Graduation and Rainbows and all that Jazz

I went home to Montana this past weekend for Naomi's high school graduation. Holy Moly... I still can't believe she's old enough to graduate. I remember when she was a baby!

Naomi's graduation party was Saturday night with a bunch of other kids. Lots of food and cake and people everywhere. And don't worry, I surely got asked by a stranger if I was the Hughes kid that was graduating from high school. I wonder when people will stop mistaking me for a high schooler.  Seriously people....

My drive back to Utah yesterday was what, I assume, Hades would be like. I think I had about an hour total of dry weather and roads. The rest of the time I was flying through rain and drenched roads, praying that I wouldn't hydroplane while, at the same time, cursing the heavy rain that was falling. During a short break in the rain I saw something bright out of the corner of my eye and saw this amazing double rainbow (pictured above). The picture doesn't do it justice... it was incredible!

Luckily I made it home safely -- I can't say the same for a poor car I saw upside down after an especially heavy downfall. Ugh. 

Gulliver's Travels

Aka Berkley's travels. Let's just hope mini people don't try to stake me down... that wouldn't be cool.

Anywho. This weekend I'm off to the land of my forefathers... the Bitterroot Valley.

It's my youngest sibling's High School graduation on Sunday, May 29th. What the heck? I'm getting old... seeing as I remember her as a baby and everything. Weird.

Speaking of babies, I get to see that very baby that's sitting in Naomi's lap! C-Mike is having his 1st birthday May 27th, which is convenient because it is also my brother in law Allen's birthday AND Grammer's Birthday all on May 27th! PARTY weekend! Good times are about to be had.

AND next weekend I'm off to Washington D.C.! Woot. I've never been there before, so I'm ready for some adventure!

(Now is the time where you give me suggestions and tell me what to do/see/eat)

My itinerary canvas is blank...

Shark Attack

So, question. Are you occasionally scared by people’s ID pictures? My Outlook email (at work) shows an employee’s ID picture in the bottom right hand corner of the screen when viewing their email. And not gonna lie, sometimes I have to change the email my screen is showing to get rid of a particularly frightening picture of somebody. I can just imagine the Jaws theme music running in the background as I hurry to change the email (and subsequently, the picture). Don’t worry; I’ve had my fair share of awkward ID pictures in my lifetime so I don’t hold it against them. These people look fine in real life; their pictures just seem to tear at my soul - in a bad way.

In case you were wondering about my awkward ID pictures, here are a few that top my list:

At BYU-Idaho, my roommates labeled one of my ID pictures ‘Christmas Alexaphee’ since one of my eyes happened to be green, the other red. Ohh life (and I can’t quite remember why they nicknamed me Alexaphee that semester… help, roommates?).

In SLC, the Bishop in my last ward said that my ward directory picture made me look like a German girl. I am German, but not 100% German. And no girl wants to be told they look like a German girl (it brings to mind stocky women with names like Bertha).

Oh, ID pictures... how I hate you. Too bad real life wasn't like Harry Potter world. Moving pictures would be so much more agreeable than the mug shots our Muggle world has to use.

Explosions

Do you ever feel like your head is going to explode? Well, that's me today.



Lately I've been trying to make some big decisions and I don't do well with making decisions... so I guess we'll see what happens. Hopefully my head doesn't explode before I can finalize that decision...   

Berkley Hughesová

My name has always been mistaken for a boys name (same with my sister Jasper). No biggy, I'm used to it. I sometimes receive random junk mail for a 'Mr. Berkley Hughes' (which makes it easy to chuck - real people know I'm a girl), and at work I occasionally get emails addressed to a 'Brother Hughes' from people around the world or in the COB who have never met me. Meh, whatever. No point in correcting.

Anywho, today at work, my boss taught me that in Slovakia the females end their last names in an 'ová'! Greatest. Invention. Ever! Why doesn't every country do that? It would make life so much easier. Seriously. No more mistaken gender identities! From now on, I'd like to be known as Berkley Hughesová. Just kidding. Actually, I don't know all the rules about the 'ová' application in Slovak. Perhaps it's only used for women who are married, who knows. But I like it!

In other news, why do painters wear white jump suits? That seems odd to me, since white would show any splatter. Just wondering (and I saw a painter today).

Tigger

Today was one of those mornings where drivers were being... well, stupid drivers. You know how it goes. When I finally got into the parking garage, I noticed that there was a line of cars because one car in particular was just sitting at the gate. They probably didn't know what they were doing, or their card wasn't working, or whatever. I didn't care. I literally said out loud "what the crap. GO!" And, finally, I think the parking attendant heard me (not really though because my windows were rolled up), because he got out of his booth and opened the gate for the car that was stalling everybody up (and, in the future, if you're in a parking garage and don't know what to do... DON'T just sit there. Take a ticket. It's not that hard).


Because I had time to sit in my car and enjoy my surroundings, I noticed that I had kitty foot prints all over the front windshield of my car. It's happened a few times before, but this time it reminded me of my family's cat back home, Tigger. I think that cat sometimes had it out for me. I love the cat, but just because she's been a part of our family since I was a kid. I'm deathly allergic to cats, so she (and her brother Bob, before he died) were strictly outdoor mouser cats. I think Tigger was born to be a house cat, because she would ALWAYS try to sneak into the house whenever anybody opened the door. I mean, who wouldn't? It was always nice and warm and welcoming inside our house. Remember when I said Tigger had it out for me? I think she knew I was allergic to her and hated cats. Maybe she wanted to win me over, but all in the wrong ways. One time, when nobody was home but my Mom, Tigger slipped into the house. Where did she run to? You guessed it. She somehow ran all the way upstairs, around the corner, down the hall, and to the farthest room down the hall -- my Mom found her sitting on my bed. On my PILLOW. I guess she loved me so much she wanted to leave behind her imprint and hairs as a present.

