Happy Birthday

to my sweet, wonderful fiancé!

I love you, Mark.

Notice also that it looks like the top of my pinky has been amputated in this otherwise lovely shot. Niiiiice.

Enjoy the holiday. XOXO, Holly.

Thanksgiving Countdown: episode 9.

For our final guest post in the Thanksgiving series, please welcome TruBluBYU.

If you read her blog, you know that she is a masterful traditionista (yep, I just said that), and I was pretty darn excited to see what she had to say about Thanksgiving traditions.

Enjoy!

Welcome, TruBluBYU!

Traditions are my life-blood.

I had an enchanted childhood, full of Tradition and excitement. And now that I have my own little family, those magical traditions I enjoyed as a young girl continue with my children. And I can see reflected in their eyes the same joy Tradition brought me.

Do you know the secret about Tradition? Anyone at any time can begin a new tradition- even when there is not a holiday in sight. If that’s not magic, I don’t know what is. So, I find myself using any excuse I can to fashion a new tradition at my house. And the children are mystified by every one.

It seems, though, that Tradition is most abundant during the Holiday Season. That’s what makes the holidays so magical.

In my family, we share a few Thanksgiving traditions that I enjoy.

There are seven children in the family of my birth. Add spouses and children, and the number has exploded to 37 people in all. We all love to be together and play together.

On Thanksgiving Day, we typically invite another large family that we grew up with to a morning kickball challenge. Because, in Arizona you can play kickball outside on Thanksgiving Day and break a sweat. It’s Awesome! And also because they have a million people in their family, so it makes the match much more funner. (yep, funner)

Mostly we visit and catch up on old times and meet the newest members of each family while all our children run wild. And then when it’s our turn to kick the ball we do our best to kick it as far as we can and try our best to not look old and slow as we round the bases.

After the game, we say our goodbyes to our friends, vow to not wait so long to get together again, load up the kids and equipment and the whole family gathers for dinner. And we eat. Typical, traditional Thanksgiving Day vittles.

As soon as we have had our fill, the girls gather for an afternoon craft. One of us has done all the pre-planning and purchasing of supplies and teaches the rest of us the project. (It just so happens to be my turn to lead the craft this year.)

We holster our glue guns and carefully mold our project, each of us adding our individual touch to make our project unique. We chat and swap stories and offer advice and opinions. And when we’re done, we step back and ooh and ahh over our creations. And then we require the husbands to ooh and ahh over the loveliness we have created to beautify our homes. They do a pretty good job ooh-ing and ahh-ing. And then they return to their football game.

And then, we all load up our families and make our way to the local movie theatre to catch the latest holiday release. Movie theatres on Thanksgiving Day with popcorn and your little ones tucked close beside you are truly magical.

It’s always a really good day.

But, the best tradition is that we are together as a family. Yes, family is the best tradition. The real life-blood in my veins.

Just hook me up to an IV of that Tradition and I could thrive.

And now, mysteries of the human condition.

Have you ever noticed that when someone is attractive, you really want to believe what they say, even when what they're saying to you is straight-up CRAZY talk?

Thanksgiving Countdown: episode 8.

If you asked me for a list of go-to foodies that I know in real life, Janessa would be right at the top of the list.

When she and I were roommates, Janessa always actually cooked meals, and when her mom visited, our apartment practically transformed into a Food Network test kitchen.

So anything she says about good food, I take as the absolute gospel truth. Here's your chance to do the same.

Welcome, Janessa!

I am mildly obsessed with fall. And it’s not just because I love sassy scarves and boots, or because the colors on the trees make me all giddy inside (I can’t help it. I grew up in California. I'm not used to seasons). No, my little heart goes into hyper-drive because to this part-Italian part-Armenian gal raised with a healthy dose of Mexican influence, fall equals food.

It starts with scones and citrusy apply cider in October, but the real fun begins when Halloween’s ended. With the first of November comes The Great Recipe Hunt. You see, in my family, Thanksgiving is never the same meal twice. Sure, there are a few classic characters on the table every year: the cider and Chardonnay brined turkey, Grandpa Mike’s Italian sausage-water chestnut-corn stuffing, and Mom’s ginger-pear cranberry sauce. But the starches and sides and desserts, oh my – we rarely indulge in the same dish twice. There are a few rules:

1. Butter makes everything better. So does cream. We’re big fans of cream.

2. There must be at least four vegetables on the table at all times. Recent favorites: Brussels sprouts with pearl onions, prosciutto, parmesan and cream; roasted carrots drizzled with olive oil and fresh dill; and broiled stuffed acorn squash.

