34 things you need to know about me

Tomorrow morning at roughly 8:20 a.m., I will be 34. I know some of you are saying, "Puleazze...you're a baby. What do you know?" And others are saying, "Holy crap. Are you really that old?" And you know what? I think I feel somewhere in between.

And in honor of my awesome self, here are 34 things you may or may not know about me, on this, the eve of the anniversary of my birth:

1. I was born absolutely, solidly perfect.

2. That state lasted a solid two-and-a-half years, then Daniel was born and ruined everything.

3. I was going to be a world-famous ice skater.

4. Until I broke my arm skating, had six surgeries, and realized I had no grace.

5. I was a tomboy and had only one Barbie.

6. Whose head I filled with sand.

7. I have four brothers; one older, three younger.

8. I learned how to fight well at an early age.

9. I had a huge crush on Johnny Depp when I was 13. Still do, in fact. Can't wait to see this.

10. I have always been afraid of the dark.

11. I secretly wished I was Jo on the Facts of Life.

12. My first kiss was a short, skinny, blond boy named Rocky.

13. I think we 'broke up' a week later.

14. It was my first crush and heartbreak all at the same time.

15. I always wanted to be a Broadway singer.

16. I realized that dream would not come true (seeing as I can't sing at all) and resigned myself to a life in the audience instead.

17. I am, however, a theater snob and will not watch any show from the balcony or in the back.

18. I spent 75 percent of my senior year cutting class. I probably only graduated because I was taking five Home Economics classes.

19. I still have nightmares about classes I skipped regularly.

20. I have a secret dream to be a professional photographer.

21. When I met my husband for the first time, I knew we would get married.

22. He knew a short few weeks later.

23. I have lived in six different states.

24. My first job was at Subway sandwiches when I was 16.

25. I had bad eczema on my hands and used to tell people I saved my baby brother from a fire, and that the red marks on my hands were burns.

26. I will probably go to hell for that lie alone.

27. I had my first baby without the blessed miracle of science that is an epidural (not by choice).

28. I gratefully had the other two babies while fully numb from the waist down, as god intended.

29. I am extremely afraid of heights and speed. Which explains why roller coasters and I don't work well together.

30. I love hosting parties.

31. I am neurotic and worry about really dumb things.

32. Like the fact that the Husband still has not registered his car in Missouri and has no problem getting speeding tickets.

33. I could never have imagined how much I would love my life today.

34. I am very happy to be me.

So happy birthday wishes to myself. May the next 34 be just as good as the first have been.

P.S. Feel free to send gifts. I'm not bashful that way at all.

E.T. phone home

I have caught The Husband watching this show. Oh, yes, indeed.

More than once.

Our friend Jack, and his LOVELY wife, Rexella, claim that all the floods, earthquakes, and catastrophes of the world are caused by a group of aliens, controlled by one evil alien, sent by Satan himself.

Oookkaay. Interesting.

I have to say that I don't really get the whole televangelist thing. You see these guys on t.v., preaching hellfire and damnation 'til the sweat runs off their hair plugs and down their face, and it just leads me to wonder -- if I watch them, does that count as church for the week? Can you just pick a religion on t.v. and call it good?

I'll be honest, if I'm going to forsake my Religion and pick something to follow on the television, it's probably going to be something with a little more zing to it.

You want resurrection? Plentiful on Pushing Daisies. How about sin and deception? Nobody knows more about that than the hoochie mamas on Wysteria Lane. The fact that CSI can come up with a new spin-off show every year is nothing short of a miracle. And let us not forget Mr. Hefner and his three granddaughters/girlfriends who remind us weekly of the perils of living in sin. [Although most men would probably classify this as a show in which they learn envy. Stupid men.]

So I guess what it boils down to is this: To each his own, right? I am sure the ladies sending their monthly social security check to Jack Van Impe do it because they believe in him. I spend a [crazy] three hours every week at my church because it's what I believe in. And that's good enough for me.

I only hope that if the evil E.T. returns as Jack has prophesied, he brings us the Reese's Pieces.

I could tolerate hell if I had me some peanut butter candies to munch on.

If you thought the picture of bad dog was scary, you should see what came out of my crockpot yesterday

All right, internets. The time has come for a cooking intervention. I served this to my less-than-thrilled family last night:

I know, I know.

So I've decided to stage my own intervention. And every recovery process begins with admitting you have a problem:

Hi. My name is Stie and I cannot cook.

Now those of you who know me in real life, let me clarify that statement by saying that, yes, I can bake like nobody's business. I have never met a baking recipe that I cannot master. But give me a piece of meat? Ten times out of ten I will ruin it.

A large portion of the problem is not really knowing what to make. I tend to recycle the same four recipes each week. My poor, long-suffering husband can take no more. After almost 14 years of marriage, it is time I got some new recipes. He can only smile politely across the table for so long.

So.

What I am proposing is this: I need you to send me your VERY BEST dinner recipes. Send me one; or send me five; but please IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, send me something. Please send me things that you KNOW are good. Your tried-and-trues. Recipes my picky kids will eat, but also recipes decent enough for the husband's slightly more gourmet palate.

[However, I do need to ask that whatever you send me does not include any form of fish. I do not like the fish. I will not eat it in a house. I will not eat it with a mouse. I do not like fish, Sam I am. I do not like fish, that's my stand.]

