I Told You So!

Can I get a woo, woo!? The Utes rock. Six turnovers by the Cougars? Are you kidding me? Maybe it was just that Max Hall doesn't know his team wears the blue jerseys. Tee hee hee. I can't wait for some Utah bowl action.

I started to get worried this morning when we pulled up to my parents' house and saw their yard bedecked in blue and white streamers, spray paint, and all sorts of Cougar pollution by our loving and neighborly BYU fans, and Amber said, "I want BYU to win!" I couldn't believe my ears. She may as well have told me she was quitting our family. Fortunately, she's still young and can still be taught the right way. Gotta love indoctrination!

I Can't Wait for The Game!

Lest you English enthusiasts out there criticize my capitalization of "The" in this title, let me remind you that in only 48 hours, the college football game of the century will begin. Any matchup between BYU and U of U is certainly a game worth watching, but this year will be extra fabulous because both teams have actually cracked the BCS' shell of good-'ol-boy SEC domination. Hooray!

I am counting down the minutes to the certain Ute victory and am developing a great menu of tailgate food I can cook on my George Forman grill inside my kitchen. I've already washed my best red shirt, found the ultimate hue of red toenail polish (yes...they are good as new!) and Rex's U of U onesie is ready to go. I think I must have an absurdly abnormal penchant for football games because I get so excited and panicky and worked up that I actually jump up and down and scream at the TV (note to parents: cheerleading may lead to this kind of behavioral issue...think twice before enrolling your daughters). I even heard a great scripture last night at one my scout meetings that clearly points out that Christ is a Utah fan (I hope I don't get struck by lightning). This is gonna be good.

I'm also devilishly curious to see what the BYU fans in our ward do to the Ute fans' yards. Better yet, I am beyond excited to be able to respond with some great crimson retribution. I'm glad the folks around here are passionate about football (albeit one game, but hey...it's Utah) enough to do some crazy, fraternity-inspired hijinx, because that makes the big day even better.

Red and White forever...Go Utes!

Meltdown Commencing in 5...4...3...

Do you ever have a day where several unpleasant events occur and seem like small annoyances until you realize you've had so many of those events that by the end of the day, you're ready to scream and tear out all of your hair? Today is that day, and I am exercising my right to revolt by silently delegating the seventh tuck-in of the night to Adam and blogging about my abysmal, non-pedicured toes instead of actually fixing the problem (perhaps I'll be awake long enough to do both. Ahh...catharsis).

Today actually started with me wanting to finally do my toenails now that it's been four weeks since my last paint job and I haven't EVER gone this long with chipped polish in my entire life. Don't ask me why I've let them go like this. Our random and spontaneous trip to Oregon definitely played a part; I didn't think to grab my pedicure kit and I even had to trim my toenails with the polish still on (Sacrilege!). For some reason, every time I sat down today to remove these hideous remains of month-old polish, someone needed something from me. On the bright side, though, I did trim them last week so I don't have talons. That's good.

Rex is cutting teeth, so he's extra grumpy, won't eat much, and wants to be held all the time. Adam has begun the 12-hour-a-day Bar Exam preparations, so I'm back to being a semi-single parent and having a hard time readjusting, Karli is STILL potty training, Amber is ultra-sassy and defiant these days, and I'm pretty sure I just attended my eleventh scout meeting in November. Normally, I can handle these conditions, but I think I'm having a month-long bout of PMS since my body has still not completed its postpartum regulatory cycle so I'm extra irritable. Add to this equation thirteen tweens who are generally adorable but strangely distracted today and aren't ready for their upcoming competition (my 8-year-old cheer team that I coached this afternoon) and the result may be frighteningly akin to Steve Martin's grocery-store episode in Father of the Bride (hey, I'll take any opportunity I can to use the word "superfluous", even if it entails screaming at a grocery store manager, he he).