3. Pumpkin pie is not an acceptable dessert. Pumpkin cake, cranberry upside-down cake, apple tart, pumpkin pecan cheesecake – now you’re talkin’.

Inspiration can come from any source, from Barefoot Contessa to my mom’s co-workers at the elementary school cafeteria. Sometimes we just make things up and see if they work. The point is to be creative. Celebrate the harvest by trying new things this year. Your taste buds will thank you, even if your Buckle jeans won’t.

Don’t you just hate it when

you have a blog post idea, but you wait too long to jot it down, and it escapes you while you’re eating your Lean Cuisine?

It happened to me today.

It’s still up there in my brain, tucked in one of the shallow new wrinkles near the back. It tickles a little bit, but I can’t figure out what it is, kind of like when I have something itching on my eyeball and I compulsively run to the bathroom to look at it really close in the mirror every time I feel it move, but the offending object insists on remaining invisible to the naked eye, proceeding to annoy me all day long.

And you know, fuzzy stuck in my eye or blog post idea stuck in my brain, it would be so satisfying to bring it out here to see the light of day. Only difference is, I don’t think anyone would give an eye fuzzy a passing glance. But who knows? That blog post idea hiding out in the shallow wrinkle in the back of my brain might just be genius.

It could change the world.

It might have the power to inspire peace in the Middle East or make The Hills good again.

But I didn't write it down; I ate lunch.

Everything could have changed, but it didn’t.

Everything stayed the same.

Thanksgiving Countdown, episode 7.

Welcome T-Ray, our next Thanksgiving blogger and real life friend of mine.

You'll see below that Tracy wants to be the next Martha Stewart, and let me tell you that after planning a number of events with her, I'm pretty confident she could be.

Be sure to visit her blog, especially to learn about Mr. Hot Tub...you won't be sorry!

Welcome, Tracy!

Thanksgiving is such a great time of year. I really love to get in the spirit of the holiday by listening to Thanksgiving music, which includes Josh Groban's "Thankful" and.... that's it.

Really though... since I want to be the next Martha Stewart, my favorite part of Thanksgiving is the meal. I spend hours looking online for the perfect dish to contribute to the family meal. The more compliments I receive, the better. I want to hear from others that I AM the next Martha Stewart. Along with an amazing meal, the table needs to be decorated festive and cute. Also can't forget that I need to wear my best outfit because I WILL be taking pictures of the event. After all, I have a blog to upkeep and readers to impress. While I am taking pictures, I must get a close up of me with my beautiful and delicious dish that I brought.

Isn't Thanksgiving a great time of year? I am so awesome to think of others by preparing the best dish for them to enjoy.

Isn't that what the holiday is all about anyway?

Happy Thanksgiving!

Animal style?

Well, the In-N-Out Burger strategically placed between BYU and UVU opened today, and oh sweet Sadie, I think we all understand the term "animal style" a little better after seeing the line. You would think Michael Jackson were back from the dead signing autographs at that place.

Ladies and gents, in the words of the King of Pop, you’ve got to let it simmer.

(Anyone see that movie?)

In-N-Out will be there for a while, I think, so let’s all just take a deep breath and regain our composure, and not feel compelled to stand in that crazy watering hole line.

But more importantly, if you do make it through the line without being eaten by cougars or wolverines (get it?! ah-haha), would you bring me some fries?

Thanks.

Thanksgiving Countdown, episode 6.

Give it up for The Professor over at The Wounded Mosquito.

The Wounded Mosquito is a must-visit for musings on just about anything, and bonus, The Professor recently opened comments on his posts. Let the dialogue begin!

I think you'll all appreciate The Professor's well-thought out advice in:

How to Prevent a Turkey Day Tragedy

Over the last several years, Thanksgiving has become the red-headed stepchild to Halloween and Christmas within the holiday fraternity. Whether it’s the ever-advancing push of the Christmas shopping season or the elitist holiday symbolism of Tim Burton’s “Nightmare Before Christmas,” the message is clear: at best, Thanksgiving is a warm-up, and probably closer to a late-season speed bump on the way to Yuletide Bliss.

But it is time to stop griping about old news. Today is a day of action, and it’s time to step in and save one of our most cherished national holidays. The formula is simple: take what is making the competition so successful, and emulate it. If you can’t beat ‘em, copy the crap out of them.

