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When I was in college, I worked an early morning custodial job.

Every morning, I’d wake up at 3:30 AM, get ready, head to the school, park in the Y lot (where students were allowed to park) and make my way across campus to the bookstore, where I cleaned toilets and mopped floors and replaced lights and was thrown in the dumpster by my coworkers.  (They did it because they loved me.)

Not to brag or anything, but I’m still really good at cleaning toilets.

Anyway.

One morning, I was trekking across the long and lonely parking lots.

When the weirdest thing happened.

This is me, minding my own business:

And then…

GUYS ON BIKES.

Except they weren’t on regular bikes, they were riding little kid bikes.  Like, green and pink and red ones.  What??

Silently, they rode past, saying nothing.  They looked at me, I looked at them.

As silently as a dream, they moved on.

And so did I.

3 hours later…

What had I just seen????????

Fast forward to years later.  I’d never told anyone about this weird incident, because it was…weird.  In fact, I’d been so sleepy, I half-wondered if it was a dream.  But last week I was talking to a couple of friends…

Both of these girls go to BYU, and we were talking about flash mobs.  So I told them the story.

ME:  …It was, like, 4 in the morning and whole bunch of guys on bikes came riding past…

TRISH:  Wait…were they riding kiddie bikes???

ME:

ME:

ME:  …What?

TRISH:  Because our friend was walking to her early morning custodial job, and she saw that exact same thing in that same parking lot!!!

Keep in mind, this is years after I saw them.  YEARS.

WHO ARE THESE MYSTERIOUS BIKE RIDERS????

Who indeed…..

*cue twilight zone music*

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You guys all know I’m a HUGE Disneyland fan.

I’d live there, if I could.

I’m not sure where, because there’s tons of people and security cameras everywhere.  But it’s still one of my dreams.  (Up there with inventing the foldable waterbed.  I forsee very high market demand for that.)

Anyway, because it’s been on my mind, the last time I went to Disneyland, I decided to ask an INSIDER.  An actual CAST MEMBER (!!!!)

THE TOONTOWN BACKDROP!!!  OF COURSE!!

It makes perfect sense.  No one ever goes to Toontown (or as I like to call it, Abandonedland) so logic says, there’d  be even LESS people behind it!

The waiter said no one ever really goes back there, it’s just full of storage and old props that no one cares about anymore.

(I’m sorry to ruin the magic for you.)

I thanked the waiter profusely and told him he’d probably be seeing me a lot more often.  Me, and my lice.

He was like:

ROAD TRIP!  Grab a cardboard box and come along!

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Mother’s Day is good every year, but this year it was especially good because we got to Skype my little brother.  Adam is serving an LDS mission in Iquitos, Peru, teaching the gospel, helping the people there, cleaning houses with machetes…(this really did happen.)  We don’t get to chat with him much–just one email a week–but on Christmas and Mother’s Day, we get an hour to talk and he tells us how he’s doing and goes on about how awesome Mom is and, on the whole, makes the rest of us look bad.

This is a picture of him, burning a shirt on his halfway-through-the-mission day. (This is a missionary tradition.)

This is a picture of the fire quickly getting out of control.

He looks a little creepy in those, so here is a better picture of him.  Or at least, a picture of him where he’s not the creeper.

On a sad note, Adam’s been pretty sick lately with a mysterious fever.

They thought it was the dengue (jungle fever) but the tests came back negative.  Then they thought it was a disease spread by a feral cat.  (Adam has a thing for cute little animals…he was in the middle of digging a ditch, and stopped to play with a nearby kitten.)

The kitten was, actually, diseased.  And feral.

But the sickness wasn’t from the cat, either.

They finally found out what it was…

…it was…

TYPHOID FEVER.

Thankfully, antibiotics cure this (he’s feeling better already!).

I’m totally getting this t-shirt for him for his birthday:

He was pretty much better by the time we chatted on Mom’s Day.

We also got to talk to my sister, who’s just started a mission in Holland!  Here’s a picture of her with a stroopwaffle (whatever that is):

She had interesting things to say, too…

I guess spiders are a problem there.

She says the spiders are so bad there, they have something called “Spider Season.” (September-October.)  Millions of spiders come out and spin webs EVERYWHERE.

Last Spider Season, two missionaries were knocking on doors.

One guy didn’t want them around.

So he

(rip)

THREW SPIDERS AT THEM!!!!

WHY??  WHY??  WHY WOULD ANYONE DO SOMETHING SO TERRIBLE???

Let me warn you, you people in Europe who are reading this blog.  I am a mostly nice person.  But if you throw spiders at my sister, I will find you.

I MEAN THIS.