Thankfully, though, I did not end up in jail. The day is over, the kids are finally asleep, and I just may be able to fix my forsaken toenails tonight. I only have three more cheer classes to teach before Thanksgiving, and the weather was blissful today. Things are looking better already.

Wow...I feel so calm.

Hamilton, Stoiko, Boitano, and Clark?

While in Oregon, we took advantage of the amazing ice skating rink at the Running Y Ranch. An NPO called Klamath Ice Sports runs the place and charges very little for admission and skate rental fees, so Adam, Karli, Amber, and I went two nights in a row. Amber has always had an ice-skating obsession and Karli turned out to be quite the little shredder. Best of all, though, was that Adam is totally a closet champion; he could carve, spin, and maneuver better than anyone I've seen. To make me feel even dumber as I wobbled around, clutching the walls, this was Adam's first time on ice skates.


Adam has a spinal fusion, so risking an injury is a big deal for him. I almost had a heart attack when I saw him do two face plants on our last night in K. Falls. Fortunately, all he sustained was a bunch of stiff muscles and a few bruised ribs. His back is fine. I must admit that I did garner a bit of satisfaction when he wiped out shortly after taunting me for being a slowpoke. Just kidding.

Amber didn't like the actual skating as much as she did sitting by the fire place and sipping hot cocoa...I guess she has more of an ambiance-driven personality.

Karli, on the other hand, had a grand time being pulled around the rink. She'd yell at the top of her lungs, "I'm having so much fun!" and "Look! I'm ice skating!" to anyone who she thought would listen. It was so adorable.

We can't wait to go back!

Check out these darling hats and gloves we bought at the town's happenin' shopping spot: Wal Mart. You can't beat $1.50 a piece, especially when it makes the kids this happy.

Lake of the Woods

After hearing Leslie rave and rave about this place, we figured we'd better check it out. It's called Lake of the Woods and it's gorgeous. We all drove there and planned to have a grand time together, but Karli and Rex both fell asleep on the way. Thankfully, Leslie said she'd stay in the car with them and Amber, Adam, Greg, and I got to get out and explore. The water was nice and cold and the air was crisp...perfect lake weather.

Amber loved taking off her shoes and socks and wading in the frigid water.

The view was amazing.

Adam and Amber had fun rocking the dock.

Amber and Grandpa Greg looked for fish but didn't see any much to Amber's dismay.

Bright sun and large gusts of wind make for less-than-wonderful portraits, but they do great things to the clouds in the trees.

Alpine, Utah to Klamath Falls, Oregon: Land of a Thousand Trailer Parks

Monday morning, we woke up and Adam said, "Let's go to Oregon!" His parents are splitting time between Alpine and Klamath Falls, so we figured out a plan to go visit Grandma and Grandpa Clark and took off on Tuesday around noon. The 660 mile drive wasn't as bad as I thought it would be; I must say I expected the worst. I mean, how nice can a drive on westbound I-80 through a barren desert be, right? Aside from the gazillion trailers we saw, sights like this made it fairly amusing:
This lovely monument is in the town of Battle Mountain, Nevada. Since Adam and I are eternal seventh-graders-at-heart, we got a big kick out of it and couldn't figure out why any town in its right mind would advertise its initials when they also stand for a bodily function. Crazy.

Here's the magnificent view from Greg and Leslie's back porch. They live at an amazing resort called Running Y Ranch and it's spectacular! We loved seeing all of the beautiful plant life, woodland creatures, and water features. We were sad to leave that beautiful place, but were glad that the car ride home only took us 10 hours instead of the 12 hours it took to get there.

Cheese, Please

This is one of my favorite pictures. Whitney, Karli, Rex, and Amber are fairly jovial and all have the biggest, cheesiest smiles all the time. They love to play together!