Here are a few starter suggestions:

Redesign the Thanksgiving Mascot

Christmas has Santa Claus. Easter has the Easter Bunny. Halloween has Keith Richards. And what does Thanksgiving have? Well it has a turkey. A turkey with a lousy gig, if you ask me. Santa Claus brings presents. The Easter Bunny gives you candy. But that stupid turkey just gets eaten.

If Thanksgiving wants to survive the 21^st Century, it’s time to roll out a tag team of bona-fide custom mascots: Pilgrim Pete and Indigenous Anoki. On Wednesday night, all the kids in the neighborhood will suit up in either Native American dress or traditional Quaker garb and go door-to-door with their own Cornucopias, gathering the raw materials for Thanksgiving dinner from generous neighbors. Then in the middle of the night, Pilgrim Pete and Indigenous Anoki will magically float down the chimney and turn those cans of sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie filling into a wonderful meal for all to consume, along with a hand-written message of mutual cooperation and bipartisanship that can be read during the festivities.

Commission a Thanksgiving Anthem

It’s hard to imagine a Christmas season without its signature music, whether it’s a traditional religious song like “O, Holy Night” or a heartwarming secular hymn like “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.” Halloween gets “Monster Mash” and “Thriller,” and “Thriller” even comes with its own line dance. Again, what does Thanksgiving have? Bupkus.

Thanksgiving needs its own song, and I think Neil Diamond is the guy to turn to. It may be too late to get Michael Jackson to choreograph an official Thanksgiving Dance, but according to many reports, Neil Diamond is still alive. Besides, he’s already given us “America,” and he’s probably the only guy out there who could talk-sing his way through phrases like “bounteous bumper crop” and "extend the warm hand of fellowship and tolerance" with a straight face.

Add Some Good Old-Fashioned Sex and Violence

If Michael Bay has taught us anything, it is that there is nothing more American than a glassy-eyed bombshell in Daisy Dukes running in slow motion in front of a massive explosion. As a missionary in Northwest Illinois, I met a family whose yearly Thanksgiving tradition was to go out into their backyard and blast old TV sets with shotguns. You see where I’m going? That’s right: Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders shooting guns at halftime of football games. Loving families gathered in backyards and back alleys across the country, bravely exercising their right to bear fully-automatic arms. Charleton Heston’s corpse is expunging a salty drop of tear-like dew just thinking about it. This will work, people...trust me.

These are just a few simple ideas to get us started. Once we apply our famous American work-ethic, I’m sure the innovations will start rolling in. Thanksgiving Day is as American a holiday as the 4th of July, and we must preserve it by any means necessary.

In defense of the beehive state, or humans' need to assign faulty reasoning to things they don’t understand.

I live in Utah. It’s a choice I made one day. Consciously.

I could have moved to Orange County after graduation and lived by the beach, and had parties with California boys while waxing poetic about In-N-Out Burger. I could have taken off to New York and felt sorry for people who didn’t get to jog daily in Central Park. I could have stayed in Idaho. I could have moved to Seattle and gotten really into indie music and hemp.

But I came here, and I’m glad.

There’s one complaint I have with Utah, and that would be self-proclaimed non-Utah people, who, when in Utah, write off everything new to them as a “weird Utah thing.”

“Yeah, I’m not from Utah. What’s a white elephant gift exchange?”

A former IT guy at my company actually posed this question to a coworker of mine. Like we have these secret Utah People Only meetings where we talk about white elephant gift exchanges in hushed tones in the rumored underground tunnel system in downtown Salt Lake City, and that furthermore, no one outside Utah would be familiar with the concept of a white elephant gift exchange.

It’s like me going to St. Louis and saying, “Sorry, I’m not from Missouri so I don’t know about you Missouri people and your taxi cabs.” I would look like a complete airhead.

Um, IT guy? Has it seriously never occurred to you that maybe you’ve just never been exposed to this cruel/awesome holiday tradition that is the white elephant gift exchange? Maybe you’ve been a bit hidden under a rock. And how many places have you lived, exactly? Unless you’ve lived out of the country a couple times and maintained permanent residence in myriad different states, how can you really be qualified to say that something is a “weird Utah thing?”

In my opinion, that’s kind of an interesting stance to take, especially when Utah citizens are criticized as of being close-minded and sheltered.

