Slammin toenails-

I just edited my toenails. They looks awesome. I will post a picture on here later. I was pretty bored Saturday morning and that's what I ended up doing, instead of Visiting teaching, which is what I had previously planned to do but had forgotten about.

Sorry if I complain a lot on my blog. I realized I do that a lot and from now on will try to have uplifting posts. Try.

Saturday afternoon I drove Christian up to the Peterson house in Kansas City. Christian went with Neal to a Jayhawks game. Emily, Sally, and I hung out at home and made a quick visit to the mall. I think Emily was expecting me to contribute more to the shopping part of our trip, but I've never been a huge shopper.

It was cute to see Sal so excited to go shopping with her mommy though. They are sure to have many happy shopping excursions together in future years. When we got home, and a little before we left, Sally had us set up for a picnic. She even included me in the setup, which was done previously.

She poured the milk, sopped up spills, washed her hands, and even rode the xylophone. We had some good times for sure.

After Neal and Christian came home, we had a sumptuous feast- lasagna in a crockpot- and played Blokus. Since we're a pretty competitive family, Emily was resistant at first. The first game I dominated, but Christian and Emily tied the next game, so I don't think she dislikes that game as much as she used to. Maybe.

We completed the night watching the ending of Waterworld on t.v. and eating ice cream. It was quite nice. Then I came home to Canute playing some dragon game at home. He's going to miss those pointless computer games when he's on his mission. Apparently he's logged 60 hours time on that game and he's only 40 percent finished with it. Ridiculous. And how.

It was rainy outside today. I think Sunday is the day for it, since it has rained the past five Sundays in a row. I only know that because I have to drive to Belton for temple prep class, it's an hour away, and it's always crappy outside for my adventure drive. Speaking of temple prep, I gotta go.

As it stands-

Christmas music is out and guess what, in order to shuffle up some of the song options, I've begun listening to it. I'm not a huge fan, but it has begun.

Also, 18 vs. 25 case has been determined. My one 18 yr old friend read this blog and found out I was 25 so we're not friends any more. Well, it's better this way. Now all my blog readers know I'm 25 and it won't come as a huge surprise to anyone else. Therefore I will no longer talk to 18 yr olds and something will have to be done to get me some older friends.

On a side note, I had no idea how many people read my blog until someone randomly commented on it one day and from there, I realized I could probably take over the world from this small spot on the web. I will let you know what the plan is when I'm not so tired. Driving around makes one tired.

Today I will probably eat some food, study PMG, and watch some movies. I am the conglomeration of worldwide cool. Obvious.

Also, my sister told me I'm not being nice enough to my parents on my blog. Thenceforth I will write the strange happenings of family Peterson onto my family website and nobody need feel awkward about commenting on this blog. Don't worry, I guess the compost is becoming too convoluted.

When I start spouting nonsense I realize the importance of stopping the stream. Stopping. Now.

Vanilla Pillows-

The greatest cereal in the world, or so my brother and his companion said in their last pday video. They're found in Portugal and other participating locations and taste like vanilla filled chocolate cereal, which is what they are. My brother made us a video commercial that was hilarious. I'm a terrible video maker, but Grant is an aspiring filmmaker, so that doesn't improve my situation, except to alleviate any concerns I might have had about making a movie, because Grant will make my videos if I need any.

I wish to extrapolate on a question my sister has put to me. 18 vs. 25.

Well, I know I am probably too old to date 18 yr olds, since my brothers Christian and Canute are 17 and 19..meaning their friends would be about 18 and that seems excessively young in principle. But those younger boys are just as nice as the 28 yr old males I know. And quite a bit less jaded if you will. And I'm sure you will. But we can still talk yes? See Sarah..

Nice people come in every age group and I don't think I should be limited to meeting the young or old nice people out there. The half your age add seven rule limits people, thereby limiting my scope of friendship to people within three years of my age on either side and nobody else.

That said, I think I'll put my lower cap at 17 and my higher cap can be reset to 40. I don't think that range will limit my options do you? I mean, yeah, when I get back from mission I may have to reset it, but it's good for now. Readers, what do you think?

To end this whole thing, I heard on the radio yesterday 70% of pet owners actually think their pets can understand what they're saying. I would say Danielle's dog Prince is definitely in the lagging 30%.

Note: I don't think I could actually date any of my younger brothers' friends from Missouri. Seeing their infant faces together in pictures might make me retch at myself...especially in our wedding video. Bulimia..so I'll just say this is clearly a hypothetical situation. I did not recently meet a cool 18 yr old who I am in turmoil about being social comrades with, but only because of all the crap people hypothetically have been giving me.