Jolt

On Monday night, I finally decided it was time to put away the Halloween decorations (no, I am not lazy. HA!). We have a hutch in our foyer that accommodates three ceramic figurines that are each illuminated by a single light bulb with a cord that requires some fancy wiring. The hutch only has a small hole in the corner of each shelf for a cord, so the plug will not fit through the opening. Hence, the cords are cut, passed through the hole, and taped together with electrical tape (ah, the things women do to decorate...).

I really am not an idiot, I promise, but as I began to dissemble the first figurine's cord, I heard a loud buzz/zap, felt a strange sensation surge throughout my body, and I ended up flat on the floor in a stupor. What the $%#&? Yes folks, I had been electrocuted. I forgot to make sure the cords were unplugged before I started unwrapping the bare wires and managed to trip the circuit breaker in the process of giving myself a nice, healthy jolt. Since the voltage was so small, I stood right up and had a good laugh at my stupid self, and cruised downstairs to tell Adam about my duncey episode. A few minutes later, though, I had to lie down for an hour and recover from what felt like the leftovers of a massive panic attack; I had adrenaline racing through my body and my internal organs felt a bit frazzled.

Call me crazy (or crazier, I guess), but I've always wondered what it feels like to be electrocuted. Now I know, and thank the heavens it wasn't a major-voltage situation that resulted in a crispy, black body and a burned-down house. Hopefully the hair on my head will grow super fast now that I've had some significant follicular stimulation.

The Brown Dress

Occasionally, we are the beneficiaries of some charitable distant relatives who generously give Amber and Karli the unused clothing of their granddaughter who has more clothes than anyone on this planet. When they drop off a bag, there are usually several items from Gap, Gymboree, and Children's Place that still bear tags and are just the right size, so we are eternally grateful for these. Most recently we found this brown dress in the mix. It's a size 8 (Amber is not), a summer dress, and when worn forward (not backward, as obviously preferred), it shows a great amount of little-kid-cleavage (read: private parts). Notwithstanding, Amber loves this dress. She wears it every single day, and it's all I can do to keep her from stripping down to her skivvies and donning the cursed dress after I tediously vest her in a cute outfit that actually fits. Ultimately, I don't like the dress because I feel like Amber looks like a homeless kid, or even a trailer-park escapee when she wears it, but I have now decided to give up the fight since it happens several times each day. I should be glad that I only have one item of Amber's laundry to wash, albeit every night, and the fact that it hides stains so well makes it almost worth it. Hooray for obsessions!

Innuendo or Just a Little Techie Boredom?

Have any of you noticed recently that when, after writing a comment on your friends' blogs, you are required to enter text in a window, the text now spells words? It seems like I always get funny (okay, okay...I'm immature) words like "duchable" (it means "showerable" in Spanish and I think you know what it means in English), "zotho", "alkabia", "mastu", and several others that I can't remember now.

I think it's a conspiracy among Google employees; they sit in a dark-ish room at their computers, adjusting their glasses once in a while, and create stories with nonsense words. Then, they each take a word and put it up on our screens to see if we catch on, and laugh their heads off because they are really getting us good. Well, maybe with my imagination, I should be one of them! :) Happy typing, everyone.

A Whole 'Lotta Booty for Not Much Booty

I procured a Gymboree Visa two years ago (dangerous, I know) because I realized the immense saving potential linked to such a marvelous piece of plastic and I couldn't resist. When I opened my account, I saved like 75% on some darling Easter dresses for my girls. Then, I earned a $25 gift card for activating my card, with which I bough Rex an entire dinosaur ensemble for six dollars. I recently received a $10 gift card in the mail, so I went to Gymboree today and found this darling outfit for Amber. Grand total: $2. That's right, just two bucks for the headband, shirt, and pants. Not too shabby, eh? I do have to admit that I used a coupon for 30% off my entire purchase (the event lasts through tomorrow, so hurry up and go!), but now I feel totally validated in using my Gymboree Visa on a regular basis.

Amber fixed her own hair, if you can't tell.