And if it is actually a weird Utah thing, like for example, fry sauce (which is spreading in popularity, but as I understand, is still used an inordinate proportions here), why don’t you at least get used to the idea? Or at the very least, stop acting surprised and pretentious about it. You don’t have to like it. I don’t think I’ll ever be dipping anything in a mayonnaise-based sauce. But for the love of tiny toy guns, get over yourself already.

The End.

Tune in tomorrow for suggestions on ways to save Thanksgiving from utter obscurity!

Thanksgiving Countdown, episode 5.

Today's Thanksgiving tidbit come from Meredith over at Just Lovely.

Meredith is another of my sweet girlfriends from way back in the Las Vegas days.

We're both Utah girls now, and I'm not going pretend I'm not jealous of her adorable new lifestyle blog.

It's a must read...and this sweet potato dish is a must-make, for sure.

Welcome, Meredith!

I love sweet potatoes. There's a chance I could be quite happy living on nothing else but the sweet potato. Really. Luckily, it's an integral part of the upcoming holiday season. To me, Thanksgiving just wouldn't seem complete without a side dish of this orange-hued tuber.

{image via Make Life Delicious}

I received the following recipe from a good friend - it was originally her grandmother's creation. The ingredients add up to something lucious and sinful. But that's what Thanksgiving was made for, right? Well, maybe not...but it's a pretty nice side product of evolution. This year I'm thankful for family, home and the sweet potato. You?

Sweet Potato Casserole

Ingredients:

Filling:

3 cups cooked sweet potatoes

1 cup white sugar

1/2 cup milk

2 eggs, lightly beaten

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 stick butter

2 teaspoons cinnamon

Topping:

1 stick butter

1 cup pecans, coursely chopped

1 cup coconut, scant

1 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup flour

mini marshmallows, optional

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 375*. In a large bowl, mash sweet potatoes until smooth. Add sugar, milk, eggs, vanilla, butter and cinnamon and mix to combine. Pour into a 9x13 pan and set aside.

In a small bowl, combine all topping ingredients. Sprinkle over sweet potato mash. Add a scattering of mini marshmallows, if desired. Bake in oven for 30 minutes, until topping is toasty and delicious.

Thanksgiving Countdown, episode 4.

Welcome back to the countdown! Today's installment comes from my coworker Nathan, author of the very funny Talkaholics Anonymous, home of the *tangent* blogging method.

*Tangent*

Nathan is so on the ball - he was the first person to send me the full text to his post. Punctual!

*End Tangent*

Enjoy his musings on childhood holidays.

Welcome, Nathan!

As the last of nine children, I was a little spoiled. However, when I was 13, my eyes were opened to an entirely new (and higher) echelon of excessive spending when my family was invited to this rich family's cabin for Thanksgiving dinner.

It was up in the mountains and snow was everywhere. As we pulled into their driveway, we were greeted with five garages all filled with snowmobiles and other "toys." Inside, there was an entire wing of the house filled with bedrooms and bathrooms for the 283 guests these people evidently needed to house at any given moment (I may have exaggerated that number a little).

There were media rooms and game rooms and rooms set aside for displaying antiques. The view spanned the entire valley, and in another wing, I met my first indoor pool.

However, the icing on the cake was at dinner. When one of the baskets of rolls came to me, I discovered it wasn't just any old basket. It was an antique Native American basket from one of the original local tribes.

It would be an understatement to say I felt awkward and out of place. It made me appreciate my own family traditions during Thanksgiving. Looking around at all the beautiful things, they seemed to get in the way of just being together. While my family doesn't have a specific traditional activity each year, we always spend time together, and that is what is important.

Dear All Y’all,

How was your Monday?

I’m asking you, so you’ll ask me, so I can tell you that mine was great. Among other shiny little gems, I enjoyed the following:

Sweet wake up text from my boyfriend

Skin clearer than it was yesterday

Christmas coke in the office fridge

All about the simple pleasures. I’m hoping that this is just setting the stage for an equally pleasant week, and I hope that yours is great, too!

xoxo,

Holly

Here’s another grammar nugget for you to chew on.

Everyday.

It’s an adjective, meaning commonplace or ordinary.

If you are looking for another way to say “daily,” then “everyday” is incorrect. Instead, just strike one extra key in the middle to make it the very correct “every day.”

And I will love you forever.

Thanks.

Thanksgiving Countdown: episode 3.

Welcome back to the Thanksgiving countdown, brought to you today by a fellow blogger and my childhood friend, Christie of Passion For Things That Do Not Matter.