Today-

Today I started painting my room. It was pretty gross. There were skid marks and hand prints all over the walls..and some in very inaccessible places, so I'm not sure how they got there. The room had four little boys staying in it during the younger years, so that's why.

Grossest moment, pretty sure there was some leftover throw up on two of the walls. No kidding. Pretty sick. So I vinegar watered the walls today. Then, I talked over some ideas with my brother Canute. We discussed the wonderful nature of murals and how we should do one. So, against the better judgment of the females of style I know, we're painting an epic war scene on the walls of my room. I can't wait. Right now it's light blue on the walls and dark blue on the ceiling. It looks pretty good now.

With a mural though, it's going to be hardcore. Do you know anyone with an epic war scene on their bedroom walls? Yeah, me neither. I told Canute to not make it too scary. People do have to sleep in there. Overall, the little boys sleep on the couches in the living room, so I think we will keep the precious angel nieces and nephews in mind while we're brainstorming the room decor.

I don't know if we'll put stuff on every wall, I don't know yet. What do we have time to do? And we mostly just have white paint, so yeah. I'll fill you in as we go.

Tomorrow I'm doing Fedex training. That means I'll be driving with another trainee to figure out the scanner, the routes etc. Then, I'll be training some other days and then I'll start working for real. Training pays minimum wage, driving pays $11 an hour. So yeah, starting a route will be good for my wallet. I hope I don't get lost. I've been known to get lost when I don't know where I am. I'm a little nervous about my tendency for getting lost. Fedex may hate me by December, but I'll try my best.

Besides that? Not much.

Sand people

Yesterday I got home at 8:30. I'd driven around for Fedex until 3, gone visiting teaching, and then helped decorate the church for the singles regional Halloween dance. I was gone all day. When I got home, I was hungry. I looked in the fridge and saw some sketchy peppers. I cut those up along with some onions and tomatoes, and made fajitas.

However, I couldn't find any chicken, so I started looking for some beef. There was a cut of t-bone steak in our fridge that had been there for a while. I unwrapped it from the beef saturated paper and plastic to find..moldy t-bone. Which I called my mother over to witness. If I throw stuff away before proving its failings to my mother I get yelled at and it gets fished out of the trash. Sick I know.

So I showed her the mold and she told me to cut it out. It surrounded that steak completely. Ugh. I told her it was unsuitable to eat, so she could either throw it away or give it to the dog. She said, "I can't give it to the dog. It will kill him." Now you know, my mother loves our dog more than her own children.

I then gawked as she fished the moldy meat out of the trash can because she said "Animals will search for it in the trash cans, so I need to refreeze it and will put it in the can for the Monday trash pick up". Right, she's going to remember the rotten piece of meat she reinserted into the freezer four days ago. Not likely. I told her she couldn't.

I then suggested she put the rotten meat into a paint can. We've gone through a couple paint cans this week. It's very doable when your mom saves an inch of paint to use later. She also confessed to keeping a couple empty cans to mix paints in. That's why we have so much crap in our garage/house/attic.

Also, when I was filling my sister in..America, my dad listened in to the whole conversation. The point where I mentioned I had thrown out the meat, my dad interjected that in many countries they mold meat on purpose before they eat it. He was also disappointed I had thrown it out. I feel like I'm taking crazy pills.

Of course he then read me several instances he had googled of people eating moldy meat- cured ham, cured cheeses, cooked meats, smoked meats. No fresh moldy meat examples were ever brought up. Hah, there you have it. Sick. Anyway. He also told me to make sure my water was hot when I made pizza two days ago b/c that's essential to the yeast raising cycle? Jigga-what? I guess I've never made anything with yeast before so I had no idea...

Then he was pretty defensive because of my sarcasm, so he said he would keep his knowledge treasures to himself from then on. Well if they're common knowledge, please do. Weirdly enough, I don't think most people would stick their finger into your already measured water and tell you something obvious like that, but I know someone who would.

I also ate German pancakes for breakfast and got a haircut. Snap. Next update- Halloween regional singles dance. Who could ask for anything more?

I, can't help, myself-

I went to a youth dance Saturday night. Don't judge me.

I was just going to drop off my little brother Christian. He got out of work at McD's a little too late to ride with everyone else. Power to you bro. Anyhow, I dropped him off in jeans because I figured I could keep away if I dressed inappropriately. Apparently it had no effect. I was lured in by Belinda, a great friend, and instead of leaving 10 minutes later, I left after the last song. Yes, you got it. I stayed the entire dance duration. I'm so weird. I did dance with the other leaders and felt ultra cool. My kids would be so proud.

