A letter

Dear Animal Living in the Tree in my Front Yard:

I understand the inability you wild animals have of toileting like us humans. I respect our differences, but must you litter my mailbox in this manner? And must it be EVERY DAMN DAY? I am really getting tired of using my bills to scrape your dried-up feces off the mailbox. I mean, those bills probably ought to be used in the manner in which god intended them (such as coasters for my glass of diet coke).

So if you could find it in your heart to scoot your little bum over about eight inches to either side of the mailbox, I would be most grateful. Grateful enough to, say, not throw rocks at you while I'm waiting for the kindergarten bus.

Much love,

Stie/Durga

Nice? Who, me?

Adorable Amanda has bestowed upon me a Nice Blogger award. (Clearly, she doesn't know me very well!) Thanks, Amanda! If you haven't been to her blog, go check it out. She is my moving comrade and has just recently uprooted with her husband and kids to Oregon.

And as is bloggy tradition, I get to bestow the award on three others. The first award goes to my friend Emily. They don't get much nicer than Em (in life, blogging, and everything else). Go get a dose of life with three boys at Emily's blog. She makes it look easy.

Second award goes to fun.crazy.life. Here is a cute mom who is not only expecting baby number three, but also has time to sew adorable items for her new boutique. Life is never dull with a few princesses underfoot, and she always makes me laugh with the funny things her kids say.

And the third award goes to my cousin, Kimberly. She is a multi-talented beauty who has three gorgeous kids and is living my dream in San Diego. I have always loved Kimberly and her family. Nice doesn't even scratch the surface there.

So feel free to pass on the bloggy love. Nominate three nice bloggers of your very own and keep the nice ball rolling. [Although I fully expect to one day get the mean blogger award. It is much more fitting]

A contest for the creative

Hey internets,

As many of you know, my nine-year-old son, McKay, has his own blog (yes, we are all about the blogging in our family). He is having a little contest over at his blog. Pop on over there and give it your best shot. The winner will receive an autographed baseball card of none other than McKay himself. These are rare cards, my friends, and are sure to be worth millions one day. All you have to do is use your creative noggin to come up with a name for a photo he's posted. Let's see what you've got!

He came up with this idea on his own after listening to me tell Josh about this contest. Go give it a whirl. All the comments will just totally make his day.

Let's take a vote on Durga Kameneini...

Okay, internets, I need your help.

You may recall a few of the annoyances that have come as a result of our cross-country move. Like this, or this, or even this. But my newest disaster takes the cake (and those of you who find my problems about as interesting as what's growing under your toenails, feel free to click off right now to someplace more intellectually stimulating, like this).

Like the good, responsible person that I am, I spent hours (in California) calling to hook up utilities, phone, internet, garbage, sewer, etc., assuming I knew what I was doing. It wasn't until AFTER I had spent all these hours that I learned of the unacceptability of DSL internet for The Husband. I mean, if we can't get those BYU Cougar Podcasts as fast as technology will allow, it is reason for life not to go on.

But because I do love The Husband, I made another round of phone calls and switched us back to cable internet. In doing so, I had to switch our phone service as well because of the package deal they had. The only problem was that we would not be able to keep that phone number. But since we hadn't really given it to too many people and weren't moving for a few months, we didn't think it was a big deal.

Still with me? Hang in there. Especially you, Daniel.

So we move here. I move in, begin living my life, and start calling people. I notice that I am getting a lot of voicemails and answering machines when I call, but I don't think too much about it. I'm new and friendless, after all, and people are busy. With all their many friends and such.

But then one day my mother-in-law accidentally answers my call and tells me the name Durga Kameneini is coming up on her caller-ID. Which is why she (and everyone else I know) do not answer when I call.

After FOUR aggravating, hour-long phone calls, the phone company and I have come to an impasse. They cannot fix the problem. They do not know why Durga Kameneini shows up every time I call someone. They have essentially shrugged their shoulders at me and bid me good luck.

Which resulted in much yelling (by me) on the phone (to them). I am now left with three options.

Option one is to change phone numbers , which I am loathe to do given that all our family, friends, and church congregation have our current number. It's on all the school paperwork, ballet classes, and swimming lesson forms. And when you introduce a new number? Then suddenly people aren't sure which number is right. They might call the wrong one. Maybe they never got the word that you have a new one. Kids suddenly don't get picked up when they fall and have broken legs (yes, that is exactly what I see happening. Stupid, I know).

Option two is to switch to a "blocked call" status. Which would mean that when we call anyone, our number is blocked and shows up as "anonymous" on caller-ID. You know, just like the salesman that call at dinnertime or the surveys that ring at seven o'clock in the morning. Which you never answer because you know it's not anybody important. We'd be sharing THAT status. It's not the worst choice necessarily, but when we call someone who has anonymous call rejection (my parents, for one), we will not be able to get through. At all. Ever. Our current company doesn't have a fancy star-number-number we can dial to be able to get through (I asked). Our calls are eternally blocked to these numbers.

The third option is to do nothing. I can leave it as-is, and accept that I am Durga Kameneini when I call people. I can almost always guarantee that every time I make a phone call I'll get someone's voicemail. I mean, even my own mother-in-law doesn't answer for Durga. And do I blame her? Sure, I can explain the situation to everyone I know, but I still dislike having to face that embarrassment and explanation when I call someone that DOESN'T know. And if it was a remotely common name, I probably wouldn't care. But Durga Kameneini? COME ON!

Do you see my dilemma? What would you do? Leave me a little comment with your vote. I don't know what to do. I leave my fate in your hands. Help!