Anyway, why would you want to throw spiders at missionaries?  Most spiders aren’t even deadly.  If you really don’t like missionaries…there are way more effective things to throw at them.

*looks both ways*

 Listen.  I’m gonna clue you in on a few Mormon secrets.   But you have to PROMISE that what you read on this blog stays on this blog.  Ok?

Ok.  Here goes.  THINGS YOU SHOULD THROW AT MORMON MISSIONARIES.

Thing #1:  $20 bills.

Take a few thousand out of your bank account and keep it by your door, just in case you hear them knock.  Then, THROW.  It may look like they’re grinning big and stuffing them into their pockets, but $20 bills are made of filthy lucre.

It will slowly melt the flesh offa those squeaky clean missionaries.  Trust me, you throw $20 bills at them, and the next morning, they will look like this:

(Side note:  Mormons always sleep with their Sunday clothes on, no exceptions.  If you see a Mormon sleeping in pajamas, you’ll know that they’re a BAD MORMON.)

Thing #2: Fudge.

Fudge is especially toxic to missionaries.  Is it not written “He who defileth his flesh with the tender goodness of fudge shall surely not entereth into heaven?  Especially rocky roadeth flavors and raspberry sea salteth?”  There’s a special place in outer darkness for missionaries who eat raspberry sea salt fudge, it’s a theological no-no.  Just so you’re aware.

(Be sure to cut them up into bite-sized cubes (about 2″ x 2″ though 1″ x 1″ is acceptable as well, I suppose.)

Thing #3:  Pillow Pets.

Because Pillow Pets are not good for anyone.

Thing #4:  Rocks.

But only if the rocks look like this:

Of course, you’ll be able to throw them much further if they’re set in 24 carat gold or possibly platinum.  It makes them quite a bit more aerodynamic.  Here is a scientific graph to illustrate what I mean.

This isn’t just effective on missionaries, you can also throw them at regular Mormons.  Like me.  Mostly me.  Only me.  Feel free to throw this stuff at me anytime.

(I like pearls.)

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My mom read last week’s blog post, and reminisced upon a tale of a teeter totter, giant cacti, and my older brother Tom (3 years old at the time).

When I was 2, we lived in Tucson, Arizona.  I don’t remember much except that the spiders were HUGE.  (You don’t forget things like that.)  But mom said there was a teeter-totter in the backyard, which I imagine looked like this:

One day Tom was playing on the teeter-totter

and got his leg twisted beneath it.

He had a good cry, and then refused to walk after that.  Mom had to carry him everywhere.

For a week she carried him, and then worried that he might have actually broken his leg, she took him to the doctor.

The doctor looked at Tom’s leg, then went to his drawer

where he pulled out an uninflated balloon.  (Hahaha.  Those were the days.)

He said:

You guessed it.

I hear kids will do this to you your WHOLE LIFE.

---

 

Thank you so much, everyone, for entering the Mary Poppins coloring contest!  There were some beautiful (and very creative) entries.  My coworkers here at Disney Interactive were kind enough to make a decision:

Ages 0-11:
1st place –  Leong Ton Yan
Honorable Mentions –  Lucy S. & Anna Stein

Ages 12-19:
1st Place – Annie Anderson
Honorable Mentions – Vivian Vriend & Ruth

Ages 20+:
1st Place – Dale McCarthy
Honorable Mentions – Elizabeth Muennich & Patrice

We have a bonus honorable mention at the end for Chad Jemmett, everyone loved the Tim Burton-esque Mary Poppins.

I loved seeing so many different takes on Mary Poppins…we MUST do this again soon!

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Right now I’m drawing this in a freezing cold house.  It’s freezing cold because the furnace went out, and the company it’s under warrantee with can’t come until Monday.

We’re also experiencing the coldest weather we’ve had in years.  (Go figure.)

I don’t mind though because it means I get to sleep in my fridge, which is very warm comparatively.  Plus:  FOOD!

Did you have a good New Years?  Have you already made your yearly unrealistic goals?

Last year I decided to record everything I ate on my phone.

It was the worst week of my life.

The first couple days I did pretty good…until I realized that not eating at all was way easier than logging it in my phone.

So I didn’t eat.

It got to the point where I didn’t want to get out of bed and I was seeing black blotchy things whenever I lifted five pounds or more.

About a week in, I was beat.  So much for that goal.

My little sister made that same goal this year.

She’s eaten an apple so far.

 

I’ve decided that this year I’ll be much more realistic with my resolutions.  In fact, I’ve decided to make them UNresolutions–things I won’t do this year.

They might actually get done!

First off, I resolve to quit staring out my window at my neighbors at all hours of the day.  (They’ve said it makes them uncomfortable.  I think they’re being overly sensitive.)