There was one incident. It reminded me of the time Danny Beard asked a leader to dance at a YC dance. A tall young buck came up to me on the sidelines and asked how old I was. I said, "25." At which time he promptly averted his eyes from mine and his abrupt about-face twirled my toupee as he walked off in embarrassment. Oops. It's so not allowed for leaders to dance with the youth, but I felt really bad for him and would have totally danced with him if it had been allowed. Oh well.

On a side note, I would like to add a couple weird things about myself. You may or may not know these things about me.

1. I made fun of Nick for folding underwear, but I realize I too have a sorting process I cannot skip. I align and stack my underwear. I did laundry yesterday, that's when I noticed it. I tried wadding all the undies together and tossing them into the drawer but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

2. My car is pretty spotless. We had an improv night at FHE tonight and the only things in my car were oil, windshield wiper fluid, a lizard stuffed animal, and a blanket. Those were all in my trunk. I only had sunglasses in my actual car. That's kind of strange I realized.

3. I cannot handle hair on people or obvious little specks on them. I'm like the lady on Runaway Bride..but not quite that bad. Ask my freshmen girls about that. I picked a hair off this lady at a missionary farewell and it was attached. Oops. Or you can ask my previous boyfriends. I'm a freak about it.

4. Flossing is terribly important to me. Although I haven't had the best luck finding boys who share my passion for healthy teeth, it's a big deal to me.

5. I'm boy crazy. I've always been boy crazy. I always thought I'd grow out of it. I'm still waiting for that day to come. Shouldn't it be here already? I'm 25. Throw me a friggin bone here.

6. Physical contact. I go wiggidy wack about that stuff. Hold my hand and we're practically soul mates. In fact, in honor of this post, I think I'll post my first kiss story at the bottom of this blog. Feel free to skip it if you've heard or read it before. It's pretty long.

7. I am seriously concerned about my lack of commitment in relationships. Any time some great guy comes along to sweep me off my feet, I bolt. It's such a helpless feeling to see the bolting coming on and being powerless to stop it.

8. Hair. Ask anyone I know. I love discussing hair. Especially my own. It's a grand thing that can change whenever you like. This probably illustrates something huge about me, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

9. I'm a sugar addict. I know, some people like sugar. However, I like sugar so much sometimes I'll eat 5 donuts in one sitting. That's not new for me. I do feel like crap after. Always. So I'm trying to be better about the sugar binges.

10. I won't eat after my nightly floss and brush. I rarely break this rule, maybe twice a year. My friends can vouch for that one. There's always someone trying to get me to bend from my hard stand against after brush food intake. I sometimes do it for holidays, special occasions, or to support one of those sugar binges I was talking about previously. No small event will bend my resolve. Brushing again is a hassle. I know, not that big a hassle, but a hassle nevertheless.

I'm only going to ten, though I know I could list many more. Here's that first kiss story, straight out of my book, so like I said, if you've already read it, don't feel obligated to read it.

First Kiss

There comes a time when kissing needs to happen. It cannot happen with a weird boy, it has to be with someone super or it is not worth the effort. Somehow, with copious amounts of strange mixed into my dating pool, I managed to avoid this intimacy until age 21.

When guys wanted to go for it, they could not get a hold of me; return calls were not made and my life got hectic. My attitude transformed from nervousness to complete lack of interest. Kissing was sick, and would be avoided at all costs forever.

Since my family did not regard this as a healthy attitude, they encouraged me to get that first kiss out of the way and overcome my nervous apathy. At this point in my life I met Neville. He was interesting to talk to and we got along, but I was nervous about his dental hygiene and could not come to terms with the danger his teeth were in.

Still, when everyone else had already dipped their head in that barrel, running to catch up felt right. All my relatives thought it was a good idea. They urged me along in the barrel contest as though their lives depended on it. Along with this support, coworkers also heartened me. Their encouragement was helpful, and slid me to the next step.

One day, in a fit of enthusiasm, I proclaimed my first kiss would occur on Thursday. Any day would not do. It had to be planned or would never happen. A spontaneous person on the outside, my planner is meticulously filled as soon as plans are proposed. The day everyone heard Thursday was my scheduled first kiss was the same day it was written into my planner and became definite.

Although Neville never waved to me on campus or called besides the weekend, my first kiss was planned for him. Even though he told me he had always wanted to end up with a blonde, he was deemed worthy for these lips. Besides the fact he was madly in love with a certain blonde we both knew, his friendship with her was not important or significant to our current relationship.

He told me numerous times if she would agree to dating him he would drop anyone else immediately. Their friendship made me nervous, but we were not really dating, so it did not matter. He took her out more often than he saw me. Come on Merilee, that was clue number one.