Here's a sure sign that I'm a bad mom:

A few days ago, I tried on my smallest pair of jeans to see if I could fit into them after having Rex. Amber watched me struggle to lift the zipper and said, "Mom, what's wrong?" I replied, "My booty is just a little too big for these pants" trying to say that I was too fat for jeans of that nature without giving Amber a complex. She said, "So, when your booty is a little bit smaller they will fit you?" "Yep." I replied.

When Amber tried on her new pants that are obviously huge on her (I have the grandma-purchasing-syndrome where I buy things too big so the kids will grow into them), she said, "Hey, dad! My booty is a little bit too big, so when it's smaller then my pants will fit me!" Adam just said, "Nice job" to me and I felt awful despite my heaving laughter. So much for not creating a complex!

Little Sister Lily in Downtown Copenhagen

My little sister Allison, a.k.a Sister Liljenquist (or Sos. Lily for those of you who speak Danish), flew to Denmark on Monday to begin missionary service in downtwon Copenhagen. We saw her off at the airport and it was awesome to see her filled with the exuberant spirit of the Lord's service. She looked great (a bit granola compared to her old self, but still adorable) and was speaking Danish like crazy. I am proud of her!

Can you tell we're related? Allison is my cuter twin.

The kids were a bit sleepy since we had to leave our house at 6:00 a.m., but they liked seeing Allison all decked out in her missionary gear.

Here's Alli with her new companion at the mission office.

Metallica Rocks Salt Lake CIT-TAY!

Sometimes an event becomes so much more than just an event, like Christmas for example. Christmas day is wonderful, but the parties and food and sights and smells that lead up to the actual holiday are the things that make it magical. Such was the case last night at the Metallica concert. I've been to a few great shows (Aerosmith and Trace Adkins were my previous faves), but this spectacle was more phenomenal than anything I've ever seen in my life!

Here's the play by play: I coached last night until 6:30 and when I got home, Adam had all the kids' stuff ready to go, their shoes on, and took them to my parents' house for some quality time with Grandma Shelley and Marianne. I threw on a rockin' outfit (black miniskirt, anyone?) with some gigantic earrings and hopped in the car. We payed for good parking near the Energy Solutions Arena and made our way to the Will Call counter among headbangers who looked like they walked right out of a 1988 music video, teenage skater boys, classy middle-aged couples, and some of the trashiest gals I've ever seen (white tanktops only look good on a select few!).

We arrived in the middle of the opener's set, a band called Down, The Sword, who employs a few of Pantera's members. I've never heard music, I mean noise, that loud in my life! While I must admit it was very entertaining and momentarily hilarious to see a throng of people totally whipping their hair around to the beat of some mean bass guitar played from a serious power stance, I'm just not a fan of death metal. We had amazing seats, though, so it was fun to see how those musicians could perform. Although Down, The Sword had gritty riffs and some outstanding guitar-behind-the-back moves, they were foul enough to make Metallica seem like a group of choir boys, which, I guess, is ultimately a good thing.

Once the ruckus stopped, we talked to a few of our neighboring Metalheads and ate a yummy hot dog. Suddenly, the lights went down and a tumultuous cheer arose. Dramatic guitar music began and about a million cell phone screens illuminated the arena. There were only a few lighters present, from which I could gather one of two things: Generation Y is much more safety-concious, or we were in Salt Lake City where smokers are (thankfully) fewer and farther between than, say, in Lansing. Out ran James, Lars, Kirk, and Rob and every arm in the arena (except mine and Adam's, of course...we are way too boring) went up to the diagonal to proudly fist-thump to the pounding rhythm. It was certainly amazing to behold!

Metallica has to be the best group of showmen I've ever witnessed. The crowd was more loyal than BYU fans (he he, losers!), the pyrotechnics were so powerful that I think my eyelashes singed a bit, and the music was so loud that I could feel my ribs shaking in my chest with every chord. It was such a great combination of crazy, air-guitar-playing, maniacal fans, rockin' music, awesome visual effects, and delightful company (our first kid-free date in about three years, I think) that it became by far my favorite concert ever. I'm still deaf in one ear, but it's a small price to pay to the rock gods!