Now Tigger is a decade older, is missing half of her tail, and still rules our neighborhood. I'm guessing she's probably 87 in cat years by now. I'll be going home in two weekends for my little sister's High school graduation and I can't wait to say hi to Tigger (through the kitchen window, of course).

Ginger Training

I'm covering for a lady named Ginger at the end of June - she's the Managing Director's staff assistant and I get to leave my division and hold the MMD fort down while she's gone. She emails me tid-bits of info every once in a while and I finally decided to make a folder in my Inbox to hold the correspondence. I labeled it 'Ginger Training.'

After I made the folder, I glanced at the folder name and giggled to myself. Sounds like I'm in training to become a red head!

Then my thought process jumped to actual red heads and why they get such a bad rap.


I really don't understand. Some of the prettiest girls I know are red heads. Is it because they don't tan? Have freckles? If that's the case, then I guess I AM in Ginger training since I can't tan and have freckles. Sure, some red heads are homely looking. But that's definitely the case with any hair color.

Who knows, maybe I just have a soft-spot for red heads. I mean, come on. Who doesn't love the Weasleys? Or FedEx from Cheaper by the Dozen? The hilarious Emma Stone is prettier as a red head than a blonde, and I've known quite a few super cute red headed guys (remember Petey, Kate?). One of my roommates in college married a red head - his last name was Furniss and his nickname was 'Furnace' because he was so HOT (hehe, get it?).

Anywho, I'll enjoy my time Ginger Training... and, ironically enough, she is NOT a ginger. She is, in fact, blonde. :)

The Ugly American

Before I blog about my a-maz-ing trip to St Louis this past weekend, I thought I'd do a precursor blog post. A blog post about Ugly Americans. No, I'm not talking about un-attractive Americans (physically), I'm talking about Americans who don't care about other people.

People who know me well know that I hate repetitive sounds. I can't handle ticking clocks when it's quiet or I'm trying to sleep (just call me Captain Hook), people who snore, and basically anything that is annoying and repetitive - you get the picture.

There was a woman on one of my flights who fit all of my 'annoying, get the heck away from me' categories, AND she was conveniently placed right across from me (we both had aisle seats).

Let me just tell you why I labeled her an 'Ugly American.'

She snored when she slept.


Okay, I won't call somebody an 'Ugly American' just because they snore. That's something they can't help... but it certainly put her annoyance radar on the map.

This was the REAL reason she made the 'Ugly American' list:


When she woke up, not even kidding, she played bejewelled on her phone with the sound ON. If you've never played this game before, google it. Listen to the sounds it makes. Then pity me. At first, I thought maybe she was hard of hearing, or deaf. Maybe she didn't know her phone was making loud sounds. But, no. I witnessed her converse with a seat mate. She could certainly hear her phone.



Why would an adult play a game on their phone, with the sound on, in a crowded airplane? Did her parents (if she had parents) not teach her to be polite? The only reason that I can imagine her doing this, is that she is in the 'Ugly American' classification. She certainly didn't care about annoying the people around her.



Anywho, I'll end my rant about Ugly Americans. I dedicate this blog post to Mr Mitchell, my High School U.S. History teacher, who read us the Ugly American book.

Hipster 101

So, sometimes my friends and I like to talk about Hipsters. The guys and girls are attractive and way too cool, and they're all highly intimidating. Sometimes we see a new guy, think he's cute, but find out later he's a hipster (in our defense, you can't really tell when they wear Church clothes). Automatically we write him off the 'list.' Because, we like to say, "once you go hipster, you can't go back" (meaning, once a guy dates a hipster girl he wont go back to normal girls).

My co-worker sent me this video today and I wanted to cry it was so hilarious. I dedicate this video to all the normal girls in the world who want to date a hipster:

Hipster Rule Number 1: Never Try. Never put effort into anything.

(favorite quote: "okay, we're gonna need to put jeans under that skirt. And sweats over those jeans.")

Hipster Rule Number 2: Only like things ironically. Books, Movies, TV Shows, the Environment.

Hipster Rule Number 3: Never show too much enthusiasm.

Final Rule: Everything is dumb. Someone says something you don't understand? You just go "I'm over it."

Tuna-fied and Loogy-fied Fountain

If you have a sensitive stomach, look away now.

Still here?

Okay.

Let me tell you a story. A story about a certain water fountain at work that can make or break my day.

Most days it's perfectly normal. No scents or 'residue.'

(Actual Drinking Fountain)

But, on occasion, somebody in that area decides to DRAIN THEIR TUNA into that drinking fountain.

Yeah, I know. So gross. Maybe I have a sensitive nose and nobody else is bothered. But, if the scent is there, it makes me gag a little everytime I have to refill my water bottle.

Anywho, back to the story.

TODAY I experienced something even grosser than the tuna smell.

SOMEBODY (I imagine it was a man), had hacked a LOOGIE into the drinking fountain. Seriously. I tried to rinse it down by running water for a while, but nope. No success.

I think it's gone now. But I still gag a little everytime I think about it when I'm drinking my water.

Yeah, I gagged a lot today.

To make up for this nasty post, and hopefully erase the memory of the loogie from everyone's minds, I put up a picture of my Nephew Carter:

See? Don't you feel better already?

The End.

Happily Ever After, Disney Style

How can you beat a fairy tale wedding...


And death of the evil villain...

All in one weekend?

Life is goood. Real goood.