Clue two, she was on his water polo team. Neville invited me to his intramural water polo games and I went sometimes. That Thursday I went with a plan. As a side note, my friend recently pointed out the strange feelings associated with watching sparsely dressed people while you are completely dressed.

His body suited up in shorts was not the best image I have ever seen. His dark leg hair gripping his pasty legs with wet panic was the first sight my eyes set upon at the games. Next his glorious fan of chest hair carefully placed. The back hair was not bad and compared to his spike on a slightly balding head was looking quite groomed.

It seemed almost indecent for me to watch him along with two teams of half dressed pasty people. The conundrum is where else to look. Attending this event often includes a group of people also inclined to stare down at the sparsely clad ones. Carefully watching the oversized ball they use to play the game is the main secret. A student of acute observation, it was the safest eye route available.

After the contest of skill had ended, Neville talked with others, scarcely noticing me at his side. It might have been his state of dress, or he could have felt anxious because of their recent loss. He might have been compensating by ignoring me completely. Either way, Neville was rapidly dropping in champion points. Even though my roommate had presented me with lip numbing lip gloss before I left the apartment, the man did not deserve the wonderful service planned for him later that evening.

Pushing such thoughts out of my mind was simple and characteristic and I did it. Life was good. It was spring and every tree across campus was in full bloom. The warm breath of summer was beginning to blow. This was the perfect night to educate my virgin lips.

As we walked along, remembrance filled my heart with dread. Everyone I knew was expecting an exciting romantic update tomorrow and the event might not happen. Steeling for the announcement, the mouth opened, body tensed. It was scary, but a declaration was made. I was going to kiss him tonight.

His answer was surprised and bemused. When the words had left my lips, answers poured from his. The first was a statement claiming nobody had ever said that to him before. The second was a fervent, hearty acceptance of the declaration and an overwhelming agreement to help in any way he could.

Walking along, we also discussed our future relation plans. Since school was over for him in two weeks he was moving to Oregon. I was traveling to New Mexico two months later and it was agreed we would break up in two weeks. Oh well, an icebreaker and some practice for later. It was necessary sometime, so it was happening tonight.

As we headed for wooded areas by campus, nervous feelings began multiplying like rabbits. Heading down a secluded path, my heart racing to beat any metronome, ease was not coming along. Neville tried leaning in a couple times, but my walk became brisk. Under a certain flowering cherry tree, along a certain path next to campus, my legs stopped and as my eyes fluttered to the tree, Neville reached over to pull me close.

With terrified realization, my arms fought back and pushed away from his chest. Using his hand to guide my face to his, distance was narrowing. Calling out in desperation my consternation and unwillingness to compromise my lips, his hand guiding ever closer with confident force my face to his, I could not do it.

Tearing my face away from his grip, pitiful sadness fell over me. Realizing it was not going to happen in that moment, Neville angrily stalked away from me. Following the way of a penitent puppy, my legs scurried after his. I apologized with vehement distaste for my personal weakness, but it was not enough to clear the air.

Sitting side by side was the only thing left to do. On a bench, secluded from every person on earth, panic again took hold of my heart. Neville’s calming tactics were working slightly and my brain, rewiring itself for the current crisis, was having limited success. When the panic had almost receded from my face, Neville repositioned himself directly in front of my rigid figure. Slowly, but surely he was redirecting my thoughts with carefully planned conversation away from the pivotal reason for our current surroundings and placement.

Neville leaned in, my face tipped to the side, and he let me go in for a hug. Next time we went in, he let me hug him again. The third time Neville switched face positioning and came at me. Dodging this way and that, my lips almost missed catastrophe.

At the last second, like the champion he was, Neville caught the right side of my mouth with his. Slipping in some tongue as though he was licking his top lip, my reaction was golden. I turned to the path and looked straight ahead. Terrible as the first kiss was, my frustration was aimed toward the guilt unfolding inside me. Guilt for kissing anyone at all and panic was flowing resolutely onto the grass.

The next phrase to escape Neville’s lips was, “Will you spend the night with me Saturday?” My first reaction being, heck no; the second reaction began when I realized his intention of hanging out, nothing inappropriate involved, and relief flooded through me. I had waited too long to kiss a body.

Luckily I had an old pro to help me along. Neville realized after the first kiss, if he was ever going to get any more kisses, he would have to go in for them quickly. The door was swift and silently closing after the first kiss and he needed to slip his foot in to keep it from dead bolt status. He propped the door by going in for another kiss every five minutes.