Here we are after the concert in our stupified metal coma. We shouted to each other the whole way home! I can't wait 'til we're 90...it'll be bad.

The stage setup was awesome; they played on the floor in the middle of the arena. We sat at center court on row 17, so we could feel the heat from the fire and see the sweat flying off the musicians' faces. Thankfully we were far enough away that none landed on us.

James Hetfield has the coolest rock n' roll voice, not to mention his sweet, '80's-throwback guitar.

It was awesome! Maybe someday you'll see me in black tapered jeans, a concert T-shirt cut into an off-the-shoulder, cropped number with a leopard bra underneath, and a wicked Metallica tatt on my left shoulder blade. Adam can grow a bald-on-top mullet like the guy sitting in front of me. Isn't that thought frightening?

Scary Fun for Everyone

We had a grand and marvelous Halloween this year with lots of family fun. Kristi hosted a fantastic party with tons of yummy food (Yoshida-braised meatballs...yum!) and adorable Halloween decor, then we all headed over to their ward's Trunk or Treat where all the kids scored way too much candy and some sweet glow-stick necklaces. Stephanie and I were the only adults who dressed up (both as witches); the Clarks have never been into dressing up, so we in-laws have to add a little spice to the party. Steph let me borrow this sweet wig to complement my witchy wardrobe and makeup:

Doesn't Rex make the perfect little Yoda? This is my all-time favorite Halloween costume! Check out my Hanna Montana tatts, courtesy of Karli and Amber.

Here's Karli as "Purple Tinkerbell", complete with her famous pirate smile. Hooray!

Amber didn't just want to be Ariel, she had to be "Sparkly Ariel".

I had so much fun making Karli and Amber's costumes (I think I had more fun this Halloween than they did), and it was great to be around cousins, siblings, in-laws, and grandparents this year. Amber told me this morning that she wants it to be Halloween again today. Yikes. :)

Here's another fun (some of you may find it scary) fact: Adam and I are going to the Metallica concert tonight! I can't wait to get all decked out in my rocker gear, wear some mega black eyeliner, and do my share of serious headbanging. If I can muster up my senses by then, I'll post a full report tomorrow. YYYYEEEEAAAHHHH (read that with a booming, James-Hettfield-esque roar)!

Giddy as a Schoolgirl

The happy couple.

This post is going to be cheesey, so beware!

Seven years ago this week, I met Adam. For those of you who don't know the story, my parents bought a building-in-process house in Alpine in July of 2001 and we all worked on it night and day until it was ready for occupancy in late October (I was living at home after I graduated; what can I say...I was a loser!). My mom had met some of the neighbors and told me that the Young Women's President had a cute son who recently returned from a mission. "Right," I thought to my self. Like I really wanted to date a dorky RM who was a member of my same ward! I politely declined my mom's incessant offers to set us up, as well as her informative quip that our new ward had a YSA Sunday School class that she thought I'd like to attend. Dating "wardies" (as my sisters dub them) was soooo not my style.

Long ago when we lived in Rexburg, my brother had a friend who was my age named Adam Clark. He was a super nice guy, but totally not attractive to me. Brian always told me, "You're going to marry Adam Clark; I just know it!" and I vehemently denied it every time. I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when, on the first Sunday of attendance in our new ward, a devistatingly handsome guy approached me and said, "Hi. I'm Adam Clark. Do you want to go to Sunday School with me?" I couldn't even get a grip on myself because I was so stunned that a guy as hot as him would even talk to me, let alone walk right up and introduce himself (I was usually the pursuer...again, I was a loser). I think I stammered something ridiculous like, "Hi. I'm Sure, I mean, sure, I'd love to. I'm Natalie" and as we walked off, I pretty much tripped over both of my feet or my shoe fell off or something, but I was thrilled to be walking with such a dashing man who was polite to boot (he opened all the doors and helped me with my chair).

