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Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Birthdays, Bodies, and Bugs: Day 2

Day Two of Birthday Festivities. 

Hmmmmm.......... No. I told him marriage wasn't a democracy.
 #tyrantwife #AllShallLoveMeAndDespair
I emerged from my lair sometime around 9 am.

We had big plans. Breakfast, fishing at Big Lake, fishing some more, and perhaps, more fishing. 
We stopped at Walmart to get trolling supplies. (Note: if you are like me, and have no experience with fishing, trolling is going to a lake with this shinny lure contraption in a motorized boat and catching them that way.) I was in charge of getting the "lucky power bait." I grabbed the most obnoxious, glittery barbie themed bait and shoved it in Fishing's face. 


We drove all the way to Big Lake to see this sight. Every single one of those units is a Sheriff vehicle. 
The trailers you see are the search and dive rescue (or should I say recovery?) teams. There were 4 total.

I didn't take any pictures after this because I felt it would be kind of disrespectful.


We pulled into Big Lake parking area around 11 am. We saw probably 30 police personnel milling about as the sheriffs set up the base. We went to the little red bait shop to ask what was going on (although we knew they were probably looking for a body).

I see a dog outside of the bait shop. I love dogs.
It was a big, fat chocolate lab with a wise face and his fur speckled with gray hairs.
He looked at me with his beautiful droopy brown eyes and I thought....
oh my gravy, Jon looks just like a lab.....

Naturally, I had to pet Jon's spirit animal.

It was at that point, when I was on one knee about 3 loving strokes in that a man emerges from the bait shop and proceeds to tell us what happened.

A 30 something year old man had been fishing the previous evening around 5 pm in a canoe with his dog. The dog and the boat had returned to the shore, but the man had not.

Apparently, the man had been trolling and steering the motorized boat with a rope around his leg. He did not have a life jacket on and a disturbance (due to either the dog or the lightning storm or the dog in reaction to a lighting bolt) tipped the boat. With the cord around his leg, and no life jacket on, it was presumed that the boat was still on troll and dragged him under the water.

(moral of the story: wear a life jacket, don't go boating in bad weather, don't put cords around your body)

He then pointed to the pooch and said, "That's the man's dog."

I looked at the dog in horror, I was now emotionally affiliated with the death of the man.

Perhaps the most shocking part of this story is that the little red bait shop was STILL ALLOWING PEOPLE TO RENT BOATS TO FISH IN THE LAKE WITH A DEAD MAN.

Although, if you were to rent a boat, they had this huge disclaimer that you could potentially be the ones to find the body; and I quote,"if you find 'im, jus make shur ya flag the poe-lease down."

Roger that, Red bait shop Bumpkin.

We passed on the offer. I have this uncanny capability of drawing trauma to myself.
Keep in mind that Trout are carnivorous and John Doe had been in the water since 5pm the night before.
It would have felt sacrilegious to have enjoyed the beautiful weather atop the lake with an unmarked, water grave below.

We graciously declined a lake boating trip.

At this point, I felt like the worst wife ever.
A truly sombering spirit descended upon our trip. 
We were faced with the brutality of morality while attempting to celebrate the essence of life.


However, Jon is a trooper. 
It didn't matter that 4 months of planning for the perfect weekend had gone down the drain.
Or that I was horrible at fishing.
Or that I had no back up plan.
Or that I had no cake.

He still enjoyed simply being in the woods as much as my elaborate plans for the lake.

Sometimes you get so caught up in how to make something appear perfect, that you lose the beauty of it.

And that is when I decided to stop cleaning my house.

Check out that sky.

We found an abandoned bridge which was PERFECT for fishing.
Jon had fun fishing,
Kylie acted like a troll because she is cantankerous and despises joy and fishing.

I caught my first crawdad.
He was glorious and also terrifying.

I also caught a fish;
I'm pretty sure it is because he was deformed and blind.

pretty much sums up my life. 

The streams were crowded, and the water far too swift.
Eventually, even Jon was disenchanted with fishing and we went on a scenic drive.

You might also know this as getting lost.

Either way, it was the best idea/mistake that we ever had/made

The meadows were just absolutely breathtaking with the sharp streams from the mountain water runoff from the heavy rains. 



The scars from the most recent wildfire were beautiful in a tragic way.

life,death, rebirth.
Seems to be a common theme, eh?

The land was so beautiful, rugged and wild. It really was the perfect getaway despite all the things that went wrong.

Happy 25th, my love; this is your year.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Birthdays, Bodies, and Bugs: Day 1

So, I am finally getting around to telling you about Jonathan's Birthday. He turned the big TWO-FIVE. 25. Quarter of a Century. We aren't spring chickens anymore. We get fat easy, go to bed at 9, and envision a "good time" as watching an entire season of a show on Netflix. 

I took that Friday off of work to have a 3 day weekend to truly celebrate. We ended up getting a cabin in Heber for a weekend and were planning on doing a fishing trip in the white mountains. Having never gone stream fishing, I was EXTREMELY grateful for our cabin with hot running water. 

Day 1: We revisited Jon's favorite stream to fish in over by Greer. 

If you go stream fishing, I highly suggest some rubber irrigation boots. It was incredibly beautiful, although it was also bittersweet. The last time Jon had been in this area was before the last forest fire. There were still hundreds of dead, scorched trees.

I really love this photo of Jon; it might be my all time favorite, actually. Good job, me.

We seriously fished for like an hour and a half with NO BITES. I, having attention issues and relatively no patience, was having a bit of a hard time enjoying fishing. We finally saw this little guy, but he was far to small. I think he is incredibly beautiful though. My vigor was renewed. #catchallthefish

I would love to move to northern Arizona. It was the perfect temperature and the fabled color green is there.