Here's the kicker, internets. I will try each and every recipe I get. My family will review it, and the overall favorite recipe will receive a $25 giftcard from Amazon for you to spend on yourself (you don't even have to tell your husband you won it, hee hee). It will probably take us a few weeks to get through them all (as I really only tend to cook a few times per week), but before January 1, I promise to have declared a winner.

You can email me the recipes at stiesthoughts@gmail.com or leave your recipe here in the comments. Enter as often as you like. But please help. You do not want my family to eat that soggy beef stew again.

I leave my fate in your hands.

Some of life's most valuable lessons

Because I'm so kind and often find myself wanting to help people, I've prepared a tutorial that should enable you to safely navigate your way through life. I've put it in real simple terms so people like my brother Dan could understand it. All you need to know is what's good and what's bad. M'kay?

Good hair:

Bad hair:

Good dog:

Bad dog:

Good clothes:

Bad clothes. Very, very bad clothes (note the prominent camel toe. Ouch, girlfriend. You can tell by the look on her face that she's feelin' it, too.):

Good Sign
(and one I really should have tried, seeing as I had four brothers I could have sold for a handsome profit):

Bad Sign:
Good music:

Bad music:

Good boyfriend. Very, very good boyfriend. [not that I'd know anything about that, ahem]:

Bad boyfriend. For questions on this one, refer to the bad dog above. Stay away from any and all bad Dogs:

And according to the P.E. teacher at my daughter's school, good shoes:

Bad shoes:

Discuss.

No shoes, no service

Lately, Hannah has been expressing a lot of anxiety about P.E. at school. Every morning as we're getting dressed she wails, "Oh, I hope I don't have P.E. today. Do you think I have P.E. today? Oh, please, NO P.E. TODAY!" One would think that she is being asked to spend her childhood in a hot, sweaty factory assembling plastic toys for ten cents a day instead of playing a little kickball on the playground with her friends.

This has been going on for several weeks now. She loves and adores absolutely everything else about school. Riding the bus? Awesome. Her friends? Perfect. I think she even has a major crush on her music teacher, Mr. Eddy. But when it comes to P.E.? It's a nightmare.

And I'll be honest, I have for the most part ignored this. I've simply not worried about it. Felt like it was one of those things that would work itself out.

Because you know what, kid? I hated P.E., too. I'm still traumatized by those years spent in my middle school gym uniform - an orange shirt, blue short-shorts, and knee socks - holding my head and bracing for the worst as the boys pummeled the girls in dodge ball. I was never what you would call athletically gifted and did not enjoy humiliating myself in front of my entire class. So I get it. But what can I do? She's at the beginning of what will be several years of torture.

But finally, I decided that the time had come to have a talk. I thought I'd use this proud parenting moment to help her understand that even if she doesn't like something, it's important to try. I'd even throw in my favorite lecture on the necessity of physical fitness (just hold on, let me put down my donut first). I was going to help her toughen up, deal with these issues, and get past them.

So I sat down and began to ask her what she hated about P.E.

And do you know what I found out? Apparently, because she is not in sneakers, they will not let her participate with the rest of the class. Anyone who doesn't wear sneakers, has to stay inside and bounce a ball against the wall, while the rest of the class plays outside.

It has come to this.

I have become THAT parent.

You know who I'm talking about. The one that sends their child to school with a lunchbox full of candy and cheetos. Or sends them without lunch. Or money, even. Or shoes, in my case.

Now you have to understand that the child wears dresses and tights EVERY. SINGLE. SECOND that she is awake and breathing. And because I am trying REALLY HARD to deny all that is white trash inside me, I refused to let her wear sneakers with a dress.

At the beginning of the school year, I bought her a very cute pair of Sketchers, which in my mind, WERE her sneakers (not to mention the ten other pairs of non-sneaker-like shoes taking up space in her closet). These have a rubber sole on the bottom, just like a sneaker, and cost a lot more than those ugly, light-blinking princess ones she wanted. But because they don't lace up and look like a traditional sneaker, the gym teacher has kept her inside.

Had they sent a note home, or called, I would have immediately gotten her the proper shoes. I may go to Wal-Mart in my sweats, and [gasp] without make-up, but dammit, my kids are well-dressed in public.

So now, in the eyes of the school, I am white trash mom no more. And in true Hannah form, she proudly wears those ugly pink and white sneakers with her dresses and tights. Which makes us look like white trash anyway.

I think I'll give up. I'm just going to throw my hair into a scrunchee, put on a moo-moo, rat my bangs, and celebrate with dinner at Chuck-E-Cheese.

At least there, I'll be with my own kind.

Things I learned this week

• Raking leaves before the trees are all bare is a very, very stupid thing. You WILL be raking again.
• Paying your children to help you rake is a good idea.
• In theory.
• They will want to play in every pile they make. Thus voiding all your hard work.
• And costing you money.
• When you are having a fight with The Husband, it is a good idea if he actually knows about the fight. Otherwise, you end up pouting and stewing for nothing.
• Having spiritual friends is a good thing. They will find creative ways to get your sorry soul to important church meetings like Saturday night stake conference.
• And you will still like them in spite of this.
• When The Husband buys a fire pit for the backyard, you should never let him "just get it started" inside. He will come very close to burning a hole in the floor.
• You should still try to like him in spite of this.
• Hiding the Halloween candy will not help you ignore it. You see, HALLOWEEN CANDY IS DELICIOUS, and it calls to you with its sweet, chocolate siren song.
• Favorite thing this week: Listening to my baby girl read ME stories for a change.