I sincerely believe this to be the most honest blog title ever in the world.

Christie is a friend I will always cherish. In fifth grade when we were both new to Las Vegas, we adopted each other and were thick as thieves until I moved far, far away.

We still keep up with each other here and there, and I consider her to be a lifelong friend.

So you better be nice to her!

Welcome, Christie!

Some holidays are a total let-down. Like New Year’s Eve. I would spend hours coloring my face and crafting outfits in hopes that the night would be filled with excitement (and hopefully boys). Every year failed to meet those expectations. Thanksgiving is NOT one of those holidays. It has never failed to disappoint for two fundamental reasons: family and food.

No matter where we all are, my family always tries to be home for Thanksgiving. We’re talking aunts, uncles, cousins, and even first cousins once removed. Growing up, we cousins even had a club called the Five Star club. It mostly consisted of playing board games, telling secrets, and sneaking into the kitchen for leftovers while thegrown-ups were still moaning about overeating. I must’ve had a higher metabolism then.

Our situations are vastly different these days: Grandma can’t make the rolls, Grandpa’s in a better place, and Youngest Cousin has strange piercings. That’s all irrelevant on Thanksgiving. It is one day of the year that we can focus on enjoying each other, with or without memory loss and labrets. Oh, but with food. REALLY good food.

Shenanigans.

My brother and sister and I like to joke (laugh or you'll cry, people. [Kidding of course. {See? Another joke.}] But seriously...) that our youngest bro, Tyler, is the favorite of the family. He's talented and smart and attractive and funny and OH YEAH...he makes music videos with his friends.

Check it. My favorite part is when he starts brooding and keeping the beat with his knee at about 1:17, all over my beautiful (the jokes just keep rolling, folks) hometown in Idaho.

You know you want to watch it:

Blogger geek question.

So, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t bother with tags (I’m aware this isn’t a question). I did for a while, and then I just kind of stopped.

Am I missing out?

Could plot for Web domination be hastened by using tags?

Do YOU use tags?

If so, what’s your strategy? What tips do you have for me?

Thanksgiving Countdown, episode 2.

Today's Thanksgiving Spirit post comes from Sarah of Sarah's Fab Day.

She loves coffee, pilates, her family and pretty things.

SFD is a daily dose of fab, and I recommend you visit often, as I do.

Welcome, Sarah!

I love Thanksgiving. The yummy starchy food aside, I love the idea of sharing a meal with your family while stopping to take a moment to really savor the memories that are created during these gatherings.

{image via Country Living}

At first you're sitting at the kiddie table and then there's that moment when you get to sit with the grown ups. The first time someone compliments something you brought to the feast you realize, "I'm a real Thanksgiving contributor". Watching 3 generations of men playing cards after dinner then watching your children playing with their cousins. It all goes by in a blink and sometimes the years meld together but what you really come away with is the warm feeling of Thanksgiving itself. The spirit behind the family and the food that's the best part.

Guess who just got a Google Wave Invitation?

I just got a Google Wave invitation.

As you were.

Worlds colliding.

(First of all, when I typed that title, for some reason I thought of Werewolf Bar Mitzvah. "Boys becoming men! Men becoming wolves!" Thought you should know.)

Today, I met Burnt Mustard in the flesh. She hand delivered a Gap Friends and Family pass to me from our mutual friend Jacque.

I love them both for this.

Alex is beautiful and smart and so so nice. I'm not even sure how I found her blog, but I'm thinking it may have been through Janessa. But who can tell, and who cares? If you're not reading Burnt Mustard already, I suggest you start. Find her Sesame Street videos and it will all just fall right into place.

Thank you Jacque, with the mad hook-ups for discounts at Gap Company, and thank you Alex, world's most fabulous courier!

May the Christmas shopping commence...

You look really good for your age.

Today I read this oh-so-illuminating post by Paige about how old (but well-preserved) she is. It never ceases to amaze me how enthralled the younger crowds in Provo and Rexburg (the Church school kids) are with “older” people in their midst.

Never mind that the “older” people usually have about five years on them, tops.

Never mind that marveling at the “older” people just makes you look even younger, where “younger” equals “kind of stupid.”

I remember my last year at BYU-Idaho, briefly meeting this spunky freshman boy at some campus function, then running into him again at the ticket kiosk, probably buying tickets for my graduation luncheon.