Nonetheless, we made it to the class and I was thrilled to hear the teacher volunteer Adam to drive the batch of YSAs from our ward to the stake fireside that night. Of course, I went (hello! Adam was driving) and Adam and I talked the whole time. I knew it was love at first sight, and after a month of dating, I committed the ultimate relationship no-no that any gal in her right mind would know better than to do: I said, "I am falling in love with you, so if you don't think you're going to fall in love with me, let's not date anymore." Can you believe it? I mean, what was I thinking? Obviously, the results were positive, and we got engaged in Salt Lake City during the 2002 Olympics.

Because of this momentus experience, fall always conjures up giddy, exciting, romantic feelings inside me and I love to reminisce about how awesome it was to know I had found Mr. Perfect. We had such a fun, fast, and exuberant courtship and I love that we are in love now even more than we were seven years ago. I am thrilled to be married to my very best friend and can't imagine a better life than the one we've built. So, here's to young love, Jazz games, CES firesides as excues for Sunday dates, songs by John Michael Montgomery, and making out in Burgess Park. Yeah baby!

R-Y-D-A-L-C-H Spells One-Third of the Earth's Population

My wonderful grandparents, the Rydalches, have eleven kids and a burgeoning posterity that is so massive, each of us has a number (don't worry...my grandparents still know everyone's name). We have more family gatherings than any other group or organization known to mankind. Don't get me wrong...the Rydalch events are always great fun, but as a second-generation family member who is parenting a few of the third generation, the weekly rendezvoux can be a little overwhelming. That said, I always look forward to the annual Halloween party because my aunties are fabulous cooks (I'd pit them against any Italian ladies), they bring the best treats for trick-or-treating, and my uncles are all hilarious. Add to this a multitude of adorable cousins, and it's always a magnificent party. Here are all of the cool family members who dressed up for this year's shindig:
We congregated at a park in Pleasant View (I want to move there...it's amazing!) to enjoy a glorious fall day and some delightful company. Dinner followed true Idahoan fashion (baked potato bar with spuds fresh from the ground...so yummy) and we had a great time admiring all those fantastic costumes. So until next week, this is Natalie Clark, number 17, signing off.

Adorable Boy, He Is

Rex is growing up so fast and lately he's been achieving relatively major accomplishments on a daily basis. He can sit up by himself for several minutes before toppling over, he wolfs down a jar of baby food in about five minutes, he swipes an adult's beverage quicker than you can say "I'm thirsty", and he loves to play with toys. Amy, my sister-in-law, loaned us this darling Yoda costume for Rex's Halloween adventures. I can't stop smiling when I see him in it; it's just so darn cute (it's even cuter with the Jedi robe, but you'll have to wait until Friday to see the entire ensemble)!

The force is strong with this one.

My baby is getting so big! Yay and boo hoo hoo all at the same time.

Murphy's Law of the Gospel

We were asked three weeks ago to speak in church; originally, they asked us to speak on October 18th, but postponed it by a week due to a mission farewell. Adam and I worked on our talks a bit over the extended preparation period, but didn't really have anything of substance put together until last night. We have both been sick recently and I worried that I'd be sniffling and sneezing throughout my quip, but thankfully I'm on the recovery end of my illness. I went to bed last night with a minor headache, but knew I'd be okay to speak.

Adam went to bed last night with a minor headache, too, but he's on the incubation end of his illness, and woke up every hour or so with a violent cough and major congestion in his throat and lungs. I didn't know it because he slept downstairs and worked on his talk between episodes of sleeping and coughing, but during my shower, he peeked in and mouthed the words, "I feel like crap today!" because he didn't have even a shred of a voice.

