I know, I know, if wishes were fishes

Oh how I wish I were rich enough to buy one of these prints. Especially the one above.

After OR I Keep Calling it My "Sailor Dresser" and I'm Not Sure Why

(see the before here)
And, really, I mean no offense to my prior residence but this was never what I woke up to on E street:

oh, gawsh

I could tell a lot of stories that attempt to explain why I am so glad that my mom is MY mom. I could tell about how she not only made me walk to school when I missed the bus (it was far, you guys), but walked with me and packed water bottles for us both. I could tell you how incredibly easy she is to be around and how smart she is in basically every possible aspect. Or I could tell you about how she married a great person and they had eight children and never have any of us heard them question that decision or make us feel like we weren't a good idea. I could try to explain the lists and charts that have been a part of our lives because of this lady or give you a few excerpts from her unbeatable (and often politically super-charged) emails. I could even get pretty serious and try to explain to you what she's been through in the last 3 years and how I still feel like somehow she's the one that got the rest of us through it. I could tell you how good I feel when she calls me Sunshine Girl or how proud I am to answer 'yes' when someone asks if I'm her daughter. I can tell you how to make her fruit soup (but yours will never be as good) or how her quilts feel better wrapped around me than any others or how long it takes before her laughs turn into tears. But, I'm pretty sure that no matter what I write, words will fail to explain how happy my heart is that she's here and that she's mine. So, just know that it's REALLY happy, and we'll call it good. Deal?

produce shmoduce

Does anyone in Salt Lake have any advice about joining either the Winder Farms delivery system thing v. the East Farms CSA (or a better option all together) that ISN'T based on that one cute guy at the East Farms Farmer's Market booth and what a dingbat Greg Winder was when I dated him? If so, that'd be greatly appreciated.

(also, am I the only one that thinks the above formula for a blahg title is always a funny idea? prolly.)

while i was gone

For some reason, I decided it'd be a really cool idea to catch a flight to Portland, like, 5 hours after I finished moving into a new house. Turns out, it really was. Cuz I got to hang out with these dudes (and their parents):

we had a really great time together


we also went to Creswell to visit the other bunnies!

and their new bunny (Ricey):

Some things I learned on this visit:
-Don't pack exclusively leather footwear for a weekend in Portland
-How to ride The Max (kinda)
-There is such a thing as too many cheetos
-I kinda like sun more than rain
-Paper Source+me is a very dangerous combination
-No matter how much greener than Las Vegas it is, Utah is still a desert
-PDX is the calmest airport in the world

while i'm here

I can at least show you how cute the exterior of the new place is:

And all of our furniture stacked out on the grass on E street. I'm still trying to figure out where all this 'awesome stuff' I have came from.

oh, and, it's Summer

so I don't have to live and breathe internet anymore, cuz I've got sunshine, you know? so, I'm sorry, blahg.

I usually love things wrapped in tissue and boxes

but this scenario is getting a bit old.
BUT BUT BUT. I LOVE my new house. It feels like a vacation all the time here cuz there's NATURAL LIGHT EVERYWHERE and it's so massive and I have all these buddies around all the time. I'll show you all about it when it's not a disaster.