Boy: Hey, I know you!

Me: Oh, hi there.

Boy: What are you buying tickets for? We’re buying tickets for Guitars Unplugged!!!

Me: I’m getting some graduation luncheon tickets.

Boy: What?

Me: Yeah, when you graduate, there’s a luncheon and you hav-

Boy: You’re graduating?? Are you married?

Me: Yeah, I am. No, I’m not married.

Boy: What?

Me: Is that weird?

Boy: (looks concerned) You’re graduating single, wow. And what are you going to DO?! I mean you’re like..21 or something?

Me: 22. Uh…move away from here and start building my career.

Boy: Huh.

Then just two short years later, I was at a party in the much older and more sophisticated Provo, Utah, home of the Cougs (Go Cougs, I guess). Hannah and I were talking to an interesting boy who programs computer software and wears ironic t-shirts, and I noticed a clinger to my left.

You know, one who clings. Someone who just kind of shimmies into your group of people, kind of lurking for an awkward amount of time until they have something to say, and you would have greeted them if it weren’t for the fact that they sashayed up to surreptitiously that you didn’t really even notice they were there? So each person in the cluster looks either creepy or rude?

Anyway, the boy with the ironic t-shirt says to Hannah and me, “let me guess your ages. I’m really good at this.”

We let him, while saying to each other with just our eyes, “this oughta be good.”

He starts with me. He examines my face. He asks me to smile. He looks at my hands. He says, “24.”

Does the same with Hannah and pronounces, “and you’re 23.”

He was right on both counts. We ask him how old he is. He is 25, if memory serves.

Anyway, the clinger sees her moment to shine and win friends and influence people, looking at me starry-eyed, saying, “you’re 24? Wow, I wouldn’t have guessed. You look really good.”

It was as if I’d told her I was 56, blending in at this college party without raising any eyebrows.

I smiled and thanked her.

She will learn.

She was 19. I didn’t ask; I can just tell these things.

Thanksgiving Countdown: episode 1.

You made it!

Welcome to the first installment of the IRS (skinny, not revenue. This name WILL stick) Thanksgiving Spirit series.

I’m pleased as punch to welcome cute blogger and real-life friend, Marisa, as our first victim.

Marisa loves shoes, Carmex and drinking the sugary milk after a bowl of Froot Loops.

She is also a tennis star. You should ask her about that.

Welcome, Marisa!

In thinking about what I should write about, I toyed with a lot of ideas. I mean I am guest posting on “if I were really skinny!” Can anyone say “big break?” I daresay you can. This being the case I didn’t want to mess it up by blabbering on about nothing.

Maybe like I am doing now.

Moving on.

I thought about discussing my need to have the perfect outfit for the big feast in hopes that my relatives will think I am going places in life. Because we all know that the perfect outfit is worth a thousand words.

I thought about dedicating a whole post to how much I love rolls. Bread is seriously the staff of my life and if the bread is good the feast is a success. Homemade rolls just can’t be beat.

I thought I might write about how I find it interesting that celebrations and gatherings always tend to be around food. Why is this? Heaven knows I love that it is. Maybe it was our good friends the pilgrims and the Indians that began this tradition.

In the end I decided that I simply wanted to share how much I enjoy the one day out of the year that we take some time to really consider what it is we are grateful for.

I will never forget the Thanksgiving that each grandchild, aunt, uncle and grandparent shared one thing they were grateful for. Gratitude filled the room and it felt good. My heart was warmed.

This year I am grateful for Thanksgiving for the encouragement it gives us all to express our gratitude for all we have.

Here, here!

Hi all,

Just a heads-up that tomorrow begins the Thanksgiving Spirit guest blogger series here on IRS (which stands for "if i were really skinny" and not "Internal Revenue Service." I'm just trying it out, mind you. I didn't have a pithy shortened blog name in mind when I started this thing, so, I'm not really sure where to go with the acronym-ing process.)

So, you should stop by. You don't want IRS to be after you.

Especially in this tough economic clime.

And, if you'd like to graciously give to IRS, as all American citizens should, email me to get in on the action. hollylynnsays at gmail dot com.

Peace,

Holly

Science has done it again!

Oh, science. You could be out there inventing smokeless fire, improving the lives of all s’mores-loving people on earth, but no. You’re putting out shenanigans like this:

Low-Carb Diets Will Ruin Your Mood, Life

When you’re done with that, Captain Obvious, you might wanna take a stab at an over-the-counter TMJD cure for my clicking jaw.