With my current stress levels, confidence in his wisdom was dwindling. Every time he went in for a kiss, my urge to dodge became stronger and the battle came into full swing. Never knowing whether Neville was going to make me kiss him or let me hug him, my mind was hoping for another hug and dreading the prescribed lip locks.

When we finally left the bench, my relief was strong. On the walk back, Neville even took the liberty of picking me up and after a struggle told me he would not put me down until after another kiss. Bestowed diffidently, this kiss was begrudging.

On another stop along the way, for another stolen kiss, with people watching right there, Neville piqued their jealousy. After the long walk home, we stopped at my door, he leaned in for another lip flick. Reassured my Saturday night was with him, he left. Inside the apartment, my mind blew itself into a black hole. Thinking of nothing, my mind closed off and I completed my nightly routine as usual. Due to my late appointment, none of my roommates were awake.

The next day was spent on the phone; with more calls than if my engagement had been announced the night before. Even though the story was told to everyone at work and school, my mind was still shivering under the stress and anticipation of Saturday night. Hopefully it would get better, but horror if it did not.

Saturday afternoon occurred and my mind was agape. Neville called me on the phone and he sounded stressed. Imagination is only a blessing at certain times. This was not one of those times.

His panic was mirrored inside me and my mind reflected back the reasons he might be nervous to talk with me. The only reason I can remember thinking for his panic was a proposal of marriage. Granted, it does not happen in sane world circumstances, but he was weird. He had slipped in tongue on my first kiss ever. He could be contemplating marriage to me.

Divine as my attributes are, I could not imagine why he would not ask me. My insides were churning with nervous sickness and he needed to talk to me before our date that night, so he was coming over. What he had to say he didn’t want to tell me on the phone.

He came over and my guts trembled with the horrible anticipation of telling the first marriage proposal of my life no. There was no way to let him down easy. I would have to be nice but firm. When he sat down on my couch and told me he could not date me, every tense muscle in my body released. After the initial relief following his statement, my questions began. It was the least he could do to answer my questions.

Why could he not date me? He could not date me because he was dating someone else. Who was he dating now? The blonde friend he had been crushing on for so long. When had that happened? They had kissed Friday and spent the day together. Although my joy was full for him and his happiness, I could not help thinking it was convenient he had realized this after Thursday when we had kissed.

Then my remembrance was brought to speed with the terrible nature of kissing and there was much rejoicing. We played a game of cards and he left. They broke up the next night because blondie decided she did not want to date him after all. I saw him Monday and never again.

I know, I'm a weirdo. It shouldn't have been so traumatic etc. I've also realized, reading over the first half, I wrote this story with a weird writing style that bothers me. I will have to go back and rewrite it.

My sister Sarah is a special angel sent from heaven-

We just visited Sarah and her little Gessel family over the last Wednesday to Wednesday week in Houston, Texas. We had a great time. I'd never been to Texas before. Ever. It's warm there.

The reason Deane's an angel, is she sent us with a million treats to munch on for the ride home including, but not limited to, homemade fruit roll ups, candy, fruits, powdered donuts, yogurt, Popsicles, and a couple jugs of crystal light.

Not only did she send us with all those goodies, but she also sent us home with two canisters of crystal light to enjoy at home- because she loves us. So I cannot wait to enjoy all those things, since we couldn't possibly eat the millions of things she sent us with on the 12 hour drive home. Even though it was made longer by the car accident that delayed our home arrival by an hour.

It was ok, because we car danced for the people outside our window. Canute also realized I hadn't ejected the banana peels from my car window a little later, and when confronted about it, I admitted I hadn't wanted the surrounding cars to judge me. Since I heard...even though it's stupid..that banana peels don't biodegrade in our contiguous area very well because bananas ripen in the equator.

As you see, I believe most things I hear, and the real reason is I didn't want people to think I was a litterbug even though I would have just been throwing out banana peels. What if they didn't care to check what I'd tossed out and just hated me forever for littering. Or worse, got out of their car to confront me about littering, and on their way to my car, slipped on the banana peels? Then what? Sue city.

During the week, we met Luke and bonded, played many games, watched several movies, and oil painted. Unfortunately, we didn't oil paint until the very last day of our stay in Houston, so our paintings are only have done and we had to split. So we will be finishing our together started oil paintings in separate locations.

I also found out my sister was very helpful and thoughtful in first grade. She suggested to her teacher, when asked about paper towel conservation, that people could save a lot of paper towels by just pushing down all the used paper towels in the trash can. Then your hands are dry, the trash isn't overflowing, and paper towels make a comeback.

Yesterday I made lasagne. I accidentally used tomato soup instead of tomato sauce. The cans look the same, but it tasted a little different. I also over peppered it. Oops.