Oh, the horror! He couldn't speak, which meant one of three things: I'd have to extend my talk on kindness to fill 25 minutes (it was barely pushing nine minutes in my practice run), I'd have to give my talk and his talk, or I'd have to coax my dad or a member of the bishopric to give Adam's talk. Lest you think Adam was ducking out of speaking, he really had no voice, and when he could muster a word or two, it sounded more like the gurgling of motor oil in an engine than a human vocalization. I felt so bad for him because he was miserable, and he felt so bad for me because I was on the verge of performing a one woman show for the entire second half of Sacrament Meeting.

Things actually went better than I expected; Adam kept Karli and Rex home with him, and Marianne (my saintly little sis) arrived at 8:30 to help me get Amber ready. We even made it to church with time to spare (can you believe it?!) and Adam had his talk all written out so I could give it without too many hitches. Granted, I'm sure I didn't deliver it with the fervor Adam intended, but for the most part, I think it went alright. The panic I felt when I was seated all alone on the rostrum (where was the promised youth speaker and musical performers?) left me when I realized that the youth speaker was blessing the sacrament and that the choir was going to sing, and Amber even made some adorable monster faces at me from the audience to try to get me to laugh. I managed to fill up all but seven minutes of speaking time and Bishop Tintle kindly added a few remarks at the end of the meeting. I can certainly say that I am glad to have our speaking assignment over. Now, if only we could get over our stupid, everlasting colds, we'd all be peachy!

This Lady's Got Skills

For about ten years, I've loved to read "Undressed!" on MSN.com (don't worry...it's not like it sounds...it's a celebrity fashion faux pas website). Kat Giantis is one of the best writers whose work I've read, so if you need a good laugh and an easy-to-swallow vocabulary lesson, click here.

Could It Be OCD?

I feel like I'm fairly laid back; I realize that I cannot control every event in my life and for the most part, I can roll with whatever happens. There are, however, a few things that stay on my mind to the point of interrupting my daily proceedings. First, blogging. I obviously have an obsession that is bordering on unhealthy; I guess I need an outlet of some sort because I continually think of topics to blog and run to the computer every chance I get. Adam and the girls now call me Violet, as in Screech's nerdy girlfriend who is a total computer geek.

Second, loading of the dishwasher. I had such a struggle to bite my tongue and leave the room to avoid reorganization of dishes in the dishwasher when we had company last week. My Dr. Jeckyl personality realizes that it is so helpful to me that my guests actually load the dishwasher and that I should be absolutely thankful for their willingness to pitch in, but my Mrs. Hyde personality secretly screamed every time I noticed someone putting a dinner fork in the soup spoon slot of the utensil holder and dropping the butter knives in the slots with the blades facing upward. I mean, come on...what dishwasher unloader on this planet can grab those upward-facing utensils and put them in the drawer without getting hand germs on the surfaces that go into other people's mouths (not to mention avoid getting stabbed a zillion times)? How much time does a person waste sorting out the tangle of tines and blades of forks and knives that are intermixed while unloading the clean untensils? It's all about efficiency, people!

Last, folding of towels. My mom drilled into my head the "proper" way to fold towels, to resemble those found in department stores and hotels (I have since learned that each household has a different "proper" way...go figure). I cannot look in a linen closet and leave it alone if the towels are folded in quarters, say, instead of my half-half-thirds method. It's all I can do to keep myself from ripping the towels off every shelf and re-folding them. The same goes for laundry of any sort. I have my ways and I like them. I even almost told Adam not to fold the gargantuan pile of laundry today because I didn't want to have to re-fold my undies or turn the articles of clothing right-side-out. Why can't I be more like a man in the laundry regard?

So, here's the question of the day: What the $@#& is wrong with me?! I really do appreciate the help and would much rather play with my kids (or blog, he he he) instead of do laundry or dishes. Hopefully I can continue to squelch my developing OCD and learn to just chill out.