I also forgot to get candles (or a cake for that matter), so I made Jon make a wish on these weeds. #bestwifeever

I probably took like 300 pictures of Jon fishing. They all look more, or less, like the image below.

You have no idea the pain these boots spared me. I'm talking hours of being in cold, wet socks.
At this point, we still hadn't caught a fish and Jon was doing his best to convince me that fishing is "fun."

It's not.


Then it starts to really rain. Being from the desert and not accustom to precipitation, I beeline for the car and barricade myself in. Of course, my husband keeps fishing. If you know Jon, then you know there are two things he takes seriously. Clean windows, and fishing. OF COURSE, that is when he catches the first fish.

I'm not even joking; I sat in the car for probably 30 minutes. Here is my shameless selfie to prove my point. #nomakeup

I, being of a non-hydrophilic nature (water loving in a chemical sense), refused to leave the car until it stopped raining; here is Jon with his first fish. #adorable

You are probably thinking I'm uber crotchety. I totally am. However, I did go fishing and I really tried to be a little less cantankerous. I just don't enjoy not being good at fishing. #prideissue

I also ended up catching my first fish EVER. When Jon and I were dating, he helped me catch a catfish.... but I was able to catch and land this fish by myself. I was so excited. I even cleaned him.

Look at his face. He is so adorable. LOOK AT HIM PUTTING MEAT ON THAT TABLE. #afedwifeisahappywife

This was our catch for the first day right before we cleaned them. We got some big trout. We only fished for a few hours, so overall- it was a really awesome day.

Here is a random assortment of photos from the first day:


I hope you enjoyed a little recap of our first day; here is a preview of our second day.

Also, there is going to be a real dead guy story. So you are going to want to stop by that. Finally I apologize in advance for all the hashtags. I just feel they are the perfect delivery mechanism for ADD thoughts. #sorrynotsorry


Saturday, September 28, 2013

Beta Fishes. The New Bosom Buddies.

I love my job.

It gives me socialization, validation, a sense of purpose, and a strict schedule. 
Apparently, effective January 1st, it will also give me retirement and some pretty sweet benefits.

I love my cubical.
I refer to the land of cubicals as "Peasanton." 
It's currently my little stable part of the universe that is mine. 
To my right, is my bachelors degree sitting in a $3 Walmart frame in an ironic statement kind of way. 
My $40,000 piece of paper that promised RICHES and GLORY.
In a $3 Walmart frame. 
I view it as my way of peeing on the whole institution. 
My computer screen is an enlarged photo of the most beautiful dog in the entire universe; that would be my dog, in case you were wondering. 
To my left, is a photo of Jon's head on Thor's body. 

AND NOW.....

My cubical will have beta fish.
Adults have very boring lives, so I want you all to take a moment to appreciate this as it will probably be the highlight of my year. 

I'm transitioning departments at work....
basically I had an interview on Friday and I got a promotion!

I treated that interview on Friday like it was a midterm on Lord of the Rings and I blew that bad boy out of Middle Earth. I got that promotion about as fast as the Elves were fleeing to the Grey Havens. 

I'm really excited/nervous/terrified/hungry. 
The hunger has nothing to do with the job- but I could totally go for some Tacos right now. 

Jon got me a beta fish so I would have a friend in the new department. 
I'm thinking of names currently. I've  mostly been toying with the idea of a name that encompasses company jargon such as "Manheim" or "N-MAC." Thoughts? Suggestions? Bank account numbers?

I'm obsessed with how beautiful Siamese Fighting fish are.
However, they are SO HARD to take pictures of. 

I could not seem to capture their colors in photos with the same intensity as in reality.
Then again, it was 9:30 at night under harsh florescent lighting when I was trying-
So I'm going to blame the conditions. 

I seriously love my fish. 
I got the mother of pearl stones for the bowl on sale at Walmart for $2.
Beta pro tip: go to the floral section of Walmart- they have cheaper glass bowls and rocks.
I spent $1.87 on my little orb bowl for my beta and it is perfect. 

I got two betas because I could not decide which I wanted more.
The one with the fancy tail or the one that was LILAC?
(yes, they are in different bowls)

I may be the most ridiculous decision maker ever, but I probably have the most exciting life out of any adult you've ever met. TWO BETAS? WUT? YOU CAN DO THAT?

I can because I'm Kylie The Magnificent, b*tches. 

Professionally Like a boss,

Monday, September 16, 2013

Mother (n): definition- a Destroyer of confidence.

As a foreword, I just want you all to know that I love my mother dearly. so dearly. MOM IF YOU ARE READING THIS RIGHT NOW, I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU UNCONDITIONALLY. That being said, I want to know who the hell trusted you with scissors. AND MY DELICATE, IMPRESSIONABLE SELF IMAGE AS A CHILD.
This photo was taken in September of 2000; I was 9. I was also the most hideous thing I've ever seen. Everything negative about adolescence manifested itself in this unfortunate developmental period.

Moms, I ask you I BEG you not to cut your daughters bangs yourself if:

  1. you have an unsteady hand
  2. cutting straight has always proved to be problematic
  3. your daughter has wavy/curly hair
  4. your daughter has a cowlick
  5. you daughter resists you doing high maintenance do's
  6. you actually aren't capable of high maintenance do's

Crooked bangs are almost forgivable on a 5 year old; If I had cut these bangs, I would probably deny all hand in this endeavor and be all like "oh, ya.... you know kids.... always giving themselves haircuts....."

Mom, with that being said, I forgive you for making me look like a dweeb at least 4 years past the acceptable age for crooked bangs to exist. Also, thanks for going through childbirth for me- you are the best ((but not with scissors... just to clarify)).