The same goes for following them around in my car, parking in front of their house and watching them come and leave.

This was one of my favorite pastimes and I’m really bummed about this resolution.  (I secretly think they like it when I do this.)

My next unresolution is to not spend a penny on groceries–the whole year!

…And visit my parents more often!

I live about a mile away from my parents.  They really love it.

My next unresolution:  I resolve to NOT run the presidential candidates and all their little minions over with a giant tank that has poisoned spikes attached to its treads.

This one will be hard.  Really, really hard.

 

And then there’s this unresolution:  This year, I won’t buy a little white puppy in a moment on loneliness and then realize I’m always at work and can’t take care of it so I give it to my mom.

This has happened the past several years.  (Really.)  Sorry, mom.  (She loves it.)

 

I unresolve to never leave my home again.

Ever.

 

And lastly, I resolve to not set my sofa on fire in a moment of broken-furnace weakness.

This one will be the hardest one of all.

 

(Time to go make my bed in the fridge).

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One day, my grandma came to visit.

 {Yay!}

When I was a kid, my grandma would always make fresh carrot juice.

So I decided to make some carrot juice for her!  I’d just gotten a fancy new juicer and was excited to show it off.

That juicer, like so many of my kitchen gadgets, now sits in my cupboard, unused.

 Go figure.

Anyway, grandma said she’d love some!

Because I had a captive audience, I decided to roll my brains all over the counter.

And the rolling began.

During WWII, The British were just developing airborne radar technology.  To keep their island safe from the Luftwaffe {the Nazi air force}, they built a chain of radar towers along the southern coast.

Due to this radar technology, the British air force was able to detect the fighters at night, and suddenly their night attacks became deadly accurate.

One of these night fighters was John Cunningham.  He was the first night fighter ace.

He was good–very good!–and the British people went crazy after him.  Afraid that their airborne radar secret might get out, the Air Ministry attributed John’s success to one thing:

Carrots.

John ate a lot of carrots, they said, and that’s what made him see so well at night!  The propaganda was rolled out with gusto.

Even Walt Disney got into the mix, sending three lovable carrot characters to get the word out.  Carroty George, Pop Carrot, Clara Carrot.

Carrots would help you see in the blackout.

It turns out that this is only kind of true in that if you don’t have vitamin A {found in carrots}, you’ll go blind.  But they don’t give you cat-at-night vision.

John Cunningham was given the nickname “Cat Eyes.”  Which he hated, because it wasn’t true, but he gritted his teeth and played along.  The British people ate it up…literally!  And luckily enough…carrots weren’t rationed during WW2.

Carrots on a stick…mmmmm!

So that’s the story.  I wonder how many children ended up with orange skin.

During all this, Grandma hadn’t said a thing.

 

Lost memories of my childhood suddenly returned.

It was then I realized I was probably the worst granddaughter ever.

{She’s still friends with me on Facebook, though!}

{Grandma’s never on Facebook.}

{I’m a terrible granddaughter.}

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The one where there are giant pancakes in the living room.


The one where I've been shrunk down and am trapped in a fridge.

A magical fridge with donuts.






A similar one...where I'm trapped in the freezer.




And...the one where I'm the size of a bug and living in the garden's raspberry patch!





I'm sensing a theme here...


{I still daydream about the pancake one.}

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Things have been kind of crazy lately.

A lot of that has been due to "Illusionarium," the book I've been working on these past few years.  It's nearing the end stages of development.

A lot of the writing I do takes place on the train.  Since I have to commute into the city for my day job, I get up really early--about 4 am--hop on the first train, and ride it to Ogden, then to Provo, then back to Salt Lake.  


When I get off from work, I ride it from endline to endline again, typing the whole time.  It's pretty much become my second home.


In fact, I've gotten to know all the little secrets.

For example, the train has 3 really nice, new cars--


...And one really old, horrible, creaky, leaky car affectionately called the "Cattle Car."


No one ever rides the Cattle Car....except me.


...which makes me the train creeper!  hahaha!!

The fancy cars are constantly blowing freezing on you...but if you feel the walls of the Cattle Car...



...you can find some toasty hotspots.  It's the best.



I know some other pretty nifty secrets, too.  I swear there is an abandoned grand piano sitting on the hill between the Draper and Thanksgiving Point stations.  No idea how it got there.

 
 One night I nearly missed my stop, and in my haste I left the Illusionarium manuscript w/the editor's feedback on the train.  Oops.  I guess some lucky train person got to read Illusionarium early!


...as well as everything that's wrong with it.

 My best train story though happened one freezing cold night last February.


The train had just pulled into the Provo station, like it always does, and I waited in the Cattle Car, like I always do, for it to reverse and head back to the Ogden station, which it always will.