Or smokeless fire.

Or those hydrogen fuel cells we’re all waiting on.

Or cancer…remember cancer? You could go ahead at this time to try to cure it.

A note to JMadd who also posted about this article: I'm glad we were equally stupefied by these scientific findings.

Well,

this is good news.

Just waiting on my cake vaccine.

Any day now.

I’ll just wait here.

And then when we're done, we vacuum the vacuum.

I vacuumed my vacuum today, and it Just. Felt. Right.

Thank you, Monica, for changing my life.

Image via. And yes, this is how I prefer to remember Monica and Rachel.

Consider the trees.

In case you missed it, here's my guest post from Laughing at Life's Little Wedges:

After a little exchange with a coworker a few weeks ago that led to the conclusion that some of us are just living on hope (deep water cooler discussions at the PR firm, no?), I’ve been thinking about it more and more.

In high school and college I had what we Mormons would call “the opportunity” to experience depression.

Not. Fun.

But . . .

Oh how enlightening it was.

I remember getting the tree advice in high school.

The tree advice?

The tree advice.

Someone I trust told me that when things seem bad, that it’s ok to tell yourself, “You know what? Tomorrow’s going to be better.” But she also encouraged me to look for something small that brought me joy. She remembered a hard time in her life when just seeing a beautiful tree in her neighbor’s yard brought her a little happiness. This simple beautiful thing was her bright spot in her present to tide her over to her happier future.

There were years where I had to do this a lot. It’s complicated enough to be a woman, without adding depression to the mix. It’s a widespread issue though, and I’d bet that plenty of you know what I mean.

Can I get an amen?

So taking the tree advice into consideration and taking my Prozac every day, I looked for “trees” wherever I could, using the chemical powers of my little pill.

Tree number one: My Prozac pills were a perfect shade of Tiffany box blue.

But even with the pretty capsules, The O.C. and large, icy Diet Cokes, I had plenty of days where I honestly felt that the only reason I was still showing up for class/church/social engagements was the hope that someday in the future, I would feel better.

Well, the prayers and the pills worked. I’ve been a happy girl for the past three years and I feel oh-so-optimistic about my life.

A veritable forest of a life.

Hallelujah!

But still I find myself balancing my perspective with hope for the future and joy in the now. I think that like my coworker said, I live on hope.

But I keep looking for trees.

I think that in a huge way, my depression taught me how to be happy. I’m gentler with myself and push myself harder. I allow myself my sad days and worry, and I make no apologies for my joys. We live in a world where people punish themselves for their imperfections to the point that they become crippled to improve on those weaknesses. We walk among people who believe they don’t deserve to be happy. We all have friends or loved ones who believe their lives will be complete once they have the looks or things or money that they think they ought to have – things they see other people with.

It’s madness, people. If we’re looking into the future to a day when we’ll finally be happy, that day may never come.

You do realize that . . . right?

If we can’t find any trees now, why do we think we'll be able to find them later?

But if we find enough trees . . . who knows? Today could be the happy future we’ve been hoping for all along.

One more thing, and my latest music obsession.

First of all, thanks for the encouraging words about my gray hairs. I should clarify that the particularly sparkling offender I mentioned does not act alone. When people complain about a single gray hair I kind of want to call the waaaaambulence. I have an army of grays on my head. Most of them can be camouflaged by the way I swoop my bangs and the multicolored nature of my locks in general.

But as my friend Bre said on Facebook, “I dye my hair anyway, but I don’t want to HAVE to dye it!”

Ditto and amen, sister. When push comes to shove, I don’t foresee a time when I will stop coloring my hair for any reason. It’s just a matter of principal. I want my sporadic forays into hair color experimentation to be purely elective, and that just ain’t happening anymore.

And I might also note that the other day as I applied concealer to my gnarly under-eye circles, I noticed that I don’t have the smooth complexion I once so irresponsibly took for granted. Happy birthday to me. It happens fast, friends. Watch. Out.

Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to shove a new band down your throats. Or … ears.

They’re called the Freelance Whales.

This is officially the dorkiest band name in the world. They’re trying too hard, in my opinion, when it comes to the band name.

But I digress.

Nathan found the Freelance Whales on a sample playlist on playlist.com, and for some inexplicable reason, I can’t find a single one of their songs on playlist.com. I really don’t understand. But anyway, give them a listen. I doubt you’ll regret it: