, we drove up that one big road, over that bridge-hill type thing, back down again, and started looking for that one street by Ross. We never saw Ross. We looked for a Waffle House, and found out that Waffle House is the Murfreesboro, TN version of Starbucks- there is one on EVERY CORNER. So Bug told us to just keep going... keep going... a little further... keep going... So we did. And then we noticed that there weren't very many stores around any more. In fact....

Yup. Cool directions, right? I told Bug to stop giving directions and called Mama. We got some more solid directions, and turned around. As soon as we turned around, Bug took over again and told us to "Turn left here" like she knew where we were. And then as we were driving back the way we came, we saw this sign:

Bug had "kept us going" right on out of the city. She is a pretty darn awesome girl. But that's not the only story with Bug in it. Check back tomorrow for that one.

PS. My awesome friend is so much better at her blog than I am with this one. And she's cute about it, too. Michele, you are an inspiration (if you want to read her blog, you can with this link---> This is a link to Michele's cute blog!).