I guess I must've been pretty into the story, because I didn't notice how the whole train had emptied and sat at the station for a good 40 minutes like that...

...until the lights went out.


...and the train s-l-o-w-l-y chugged out of the station.  In the wrong direction.


It stopped a while later, in the middle of an abandoned railyard...


...in the middle of nowhere.


I, um.  I wasn't quite sure what to do.


 Everyone was gone.


The door was locked, so I couldn't get out.


There wasn't anyone, or anything, that I could see outside the window.  Only the frozen railyard.

I decided that maybe I should just keep working until they put the train back at the station.





I had a good cry.

It didn't really help.*

*crying only helps if you do it in front of someone...dang it.

It also didn't help that I needed to go to the bathroom!

Desperation led me to do the one smart thing I'd thought of all night...look up the train's website online and call their customer service.


...which was closed.




We really don't need to see this.

I don't know how long I remained huddled in the cattle car...maybe an hour longer or so...before I somehow found the emergency number for the entire public transportation system...


A very nice lady assured me that someone would be there very soon.


Very, very soon.


At least within the next several hours. 







THEY FOUND ME!!!!!!!!



Hurrah!!


I was saved!!!




I followed them for what seemed like forever, out of the creepy lone railyard and back to the station, where another train would soon be headed north.



Needless to say, I was pretty darn happy I'd been rescued.


In fact it was probably the happiest day of my life.


In fact, I think I'll ride the train...forever! <3 <3 <3

FYI, this draft of Illusionarium turned out to be rather dark and violent.  I can't for the life of me figure out why. 

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 Recap:

Bridetriestofindtheperfectdress,triesonabillion,everyonehatesthemuntilshefindsTHEONEwhicheveryonelovesuntilthe3yearoldwhoforwhateverreasonrunsthingsaroundthereandruinseverything,focushandheldcamonworriedbridesmaidyoutubeteaserendsHeatherfreaksout.


Heather buy the episode on Amazon.

 The consultant doesn't know what to do.

The consultant recruits the help of

Head Consultant.


The Head Consultant knows...

everything.


He nods and listens and then he says:

 "But what...
 ...is it that
 ...YOU want?"


And the bride is like:



Interview with Head Consultant:
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I ran into this reality show the other day

and even though I've only seen 2 episodes, I already know it's up there with this
 and this.

I HAVE NEVER SEEN SO MANY POOFY DRESSES IN MY WHOLE LIFE!!!!

It's very addicting.  Here's a taste why:

A bride-to-be is looking for the perfect dress for her wedding.  She goes to a famous dress store and meets the consultant, who's going to help her pick out the dress.

 Lucky for the consultant, the bride has brought some people to help.  Her mom, dad, fiance, siblings, fiance's siblings, cousins, bridesmaids, bridesmaid's cousin...
 Who all look like this.
 Without fail.

And the bride is like, "and I won't be happy unless they aaaaaaaaall love my dress every single one!"
 So they go into the dressing room and try on the dresses.  (This is my favorite part.)  (It's just like Barbie!!)
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The Story of the Turkey Sandwich.

 A TALE OF SADNESS AND WOE!

 So a few weeks ago we were under a severely tight deadline at work, which meant I had been skipping a lot of meals to do me some quality time with the wacom.  So I was starving pretty much.
I thought maybe I could slip out for a little bit and get some lunch, but I didn't want to get lunch just anywhere. 

I wanted to get it at a special downtown cafe.

This cafe is totally fancy. 
They have oil paintings hanging on the walls.
They have those fancy tinkly wossnames hanging from the ceiling.
They have those fancy swirly wossnames across the floor.  (rugs?)


It's fancy.

Best of all, they have the World's Best Turkey Sandwich.  It's seriously amazing.  It's so juicy you could eat it with a straw.

Here's that picture again to convince you.  (The sandwich is in color in real life.)

You know in that wardrobe movie how the kid eats Turkish delight and then craves it forever?  That's this sandwich.  I had it once and I'll never go back.

Anyway even though the deadline was pretty tight I managed to slip away...

...and found this...
The line was HUGE!
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Last week, my aunt related a story to me:

Her 6 month old was sleeping in the swing and her 2-year old was watching Dinosaur Train with a bowl of pretzels and she figured that now was a pretty good time to sneak away and take a 90-second shower.

45 seconds in, and she heard a giant crash.
She ran out to discover this:

(Baby was ok)

Anyway, it got me thinking about kids and babies and stuff.

If you were lucky, after the stork delivered you, you opened your eyes to a scene like this:
 If you were luckier, however--and I was!--your very first vista was this:
 You were a younger sibling!


 This makes growing up an adventure, because kids that age only sort their life interactions into two categories:
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